"The people in the Whip of Order are as shortsighted as herrings shut inside a tin!"
After hearing Kallen's account, Alfred could not help cursing.
"Actually, this is quite good. I only need to act as though I believe I'm part of the Whip of Order. It might even make things easier to explain if something happens later."
"You're always so farsighted, young master."
"All right, we can go back to the Funeral Society. This time, I don't need to wear the mask. You have no idea how awkward it is to chat with Mrs. Lake every day wearing Mr. Pavaro's face. Well, it's even more awkward for Mrs. Lake."
"Yes, young master."
The secondhand black Pons traveled along the road. As they passed through a street, a gathering ahead blocked traffic, forcing Alfred to stop and wait.
Kallen remembered that on his first day in York City, when he had gotten off the boat and was riding from the docks to Allen Manor, Mrs. Jenny had said that rallies and marches were like recreational activities in York City-nothing could be more commonplace.
After a short wait, the cars ahead began moving, and Alfred started the car again. A little farther along, Kallen saw a group marching by the roadside. They wore white robes, their heads covered by tall, pointed white hoods with only two small holes for their eyes. Rather than placards, they carried torches.
They were not chanting slogans in unison, either, but marching in silence.
"They don't look like church people," Kallen said, puzzled.
Although they displayed what ordinary people would consider strongly religious elements, as an insider, Kallen could clearly tell that this was not a march organized by any Orthodox Church.
"They certainly don't look like church people. More like some sort of hobby club.