Aimou asked, "Do we need to report to the Decision Room?"
"No rush. I want to see what that Priest is really like."
Bologue tightened his grip on Aimou's hand, pushed through the crowd, and walked toward the front. When the last ray of sunlight vanished from the sky and countless torches rose around the square, a pitch‑black silhouette stepped steadily onto the high platform, the golden Cross on his chest glinting in the firelight.
"Good evening, everyone."
The Priest's voice was very calm and deep, carrying a reassuring quality, as if in front of him you could set down all your defenses.
Bologue studied the Priest's face. Unfortunately, the flickering firelight failed to illuminate it fully; all Bologue could see was a pair of tea‑tinted glasses. Aside from the golden Cross on his chest, that was his only distinguishing feature.
