Chapter 145 — So It Was an Old Acquaintance
When questioned, Gideon hesitated visibly, as though struggling to decide how much to say.
Seeing this, Archbishop Jolan Borha narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You've seen what kind of man I am," he said casually, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve.
"I'm not unreasonable.
Considering you prevented a sacrificial ritual from completing—
if your explanation satisfies me, I might be inclined to speak on your behalf before the Church."
Gideon drew a slow breath, as though steeling himself.
"Forgive my boldness, Archbishop."
He bowed respectfully.
"When I was still a deacon, my mentor — the old Father Harlin — once warned me
never to get involved in the Church's internal factions."
That caught Jolan off guard.
He hadn't expected that answer.
Indeed, the rift between the Theological Society and the Exorcism Institute had grown increasingly severe —
even the Vatican itself was struggling to contain it.
"If I recall correctly," Jolan said slowly,
"back at St. Jehovah Cathedral, you were standing with Archbishop Fabio's faction."
His eyes sharpened.
"So it seems you've already chosen a side."
Gideon gave a small, helpless smile.
"Father Harlin used to say that not choosing is sometimes the worst choice of all…
so I chose the side that offered holy oil."
"Harlin?" Jolan raised an eyebrow. "Harlin Parsons?"
"You know my teacher?"
"We worked together in the Vatican years ago," Jolan said, his tone softening slightly.
"He was a good man — a priest of true faith."
For a moment, the archbishop's mind flashed with the image of an old, kind-eyed priest —
a man who, though lacking great power, had an unwavering devotion to his flock.
The Vatican had once called him "a priest who truly lived his faith."
"No wonder this young man has such strong theological intuition,"
Jolan thought, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly.
To have been mentored by Harlin Parsons… that was no small thing.
His earlier caution began to fade.
A student of Harlin's would never be one to abuse Holy power.
Quietly, Jolan let the holy nail in his hand fall back into its case —
a tool designed to seal the sacred power of suspect clergy.
"Since the ritual has already been destroyed, there's no need for me to linger here,"
he said at last.
"In a few days, the Church will issue commendations for your actions."
"If possible," Gideon said with a polite smile,
"I'd appreciate it if the commendation focused on those three."
He gestured toward Silas, Bente, and Zal.
Jolan looked amused.
"You don't want the credit yourself?"
Gideon nodded.
"Do you realize how many priests would kill for recognition like that?"
Jolan laughed softly, shaking his head.
"Very well — I'll grant your request.
But in exchange, you'll take part in the Holy Clergy Corps Selection."
"The Church needs capable people right now.
Every faction is stirring, and the Holy Court requires priests who can act independently."
He paused, his tone turning deliberate.
"It's a special division.
Our missions are… discreet."
It was clear that declining would come across as disrespect.
"Understood," Gideon said, bowing his head.
"I'll follow your command, Archbishop."
"Good." Jolan nodded approvingly.
"You'll receive notice a month before the selection begins."
He then glanced toward the three students.
"I'll see to it that those three keep their mouths shut."
"That would be appreciated," Gideon said, tracing a small cross over his chest.
Before parting, Gideon told Jolan about the demon named Valakh —
its strange behavior, and the fact that no record of such an entity existed in Church texts.
"I'll make sure this is reported," Jolan said, nodding.
"Was there anything else you discovered?"
Gideon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Before I accepted this assignment," he said,
"I heard rumors that someone has been targeting the Dey Exorcism Academy."
He mentioned the issue of tampered missions,
but carefully avoided revealing anything about Flora and Wynn.
Though Jolan seemed trustworthy enough,
Gideon decided to wait and observe how the Church handled the matter
before handing over the evidence Wynn had left behind.
"Such a thing…?"
Jolan's expression darkened,
and an oppressive aura radiated from him — sharp, commanding, and distinctly Vatican.
"I'll open an investigation immediately," he said.
"If you find any further evidence, take this."
He produced a silver medallion, engraved with the golden lion cross —
the emblem of the Holy Court.
"Bring it to St. Peter's Cathedral in Philadelphia.
Someone there will receive you."
St. Peter's was the only cathedral-grade church in the city,
the administrative heart overseeing all surrounding parishes.
True to his word, Jolan later sought out the academy trio.
The three looked terrified but nodded repeatedly,
their expressions filled with newfound respect for Gideon.
A few days later, the incident at the Solomon Farm was officially closed.
The Vatican's commendation arrived through the local diocese.
The announcement praised Silas, Bente, and Zal
for their bravery and devotion in preventing a catastrophic ritual.
And at the end of the notice, in smaller text,
was the mention of another priest—
Father Gideon.
The Church's public statement was glowing.
"This priest possesses remarkable theological insight and remarkable composure,
having cleverly seen through the demon's hidden trap within the sacrificial ritual."
The announcement went on to encourage all clergy to learn from Father Gideon,
criticizing rigid, "by-the-book" exorcism methods in the process.
Thanks to this commendation, the small Sacred Relics Shop behind St. Dey Chapel began thriving like never before.
People from nearby towns — even out-of-state parishes — came seeking his aid.
Of course, Gideon cursed Archbishop Jolan under his breath more than once.
The man had clearly done it on purpose —a way to keep him busy, to make sure he didn't slack off before the Corps's selection trials.
As for the matter of tampered mission orders,
the Church's official response was predictably mild.
They issued a simple warning:
students were to investigate assignments thoroughly
to avoid "misjudging difficulty levels."
The bureaucracy then announced new review protocols for all exorcism requests.
But no one was arrested.
No names were mentioned.
No culprits revealed.
"So, they haven't found the key evidence yet," Gideon thought.
Still, the fact that he remained free to move around
suggested that Jolan was indeed trustworthy.
Gideon decided to observe the situation for a little longer.
Once he was sure, he would hand over Wynn's evidence —
the final traces of the conspiracy.
But before that could happen, another incident shook the community.
Ed and Lorraine Warren — the veteran husband-and-wife demonologists —
had been severely injured during an exorcism mission.
When Gideon arrived at the hospital,
Ed was unconscious, his body twisted in unnatural angles.
Machines hissed softly beside him, the rhythmic sound of life being kept alive.
Lorraine was awake — barely.
A deep, raw gash ran from the corner of her right eye down her cheek.
Had it been a few millimeters deeper, she would have been permanently blinded.
"Ed… he protected me," Lorraine whispered, covering her face as tears welled up.
From her trembling account, Gideon learned that
the Warrens had also fallen victim to a "sudden mission rank escalation."
Had he not given them reinforced relics beforehand,
Judy Warren — their daughter — would now be an orphan.
Thankfully, rescue arrived in time.
Ed's condition was stabilized, though he would be confined to a hospital bed for months.
Gideon was preparing to take his leave when the door opened.
A man entered — tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in the distinct black-and-gold of the clergy.
Lorraine's eyes widened.
"Archbishop Herman! You—what brings you here?"
"Please, call me Hans."
Hans smiled faintly, his voice low and gentle.
He bowed deeply toward Lorraine, eyes glistening.
"I'm so sorry, Lorraine.
This tragedy… it's my fault."
He pressed his hands together and began murmuring a prayer,
his tone filled with a sorrow so sincere it almost felt convincing.
Almost.
Gideon's gaze narrowed slightly.
If he hadn't already known what kind of man Hans really was,
he might have been fooled by the act.
"Please, take this," Hans said, producing a small crystal vial.
Inside was a pale blue liquid — one-year sanctified water.
"I can't accept that," Lorraine said quickly, shaking her head.
"We failed to complete the mission—"
"Please," Hans interrupted softly, taking her hands.
"Accept it. It's the only way I can ease my guilt."
She hesitated, but his expression was so pained, so contrite,
that she finally nodded.
"Thank you for visiting, Archbishop."
"It's the least I can do."
Then Hans turned, pretending to just notice Gideon.
"And this must be…?"
"Father Gideon," Lorraine said quickly,
"a close friend — he's been helping us."
"Ah! Father Gideon, of course!" Hans greeted him warmly.
When he heard Gideon was running a small relic shop near St. Dey Chapel,
the archbishop immediately offered to waive his rent.
Gideon, however, politely declined.
He wasn't naïve enough to believe in such generosity.
"I actually came today to invite you both to the upcoming Commemoration Ceremony,"
Hans said, sighing softly.
"But… under the circumstances…"
"Your Grace, we're only acting clergy," Lorraine said quickly, flustered.
"Only ordained priests attend that ceremony."
"Anyone who eases the suffering of the faithful," Hans replied smoothly,
"is worthy of the Church's respect."
Gideon nearly smirked.
"He's good," he thought. Too good.
"A true master of honeyed words."
Hans continued, tone grave now:
"There will be many visitors during the ceremony. I'll be quite busy.
But don't worry — I've assigned priests to guard your room.
If you need anything, tell them."
"You're too kind, Archbishop. Please—let me at least do something to repay—"
But Gideon wasn't listening anymore.
His gaze had sharpened again, focused not on Hans's words but his mannerisms.
There was something off.
Beneath the archbishop's compassion,
a faint undercurrent of calculation pulsed — subtle, but there.
Gideon's lips curved ever so slightly.
"Now that," he thought, "is interesting."