Chapter 289: Clergy from Across the World (III)
Gideon looked up to see a young, beautiful nun waving at them.
So it's her.
"Sister… Caroline?" Bettice stood up, quickly recognizing her.
They had met once before during the Philadelphia memorial incident.
"You know each other?" Carl frowned slightly.
Caroline nodded and briefly explained how they had met.
"Luckily you were there that time—otherwise, if those heretics had succeeded, Archbishop Jolan would have been punished!"
"Don't say such things carelessly!"
Caroline stuck out her tongue sheepishly.
Carl lifted his chin.
"Since you're acquainted with Caroline, I'll speak plainly."
"This Clergy Order selection is extremely important. I have no intention of working with people who might drag me down."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"In a moment, both of you will report your theological progress—as well as the sacred techniques you've mastered."
"I'll assign roles accordingly."
"And once the selection begins, you will follow my orders—regardless of your strength."
Silence fell over the room.
Bettice glanced at Gideon, then bowed slightly.
"May I ask… who you are?"
"You may address me as Lord Carl. I am an heir of the Medici family."
"May the Lord bless you, Lord Carl," Bettice said, drawing a cross.
Then she added cautiously, "But… as far as I know, the team leader for this mission is Father Gideon."
Caroline opened her mouth—but Carl silenced her with a glance.
"You're not wrong," he said with a nod.
"Originally, that was indeed the case."
Then his tone shifted.
"But you're outsiders—you don't understand the rules of the Holy Land. Mistakes are inevitable."
"My status is different. It's only appropriate that I take command."
"I heard something else on the way here," Gideon said calmly.
"Once the team list is submitted to the Vatican, any changes must be publicly re-announced… correct?"
Carl nodded.
"That's right."
"But don't worry. The re-announcement would only display your name in the Holy Land plaza. At most, other clergy might take note—there's no real punishment."
Gideon lowered his gaze briefly.
"So?" Carl pressed. "Have you decided? If you agree, I can offer some additional—"
"I refuse."
Carl froze mid-sentence.
"What did you say?"
"I believe I was quite clear," Gideon replied evenly.
Carl's expression darkened, his fists tightening.
Seeing this, Bettice quickly stepped in.
"Lord Carl, Father Gideon didn't mean—"
"Silence!" Carl snapped. "This isn't your place to speak—a member of a lower church."
Gideon's eyes narrowed slightly.
Another entitled noble brat…
Bettice clenched her fists, then slowly relaxed them again.
"Brother… we can talk this through. Father Gideon is actually very capa—" Caroline tried to mediate.
"Did you forget what I told you?" Carl shook her off.
Then he turned back to Gideon.
"Think carefully. Do you understand the consequences of offending the Medici family?"
Gideon met his gaze calmly.
Given Jolan's personality, he would never have failed to anticipate this situation.
And yet he still chose Gideon as team leader—
Which meant he was confident Gideon could handle this so-called Medici heir.
Besides…
This man kept flaunting his status—
Yet couldn't even defy Jolan's authority.
So this 'heir'… isn't as solid as he pretends.
With that thought, Gideon spoke again.
"I've made myself clear. If you're unwilling to work under me, you're free to withdraw."
Better a smaller team than a liability.
Carl's jaw tightened.
But just as Gideon expected—
He couldn't force the issue.
The atmosphere fell into a tense stalemate.
At that moment, a voice came from the stairway.
"Well, well… if it isn't the esteemed Lord Carl."
Everyone turned.
Two men stood there.
They wore finely tailored black silk shirts, with riding trousers tucked into polished boots.
"Brendan. Porter. What are you doing here?" Carl narrowed his eyes.
Brendan, a young man with curly hair, looked him up and down, covering his nose with a finger.
"Look at you—dressed like some commoner. It's an embarrassment to the Medici name."
As a family that rose through commerce, the Medici placed great importance on appearance outside formal church settings.
"You haven't answered me. Were you following me?" Carl demanded.
Porter scoffed.
"This isn't your personal territory. Do we need your permission to go anywhere?"
"Exactly," Brendan added. "With the selection approaching, we're busy preparing sacred artifacts."
"Not like some people—sneaking off to mingle with lowly outsiders. No wonder the family chose Lord Falco this time."
That struck a nerve.
"You realize," Carl said coldly, "that you're offending the purest bloodline of the Medici family?"
"Pfft—HAHAHAHA!"
The two burst into laughter.
"Fine, I'll admit—your father is indeed one of the purest heirs," Brendan said, wiping tears from his eyes.
"But you?" He sneered. "Does your lowly washerwoman mother know that?"
"Enough!" Caroline stepped forward, fists clenched.
"Don't you dare speak of my mother like that!"
Porter's voice turned icy.
"The one who should be quiet is you."
"A half-blood like you—your future is to marry some powerful old man and bring another official into the family. That's your only value."
"Or do you think you can become a Medici heir too? You whore."
Brendan chuckled.
"Personally, I think Miss Caroline here has fallen for that outsider."
"A noble lady and a poor boy—quite the theater story."
They laughed again.
Carl trembled with rage.
But he didn't dare act.
These two were core members of the Medici—and assigned to assist Falco.
If conflict broke out, he would likely be the one to suffer.
Nearby, Gideon watched with interest.
A spoiled noble getting bullied by even worse nobles—
It was almost entertaining.
But their insults toward "outsiders" clearly included him.
So he spoke.
"Forgive my confusion… but which of you is actually the purest-blooded Medici?"
Everyone turned to him.
Is now really the time for that?! Bettice thought, nearly losing it.
Brendan's expression darkened.
"What are you implying? Questioning us?"
Gideon spread his hands.
"No offense. Pure academic curiosity."
"If you two are the true Medici heirs, then I'd be happy to insult him instead."
He pointed at Carl.
"After all, he was quite rude earlier."
Carl glared at him, practically ready to bite.
Caroline looked conflicted—her brother had indeed been at fault.
Brendan and Porter exchanged glances.
"…Is this guy on our side?"
"…What he says… makes some sense."
After a brief whisper, they straightened up.
"It's good that you're interested in the history of noble families," Brendan said smugly. "The Church needs more young people like you."
Then he actually began explaining.
"This one—his father was the eldest son of the previous family head. Pure bloodline—but he defied the family and married a washerwoman."
"Our fathers are also eldest sons—descended from the previous head's younger brother. Our blood is equally noble."
Gideon thought for a moment.
"So… your grandfathers were brothers. One line became the ruling branch, the other didn't. Is that right?"
Brendan and Porter considered it… then nodded.
"More or less. But what do you mean by 'didn't'?"
"Nothing," Gideon said, then turned to Caroline.
"By family status alone, your branch would be the more direct lineage."
"Ridiculous!"
"Impossible!"
The two reacted instantly.
Caroline shook her head slightly.
"Their mothers come from powerful families… higher status than ours…"
She trailed off, unable to say "nobler."
"Exactly," Brendan said smugly.
Then—
Gideon pointed at them.
"You two are a disgrace to the Medici name."
"What did you just say?!"
"Insolent!"
Their expressions darkened instantly.
Even Carl looked confused.
Gideon straightened his robe.
"You keep claiming the Medici are noble and exalted—an ancient Church family."
"Yet when comparing yourselves, you rely on outsiders' status to measure your worth."
His voice rose sharply.
"So tell me—does Medici's prestige require validation from merchants and officials?"
"…!"
"I—!"
They fell silent.
Gideon stepped closer, his gaze sharp.
"If that's truly how you think… then doesn't it mean the Medici name itself isn't so important to you?"
"No—that's not it!"
"Don't twist our words!"
Panic flickered in their eyes.
Here, in the Vatican and the Holy Land—
A family name was everything.
If the family heard such interpretations—even as a misunderstanding—
They would be punished severely.
"In that case," Gideon shrugged,
"What difference is there between a washerwoman and a noblewoman?"
"Does the Medici name really need to prove itself by deciding who is 'lower'?"
Brendan and Porter swallowed hard.
The two exchanged a glance.
At the same time, the exact same thought surfaced in their minds—
Why does this guy sound just like our terrifying father?
Beside them, Bettice had her head lowered, shoulders trembling.
She was pinching her thigh hard, doing everything she could to stop herself from bursting out laughing.
Carl, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed.
Before today, he had never once considered things from this angle.
Caroline's eyes flickered—she seemed to have grasped something.
"So in that case," Gideon concluded calmly,
"it's actually you two who represent the impure branch of the Medici bloodline."
"W-We… that's—"
The two young men stammered, unable to form a proper sentence.
Gideon didn't give them time.
"Since that's settled… let's address what just happened."
He suddenly grabbed both of them by the head—
And slammed them together.
Bang!
With a crisp sound, Brendan and Porter collapsed to the ground.
"You lowly—how dare—!"
Before Brendan could finish—
A soft, unmistakable sensation pressed against his lips.
His eyes shot wide open. His whole body struggled violently.
But Porter's face was stuck to his—like glue.
"As members of the Medici," Gideon said coldly, still holding their heads together,
"you publicly humiliated relatives of purer lineage—and their companions."
"That's what I'd call truly disgraceful."
"If others saw this, what would they think? That the Medici tear each other down in public?"
"And what about the other ancient families? Would this damage your family's standing?"
One question after another.
The two men—now forced into an awkward, humiliating "embrace"—had no way to respond.
Even Carl and Caroline couldn't help but feel a strange thought arise—
This guy… might actually be more suited to being a Medici than we are.
Only after ensuring their lips had made thorough contact did Gideon finally pull them apart.
"Apologize," he said calmly. "To the rightful heirs."
"S-Sorry…" the two muttered, wiping their mouths in panic.
"And?"
They exchanged a glance, then bowed awkwardly toward Gideon and Bettice.
"S-Sorry for the trouble."
Only then did Gideon release them.
The two didn't even bother fixing their clothes—
They fled downstairs in embarrassment.
"…Will this cause trouble?" Bettice asked, a trace of concern in her eyes.
"What reason would they even use?" Gideon shrugged.
"'We insulted our own family in public and got taught a lesson'?"
Bettice covered her lips with her fingers, barely suppressing her laughter.
Caroline, meanwhile, looked delighted.
"So you can win arguments like that?" she said, clapping lightly.
"They were so easy to trick! I'm going to try that next time!"
Gideon cleared his throat.
"That wasn't deception," he said seriously.
"That was… defending the reputation of the Medici family."
Then he turned to Carl.
"Now then, Lord Carl—shall we continue our earlier discussion?"
Carl clenched his fists, saying nothing.
Moments ago, this outsider's refusal had humiliated him.
He had even imagined beating Gideon senseless.
And yet—
This same man had just defended his and Caroline's dignity… and vented his anger for him.
The two emotions tangled together, leaving him at a loss.
"Brother… maybe we should let Father Gideon lead the team after all. After all, he—"
Before Caroline could finish—
Carl turned and walked downstairs, leaving the café without a word.
"I'm sorry…" Caroline said softly.
"Ever since our father passed away, my brother has been under a lot of pressure."
Gideon waved it off.
"Forget him. Let's focus on the selection."
He looked at her.
"Archbishop Matthew mentioned that some details… can only be explained in person."
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