Fractured God

“Unfortunately, those fools he was running with didn't see it fit to inform me of this. They somehow believed your adventurers were privy to our little dealings and would simply turn a blind eye. Tsk.” The priest looked more and more irritated as he spoke. Mr. Bentley seriously wondered if the boy was going to kill him.

“Those imbeciles…. Which is why I'd like an amendment to our deal.”

Mr. Bentley tried to keep calm as he listened to him.

“And what would that be, Father Daniel?” He softly asked, like a bomb operator relaying the instructions to his partner.

“Still make sure to keep me updated on your commissions and available villages. But I'd like to tell my men the deal is off. After all, no hard feelings if any of our men do meet each other and one side is more lucky than the other.”

“Hu-HUH!?” Mr. Bentley exclaimed. He grabbed his desk and stood up, leaning towards the priest. “Are you serious!? That's it?”

The priest moved his eyes upwards and moved his head in thought. “Yes, I'm certain this arrangement is fine. Do you want something more harsh?”

“Oh course not, I'm just- shocked is the word I'm looking for.”

“(Honestly the lot that died were a bunch of good for nothings. They were a week behind and the moment I mentioned it, they suddenly remembered they had a village to get rid of. Absolute trash. Besides, the risk of harm might make these assholes put in some effort. We've been having a lot more people escaping our collections ever since our religion’s presence in this nation became a talking point. At least I got something useful out of it. Being able to kill off the less-than-desirable members based on his information is well worth leaving my men blind to my dealings.) Don't worry, I'm a Priest after all. This instant could be considered a mistake on both of our parts. Just ensure any mistakes you make aren't yours and yours alone.” He said with a plastic smirk.

Mr. Bentley could tell there was something suspicious lurking in Father Daniel's gaze as he looked into his eyes but couldn't determine what it was.

“(Shit, is trying to make me owe a favour. Tsk, I suppose it is better than having to hand over half the money back. Though I suppose it'd be dependent on the favour…) Glad to have such a reasonable partner. Not many in this business after all.”

“And just to ensure, if that girl that did kill my men ends up getting killed, we won't have any problems right? In your little letter, you made her out to sound quite important, so I just want to make sure we're clear.”

“Of course, if you do catch her, you can do whatever you want. (The fool doesn't know who she is. Even if you do manage to kill her, a far greater beast will emerge from her death, looking for her killers. The brat will be killed before he can even utter my name as a collaborator.)”

Mr. Bentley soon sat back down.

“Now that we've gotten this out of the way, who is that woman you have beside you?” Mr. Bentley.

The silky-haired eye candy chuckled for a few moments before looking at Father Daniel.

“What are you looking at me for? You can speak, can't you?”

“Was something I said strange?” Mr Bentley asked as he turned to the woman.

“Yeah, it is.” He said in a gentle voice. While it was pleasant it certainly wasn't one you'd hear out of the average woman.

“Ah, a man. So what is he?” Mr. Bentley asked.

“Oww, that's way lamer of a reaction I was expecting. Couldn't you have shouted or something old man.” The young man who looked quite beautiful asked the old man.

“I've seen enough of your type, I thought only assassins were into cosmetics.”

“Cosmetics?”

“Yes, I assume you're wearing some sort of skin mask to hide your true appearance. I'm surprised you didn't use a different, more natural voice with that face before revealing your true voic-”

Father Daniel shook his head. “The boy's no assassin.”

“See?” They said as they lifted their crop top upwards. A flat chest, with no sign of anything related to womanhood in sight.

“A man? In an outfit like that?”

“Screw off you geezer, why can't a guy show some skin off?

He was wearing a sleeveless tank top that showed off a healthy amount of his flat and hairless stomach.

Both the priest and Father Daniel sighed at what he said.

(“Children nowadays.”) They both thought.

“So what's the point of bringing me here? I thought we already agreed on a deal.” The young man, who dressed quite absurdly, asked.

“Yes, we have but I'd like an understanding between us.” Father Daniel responded.

“So, just who is this…man before me?” Mr. Bentley asked.

“You're looking at the new Lord for the parish of Eater’s Mound. I'm Albus Bradley.”

“!!!”

Mr. Bentley nearly choked on his spit and turned his face towards the priest.

“Quite a friend you've made.” He turned back to the boy in the chair. “If I recall, you got too friendly with one of your maids, didn't you? I'm surprised you got a title out of that.”

(“Is that what the rumour is? Does that fat bastard think he's funny?”) Albus thought with a sour expression on his face.

“Ah, I'm sorry, I mean those are the nasty rumou-”

“Forget about it, I live here now. Well, close enough anyway. Can you please say what you have to, you midget priest?”

“You're the one with it.”

The black-haired man pulled out a piece of wood out of his pocket and threw it towards the old man. Mr. Bentley quickly caught it and glanced at it. It was a stencil. Instead of a symbol or a family crest on it, it was writing.