Chapter 460
Serving the evil god.
The longer you've been in this organization, the more you learn about how to survive.
The first thing you need is paranoia.
They know this is normal. They don't question it. But everyone here is at least a little unhinged.
So besides their faith, nobody trusts anyone.
"The temple's moving?"
"Yes, sir. They were trying to send a letter. We intercepted the adventurer carrying it. Someone tipped them off about our operation."
"Dispose of the adventurer, or convert him. Who tipped them off? We were careful to keep our presence hidden from the townsfolk."
"A merchant passing through, apparently."
"'Apparently'? We've got the Guild on our payroll. Those profit-hounds know better than to bite the hand that feeds them."
The hierarchy is rigid.
This town was a backup plan from Gilgin Ardagón, head of the Ardagón Faction, after the divine mountain plan failed. They needed to replace lost followers.
So the priest running this operation is Ardagón too.
The Julud Faction is all about smash-and-grab. The Bend Faction are fighters. They don't have the patience for slow recruitment. The Church leadership had to send their own.
"The gate guards don't recall any merchant matching that description entering."
"What?"
"A woman traveling with children, especially one, should stand out. Even lazy guards wouldn't miss her."
"...A spy from another organization, then. Or a merchant with their own way in and out. Either way, they're a problem."
You need patience for the long game. You need to work with others. You need to keep your head.
They chose this priest because he has all three.
He's good at what he does. Middle management, especially. Reliable.
Combat-wise, he's not top-tier. But for this kind of job, brains matter more.
"There's something else. Might be nothing."
"What?"
"Our informant says the merchant woman had our mark on her neck."
"What?"
"She kept it hidden under a scarf. One of our men approached her at the tavern. She showed him the mark, quick, so nobody else saw."
"On her neck? Damn. Scavengers."
"Could be the Douglas Faction?"
There are factions within the Church that don't like how the Ardagón operate. They aren't supposed to fight each other, but that doesn't stop some from causing trouble.
The Ardagón are the underhanded types, the fixers. They don't get along with everyone. The Douglas Faction, with their neck tattoos, are one of them.
"Likely. Everyone's trying to recruit. Douglas has been losing ground lately, they need bodies. They could have tipped off the temple to discredit us. Wait for us to slip, then move in."
"Why show the mark? They're stepping out of their lane."
"Douglas doesn't think. They take what they want. Show the mark, they think they can do whatever they please."
Outcasts among outcasts.
Selfish, stubborn, does what they want.
They don't last long. Their faith is... different.
The rest of the Church keeps their distance.
"Troublemakers. We're watching them?"
"Yes. We've got their inn covered. Orders?"
"Watch them. If they interfere, shut them down."
"Understood."
The priest frowned. But if he struck first, things would get complicated.
Better to wait for them to overstep first.
He thought that was the right call. He would regret it.
That day, nothing else happened.
The next day, everything went wrong.
"Sir!"
"What?"
"The gambling house!"
"More trouble with customers?"
"No. We're out of money."
The gambling house was supposed to get the locals in debt. Drive them into the Church's arms.
Rigged from the start, of course.
Hook them with a few wins, pull them into the pit. Classic. Basic.
Normally, the problem is fights. People getting violent.
The priest barely paid attention. Then his man said something that made his eyes go wide.
"We're what? The house doesn't lose!"
"It's that merchant woman, sir. She came with her group."
"So? Take their money."
"They had a dwarf with them. One of the kids. Knew all the tricks. She caught us. Had proof."
"What?"
The gambling house was broke. That shouldn't happen.
You rig the game, you don't lose. You take their money.
House wins, the customer loses. That's how it works.
You make a few rich, you ruin the rest. The ones who lose everything come crawling to the Church. They bring their friends.
They paid off the lord to keep it quiet. They were careful the temple didn't find out.
"We had guards!"
"The dwarf took them all down."
"Why didn't you come to me sooner?"
"We couldn't. They took out everyone. We only got word after they left."
"...Did they take the money?"
"That's..."
They were doing well. This place was starting to turn a profit.
Somebody robbed them blind. The priest was about to order blood, when his man hesitated. Opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again.
"They won it gambling."
"What? You mean they just took it? With force?"
"No. They caught us cheating. We made the first move. They just defended themselves. Our guards were outmatched. And..."
"There's more!?"
The priest could feel it coming. Something he couldn't fight.
The Church doesn't let its own go after each other easily.
If someone hits your operation, you hit back. You send a message.
But here? The gambling house cheated, got caught. They threw the first punch, lost. The Church leadership would ask whose fault it was.
You run a gambling house, you get caught cheating, you can't do anything about it. That makes you the fool.
"They challenged us. Clean game. We saw the money, we went all in. By the time we realized, we were cleaned out. Title deeds too."
"They took everything!?"
"Yes. They kept losing. Kept doubling down. Wouldn't stop."
"Our people are supposed to be the best at this!"
"It was the dwarf who caught us. The wolf-girl who played. She didn't lose a single hand."
If it had been Douglas, taking their money by force, he could do something. But a clean game? A fair fight they lost?
What could he do?
"It's a setup! They must have cheated!"
"They didn't. Our people watched. Nothing unusual. She just played."
"If you don't lose, it's not gambling!"
Clean. Honest. They lost.
There was no excuse. It was their own fault.
When Douglas hears about this, they'll laugh. They'll tell everyone who's to blame.
"..."
He knew it. He knew he couldn't touch them. The Church has rules about infighting. He could fabricate something, but that was risky.
"What do we do?"
"...Watch them. Don't let them do anything else."
"Yes, sir."
He swallowed his rage. Let them have this one. There were other gambling houses. They could rebuild.
He thought that was the end of it.
It wasn't.
The next day. The day after. The woman and her group picked at the Church's operations. Just at the edges. Just enough to hurt. Not enough to be a crime.
"UNACCEPTABLE!"
"Sir, please, calm down!"
He was reading the reports. His stomach was burning.
They took the gambling house's money and bought out the taverns. They poured drinks for everyone. Including the recruiters. They woke up in gutters, useless for days. With the temple possibly on its way, losing so many hands at once was a disaster.
But the money was from gambling. What could he do about it?
Then they bought up all the black cloth, the black robes. They needed those.
Then they bought up the horses. The escape route. Gone.
He wasn't sleeping. He was grinding his teeth.
He read the night's report. He was going to drink himself to sleep.
Then lightning hit the warehouse district.
"Where did that hit?!"
"That's where we keep the product!"
"I know! Get men there now!!"
One bad thing after another.
The weather had been turning. Rain coming.
Lightning struck the wrong place. The place with their product. The money they used for bribes. The priest and his man knew exactly where it was.
They ran.
He was still trying to put out the fire when a messenger came from the lord.
"Return my daughter."