Chapter 471 The Farmer and the King
Thunder City, Andes Manor.
In late summer, the cool breeze of the early morning blew into the study through the half-open window, carrying the fragrance of marigolds.
Grand Duke Edward Campbell read his sister's handwritten letter again, his handsome brows filled with solemnity.
In the letter, Irene described in detail the brutality of the Battle of Twilight City, the horror of the coming of the Chaos God, and finally the judgment that fell from the sky.
Of course, she also mentioned the arrival of the king's chief chamberlain, Sclair, and the Vatican Inquisition after the war, and the tensions that ensued.
The Campbells made great sacrifices to save their compatriots in the Twilight Province, and they deserve the King's reward!
However, the king's lackeys deliberately blurred the concepts of ownership and usage rights, slandering the Duchy of Campbell for wanting to usurp the king's title, and claiming that this act of confusing right and wrong was creating a breeding ground for chaos. Even the "prophecy" of the great sage was brought out by that guy.
Oh!
Edward sneered.
These guys are so bold!
Could it be that Chaos was the reinforcement invited by the Campbell people?
In fact, Edward didn't care about this insignificant accusation. He was not surprised at all that the king sent people to "pick apples". The only difference was who took the lead.
The only thing that made him feel difficult was the arrival of the Tribunal.
Edward tapped his index finger lightly on the white oak table, his eyes fixed on the huge map of the Kingdom of Ryan on the wall.
The Holy See usually does not easily interfere in disputes within secular kingdoms; their swords are only aimed at heresy and chaos.
However, the title of "Grand Inquisitor" was too important. Normally, it was difficult for the Kingdom of Ryan to even see a baron from the empire, but this time, a favorite of the Pope actually came.
The arrival of Jimenez has brought about subtle changes in the rules of this game. The game that was originally based on strength now has an additional weight called "legal principles".
and--
The tribunal is not necessarily simple.
Perhaps only the serfs who had never seen a priest in their lives would think that a murderous devil could become a saint just by holding a copy of the "Book of the Holy Word".
There were priests in the Dusk Province before. It couldn't be that the Campbell people were too greedy and caused the Ryan people there to starve, right?
"...Sir." A dusty messenger knocked on the door respectfully, then stood at the door of the study waiting for a response.
"Come in."
Edward withdrew his thoughts, picked up the letter he had prepared long ago from the table, sealed it with wax, and handed it to the messenger who walked into the study.
"Tell Irene to be cautious and prioritize her own safety. No matter what happens, the Duchy of Campbell will always be her strongest backing."
After a pause, he suppressed his anger and added.
"And me... No one can slander my sister and act like nothing happened. Not even the King's Chamberlain!"
"Yes, Grand Duke... Your Majesty."
Feeling the anger in those eyes, the messenger was startled. He took the hot letter with both hands, saluted, and quickly retreated.
After sending the messenger away, Edward's eyes fell on another secret report on the desk that was compiled and sent by his confidant.
This information mainly mentions the basic situation of the current earldoms, baronies, towns, and villages in the Dusk Province.
This includes the approximate population range of each plot, the degree of impact from the war, whether the soil is suitable for farming, where the lord has gone, etc.
Theoden wanted to shirk his debt in the name of holiness, but Edward was no pushover either.
He always likes to prepare for both situations.
If the king refuses to cooperate, he will turn to the earl. If the earl refuses to cooperate, he will turn to the baron. If the main family refuses to cooperate, he will turn to the side branch. Whoever cooperates with the Campbell family is the legal one!
Didn’t that old guy who pretended to be asleep want to drive out the wolves and devour the tigers, and use the fire of chaos to take back the land from the nobles?
Don’t even think about it!
The sword of the Duchy of Campbell will defend the sacred and unquestionable laws of the lords of the Twilight Province!
Although the Campbell family is an opponent of the traditional feudal aristocracy in their own duchy, they may take a different stance in their neighbor's home.
After reading the information to the end with an expressionless face, Edward had already completed the blueprint of the entire plan in his mind, just like when he planned the future of Thunder City.
But to be honest, he was actually a little fed up with it.
Why is it always the Duchy of Campbell that cleans up the mess for the De Valoux family?
They expanded the territory for the Kingdom of Ryan, suppressed the maze of Thunder County for nearly a thousand years, and guarded the southern seaport for the Kingdom of Ryan. However, the king never thanked them and even regarded the "Light of Legend" as a trouble.
He had never thought so before, but he felt more and more recently that the Devalu family was not worthy of owning such a vast land, and they themselves were the greatest shame of the kingdom!
Maybe Andes is right—
If you want to solve the current troubles of the Duchy of Campbell once and for all, you must completely transform the Twilight Province into the Twilight Duchy.
As for the troubles later...
We'll know that later.
Just then, Edward's eyes fell on the last line of the last page of the intelligence in his hand and stayed there.
When his confidant mentioned the whereabouts of Count Seron Gard, he specifically mentioned that this guy had returned to his castle and was suspected of having reached some kind of deal with the Savior Army.
Originally they planned to talk to Count Theron, but when they arrived at the mansion in Twilight City, the guy had disappeared. It was heard that he had actually brought his family back to the castle.
Edward had heard of the name of the "Salvation Army", including the so-called "Saint Girl", and that they had received help from the dwarves, and even the Sword Master from Brass Pass stood by their side.
The only thing he didn't expect was that even though the Chaos was over, these guys still had some influence in the Twilight Province.
Do they think that just because they fought Chaos, the Holy See will ask them to return to the Holy City to collect their reward?
Apart from anything else, the name alone is enough to be outrageous.
"Savior...Saintess...Hehe."
Whispering these two names, Edward's lips curled up with a barely perceptible contempt.
It is ridiculous that a mob of rebels and starving people dared to claim to be "saviors of the world".
Your own refugees are starving and have to beg for food in Thunder City, and you still want to save the world?
But please save yourself first!
Edward scoffed at these lunatics themselves.
However, when his eyes swept over the so-called "New Testament" attached to the secret report, the contempt in his eyes disappeared, and instead a glimmer of interest appeared.
Strictly speaking, his confidants had not actually seen the doctrine, and all the content about the New Testament was hidden in the word of mouth of the locals.
Therefore, there is also a saying that the so-called "New Testament" is not a visible book, but an oracle obtained by "Saint Karen" from Saint Sith.
Because Karen tells everyone that she is just an ordinary nun, born in an inconspicuous village. She was saved by the gods by chance and awakened the ability to "communicate with gods". Before that, she was just an ordinary country girl.
According to this theory, anyone can claim to have heard an oracle. If the Inquisition knew about this, they would definitely go crazy!
His confidants excerpted a few so-called oracles and wrote them in a secret letter. They did not dare to write more, and only selected some praises of Saint Six and the big picture that the "Son of God" painted for the world.
Ordinary fools would only compare which god's pie is bigger, but Edward is a smart man who can see the essence through the phenomenon at a glance.
"Everyone is a priest..." Edward chuckled, a rare hint of appreciation flashing in his interested eyes. "That's something."
This is definitely not something that a group of starving peasants could come up with. Would ordinary people think of seizing the "right to interpret the scriptures"?
There must be an expert behind them!
Any ruler knows that what is written in the Book of the Holy Word is not important at all; what is important is who holds the power to interpret it.
For thousands of years, the Holy See has always held this power firmly in its hands and used it to establish the order of the Second Era!
And now, a village girl actually wants to snatch the "right to interpret scriptures" from the Vatican?
This is not just outrageous, it's selling your soul to the devil!
But these people are very smart. They did not raise the banner of hell, but the banner of Saint Sissis.
Edward couldn't help but begin to re-evaluate this so-called "Salvation Army".
No matter who is standing behind them, as long as they have no connection with Chaos, they are not enemies, even -
Can be a useful tool.
At the very least, they cannot be allowed to be strangled to death so easily by the Inquisition like a stink bug. The saint must continue to live.
Just as he was lost in thought, a respectful knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
After getting permission, his servant pushed the door open and walked in, standing behind him and speaking respectfully.
"Your Highness, Prince Colin has returned... He heard you were in Thunder City and immediately rushed here to apologize for leaving without saying goodbye."
The good news was like a spring breeze, instantly dispelling all the gloom in Edward's heart. A smile appeared on his face, and he pushed away his chair and stood up.
It’s like giving you a pillow when you feel sleepy!
The king had an extra card in his hand, and someone immediately handed him two cards. As expected, Saint Sis knew clearly in his heart who was the truly pious one!
The Duchy of Collin might become an ally of the Duchy of Campbell.
No--
I should say it will definitely happen.
He had heard that when the prince learned that Irene was at the front line, he rode there at full speed without stopping for a moment!
If this is not love, then he will never believe in love again!
"Quick, invite him to the reception room," Edward ordered immediately, with a hint of unconcealed joy in his voice, "I will be there later -"
Before he finished speaking, he shook his head and called out to the servant who was about to turn and leave.
"Never mind. That's unnecessary. How can we let a distinguished guest wait at the door? Take me over and I'll greet him myself!"
Looking at the energetic Grand Duke, the servant showed an expression of surprise on his face, and then nodded respectfully.
"Yes, sir."
…
God always favors pious children, even if it is not necessarily the holy light that favors the children.
After destroying the devil, the Campbell family, who had been steadfast in their piety for a thousand years, finally received the New Testament and the prince who favored them.
At the same time, the farmers in the Twilight Province finally waited for the sun to come out after the rain.
They truly believed in Saint Sissi, just as sheep believe in the crutch in the shepherd's hand to guide them to fertile pastures.
They are truly pious, unlike a certain king who "sees the essence through phenomena"...
Several days have passed since the "Angel's Coming", and everything seems to have returned to calm, as if the chaos that once tormented this land had never existed.
Although the situation in the Governor's Mansion in Dusk City was still turbulent, the dark cloud only hung over the Governor's Mansion.
Ordinary people can't even feel its existence.
For example, Burton, who lived in Griffin Bluff, was one of them. He could neither see nor care, because his village would remain just as poor no matter who was the lord.
The happiest moment in his life was when he was twenty years old and picked up a piece of unwanted high-quality wood from the forest and replaced the beam in his house that was about to collapse.
He still remembers the way his wife and son looked at him at that time. It was as if they were looking at a great hero.
Because the memory was so profound, he even remembered the last thing.
He was sitting on the doorstep resting, his wife was hanging clothes in the yard, and his five-year-old son was running around chasing a butterfly.
The sun was warm and the air was filled with the fragrance of grass and earth.
Then he fell asleep until his son woke him up with a giggle and said that Uncle Ross, the blacksmith next door, was looking for him and had a batch of goods to deliver to the castle.
He was not a knight or a nobleman, just a horseman pulling goods. His lifelong pursuit was actually just such an ordinary and warm afternoon.
It’s a pity——
The peace he longed for suddenly disappeared one day.
Even though the good old days showed signs of returning, he could no longer sit on the threshold and rest leisurely like he used to.
Because once he closed his eyes, that moment of tranquility would be torn to pieces by a bloody nightmare.
Shouts of killing filled the air, women and children wailed in despair. Behind the thick smoke, the face of the "executioner," A-Ka, twisted in the firelight, was smiling.
The madman said he would kill all the followers of Saint Sith, but he didn't just kill priests and nuns. He tortured everyone who didn't accompany him in his madness.
At that time, Burton was delivering goods to the lord, but he and the goods were forcibly abducted by Acre's troops and he was transformed from the lord's groom to the Green Forest Army's groom.
That's still lucky.
After all, riding a horse is a technical job, and so is feeding a horse. The Green Forest Army still needs him, but they didn't kill him with a single blow.
Those soldiers had suffered a lot. They were forced to work by the lord just like him, but they were chopped into pieces and stuffed into the bloody altar... One of them was from the same hometown as him.
Not only are they cruel to their enemies, these apostles of Chaos are even more cruel to their own people!
He saw with his own eyes that Aka's men hung three green-turbaned men who tried to escape on a tree, and talked and laughed while discussing some tortures he had never heard of, such as using tree bark to poke fingernails and roasting lamb legs over a slow fire... Those were simply things that no human could come up with!
Every day in the army, Burton lived in fear. He could only keep his head down and feed his horse, for fear of being targeted by those lunatics.
Finally one day, a man with a big sword on his back stood up, followed by a group of people holding another flag.
Seeing that arrogant army being completely defeated, Burton didn't even have time to feel the joy of victory, and immediately took advantage of the chaos to escape.
He threw away the turban on his head and anything that might reveal his identity, and only carried the supplies he picked up during the chaos.
He hid like a frightened mouse in the devastated land of the earldom, and did not dare to return to his village until everything had settled.
When he showed up at their doorstep in rags, his wife barely recognized him.
It was not until he called out her name in a hoarse voice that the woman, as thin as a reed stick, burst into earth-shaking tears and rushed up to hug him tightly.
He remembered she only said one sentence.
"As long as you're still alive."
That afternoon when the family hugged and cried was the second most precious time in Burton's life.
From then on, he told everyone that he encountered bandits on the way to deliver goods to the lord and almost lost his life.
Thanks to the blessing of Saint Sissi, he ran to the mountains and hid in the mountains until recently when he dared to go home.
Burton didn't dare say that he had once worn that damn turban. The memory was like a dirty brand stuck on his butt, even though he was forced to bear it.
The villagers accepted his statement. After all, everyone knew this honest man and didn't think about it that way at all.
Everything seemed to have returned to normal. Except for Burton himself being occasionally awakened by nightmares, no one came to disturb him.
However, the peaceful days did not last long.
Terrible rumors began to spread in the village, saying that a group of black-robed troops had entered the Griffin Bluff Territory.
Those warriors in black robes were silent and efficient, showing no mercy, like machines that did not emit steam.
They claim to be the "Inquisition" from the Holy City, directly responsible to the Pope, and are arresting remnants of the "Green Turbans" everywhere.
The invasion of Chaos has ended, and this group of capable and warlike guys have just emerged.
Burton swallowed his saliva and instinctively wanted to avoid the topic, but he always felt that it was related to him, so he couldn't help but move closer.
"...These guys call themselves the Inquisition, but they never judge, they only kill."
The carpenter who came back from the town lowered his voice, his face full of fear, as if he had seen a ghost.
"The blacksmith from the next village was hanged on a tree at the entrance of the village just because he repaired a few knives for those green-turbans!"
"When did this happen?!"
"Are you talking about the knife repair thing? It seemed like a year or two ago...Those guys weren't so crazy back then. They even paid for things."
A farmer couldn't help but shrink his neck and whisper tremblingly.
"...I suspect that guy was just dragged in to make up the numbers. I thought I heard someone say that there are too many people in the neighboring village, so we need to kill more to make up the numbers."
"How much...is enough?"
"I don't know, but I heard there's a number."
"That's bullshit! Are they crazy to kill people on the king's land?!" Burton couldn't help but interrupt, but he didn't notice that he was trembling so much that he almost bit his lip.
Everyone looked at each other, and finally a young man spoke timidly in a low voice.
"I heard that the king's army is also here, and with them... They want to avenge Earl Wilfort."
This news was like a basin of cold water, pouring from Burton's head all the way to his feet, almost extinguishing his soul.
He returned home and became suspicious. He didn't dare go out all day, and he didn't even dare to look at the sunlight, as if the light would burn him.
His wife was puzzled by his overreaction and thought he was haunted by a ghost. Unfortunately, there was no priest in this village, nor in the next town, so he didn't know who to pray to.
The nightmares are getting more and more.
It started with daytime naps, but eventually Burton was woken by nightmares all night long.
He repeatedly told himself that he was just a groom, he had never killed anyone, let alone robbed anything...
All right.
He certainly didn't rob, but he did help the bandits move, even though he was forced to do so.
Burton could swear that he was not like those madmen who were so bloodthirsty that they applauded when they saw blood splattering everywhere, and didn't care whether people deserved to die or not.
Perhaps Saint-Sis heard his confession.
But I didn't forgive him.
On a sunny afternoon, Burton was teaching his nine-year-old son how to repair the beams of their home, and while talking he also talked about his experience in raising horses.
He spoke in a disorganized manner and his son looked confused as he listened, his mind already on his friends outside the window.
Burton himself was also very anxious. He should have said one thing at a time. Educating children is like raising horses, both of which require patience.
However, he always felt a sense of urgency in his heart, as if a voice from somewhere was reminding him that it would be too late if he didn't teach many things now.
This house doesn't need a hero, but it does need a beam.
His family needs it too.
Just as he was talking about which uncle to contact if the pot at home broke, the half-closed wooden door was kicked open with a bang.
Burton was startled and before he could shout "It's not me" he was splashed in the face by the flying wood chips and fell on his son.
Or maybe it wasn't because he was blocking his way, but out of some fatherly instinct, he wanted to protect his child.
Several judges in black robes stood at the door like the gods of death, accompanied by several armored soldiers. The dazzling sunlight stretched their shadows long.
The leader held a rough piece of cloth paper with a long list of names written in neat handwriting. Perhaps even the owners of these names were learning for the first time how their names were written.
Their names were first recorded in writing on the lists of the Inquisition, and how they were put there was of no importance to the men who wrote them.
Their torture methods were not as primitive and barbaric as those of the Green Army, but they had just as many methods, and every tool was made of steel.
"Burton?"
The leading judge spoke coldly, his voice like two pieces of iron rubbing against each other.
Burton was speechless and just covered his son's eyes tightly, ignoring the latter's panic and struggle, with despair written all over his face.
"No! You've got the wrong guy! He's a good man!" Burton's wife screamed and rushed over, clinging tightly to a soldier's legs, crying to the men in black robes, "He's just an honest groom! My family has worked for Earl Wilfort all our lives, and we haven't done anything wrong!"
The soldiers remained unmoved.
Two reed sticks were no match for the tall and strong men. With just one kick, they kicked the troublesome woman into the corner of the wall.
"Get out! It's none of your business." The soldier shouted with a murderous look on his face, and his fist gripping the hilt of the sword creaked.
It would be fine if we didn't mention Count Wilfort.
When he thought of the general whose family was full of loyal and brave men, he wished he could chop all these guys who sold their souls to Chaos to pieces!
The judge did not say anything, but just looked at the family in the house coldly. They were about to go to the next house.
If the cancer is not completely eradicated, tragedy will continue to happen again and again. This is not only for the peace of the holy city, but also for the people living in this remote border area.
Burton's whole body was cold, and his blood seemed to solidify in an instant.
He had rehearsed the defense countless times in his mind, but now it was like being blocked by a stone, stuck in his throat and unable to squeeze out a single word.
In the face of absolute violence, language has lost its meaning.
His hands were roughly handcuffed behind his back, cold shackles were locked on his wrists, and he was dragged out the door like an animal.
He didn't struggle or scream. In extreme fear, his whole body was as stiff as wood.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his son's terrified face and the skinny woman in the corner, her lips moving in a silent wail, her eyes lifeless.
Perhaps he should say goodbye.
The evening sun seemed even more dazzling than the afternoon sun, dyeing the overgrown land blood red, or perhaps it was actually blood.
Fortunately, the judge also felt that he was of little value, or perhaps there were enough people here.
The soldiers who executed him did not torture him like the Green Army tortured their own people. A gunshot ended his sin and humiliation, whether real or not.
The village was quiet the whole night, and they didn't dare to collect the bodies until the people from the Tribunal left.
The so-called body collection was nothing more than loading the pile of corpses onto a car and dumping them in a nearby ravine.
Some people cried on their loved ones, while others whispered:
"Those pastors were really nice. They even helped their souls to be liberated."
Farmers who died in the past did not receive this treatment. Occasionally, a priest would pass by here with a caravan, but only a few of them could attract the holy light.
Even if they could summon the Holy Light, not every priest would pray for the dead for free like Kallen did.
The villagers who were pushing the carts back were whispering to each other.
Some people were glad to have escaped, some began to thank the Holy Light for not letting a bad guy go, it was like the pigs in the pigsty exchanging weight loss experiences, proud that they were upright and not afraid of their own shadows. Only those who sold their souls to chaos would fear the Holy Light.
There were also some people who felt that they had killed the wrong person, but were afraid that the court would be held at their home tomorrow, so they kept their mouths shut.
The purpose of deterrence was achieved.
However, no one noticed that the child who was waiting for his father to come home at the door was not crying, but hatred was burning in his young eyes.
Poor little Burton never learned how to choose mules and horses or repair beams, but he remembered those faces.
And their clothes.
He swore—
If one day he could become the sword-wielding hero his father had described, he would definitely kill all those guys who rushed into his house!
(End of this chapter)
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