"Of course, everything I've told you is my own argument. I have published quite a few journal articles on the subject, but their emphasis was on how the Mad Pope was drawn to our Order, highlighting the greatness and correctness of our Order Doctrine.
"You understand. Experts like us who do research sometimes have no choice but to fetch a few Frisbees like trained pet dogs on a lawn, for a little funding and better benefits.
"Besides, my argument may well be wrong. History is like a string of prisms. Prisms have many faces, and you can arrange and combine them one by one to produce something you consider interesting and reasonable.
"For example, before I learned your name, I never would have imagined you were that Minister Kallen of the York City District who's so famous now. The impression you give in person differs enormously from the rumors. And how did that version of you come about?
"Wasn't it spread through channels like news reports and inside information?
"Even standing face-to-face here, you and I can't see each other clearly, let alone deeply understand the hearts and minds of people from a thousand years ago, or even before this Epoch."
Just then, the Washroom door opened, and District Chief Gaspol emerged in Order Clerical Robes, meticulously groomed from head to toe. She said irritably:
"Are you spreading those twisted theories of yours again?"
Xideluode raised both hands. "My dear granddaughter, I know you're eager to regain the dignity you just lost. After all, no superior wants a subordinate to see them looking so unkempt and domestic. And this subordinate has completely sidelined you, too. All you had left in his eyes was that tiny air of mystery attached to being his nominal superior, and now even that's been punctured.