Chapter 510 The bishop tripped the knight's horse.
As a demon king who was well-versed in human nature, Luo Yan was very clear about one thing.
That is, shareholders' enthusiasm for the company is always greater than that of the CEO who leaves work on time.
For example, there are readily available examples in the not-so-distant province of Twilight.
The same person, sitting in the same chair, doing almost the same thing, showed completely different levels of enthusiasm.
Just as Archduke Edward took his first step toward overthrowing Theodore's crown, the future Speaker of the Twilight Province also ambitiously laid his first step.
The central cathedral of the city at dusk, where the air is particularly cold and gloomy.
Even when the sun is shining brightly outside, the thick stone walls and stained glass windows filter out the dazzling sunlight, leaving only a dim, thin shadow.
Ever since Jiménez used the "Judgment Cross" on Irene, devout believers have unconsciously avoided this place.
They preferred to pray at a church further away rather than needlessly provoke the court.
But today is an exception.
The governor, who had never been a significant figure in Twilight City, unexpectedly arrived here today and deliberately provoked the infamous Court of Justice.
The heavy oak doors to the church's prayer room were tightly shut.
The candlelight flickered on the copper candlestick, and the air was filled with the scent of burning sage, a scent so pure it was almost suffocating.
Baron Ellaric, Governor of the Twilight Province, stood in the shadow of a marble column.
His expression was solemn as he held a filthy object wrapped in black velvet in both hands, as if he were holding the severed arm of a demon.
Sitting opposite him was a high-ranking official from the Holy City, Chief Judge Jiménez.
Behind Jiménez, several accompanying theologians sat upright, their priestly robes exuding a simple dignity in the candlelight.
"...This is the enemy we are about to face, Your Honor."
Ellarik spoke in a low voice, then slowly lifted the velvet cloth, revealing the handwritten manuscript wrapped in black cloth.
The edges of the pages were curled and blackened, the cover was stained with dried blood and greasy dirt, and it smelled of mold, typical of a dungeon.
It's like it's been pickled in something filthy.
"...This is what our guards found in the crevices of a death row inmate's bed after last night's prison riot."
Ellarick disgustedly pried open the cover with his fingertips, making no attempt to hide his reverie, thus distancing himself from the situation.
"The condemned prisoner was illiterate, but he could recite every sentence and every word of the book fluently, and he could even tell it to the other prisoners... I reasonably suspect that the New Testament has infiltrated us not only in the countryside, but even into the literate city!"
Rumors about the New Testament had long been circulating like a plague in the gutter of the Holy City.
However, for a judge like Jiménez, who held a high position, this was the first time he had ever seen the actual object.
Jiménez leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a hawk's. He stared at the filthy pages, trying to glean some clue.
"It seems the witch's servants don't have much respect for their witch either," an elderly theologian chuckled, a hint of disdain in his eyes. "To have soiled her sorcery like this, did that prisoner run out of straw to wipe his ass?"
You can tell he's trying really hard to tell jokes. But his delivery is too stiff; it's all jokes, no humor.
Ellarick nodded.
"Yes, those rabble are exactly like that. But I must say, the contents still send chills down my spine."
"Oh?" Jiménez looked at the baron governor with amusement. "Where exactly does it manifest itself?"
Ellaric coughed softly.
"...I dare not let these words tarnish your eyes, please allow me to recount for you the venom flowing beneath the province."
Jiménez nodded.
"You read it."
That's exactly what Ellarick was waiting for.
He turned the stained pages of the book, cleared his throat, and began to read those blasphemous words aloud in this prayer room connected to the will of the gods.
“The saint said that the voice of the gods…does not need to go through gilded pipes.”
Ella's voice echoed in the empty prayer room, his first words blasphemous like a guillotine falling on one's neck.
The theologians' expressions froze instantly, and several gasps of shock could be clearly heard. Even the old scholar who had just looked disdainful was now pale, as if he had suffered internal injuries from anger.
Ellaric seemed oblivious to the turbulent events behind him, only glancing cautiously at Chief Referee Jiménez.
Only after the chief referee nodded did he continue reciting the carefully selected passage.
"...It resonates directly in the hearts of every suffering person. Everyone can hear His divine pronouncements, because everyone is God's child and everyone can carry out God's will."
"That's not the most blasphemous thing. There's also this: 'You should be children of the Holy Light, not slaves of the Shepherd!'"
The blasphemous remarks were not limited to this; he only picked out the points that were most likely to anger the pastor.
Eralic knew he was taking a risk. There was a 30% chance he wouldn't leave the prayer room today, but there was also a 30% chance he would make the Chief Judge realize the real threat.
He believed the chief referee was not an incompetent coward who would only vent his anger on the person who spoke.
A deathly silence enveloped the prayer room, broken only by the crackling of the candlelight.
This is a blatant denial!
They deny the holiness of the church, deny the privileges of clergy, and even compare the supreme papacy to a shepherd who enslaves believers!
In the Book of the Word, the meaning of a shepherd is clearly guidance!
The pampered theologians present felt an unprecedented sense of offense and a deep-seated fear.
"Absurd! This is utterly absurd!"
An elderly theologian suddenly stood up, his finger trembling as he pointed at the book in Ellarick's hand, his beard shaking with anger.
"If we follow this madness, what about the thousand-year-old order of the Holy See?"
"If thieves claim to have heard the voice of God to steal, robbers rob in the name of God, and butchers kill in the name of God, then is our holy light still holy light? This is turning sacred faith into a weapon in the hands of thugs!"
That makes sense; the court didn't burn the most witches, nor did it kill the most peasants.
After all, the people executed in court are on a list; in other words, they can be counted.
But if it were the Green Forest Army, the killing would be completely unpredictable. Whether to kill or not, and who to kill or not, all depended on the individual's judgment and whim.
Faced with this thunderous rebuke, Ellarik remained completely calm, because the spittle hadn't landed on him.
He slammed the demon book shut with a dull thud, then, with an expression even more pained than the priest's, he spoke in a stern voice.
"You're absolutely right, Your Excellency! That's exactly what I meant!"
He frowned and clenched his fists.
"What blasphemy! When I first read these words, I felt more disgusted than if I had smelled a rotting corpse. This is not just rebellion, it is shaking our very foundations!"
The theologians, who had prepared a wealth of scripture to refute the governor, were stunned by this move. Their anger suddenly lost its target, and after a long while, they could only manage to utter, "Well said!"
Among these unevolved barbarians... there are a few who are actually sensible!
However, these theologians from the holy city did not know that the blasphemous manuscript before them was written by a wise man.
How could a village girl from the fields possibly have the ability to write a book?
If she hadn't been forced into prostitution by a group of people claiming to uphold the Holy Light, and had fled to a dead end with her last shred of piety for chastity and the Holy Light, she wouldn't have met the "Child of God" on that snowy night, nor would she have inexplicably become a "Saintess."
She is essentially the same kind of person as a certain groom.
But Ellaric was different; he was a proper nobleman, and writing this kind of correct but useless nonsense was as easy for him as breathing.
As long as you grasp the central idea that "everyone is a priest" and expand upon it, you can do whatever you want, however blasphemous you may be.
Referee Jiménez, who had been silent all along, finally made a move.
He slowly raised his head, his previously expressionless face now ashen, and his sharp, eagle-like pupils flashing with an unpredictable, cold light.
This is no longer just a few peasants causing trouble; it's a toxin spreading like a plague, undermining the legitimacy of the Vatican's existence.
He even couldn't help but suspect that some hellish forces were behind this.
After all, chaos breeds madmen, and even the treacherous mist, which reveres intrigue, rarely manages to weave such a meticulous conspiracy.
Ellarik keenly caught the murderous intent in Jiménez's eyes.
He knew the time was right.
He took two steps forward and gently placed the dirty New Testament on the spotless walnut table in front of Jiménez.
"Your Honor, Chief Referee."
Ellaric lowered his voice, his tone filled with heartfelt sincerity, "Our enemies are truly shameless, which is why the Lionheart Knights' heavy cavalry are constantly running around in the mud, yet they can never catch those rebels."
Jiménez raised his eyelids and looked coldly at the governor, who was supposedly known for his pragmatism: "What do you want to say, Baron Eralic?"
"I would say that our knights are too merciful! The corruption of the New Testament is like a plague, and it is not just eroding our bodies, but our souls! Swords cannot heal the wounds of the soul; only a more thorough and potent medicine can eradicate it!"
Ellaric pressed his index finger on the manuscript, his gaze toward the chief judge as sincere as ever. However, beneath that heartfelt piety lay a barely perceptible chill.
“Your Honor, this is the problem. I do not wish to criticize my monarch, but the knights under his command have been utterly incompetent in this matter… They have not even grasped the gravity of the situation.”
These words really struck a chord with Jiménez.
His ideas were actually even more radical than Ealric's; it wasn't just the knights who were incompetent, but also the king behind them.
Theodore de Vallout is too incompetent.
Of course, from King Theodore's own perspective, it was perfectly justifiable to use the power of the tribunal to eliminate dissidents.
He probably forgot his own identity.
The crown bestowed upon him by the gods was not merely a reward for the Devallo family; it also carried a sacred responsibility, or rather, an obligation.
They need to safeguard the sacred lands of the Old World for the Holy See, preventing the invasion of Chaos, Hell, and other heretical beliefs.
He went too far!
And the Lionheart Knights led by Hagmer are the same, and that "Radiant Knight" is even more foolish.
Their eyes were fixed on the Duchy of Campbell in the south from beginning to end, their minds filled with geopolitical gains and losses and the king's territory, yet they were blind to the maggots right next to them; their loyalty had become close to insanity.
What's wrong with killing a few Ryans?
Shouldn't those evil heretics who sell their souls to chaos die?
Looking at Baron Eralic, the only one who was conscious, Jiménez finally showed a long-lost smile on his rigid and stiff face.
"In this land shrouded in mist, it seems you are the only sober shepherd, Baron."
Jiménez's voice was very soft, like a feather falling to the ground.
He stood up from the table, walked around the walnut wood table, and approached Ellarick, who was holding his breath, and spoke in an almost whispered voice.
"The court never refuses to listen to the voices of its devout citizens. Now that you've identified the crux of the problem, then... what good ideas do you have?"
The fish have taken the bait.
Suppressing his excitement and fear, Ellarik swallowed hard, like a thief stealing in the name of God.
"In fact... I do have a good idea. In order to share the burden of the court and to restore Twilight Province to normal as soon as possible, I and several other nobles who share the same piety have established an organization called the Council of Holy Light."
"Oh?" Jiménez smiled. "Tell me, what do you usually talk about?"
"Of course, we're discussing how to catch that wretched witch!"
Ellarik's tone was humble yet filled with anger, as if Karen had hurt his family.
“It’s not that I don’t trust the king’s army. Those noble knights only know how to charge into battle, while our enemies won’t be stupid enough to line up in front of us. They will hide among us, in the slums that the knights can’t enter… Only we know how to deal with those country bumpkins.”
Jiménez nodded.
"You're right. Is there anything else?"
"Of course there are more!"
Seeing the unmoved head referee, Ellarick immediately threw out the next tempting bait, his voice earnest and sincere.
"The Holy Light Council is willing to be the most loyal hound of the Tribunal! Our conscripts have traversed this land on foot; they know every narrow path, ensuring that those bandits from the depths of the Ten Thousand Ren Mountains will never be able to gain a foothold here!"
"Furthermore, we promise that all heretical books and prohibited ritual objects seized during the operation will be handed over to you immediately and without reservation!"
Jiménez's eye twitched.
If he initially thought it just made sense, then this sentence truly moved him.
The province of Twilight was turning into a quagmire, and the mud, which was above his calves, was about to fill his boots.
If this so-called Holy Light Council can solve his current troubles, why wouldn't he be happy to do so?
This was not only for his own sake, but also for the benefit of the Vatican.
The court will eventually leave.
Rather than letting the king continue to hold onto land he has no control over, only to create even greater chaos after they leave, why not let this local nobleman give it a try?
"So, what do you need?" the chief referee said softly.
"Efficiency! My lord, what I need is absolute efficiency for the sake of this sacred battle!"
Ellarik pulled a pre-prepared scroll from his pocket; the densely packed clauses on it ultimately converged into a core demand—
"Special administrative power during wartime"!
The chief judge certainly wouldn't help him strip the king of his title in the Dusk Province, but he could lend his own privileges to the Council of Holy Light.
Wherever the tribunal goes, the local lords are at its command!
Not just the military.
This also includes governance rights!
It's just that the courts generally don't directly interfere in local affairs, since they can't and have no obligation to bring the empire's civil officials here to work.
Ellaric included every imaginable power, such as the requisition of supplies, personnel appointments and dismissals, the establishment of checkpoints, and a whole host of other privileges.
Of course, he did not reveal his ambition openly, but covered it up with carefully crafted excuses.
"...The Holy See is focused on saving God's people, and the king's army should be cared for by the king's servants, such as us nobles."
"The Holy Light Council will be responsible for feeding the army and handling those trivial resource allocations."
"In addition, I need a command sword so that I can bypass those slow-witted royal bureaucrats. And, if necessary, I will use your name to issue orders directly to the Lionheart Knights stationed in the Twilight Province, so that General Hagmer's passive attitude will not delay your great cause of purging heretics."
A brief silence fell over the prayer room, followed by whispers.
The theologians exchanged glances and opinions. Some thought the governor's words made sense, while others felt they seemed somewhat inappropriate.
Jiménez took the scroll, his gaze sweeping over the clauses that were enough to undermine the entire province's administrative power, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
interesting.
Parliament has borrowed governing power from the court; it seems this governor has quite the ambition. But isn't he afraid of the king's repercussions later?
He certainly saw through Eralic's intentions; this greedy governor wanted to use the court's knife to cut the king's flesh.
But... so what?
Just as he didn't mind being used by the king, Jiménez could certainly turn a blind eye to the governor's exploitation.
As long as he can eradicate the New Testament and return to the Holy City with glorious achievements, what does it matter to him who governs this border province?
Looking at the expressionless referee, Jimenez, Ellarik stood quietly, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.
He knew that the esteemed Chief Referee was already interested.
The fact that the holy light that upholds the law did not burn this "blasphemous" authorization on the spot speaks volumes.
Just then, footsteps came from outside the prayer room, and someone gently knocked on the door.
"Come in," Jiménez said casually.
Soon, a referee dressed in a black robe walked in and whispered in his ear.
Jiménez listened expressionlessly, then his face suddenly changed slightly, and his eyes turned terrifyingly gloomy.
After listening to his subordinate's report, he whispered a few words to him, then waved for the subordinate to leave.
Seeing Jiménez's suddenly gloomy expression, Eralic's heart pounded.
After the referee left, he looked at the chief referee and asked cautiously.
"...What happened?"
"nothing."
Jiménez replied succinctly, seemingly not intending to explain in detail.
He picked up the blasphemous manuscript and waved it around.
"I'll take this with me."
Baron Eralic immediately bowed in greeting.
"Please do as you please, sir. I dare not keep this blasphemous thing."
Jiménez said nothing and walked straight out the door, leaving only the governor of the Twilight Province and a group of theologians in the prayer room.
...
In the northern part of Twilight County, outside the village of Grand, at the logging camp, a column of gray-black smoke swayed precariously in the cold wind, like a broken spine.
This place was once a knight's fief, later occupied by the Green Forest Army, and with the Green Forest Army's defeat, it became a no-man's-land.
Later, the king's guards moved in.
They built another outpost at the logging site and set up a barracks at the entrance of the village.
As for now—
The village became a no-man's land again.
The heavy clatter of hooves shattered the deathly silence of the morning as the Radiant Knight Hagmer Devalue charged ahead, reaching the vicinity of Grand Village.
Behind him, a thousand elite cavalrymen surged forward like a steel torrent, their momentum enough to crush any obstacle.
Seeing this indomitable army, the villagers all hid in their homes, fearing they might offend these plague gods.
Hagmer reined in his horse and rode it alongside the windmill, overlooking the village from the high ground.
According to scattered intelligence from the fleeing soldiers, the attackers consisted of at least two squads of a thousand men each, suspected to be the main force of the Salvation Army.
However, when he finally rallied his elite troops and arrived at the front lines, all he saw were smoldering embers and corpses lying haphazardly at the entrance of the barracks.
The rebels disappeared.
Hagmer remained silent, rode his horse to the ruins of the barracks, and dismounted.
The lion-patterned boots creaked as they trod on the scorched earth.
He walked to a stone wall that had not yet collapsed, took off his steel gloves, and touched the dense pits on the wall surface, his brows involuntarily furrowing.
This is not a musket of the kingdom.
The kingdom's muskets simply don't have that power!
“By Saint Sith, I have never seen a musket that could blast a stone wall into such a wretched state…”
The adjutant walked up behind Hagmer, and the surprised sound confirmed the latter's suspicions.
The adjutant stared at the bullet holes in the wall, his heart clenching involuntarily.
These bullet holes are deep and dense; if he were to encounter them on the front lines, even he would probably be in serious trouble!
Seemingly having heard the commotion outside the village, several surviving royal guards cautiously emerged from the village.
They were disheveled, and their eyes were filled with an indescribable terror, as if they had seen demons from hell.
Hagmer came up to them and gestured for them to tell him everything they knew.
The soldiers dared not delay and immediately complained.
"Sir...they are not bandits, they don't even seem like human beings!"
"That's terrifying! I've never seen such concentrated firepower!"
"Take your time, one at a time."
Seeing the soldiers making a fuss, the adjutant shouted a reprimand, and the scene returned to some order.
"A guard said, trembling, his teeth chattering," one of the guards said.
"...Let me tell you first. They first occupied the outer logging camps to lure us into the forest. We only heard gunfire after we went in. Our brothers fell one after another before we could even see the enemy's faces. We had no choice but to retreat in a panic."
Hagmer didn't pursue their desertion or the discarding of their guards' uniforms; he simply asked a few words.
"And then? What else did you see?"
Another guard standing nearby swallowed hard and added on behalf of his brother.
"The scene was too chaotic, and we couldn't see very clearly. We first retreated to the barracks, intending to call our brothers for help, but who knew that it had already been occupied by the rebels! I even lost my shoes while running, and I almost couldn't get out!"
The guard who spoke first quickly replied.
"That's right, I only found out after I escaped into the village! The brothers who survived told me that those bastards had picked up our clothes from somewhere and were holding a bunch of so-called prisoners. But as soon as they crossed the camp gate, they turned on us and started firing their muskets at us indiscriminately..."
"Draw your gun?"
The adjutant froze for a moment, his face showing a look of utter disbelief. "Are you blind? Where could they possibly put a gun?"
The guard said with a wry smile.
“Those weren’t ordinary muskets, sir. Their muzzles were very short… I saw them pull them out of their trousers, but I don’t know how they put them in. We didn’t have time to react.”
The adjutant stood there, speechless, only glancing instinctively at the smoothbore musket on the ground.
That's the kingdom's flintlock musket.
He couldn't understand how he managed to hide such a big thing in his pants.
Won't the bullets and gunpowder fall out?
Hager frowned and looked at the soldier.
How many of them are there?
The guard being watched answered nervously.
"I haven't counted, Your Highness... but judging from the gunshots, there seem to be quite a few, probably around a hundred people."
He wasn’t sure if there were actually that many, but he couldn’t very well tell the truth that hundreds of his brothers in the barracks were being beaten to a pulp by just a few dozen people, could he?
That would be so embarrassing!
“By Saint Sith, they are like ghosts…” the guard standing beside him said, his voice trembling with lingering fear.
Hager remained silent.
This tactic of "luring the enemy deep into our territory and cutting off their rear" is something that ordinary thugs could not possess, and the weapons they use certainly did not come from the armories of nobles.
It's clear this is an organized army, and they might have been armed and trained by the Campbells!
Thinking of this, a shadow of gloom rose in Hagmer's eyes. These Campbellians had completely forgotten their brotherhood, actually resorting to such despicable means against their Emperor!
What chilled him most was not the weapons and tactics, but the two corpses swaying in the wind on the watchtower in the distance.
Those were two theologians who were preaching with the army.
They came from the holy city, all bright young men, yet they were mercilessly hanged on a watchtower in a remote borderland.
On the wooden board beneath the corpse, large, blood-soaked characters were still fresh.
A shocking declaration was written on it—
The Church, which slaughtered God's people, has betrayed the benevolent Holy Light!
In the name of the Saintess, avenge the fallen Ryan people!
Hager stared intently at the line of text, a chill running through him.
If attacking the army was a challenge to royal authority, then massacring these theologians was undoubtedly a direct provocation against the holy city!
These guys are insane!
Did they consider the consequences of their actions?!
Although the Salvation Army had engaged in sabotage in the past, it was mostly minor and they had never targeted anyone from the Vatican.
Who exactly emboldened them?
Edward?
Or is it Eileen?
Hagmer looked at his adjutant with a gloomy face.
The latter immediately understood and ordered his men to take the blasphemous wooden board and burn it, while burying the two unfortunate young men.
Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from afar, breaking the heavy atmosphere.
A messenger dressed in the uniform of the Governor's Office of Twilight City dismounted, holding aloft an urgent letter sealed with sealing wax.
"General Hagmer! Urgent dispatch from Chief Justice Jiménez!"
A letter from the court?
Why would it be someone from the Governor's Office who came to deliver it?
Hagmer raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply taking the letter from the messenger and quickly scanning it.
Just as he expected.
The magistrate's language was as strong as ever.
What he didn't expect was that the tribunal, which had never interfered in specific military deployments, had this time extended its reach into his army.
"...Given the rampant and egregious nature of the heretical activities, which clearly demonstrates the chaotic state of local command, I, in my capacity as Chief Inquiry, order General Hagmer Devalo to immediately lead his troops back to Twilight City to report. At that time, I will rearrange the defense deployment of the entire province."
"Reschedule? Now?"
The adjutant standing beside him couldn't help but gasp softly, his face filled with disbelief.
Even if there are problems with the defense deployment, why make adjustments when you need to use it?
Hagmer didn't speak, but simply clenched the letter tightly in his hand.
He sensed a conspiracy, but couldn't understand what benefit Edward would gain from doing this.
Don't they want the courtroom to leave sooner?
Or perhaps... they have a bigger scheme.
"Your Highness..." The adjutant looked at him, asking with his eyes what to do next.
Hagrid pondered for a moment, then put the letter away.
"Pass on my order: return to Twilight City."
In any case, the Knights of Lionheart could not defy the Holy See; he had to go back and see the Chief Justice.
Furthermore, he also needed to speak with his brother, the governor, to find out exactly what had happened.
The adjutant's expression was full of frustration, but he ultimately obeyed the order and commanded the cavalry to turn around.
Hegelmer, now back on his horse, was heavy-hearted.
He always had a bad feeling that he had already lost a round before even seeing the enemy...
(End of this chapter)
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