Following Tom Hagen with doubts, Wayne quickly felt like he had "solved another case" upon arriving at a manor in the outskirts of Richmond.
Tom Hagen's trip this time required secrecy, so the two first boarded a common carriage with blackout curtains at the Cathedral. Several identical carriages departed at the same time, some even accompanied by Cycling guards.
After leaving the city separately, they seemed to have changed direction several times. Upon entering the manor, they drove directly into the stables, then walked through a covered corridor with walls and a roof towards the main house. The entire process kept them out of the sun, and Wayne even changed his clothes in the carriage.
It was a kind of "sneaking around" in broad daylight.
It was also through a brief observation while passing through the stables that Wayne roughly guessed how Bishop Corleone could travel back and forth between Richmond and New York City in such a short time.
The stables were even larger than the Detective Agency's "big warehouse" in Georgeberg. Half of the horses were tall, single-stall horses. At a glance, there were at least nearly twenty "good horses" that deserved dedicated care.
Except for the few pure white steeds that were probably used for ceremonial outings, the remaining good horses were all listless, even dozing off while chewing grass at the trough.
Wayne was quite familiar with horses in the West, having seen many standing or lying down to sleep. This was truly the first time he had seen such fine horses so exhausted that some were even "lying on their sides with eyes open, zoning out," their eyes vacant, not even bothering to glance at strangers passing by.
—It felt like even a local tycoon with a horse farm, like the mayor, would slap his thigh and exclaim, "What a sin!"
Apart from Bishop Corleone, other people in the local church probably weren't qualified to tire out good horses like this.
The relative positions of Richmond and New York City on the America map are somewhat similar to "Shanghai to Tianjin" in Wayne's impression, though actually a bit closer. The sea route is about 800 kilometers, and the land route on the map doesn't require detours, about 500 kilometers, but it involves ups and downs, requiring climbing mountains and winding through valleys.
In those days, the average ocean speed of a seagoing vessel was about 8 knots. Coastal areas were slightly faster than open seas. If combined with steam power pushing at full speed, large ships could probably reach an average of about 16 knots, which is around 25 kilometers per hour. If given priority passage all the way, railway construction on the East Coast was relatively good, and a steam train could reach a top speed of over 40 kilometers per hour, with an actual average high speed of around 30 kilometers per hour.
Theoretically, the one-way travel time for both water and land routes could be compressed to within a dozen hours to a day, but this was actually the extreme speed that professional couriers could achieve, almost completely disregarding rest and supplies. If the "relay race" was played well, the time taken could be even shorter.
No matter how fast ordinary people travel, the sea route takes at least three days on average, as ships almost always have to load and unload cargo along the way and are affected by weather. The land route is actually slower; steam trains also need to transfer, yield, and so on, and are not necessarily available every day. Arriving in four or five days is considered quite smooth. Generally speaking, both routes take about a "week," and this is the efficiency between prosperous cities on the East Coast, and it also requires being "not short on money."
Traveling by carriage has no time limit. Spending ten days to half a month is considered "making an effort to rush." Horses need rest, and night travel is inconvenient—this is roughly the pace of life in those days.
When important figures need to travel, their speed naturally cannot be compared to ordinary people; they can be faster, but in reality, they are often slower.
However, just by looking at the condition of these horses, one knows that Bishop Corleone chose the former. It seems he will have to act humbly later.
...
Upon meeting, although Bishop Corleone seemed a bit unrested, his expression and demeanor were as usual.
It was just that the reception room was decorated with many fresh flowers. While they had a natural fragrance, the combined scent felt stronger than the perfume sprayed by ladies and young women at a ball.
Slowly sipping the strong liquor and listening to the investigation report, Bishop Corleone raised his hand and pointed to an oil painting on the wall, "Wayne, what do you think is the difference between the Indigenous people and us Old Continent immigrants?"
The content of the oil painting seemed to depict a scene from the War of Independence. Both sides were predominantly white-skinned immigrants, but there were also Indigenous people faces in the corners. One side was being defeated by the other, who was waving an early version of the Stars and Stripes.
Wayne quickly processed the information and attempted to answer: "They are all fighting for survival. It seems there is no difference?"
Bishop Corleone seemed satisfied with this answer and took another sip of strong liquor, "Continue."
Hmm...
Based on the current investigation of the case, the only one who can be linked to "Indigenous people" is York Castallo, the small leader who was caught.
Their community indeed still has primitive beliefs. Could it be that Bishop Corleone wants to take this opportunity to rectify them?
Bishop Corleone did not give Wayne too much time to think. After another small sip of strong liquor, he himself spoke the answer:
"Since it is for survival, then enemies should be treated equally—since the scalps of Indigenous people can be taken, why not the scalps of immigrants?"
Well, well, well.
Wayne couldn't help but stammer, "Because their beliefs are different? Or because they are not civilized enough?"
"Reality is not that complicated."
Bishop Corleone pointed to a nearby table and then nodded at Wayne. Tom Hagen understood and went over to pick up a letter from there and handed it over, "This is your reward. Before this warrant expires, you have the same authority as an Exorcist in Virginia and can apprehend wild, rogue Extraordinary People. Whether you send them to the church for disposal or keep them for your own use, that's your business."
Wayne quickly glanced at it. This was equivalent to further broadening the original special permit.
Although the premise on paper was "having violated regulations," according to Virginia's rules, anyone not registered with the church and without protection could be considered in violation.
Before, it was at least limited to a "companion." Now, it's almost as if they don't care if others are willing or not... Aren't they afraid I'll force people into a corner?
And since "expires" is mentioned, but there's no expiration date written on it...
Such a big piece of cake, Wayne felt a bit scared just looking at it.
So he pondered for a moment, "Should I do something?"
"I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter."
Bishop Corleone paused slightly, "I cannot directly interfere with political matters, but I can still do some things within the church, and I don't need anyone to do it for me. You go back and rest for a few days, and pay close attention to recent newspapers. That might be helpful to you."
Wayne was still a bit hesitant, and couldn't help but glance at the oil painting again, wondering if he would have received a different task reward if he had given a different answer.
Bishop Corleone looked at where Wayne's gaze was, and for once, managed a slight smile:
"Let's talk off-topic. Although many descendants of the april grass have withered, and some have been marginalized since the founding of the Federation, at least occasionally some pleasing little ones can still appear, so that us old folks don't feel lonely. This oil painting is for you. If needed, you can tell others that I gave it to you. Some people will recognize it."
Wayne blinked. Huh?
So you and I are from the same hometown... No, that's not quite right. "Accomplices"? Not to that extent. "Old acquaintances"? Ah, yes, that seems about right...
Oh, you should have said so earlier.
Then I wouldn't have been so reserved before.
Unfortunately, Wayne hadn't had a chance to seize the opportunity to get closer when Bishop Corleone raised his hand to stop him, signaling to Tom Hagen that he could show him out:
"You go out first. Tom and I will talk alone for a while. And you need to be careful. It might not bring you good luck. Losers who choose the wrong side often only have one outcome."
No, no, it won't come to that.
This is a painting given by the Bishop of the state, after all. Hanging it in the office is probably like some people in later generations liking to display photos of themselves with important figures on their desks.
