Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 84 Secretary
The bishop's residence is the second largest building in the church complex. It has a solemn and majestic appearance, with a huge facade and stone arches. Its style blends well with the Romanesque St. Lucia Cathedral.

Unlike private residences that are spiritual dwellings, the government building includes public buildings such as offices, religious courts, meeting rooms, warehouses, and archives, as well as a residential building for clergy at the back.

However, Xilun hadn't been there much. When he first arrived, there were only seven people in the entire church, and there were no documents to process. Moreover, its decoration was too grand and solemn, which put a lot of psychological pressure on people.

Nowadays, piles of documents are stacked in the office, thick stacks of papers filled with the personal information of applicants, which Green and Joseph are rapidly reading behind.

“We need a difference engine!” Green complained.

“That’s not easy.” Joseph put on a pair of small round glasses and squinted at the documents in front of him. “Jay Austin, former Newport coachman, applied for coachman, messenger, courier, doorman, coachman, ceremonial steward, clerk, cook… Damn it, he applied for every single position!”

“Do we have horses?” Green asked.

"No—perhaps we could buy some in the pastures, but there's no place to use horses in Speyside; walking and elevators are enough."

"Then the gatekeeper and the messenger will do."

"The security guard position is full—we've already put over a hundred people on the shortlist."

"After all, it doesn't require any special skills... a messenger should be able to handle it."

"I seriously doubt how fast he can run."

"But he should know the way very well."

They kept discussing, and information sheets were categorized and tallied one by one, with Green's speed far exceeding Joseph's.

His thinking was extremely logical, and his young brain showed outstanding performance. Later on, they stopped discussing it and instead Green directly wrote his opinions on the documents and then piled them on Joseph's side.

"I'm really old," Joseph said, rubbing his eyes. Twenty years of hard work had turned the former farmer into a frail old man. Although he was still a year shy of fifty, he could feel the decline in all his bodily functions.

“No, not at all. It’s already very good that you can do this much at your age.” Green offered a few words of comfort. Although his rank was higher than Joseph’s, as a newcomer, he still respected the bishop’s confidant. “I’ve been working with data and documents since I was a child.”

"You didn't graduate from a seminary?" Joseph asked.

“No, my dad was a data analyst for the difference engine. I grew up looking at data with him.” He picked up the last small stack of documents. “Later, he worked as a scribe for the priest in the local church, and then rose to become a secretary.”

"Later, St. John's Cathedral, as the first modern church of the Papacy, introduced the difference machine and typewriter. Hearing that I could tinker with these things, the priest recommended me to become the bishop's private secretary."

Joseph nodded; this was indeed an unusual way to get promoted.

A bishop’s private secretary usually has the title of priest, but without divine authorization; it is an honorary title of a private servant.

However, this position can only be obtained by people who are very close to the bishop. They are usually trained from a very early age. People like Green, who rely on their skills in differential machines and typewriters, are very rare.

“I’ve finished reading it.” Green placed a stack of documents on Joseph’s desk, and the elderly goalkeeper immediately looked worried.

"So what are you going to do now?" Joseph asked.

“Let’s read.” Green pulled out a copy of “Nicomachean Ethics” and leaned against the ebony table to read.

Joseph immediately felt a sense of goodwill towards him, recalling his younger self who had diligently studied writing and scriptures: "He really can't sit still."

“Every minute is very important,” he said earnestly.
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Xiren walked to his desk, where a huge bookshelf was piled with parchment scrolls and books. Behind him was a tall, narrow window with stained glass that shattered the dim midday sunlight into soft reds and blues.

The bishop's seat was covered in deep red velvet, the armrests were polished to a shine and exuded the fragrance of wood. Opposite it was a simple wooden chair for visitors or secretaries—the closest place to authority, yet always a little uneasy.

But he didn't like the layout. He had only been sitting for a few minutes when he started thinking about how to change it. Perhaps it was a habit he inherited from his time as an analyst, but he particularly preferred to sit in a rocking chair in a warm and peaceful room and talk to visitors, rather than watching his subordinates' uneasy expressions through a cold desk.

Tomorrow is Sunday Mass. Although it's not an important day, it's the first time he'll personally preside over Mass.

Moreover, for some ulterior motive, many rituals had to be altered.

"The entrance hymn needs to be changed, kissing the altar isn't acceptable..." He filled a quill with ink and began scribbling on the paper. "The content of the Epistles and the Gospels isn't following the standard procedure anymore, and the sermons..."

"The entrance ceremony needs to be spectacular... How about Kyle wears the Archangel costume? He should be able to wear it for ten minutes or so without any problem... The Knights' Royal Guard should all go, but we must explain to the congregation that it's for their protection..."

He wrote several pages of manuscript, then burned them in the sacred fire—these things couldn't be left behind, in case anything happened later, they would be evidence of his crimes.

After all, what he was about to do was arguably the most blasphemous act in history—to dethrone the gods.

The most terrible acts recorded in the scriptures were nothing more than destroying altars, forbidding the worship of gods, and forcing people to convert.

It can only be said that the imagination of the ancients was too limited.

After a long while, there was a knock on the office door, and Green walked in carrying a stack of papers.

"Your Excellency, this is the applicant's information. We have completed the review."

"Put it down, you've worked hard," Siren said, looking at the priest of St. John's Cathedral.

He had beautiful light brown curly hair. Although he was still young, he had a high nose bridge and deep-set eyes, typical of Southerners. You could tell he was trying to imitate a traditional Southerner—elegant, restrained, and gentlemanly—but there was a childishness to his imitation of an adult.

"What are your thoughts on the future?" Xiren asked suddenly, picking up a stack of papers.

"Ah, me?" Green smiled shyly. "I don't have any particular thoughts. I'll leave it to the bishop to arrange."

"What did you do at St. John's Cathedral before?" Siren placed the selected list on his right.

"One of the bishop's secretaries, in charge of the typewriter and the difference machine."

"Have you ever worked as a scribe?"

"Yes, I have taken grammar classes."

"If I were to write a letter to the Pope, a bishop, or a priest, what should the recipient be addressed as?"

"To our most holy Master, to our venerable brother, to our beloved in the Messiah."

"What's your favorite quote from the Bible?" Siren twirled his quill.

"Whatever you do, do it from the heart, as if it were done for the Lord, not for human beings."

Xilun paused for a moment, and the atmosphere froze for a second.

Green felt a sense of anxiety and unease welling up from the silence.

Did I say something wrong? He wondered anxiously.

(End of this chapter)