Chapter Fifty-Nine: Irwin's Good News

Handel was someone Mulan had observed for a long time, recognized his character, and was quite satisfied with his response at this moment.

In the former twenty-first century, Mulan considered himself to be an ordinary person. When he was young, teachers claimed that with hard work, anyone could excel. But as time went on, he realized that people truly did have differences in talent.

Yet now, having become who he was, Mulan suddenly found himself something of a prodigy. Perhaps not in every field, but at least in the realm of arcane knowledge, he stood out. This was thanks to a mind that was not dull and an innate gift for resonance.

Though plagued by insomnia and dreams, Mulan remained optimistic, confident that he would eventually distinguish himself.

"By the way, sir, these are the letters received recently. I’ve gathered them all for you."

Handel pointed to a paper box on the table and opened it, revealing a stack of letters—perhaps a dozen or more.

Mulan could not receive correspondence at the Black Castle, so all mail was addressed to the York District Police Station. Letters were never delivered individually; the post office only brought them once a week at a fixed time.

"Thank you," Mulan replied.

His thoughts returned to the present as he began opening the letters and reading their contents. Handel, knowing his place, returned to his desk, tidied up, and then left, as he did every day at this hour to prepare lunch for himself and Mulan.

Though there was no dedicated delivery service, a meal ordered in advance could be picked up from the shop at noon.

Mulan opened each letter. Many expressed gratitude, some described trivial matters, others poured out complaints about hard times, and a few detailed long factory hours, short breaks, and deductions from wages that were already meager, begging Mulan to stand up for justice.

He could not help but rub his forehead. He could not give more money, nor could he intervene with factory owners and nobles in distant regions. He took out some banknotes and selectively replied to a few letters, then set his pen aside.

"Ah!" He sighed, suddenly feeling lost.

He believed his future was bright: he possessed outstanding talent in the arcane world, was favored by the Queen in politics, and would become a rising star among the privileged.

The society Mulan had seen often appeared glamorous, but that did not mean he was blind to its filth. Even in Valentine, children worked barefoot in the bitter winter, trailing after overseers for work.

Perhaps Mr. Moore’s presence was the hope of the lower classes. It was not that one had to follow that path, but the very existence of such a path forced some to make changes, to compromise for the benefit of the people.

Yet this world was not as simple as the last; the existence of the arcane world made that path far more unpredictable.

"Knock knock knock~"

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in."

It was not Handel who entered, but a well-dressed gentleman. Upon seeing Mulan, he removed his hat and bowed respectfully.

"Esteemed Lord Jonster, I come from the palace. Her Majesty the Queen specifically sent me to remind you not to investigate the workers’ strike any further. Let the regular police handle it."

"Hmm? Why?"

The man hastened to explain.

"Lord Jonster, Her Majesty has great faith in your abilities, which is why she sent me to warn you. This is not an ordinary civilian unrest; there is an evil and powerful force at work behind it. Even the incident at Black Castle last night may be related. The Queen fears that if you pursue this further, you may be in danger, so she instructed me to remind you."

Mulan frowned, silent for a long while before replying.

"Though I am reluctant, my strength is indeed rather meager at present. Please tell Her Majesty the Queen that I will take care."

"I shall deliver your message, then I take my leave."

The man left, and Mulan’s stern expression melted into a smile. Clearly, he did not fear this "evil presence," but the development suited him perfectly. How cunning he was, how cunning Walton was.

Lunch was a simple meat stew and bread, but the broth was rich, with plenty of carrots and chunks of meat—quite nourishing.

Not long after eating, drowsiness swept over him, but Mulan did not nap. Instead, he stood, asked Handel to stay and tidy up, and left the police station himself.

The wind outside was still cold, blowing his exposed hair into disarray. He pressed down his hat and walked along the street. He did not know how long he walked, but at last his steps halted before the Grand Cathedral of Dego.

Simply standing there, he felt a powerful sense of sanctity.

For the first time, Mulan approached the cathedral with a reverent heart.

As Dego’s largest—and the greatest in Dilga—this cathedral was grand and sacred. Each day, scores of believers came to pray.

But now was not the proper time; there would be no priests leading prayers and blessings. Mulan entered, walked alone to the front, found a seat, and folded his hands, closing his eyes.

From a chamber within, children’s hymns echoed, bringing him a sense of peace. He almost drifted to sleep.

When Mulan awoke, the cathedral’s lights had all been turned on, the altar was crowded with white candles, and the once bustling hall was now nearly empty, vast and silent.

"I saw you sleeping so soundly, I did not wake you."

An aged voice sounded beside him. Mulan looked and saw a white-haired old priest, his mantle and robe embroidered with gold, a round cap similarly adorned. He was, in fact, an archbishop.

At such rank, there were virtually no ordinary men—he must be a powerful supernal.

"Your Grace, please forgive me for sleeping in this sacred place. It was not disrespect for God; it is simply that here, I find peace, and my weary spirit can rest."

"Are you Mulan Jonster?"

Mulan was a little surprised. He was well-known in Valentine, but hardly so in Dego.

"No need to be surprised. Elvin is my student, and he asked about you. I know you suffer from chronic insomnia and vivid dreams. To sleep peacefully in the cathedral is something God is pleased to see."

Of course, Mulan’s troubles were not merely sleeplessness, but he had no intention to say more.

"Like Elvin, you are a gifted child. He has spoken of you more than once. Seeing you today, I regret not seeking you out in Valentine long ago."

The old archbishop sat beside Mulan, gazing toward the altar, chatting as if they were ordinary men.

"A grand cathedral cannot suffice to describe God’s greatness. Beyond the visible light, all believers, including us, merely define God for ourselves. But that is enough. There is too much darkness in this world, too much danger. The purpose of the holy light is to bring warmth, to give hope."

"You are a good child. Though your temperament is unsuited to the priesthood, you would certainly make a fine holy knight. Perhaps the Black Castle frowns upon the cathedral, but we have no such qualms. You may serve the Imperial Queen, work at Black Castle, and still be a devout believer beneath the holy light—a holy knight!"

Mulan felt somewhat dazed, a sense of ease and kinship, with much of his accumulated pressure seemingly relieved.

He could not help but think—in a slightly irreverent way—what a remarkable priest this was; Elvin would have a hard time surpassing him.

"But I do not walk the path of the holy knight. When I take that next step, it will be a different profession."

He smiled as he spoke, and the archbishop smiled as well.

"Is the choice of profession truly what determines whether you are a holy knight? Does being a holy knight mean only a job? Perhaps many think so; some among us do not. The holy knight recognized by God is defined by his devotion and his deeds."

"I am enlightened!"

Mulan thanked him sincerely, then turned his gaze to the other side, where Elvin was approaching.

"Well then, I won’t disturb your conversation. If you ever feel troubled, you are welcome to visit me."

The archbishop rose and departed. As he passed Elvin, the latter greeted him with deep respect, and the archbishop returned the courtesy with equal precision.

When Elvin reached Mulan’s side, Mulan could not help but laugh.

"Elvin, you have a fine teacher. Unlike me at Black Castle—practically raised wild."

"Raised wild? I heard Black Castle was attacked last night?"

Elvin got straight to what concerned him most.

"Bad news travels fast. Has all of Dego heard? Yes, it was attacked, and the losses were considerable."

"Don’t take it to heart. You couldn’t have helped much anyway."

Elvin’s words instantly made Mulan’s veins stand out.

"Are you implying something? What do you mean, I couldn’t have helped much—are you calling me weak?"

"Just being honest."

Elvin grinned, and before Mulan could erupt, he spoke again, his excitement barely hidden.

"Mulan, do you know? I’m going to the Holy Mountain. I’ll receive the highest form of baptism, and may use sacred relics to sense the holy light of heaven—perhaps even feel the radiance of God up close! The more devout and pure one is, the closer one can approach God, even commune with Him as a mortal soul! Fewer than three people a year get this opportunity, and this year I am one!"

"Oh, quite impressive."

Watching Elvin stamping his feet in excitement, Mulan stretched lazily and spoke in a languid tone.

"Hey, don’t be so perfunctory! This is the most important event in my life. I believe this baptism will elevate my soul and faith even further!"

Seeing Elvin so moved, Mulan smiled warmly.

"If you really can converse with the God of Holy Light, remember to ask Him how to end this ever more dangerous arcane tide. After all, the cathedral has made progress over the years, but it always seems to be following behind."

"That’s too big a question. Isn’t it answered in the Gospel?"

"But the answers aren’t very useful, are they? That’s why you need to ask God in person."

"If you keep this up, we can’t keep talking."

Elvin grinned and sat down. He knew that direct communion with God was merely a lofty phrase; no one could truly chat with the deity—at best, one might be blessed by the holy light.

"Hahaha, congratulations, Elvin. Nothing more to say—just don’t forget to choose the Valentine parish!"

Mulan, unconcerned with propriety, placed a hand on Elvin’s shoulder and shook him vigorously. Elvin struggled but responded in kind.

"Of course!"