Guided by a maid, I walk down a sunlit connecting corridor.
Even as I walk, I’m debating whether to bring this matter up with Bishop Heinemann…
Lost in thought, I soon find myself standing before the reception room. It seems Bishop Heinemann is already inside waiting, so I knock on the door. Sure, I could have just barged in with a “Bang!” but showing some level of respect to the clergy is probably the safer route.
“Come in,” a voice calls from within. Opening the door, I find Bishop Heinemann standing and bowing in greeting.
I nod slightly in return before taking a seat on the sofa. Gesturing for him to do the same, the bishop sits across from me.
“Let’s have some fresh tea,” I say.
Although a cup is already sitting in front of Bishop Heinemann, it’s likely gone cold, and there’s none for me yet. At my request, the maid bows with a polite “Understood” and leaves the room.
Once she’s gone, the bishop speaks.
“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule.”
“Not at all. Think nothing of it.”
I wasn’t particularly busy, though the timing could have been better—but I keep that thought to myself.
“So, what brings you here today?”
When I ask, Bishop Heinemann calmly retrieves a Bible from his pocket.
Why now, of all times? I briefly wonder if he’s about to deliver a sermon, but then he pulls out an envelope tucked inside the Bible and hands it to me.
“I’ve been entrusted with a letter from His Royal Highness, Prince Sieg, the fifth prince of the royal family.”
Ah, so that’s the matter at hand.
Using a member of the clergy to deliver correspondence, huh? Well, I suppose it makes sense. They’re a neutral party with branches all over the kingdom, making them accessible even to nobles.
It’s unlikely nobles would risk antagonizing the clergy by subjecting them to thorough inspections, either.
While I’m curious about the letter’s contents, I have no idea what it might say. I decide to take it back with me for now. Bishop Heinemann might already know what’s inside, but there’s no need to ask right now.
I tuck the letter into my pocket.
“Would it be alright if I gave my reply at a later date?”
“Of course. Take your time. However… if I might request a small donation…”
Well, it’s not as if they’re running a charity out of pure altruism. That’s to be expected.
Just then, there’s a knock on the door, and the maid returns, carrying tea and snacks.
She efficiently arranges everything.
“Apologies, but could you wait outside for now?”
With a polite “Understood,” the maid exits the reception room.
The conversation I’m planning to have isn’t one I’d like a third party to overhear.
Noticing this, Bishop Heinemann gives me a curious look but says nothing.
“Bishop Heinemann, may I ask you something?”
“Of course. Please feel free.”
He responds with a kind smile, exuding the demeanor of a truly virtuous man. But religious figures often seem benevolent to their own followers while being harsh toward outsiders—or so I imagine.
Though that may not apply to Bishop Heinemann.
I take a sip of tea to moisten my throat before speaking.
“…Could you tell me about the relationship between the Ariest faith and the Beastfolk?”
The moment I ask, the bishop’s gentle smile vanishes, replaced by a serious expression that seems to test me.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen his usual kindness, but the stark change in his demeanor sends a chill down my spine.
Author’s Note
I don’t usually write these, but I’ve recently shared an image of the heroine on my status update. If you’re interested, please check it out—it’s amazing (totally unbiased opinion).
