Rino City, a middling town within the Papal States, had a population of only a few hundred thousand and was governed by Bishop Doxia.
Among the many bishops he was considered somewhat rebellious.
The old pope judged him thus: Bishop Doxia’s desires are too great.
He followed the creed that “doctrine should serve human desire,” a philosophy that often clashed with the Church’s official principles.
In practice this showed as: he led the rejection of the weekly Mass. He refused to accept the Church’s grand pageantry during its events, such as filling the city with flowers. He opposed the Ascension Ceremony practice of burning sinners, and he rejected the wanton purging of lower-ranking Church members like Church Knights and Missionaries.
He loved money, but he did not squeeze every last coin from the people;
instead he encouraged commerce, encouraged trade, encouraged production, using those means to increase tax revenue and thereby accumulate wealth.
Yet to those with vested interests, Bishop Doxia’s deeds made him the greatest saint-king.
Norton thought that if he had been transported back and become a cleric in this city, he certainly wouldn’t have wanted to defect from the Church, nor would he have ended up like he did now.
“Chirp chirp…” A vampire bat fluttered its wings, flying up from the dark street and straight into the lofty clock tower’s roof.
Two crimson streaks of light glowed in the dark tower; if one looked carefully it was horrifyingly obvious these were not mere streaks of light but two crimson eyeballs.
“Huff huff…” Norton stretched his body; his dried vocal cords produced a chilling, rasping exhale.
The bat that had been hanging from his withered skin leapt off him and joined the bat that had just returned, seemingly engaging in a blood-exchange ritual.
Indeed, Norton now had two bats beside him, the newcomer brought back by the one that lived on him.
The two were one male and one female, and they displayed a certain intimacy with each other. Their presence made Norton’s surroundings livelier.
Norton had been in Rino City for a month.
The city’s openness exceeded his expectations.
Here the Church acted more like a lofty enforcer.
That loftiness was not meant derisively; the Church was treated like an unworldly immortal, responsible only for maintaining Rino City’s stability and order while leaving everything else largely alone.
This freedom made the city vibrantly alive.
Although many disliked Bishop Doxia’s policies, Norton did not.
He rather liked this bishop he had never met; at least he felt like the man was a normal human being.
That made Norton want to settle in this city—both to hide from the werewolves’ hunt and to look for opportunities to slip into the church to search for books on vampire research.
At first Norton thought that now he was a vampire with endless life, he could figure out his body’s peculiarities given enough time.
But after the werewolves launched their hunt and chase against him, Norton began to doubt his plan.
If he didn’t understand his own traits, who knew what trouble would come next.
For example, running into some other terrifying predator or being hunted again. Or having someone splash Holy Water on him—then Norton would be dead!
Who would he appeal to then?
He also felt he needed to test his current strength and see what level he really was in this world.
“Blame that idiot Kuba—why didn’t he leave any inherited memories? Even goblins get inheritance memories, so why are vampires so badly set up?” Norton felt he really had to criticize the vampire progenitor.
He had been transported into a setting that clearly fit a magical Western fantasy, but now it seemed like a low-budget version.
Still, there was no helping it; being granted a long life was an incredible fortune.
If there were no inheritance memories, so be it—just like he had thought before: living long would naturally reveal everything.
For now, Norton needed to choose his life carefully.
He stretched out and moved from the clock tower’s loft to its edge, gazing down at the city now swallowed by darkness.
The city’s stability still offered him no sense of belonging. The pitiable populace did not earn his sympathy. Only the Church that had persecuted him for twenty years aroused his real loathing and fury.