Laurence was The First Vicar of the Healing Church. As its founder and leader he was the supreme authority. And no one tried to deny it. Nobody was pushing for a democratic election to be put in place. On the contrary everyone was too busy worshiping him to think about such a thing.
The idols that Laurence called "gods" inherited many of their traits from records found of the Great Ones worshiped by the Ancient Pthumerians. However, none of these ancient deities could compare to the people's devotion to Laurence. It was simply that fanatical.
…But Gehrman couldn't blame them.
He had been charmed by the man himself. His gentle, poised demeanor complemented his handsome face. And yet he was still humble. He came down to pray with the people during church service. Instead of being an untouchable divine herald, he was more like a celebrity.
The people would drink the Blood, see this man, and fall in love. Who could deny a figure so kind and comforting? Why would they suspect there was something wrong with the Blood?
Gehrman frowned as he considered his role in this whole charade. Currently, he was uncomfortable, the happiness and joy on everyone's faces filling him with dread. Old Gehrman had also disliked the other clerics, nuns, and city folk. But he had still been quite pleased with the overall operation. It was making him filthy rich after all. And so long as Gehrman kept training new Hunters, he could likely retire happily in a decade or two. In Yharnam, almost no one retired.
The thought that he could partake in such an elite and affluent practice made him more blindly devoted than even the Healing Church attendees.
What had kept the Old Gehrman going was not a selfless drive to protect the innocent, but a desire to find ultimate satisfaction. And since he found satisfaction in Hunting, fixing things, and making money, there was no better life for him. People getting saved was merely a byproduct.
Nowadays, Gehrman considered himself more humane. Even dismissing Dorian's morals, one could still point to Johann as a good man. Therefore, the current being of Gehrman was much more prone to helping out those in need. If he saw a baby about to get run over by a carriage, he would grab it. But at the same time, if the baby crawled into the middle of the street for four days in a row, then perhaps he would be too late to save it on the fifth day.
He was still ruthless, still a Hunter, still a killer.
Gehrman noticed the hushed whispers around him grow silent. The area he was currently in was atop the Grand Cathedral, and the hall he traveled in had been decorated with many framed paintings and carpeted floors with intricate designs. The luxurious scent slid up his nose, causing his nostrils to flare.
Then, the atmosphere seemed to grow stranger. Unable to ignore it anymore, Gehrman stood up straighter and looked around. Several clergy men and two nuns had stopped to stare at him. Though he had not said anything, they felt an inexplicable uneasy fear toward the man. Confusion filled their heads as they felt their brains both urging them to run away and to stay still. The urge to go in a certain direction was overlapped by a different direction.
Their minds were starting to feel a touch of Frenzy.
Gehrman immediately pulled himself back together.
It was as if life was breathed back into the room. Without any word or acknowledgment, they simply turned and left.
He couldn't help but narrow his eyes. Once again, it seemed that [Inheritor of Madness] was forcing his craziness to leak out. This time, he hadn't even been in an especially dire state, and yet he almost caused a scene.
Shaking his head, he continued forward. Eventually, he arrived outside the door to Laurence's office. Two constables were acting as security, waiting outside. When they saw Gehrman, they simply knocked on the door for him before letting him in.
These constables were not actually a part of the city's protection anymore. They were simply hired by Laurence. As such, they could be told a few things. One of the first things they were taught was to always open the door if they saw The First Hunter.
Gehrman walked through the ivory doorway, landing in the grand office. This place was just as opulent. A portrait the size of Laurence himself stared at him from the far wall. There were fewer paintings than in the rest of the Cathedral, but it was somehow far more decadent. The wood was polished to perfection, so glossy that one could see their reflection in it. They were in dim lighting, but unlike Brygenwerth's study, which relied on lamps, it was the bookshelves and ceiling that warmed the room despite the lack of fire. A clever application of mirrors to bend the light in a certain way to achieve a useless effect.
Though he did have to admit, it did create quite the atmosphere. Especially when considering the man in the large leather chair before him.
Laurence was roughly the same age as Gehrman at this point, both in their mid to early 40s, they were past their prime. But Laurence especially channeled a distinguished and manly presence. He was perhaps more captivating now than back in his days as A Brygenwerth scholar. A clean comb over, thin beard, and calm grey eyes. None of his hair showed any white, so the pale clerical attire became even more pronounced. And to distinguish him even further, a large golden pendant with a small floral design signed onto the front hung around his neck.
"Welcome home." The handsome Vicar turned his head upward and took off his thin golden spectacles from his nose. "Are you well?"
"Not really, no." Gehrman strode forward and stood behind the chair across from Laurence. Their cushions were so soft that the sitter would often find themselves in a bind trying to stand up again. As such, he never actually took a seat with Laurence.
Laurence's face turned ever so slightly sad. "Oh? Well, I do hope you'll tell a friend." He leaned forward, making it clear which friend he was to tell.
"I hit my head. Or more accurately, one of those Maneater Boars did. Kicked me so hard I flew a dozen or so meters."
The Vicar's face quickly jumped to one of alarm, but this fell just as fast. With a chuckle in his voice, he recognized that if the situation was serious, Gehrman wouldn't have walked here himself.
"The Blood saved you then?" he shook his head. "It is truly a divine thing. I can't fathom why Master Willem still wishes to keep it locked away."
Gehrman wanted to immediately reply, 'probably because of the manslaughtering Beasts,' but he let no such thought become apparent. Acting his role in this Nightmare was the easiest way to get everything he needed. He was not so foolish as to throw that away with a simple comment.
"Well, Micolash was there when I stopped by Brygenwerth on the way back," Gehrman said. "He seemed to be expressing the same sympathies to the Provost."
Laurence's eye twitched. "I would rather he simply exchange papers and leave…or maybe I should start to make him keep me up to date on his whereabouts."
Such musings about the face of the Church and the head researcher who holds similar power would never be uttered before anyone except Gehrman. After all, even if his role was different, Gehrman secretly held the same political power as Micolash. It was only on paper, but the scholar and the Hunter wielded the same amount of power to disturb the Church.
As with anything regarding Micolash though, Gehrman simply ignored it.
This left a silence between them. It was not awkward, though, both men simply were deep in thought.
"Anyway, you still have the sample, right?" Laurence asked.
"...I got hit in the head by one of those boars the size of a large carriage. So, unless I got whatever sample you wanted beforehand, then I don't have it." Gehrman tried to sound nonchalant, but in reality, he was feeling nervous. The response to this statement may very well cause a great change in the fate of this nightmare.
He had expected Laurence to be angry, suspicious, worried, or maybe even distraught. What he didn't expect was the curiosity that came over him.
The Vicar stood and crossed the room to Gehrman, his gait much unlike his usual poise. The man glided over and slowly raised a singular finger in the air before him.
"Don't move your head. Follow my finger with your eyes," he said. Then, at a smooth pace, he brought his hand to the right, and then the left. This continued for several seconds before he changed directions, going up and down.
Bored, Gehrman decided to probe this strange response. "Is this your way of showing concern?"
"It's a concussion protocol that I developed when I was younger. It was my third thesis, and it went terribly since no one volunteered to get hit in the head," he muttered as he took Gehrman's head into his hands and started to feel around his skull.
"I took the Blood. I'm fine."
"Memory loss due to blunt force trauma," the Vicar mused. "There is precedent for it, but I wonder if you had just taken the Blood a little earlier, if any memories could be recalled. At what point in the process do we lose the memories? What even are memories? These are all questions that would take centuries of study to solve without the Blood, but we could…" He trailed off as he seemed to remember something. His hands dropped lazily, and he furrowed his eyebrows.
"So what did you need me to get, anyway? I can try to snag it again if you'd like," Gehrman asked in a quiet voice. Inside, he felt an immense relief as he realized that Laurence had indeed believed him regarding memory loss. He never harbored any fear that Laurence would backstab him, but he felt that a future deprived of certain tools and privileges was definitely on the table.
However, neither would come to pass. Laurence's eyes focused once more, latching onto his friend's words.
"Ah, the blood of one of the poisonous Hinterland Beasts," he seemed to dismiss this. "It's not ideal, but a week without it won't be an issue."
Gehrman blinked slowly. Surely he had not heard correctly. The one thing he brought back from the Hinterlands was what Laurence required. It was absurdly lucky…or it was fate.
Gehrman fought the urge to sneer at the ceiling and curse out whatever entity was in charge of fate. This time he was fortuitous, but he doubted that such luck would continue.
After thinking for a while, he decided to do something drastic. In the worst case scenario, Laurence dismissed him and called him crazy, and maybe also marked him for Gairm. On the other hand, the head of the Healing Church would be a much better ally than even Caryll.
With no warning, a shower of white sparks appeared between the two men. Gehrman put his hand into it and pulled out the vial from the [Portable Blood Imbiber].
The eyes of the Vicar went wide when they saw the lights. His pupils dilated, and he seemed visibly shaken.
…Then he reverted to normal. As if someone pressed rewind on his being and brought him back to how he was before the summoning of the vial. Laurence blinked slowly at the vial in Hunter's hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as if the words were dancing just out of his reach.
Gehrman said nothing. He simply held out the vial quietly, a prickling anticipation in his heart.
…then, "Oh, you do have the blood," Laurence smiled. "You had it hidden in your coat the whole time?"
A chill ran down Gehrman's spine as he saw the thoughts forcefully yanked from his friend's mind. This was what he had expected to occur when he had explained things to Caryll. He had been hoping that Laurece was a special enough person to break through the fog of this dream, but there was no such luck.
The First Vicar simply picked up the vial and raised it upward, examining it closely.
"Since you ran into some trouble, you can have the weekend off," Laurence said. "After that, I would appreciate it if you could get me another sample. This time from Loran."