I Am the God of Games Chapter 284

Chapter 284 To Each Their Own

“Domo-kaslamo, domo-kaslamo…”

In a basement beneath the Lancaster Brilliant White Church, a group of man wearing white cleric cassocks were sitting around the circle of a sacred art while chanting cryptic incantations.

And at the center was a white gem the size of a pigeon's egg.

Moments later, a dazzling white light shone over the circle with the gem slowly melting-it then vanished into thin air.

In its place, several figures were slowly materializing: backup sent from Yinstein, the Holy City.

Despite being the captain of an imperial military detachment, Monan had a better nose for politics then the other knights. Still, he couldn't be sure that his theory was correct in spite of his knowledge and experiences, since he couldn't leap out of the frame to look at the big picture.

It appeared that the Lancaster Brilliant White Church hard contacted their Holy City with some sacred art in the very moment Mayor Corinth had announced the organization of the Twin City Cup.

The cardinal presiding over foreign relations ministry of the Holy City had decided that they could slightly uncover the depth of the Silver Eagle Duchy through the tourney—the Church of Games had only showed up in Tunaya thus far after all, and the Twin City Cup was in fact a joint event held by Lancaster and Tunaya.

That being said, the vastness of the Brilliant White Church meant that they didn't have to be concerned about some minor religion that barely had any presence, even though they were clearly involved in the fall of the previous Church of Games.

Still, out of professional habit and the consideration of using the budget that would be deducted next time around, the cardinal eventually decided to send in a group of people to examine the situation.

Now, their figures slowly solidified within the sacred art.

But not only were their clothing exuding no sense of elegance, it gave the impression of shabbiness.

And it wasn't just their clothing either-this group of people from the Holy City only maintained their most basic of hygiene in hair and beard, hence looking rather unkempt.

Their darkened skins were exposed beneath the clothes that fitted loosely over their bodies, palpating a brutish demeanor completely unlike the fair-skinned, delicate bishops. One could even vaguely distorted marks on their skin that looked suspiciously like wounds from lashing

In fact, they wouldn't look out of place in the slums aside from being a little hygienic and not smelling weirdly.

Even so, none of the clerics present were holding those peasant-like figures in disdain, let alone acting impolite towards them.

After all, they were the monks.

They lived in voluntary poverty, harsh living conditions to cultivate themselves, exhausting their spirit, flesh, soul and whatever they had in the name of their faith. In exchange of that pure heart was their god's watchfulness and power surpassing most other believers.

Even though there were completely different structures in each church, the title of monks signified equally important meaning.

No matter which faith it was, only zealots or believers surpassing them had what it takes to become monks.

And inside a behemoth such as the Brilliant White Church, it was already an indescribable honor for anyone who could become a monk. There were even clerics who believed that monkhood was a more difficult position compared to bishops sent to remote corners of the continent.

At the same time, the monks were the pillar of the Brilliant White Church's intermediate fighting forces. Popes, saints, saintesses and various chosen ones notwithstanding, every member of the two most feared covert bodies of the Brilliant White Church-the White Court's Wetwork Platoon and the Heretical Magistrates of the Thirteenth Partisans-were handpicked monks.

“Brother, apologies for interrupting your meditations.” The local bishop rose and bowed. “We're counting on you for this tourney.”

“It's fine. It had been deemed necessary, and it is a part of my meditation.”

The monk in the lead accepted the gesture with composure and nodded his head in return.

“Will someone come bring our brothers to their guest room?” The bishop turned towards the other clerics.

“That's unnecessary. We just need one empty room, and we'll handle anything else.” The monks' leader merely voiced a simple request, stopping the bishop from giving his group a warm reception.

“Don't you need food or anything else? Alright then…”

The bishop eventually relented, and had his clerics lead the monks to a vacant room behind the sanctuary.

And when the monks left, one of the clerics staying behind quietly asked the bishops. “Your excellency, is it really worth calling them here? That Ash Illum crystal we used was so pure that it could have sold for three Abbys on the black market!”

“You're being short-sighted.” The bishop grimaced in response. “Requesting help from Yinstein was necessary-ever since those warmongering gorillas of the Temple of Glory spoke to Mayor Corinth a while ago, he was suddenly much more disinterested in us. Even the nobles siding with him rarely present tithes to us these days…”

“But didn't they tell us that they weren't aware of that when you visited the Temple of Glory?” The cleric asked, puzzled.

“Are you believing whatever they say? Moreover, whether it really was them, it is a reality that our influence is continuing to decline.”

The bishop shook his head even as he left the basement with the cleric.

Even though the new emperor was already attempting to interfere with Lancaster affairs, offering olive branches to many of the city's nobles and there had indeed been some who were interested, the Atherton family still rules Lancaster. In fact, after having held the position of mayor for over forty years, Corinth's personal authority was not to be toppled by the emperor's lackeys and a little profit.

And with Corinth setting an example, the other nobles naturally followed suit and stop sending out bimonthly tithes or any other offerings they usually gave to the Brilliant White Church.

When he arrived on the surface, the bishop declared solemnly, “This can't continue! We must have the world know that the Brilliant White Church is number one! The best!”

“Therefore, the Twin City Cup is the best opportunity-I know not why Mayor Corinth would organize the tourney, just as I am not interested in knowing. Even so, as long as the Brothers could claim the top placings, our great name would undoubtedly gain stature once again, and the nobles would remember that we are no small fry, for the Holy City of Yinstein has our backs! As do our lord, the God of Light, the greatest of the Seven Divine Fathers!”

“Impressive as always, your excellency! You've easily thought up something we could never have imagined!” Picking up on the cue, the cleric immediately licked his superior's boots.

That was when an unusual gust could be heard from the outside. The bishop turned to find several dragons carefully gliding over the skies of Lancaster.

They were the wyvern knights—an elite force of the Temple of Glory!

The look on the Brilliant White Church bishop's face turned dark. “You've even called in those things, and you're still saying the Temple of Glory isn't involved?” He muttered, gritting his teeth.

Hence, as the Twin City Cup loomed, unseen undercurrents began to surge within Lancaster.

Chapter end