The Shepherds Are Dense – Chapter 687

Chapter 686
Jacob and Cardinal Loki

Several old elves were discussing, their voices growing louder and louder.

An elf prisoner carrying a lunchbox, with glowing triangular shackles on his hands, curiously leaned over to watch for a few moments before remembering it was Pope Election Day. “Is it already March 3rd?”

One of the wardens glanced at him and said irritably, “Yes, did you finish the twenty sets of Source of Life Potion you were supposed to make the day before yesterday?”

“Finished, finished… I was just about to hand them in…”

“Forget it, Gulamans.” Another old elf advised, “Today is a good day, give them half a day off.”

The passing prisoner then came closer, looking at the news on the screen, and asked curiously, “This is… a human Pope? Since when do humans have cardinals?”

“—What, a human Pope?”

Human prisoners passing by with their meals not far away heard the commotion and their spirits immediately lifted as they hurried over to join the excitement. “Is there a pardon? Will we be pardoned?”

Immediately, many human prisoners, Harpy prisoners, and Goblin prisoners also heard the news and all wanted to come over to see the news about the new Pope.

“Nothing for you to see, go back and eat!” A young warden shouted sternly, waving a light whip and driving everyone back. But these whips did not strike anyone; they only snapped in the air. Therefore, the prisoners were not too afraid and instead retreated with laughter, swarming back.

The other wardens did not get angry, merely sipped their tea and chuckled as they watched him drive the prisoners away. They discussed leisurely, “It’s good to have a human Pope. Besides, he’s from Avalon… Avalon is also part of our territory, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, people from Avalon are considered our own.”

“Actually, I think Cardinal Galatea is also good, after all, she’s from the Ancient Site Restoration Society. But I still support Cardinal Matilda more.”

“It’s impossible, Cardinal Matilda is on very good terms with Her Highness the Saintess. She’ll definitely give her vote to Her Highness the Saintess.”

“Yes, it’s best to have the Saintess elected Pope…” These old elves, whose ages exceeded a thousand years, whispered. Meanwhile, in a corner of this floor, in a place with even tighter security and more sealed off.

A human youth, dressed in a linen robe, with glowing shackles on his hands and feet, and his body covered in silvery white glowing runes, sat peacefully at the dining table. He had red hair—it was the vampire writer Bram Stoker. He looked thinner than before, but more spirited.

At this moment, on his table, lay a bottle of high-quality Star Antinomy red wine. This was something that would normally never be provided to a prisoner. Because the person who brought it had infiltrated silently.

“How is it, Bram?” Jacob said with a smile, finishing the barley tea on Bram’s table in one gulp, then pouring him a glass of red wine. “How is life here?”

“I’ll tell you the truth,” Bram said, twirling his meat sauce noodles with a fork. “Even the prisoners in the Church eat better than people in Avalon—much, much better. If the pickpockets on Glass Island who can’t find work knew the treatment of pickpockets here in the Church, they’d probably sail here to sneak in.”

On his table was a plate of tomato meat sauce noodles and a vinaigrette salad with three types of vegetables. This was not food specially provided due to his identity, but the most standard prisoner meal—they could even choose one from tomato meat sauce noodles, meat pies or sugar pies, or lamb stew with rice today, served with a vegetable salad or mixed stew. In terms of food quality, it was indeed much better than that of ordinary Avalon residents.

In his hand, he held a gleaming silver metal fork. The Church did not worry about prisoners injuring themselves or each other, and there was basically no possibility of escape—those runes could control the prisoners at any time and could also make them instinctively unable to do, or even think of, certain things. Compared to the Authority spells of Avalon, the Church’s Authority divine arts were gentler yet more irresistible.

“Oh?” Jacob said with a smile. “Is that so… … Compared to the taste of human blood and human flesh, which is better?”

“If I could,” the vampire writer Bram said, not looking up at Jacob, but his voice gradually mixed with a hint of a low tone, “I would prefer to… eat your flesh and drink your blood. —Jacob Alexander. My old friend.”

The next moment, a glowing humanoid creature suddenly appeared behind Jacob. A strong sense of oppression, a sense of divine majesty, made Bram abruptly look up at it. In an instant, he was drenched in sweat.

“Don’t make a move, ‘Eivass’,” Jacob said leisurely. “Just scare him a little.”

[But he said he wanted to kill you] A voice like a mechanical synthesized noise, as if slightly wronged, sounded out.

“…Is this the benefit of you becoming a dog for the Ring Heavenly Envoy?” “Bram” sneered. “Lord ‘Disc’?” He looked up, his pupils turning into a blaze of fire. The sharp and arrogant voice that originally belonged to Bram became low and magnetic, completely inconsistent with his slender appearance.

“You misunderstand me, Cardinal Loki,” Jacob said leisurely. “‘Eivass’ is something I created when I was alive… I only activated it after my death.”

“‘Eivass’… Heh. This thing has the same name as your grandson. Is it a Swamp Dweller made from his Soul Shards?”

“Just scraps.” Jacob smiled slightly and pushed his monocle. His youthful appearance made him seem to return to the past, becoming that reporter.

“…Scraps? Whose scraps?”

“Shouldn’t you know? The all-knowing Cardinal Loki… This is naturally the remainder used to make ‘Eivass’. Upper management gave me some raw materials, but I actually made Eivass using only a portion. That remaining part… I couldn’t send it back, could I?” Jacob said with a smile, “In our human terms, this is called ‘fire loss’. This part of the scraps belongs to me.”

“Hmph.” “Bram” sneered dismissively. He gradually retreated, changing back to Bram.

“Don’t rush off yet,” Jacob said, gently showing off. “Do you know, my grandson became the Pope.”

“Oh, I could have guessed.” “Bram” paused, then looked up again, his pupils reflecting a sea of fire once more. Just his smile was mocking. “Or rather, that’s also one of my backup plans.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm, I know. Whether you become Pope, or you are killed by Eivass… Whether you are alive or dead, you can always go with the flow and gain some benefits. It’s quite a ‘Moriarty-style’ layout and planning,” Jacob said happily.

“It’s the other way around, Jacob. He learned from me. How can a father be like a son?” A small piece of Loki’s consciousness hidden inside “Bram” said with a cold laugh.

“Oh?” Jacob smiled slightly. “Are you really sure this is your plan? Is there a possibility… that all of this is Moriarty’s plan? From the very beginning, you didn’t have ‘that many choices’. The future, full of countless possibilities, had only one possibility left when Eivass arrived. All of this is inevitable. Just as I would appear here, and you…” Jacob smiled and reached out, grabbing the gleaming fork in “Bram”‘s hand, letting his skin be pierced. “—will serve me. Taste it, this is my communion… This is mercy.”
(End of this chapter)