Chapter 48: Compromise

Eliana fell into a tense silence upon hearing those words, offering no rebuttal.

Indeed, unlike the classified dossiers Luo Wei had extracted from Mura, the official records stated that the Crimson Troupe… had never been designated as a cult.

The Crimson Troupe was a devotional group following Venus, the Goddess of Pure Beauty. They championed aesthetics and elegance, and their members were almost exclusively handsome men and beautiful women. Based in Elswick, they frequently toured the nation to perform popular theatrical plays and were widely beloved by the public.

Due to decades of trade and cultural exchange, the Kingdom of York had become a melting pot of foreigners and immigrants, making it a nation of diverse faiths.

While devotion to the Lord of Storms was the most prevalent, the law did not forbid the worship of other deities—so long as they were not officially branded as a cult.

“But the ‘Prophecy’ revealed…”

Eliana remained unwilling to let the matter drop, but Sir Spengler, standing beside her, had already lost his patience. He barked, “Are you referring to those ‘Prophecies’ that drove so many Storm Priests into fits of madness? My God, the Storm Bishops have done nothing but curse those visions during our recent gatherings. They all say this is a conspiracy orchestrated by an Evil God!”

Spengler sneered, his voice rising in derision. “Compared to the delightful Crimson Troupe, I’d say this so-called ‘Omniscient Being’ looks far more like a cult leader!”

“The Church of Storms is nothing but a pack of greedy fools,” Eliana retorted with a cold sneer. “If this truly were a conspiracy by an Evil God, how did we rely on those ‘Prophecies’ to win the last Great War?”

In her mounting fury, she allowed the thoughts she usually kept hidden to spill out.

However, such words were entirely inappropriate for this setting.

Venting to her “nephew” in private was one thing, but Sir Spengler was a major financier backing the Council. They were effectively cut from the same cloth, and the Councilors already harbored a deep-seated grudge against Eliana.

After all, the Lords of the Council still remembered a few nights ago when several squads of Enforcement Guards had violently stormed their luxury manors at midnight, dragging them to City Hall for an emergency meeting.

The Council, the wealthy capitalists, and the Church of Storms—the relationship between these three powers was a tangled web. It was difficult to call them true allies, but they shared one singular, undeniable goal.

They wanted to make money.

Anyone who blocked their path to profit was an enemy.

Unfortunately, Eliana was that enemy. The Enforcement Guards under her command were strictly disciplined and conducted rigorous investigations into illegal dealings, cutting off many lucrative revenue streams. She was loathed to the bone.

These men were desperately searching for any leverage to drag this highly decorated Inquisitor—who was also the Archon’s direct protégé—off her pedestal.

As Eliana’s reckless words hung in the air, Best’s expression shifted rapidly through various shades of concern. Sir Spengler, however, let a flicker of secret joy cross his face before masking it with indignant rage.

“What? Inquisitor! Do your words mean to insult the very Church where Her Majesty the Queen serves as High Priestess? Are you suggesting the state religion of the Kingdom of York is inferior to some mysterious cultist group of unknown origin?”

“Sir Spengler, Eliana didn’t mean it like that,” Best interjected immediately, shooting a sharp look at Eliana to demand an apology.

Eliana opened her mouth, but the words of apology refused to come. She merely offered a cold huff.

In truth, at this point, an apology was meaningless.

Sir Spengler rose abruptly, brushed his sleeves in a gesture of dismissal, and ignored Best’s attempts to make him stay. He hurried out of the office.

One didn’t need to guess his intentions; he was undoubtedly racing to share this “good news” with his cohorts.

“Eliana…”

“Call me Aunt.”

Eliana glared at Best and sat down, huffing with annoyance. Now that no outsiders were present, a hint of a younger woman’s temperament finally surfaced.

Best remained silent for a moment before continuing, “For the time being, you can no longer lead the Enforcement Guards. I will have Sorensen take over as acting commander… I’m sorry, but I must give the Council an explanation.”

While the Archon was nominally appointed by Her Majesty the Queen, most of the actual power was held firmly by the Council of hereditary nobles. Many administrative agendas could not be passed independently.

Best was considered a highly capable Archon, yet he remained helpless against the entrenched local powers. He could only maneuver as best he could within the limits of his authority.

Politics was the art of compromise.

By necessity, Best had to yield.

“I know,” Eliana murmured, crossing her arms. “But I believe the ‘Prophecy’ is real. The intelligence sent by ‘The Omniscient Being’ has never been wrong once. The new vision reveals that the danger is in the Downtown area. We must mobilize the Enforcement Guards to search and prepare for combat, to face an enemy that even ‘The Omniscient Being’ classifies as dangerous.”

“The Council refuses to believe it. If we forcibly mobilize the guards for a sweep, their private militias won’t stand idly by. It would spark internal civil strife,” Best sighed.

The hereditary nobles possessed their own private forces. They were exceptionally well-equipped—outfitted even better than the Enforcement Guards—lacking only in formal organizational discipline.

Eliana fell silent, staring up at Best. After a long moment, she spoke softly.

“Best… do you remember the vision we shared when we first arrived in Kolun County?”

Kolun County was not their original home. Their external appointments were the result of a compromise between Her Majesty and the local factions. If a local had been appointed Archon, the region would have become an impenetrable block, leading to an even more complete schism from the Kingdom.

The Kingdom of York was crumbling. Conflict and rebellion broke out constantly; it was a nation adrift in a storm, clinging to the last shred of its dignity.

“We had seen far too much suffering. We wanted to use our power and knowledge to create a pure land where the people could live and work in peace… even if that land was just a small city-state, a single village, or even just one street…”

“But we can’t do it now. Even just wanting to protect the citizens… it’s so difficult. There’s so much resistance. I’m tired.”

The Inquisitor, usually known for her iron-fisted methods, rarely showed such a vulnerable, despondent expression. Deep exhaustion was etched into her features.

Best looked at his still-young aunt, and he was reminded of himself when he first arrived in Kolun County. Back then, he had been full of vigor and decisive in his actions. Even when he hit walls at every turn, his determination for reform had never wavered.

But now?

He was old.

Through the endless cycle of mediating between the Council and the Church, he had gradually learned to compromise and accommodate. He had learned the art of balance and middle ground.

But… he had discarded his former self in the process.

When he thought about it, how much of that original vision still lived in his heart? It felt as if nothing remained at all.

But Eliana was different. At least for now.

Best did not want Eliana to become like him—lethargic and gray.

“Before the ‘Steam Armor’ is sealed back into The Abyss, it requires a seven-day period of ‘Purification,'” Best said slowly. “This is a loophole in the Council’s bylaws. During these seven days, utilizing the Steam Armor does not require a new application to be submitted.”

He paused, meeting her eyes. “For the sake of our citizens, Eliana, you cannot rest yet.”

Eliana stared at Best blankly. She saw the colors swirling deep within the eyes of this man, who was nearing sixty years of age. It was a spark of the same fiery red that had once burned so brightly.

She began to smile.

“Then call me ‘Aunt,’ my dear nephew.”