Chapter 544 Humans are truly terrifying.
In the guest rooms on the east side of Colin Manor, the glow of magic crystal lamps replaced the flames of the fireplace, casting a warm orange light on the walls covered with patterned wallpaper.
The air here is dry and warm, filled with a faint fragrance of lavender.
Eileen, who had just finished showering, sat on the edge of the bed, drying her wet silver hair with a towel, humming a light and melodious tune.
That was a piece of music she heard at a banquet in Granston Castle, which gave her the feeling of strolling through a sea of flowers. It was the perfect description of her mood at that moment.
Compared to my days in Twilight City, life in Thunder City was far too blissful.
Especially after returning this time, she discovered that the people here had actually created a "liquid soap" made from palm oil and olive oil, which left her hair smelling of flowers after washing.
And most importantly...
This is Prince Colin's home.
Thinking of this, Eileen's cheeks grew even hotter, and she couldn't help but bury her nose in the towel she was holding, as if it were someone's chest...
"Your Highness."
It was Theresa's voice that interrupted Eileen's thoughts.
Before Eileen could blush and hide the towel behind her back, she saw Theresa, who had already removed her armor, kneeling on one knee on the thick cashmere carpet.
"I am guilty, please punish me."
"Theresa? What are you doing..." Eileen looked at her loyal guard in surprise, her emerald green eyes filled with doubt, and gently placed the bath towel she was holding on her knees.
Theresa lowered her head and continued speaking.
“The royal carriage at the manor gate just now wasn’t damaged naturally; it was deliberately sabotaged by me… to create an opportunity for you.”
Finally uttering these words that were so difficult to say, Theresa didn't look up, her eyes fixed on the intricate pattern on the carpet, as if trying to see a hole through it.
It was fortunate she didn't look up, otherwise Eileen would have definitely crawled into a hole in the floor before her. Her fair face flushed crimson in an instant, like a ripe apple.
An opportunity?
What opportunity...
Time ticked by, and the pendulum swinging on the wall clock became the only sound in the room.
About five minutes later, Theresa finally heard a sound of someone holding their breath to the limit and then letting out a sigh of relief.
Before she could react, Eileen got up from the bed, walked over and helped her up.
“Theresa, you are my loyal subordinate, and I know you did this for my own good... but don’t do it again.”
"Yes, Your Highness..."
After sincerely repenting for her rash behavior for three seconds, Teresa slowly raised her head in shame, only to see that there was no blame in those emerald green eyes, but rather a faint hint of smugness.
Theresa was slightly taken aback.
so……
Should we do this again next time?
She suddenly felt a little unsure of what to do.
Clearly, the chemistry between Eileen and Theresa couldn't compare to that between the Demon King and his cat.
Eileen didn't explain. After helping Teresa up, she put her hands behind her back and walked to the window on the soft cashmere carpet.
With her back to Theresa, who was still in a daze, she raised her right hand and gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, speaking in a light yet firm voice.
"Furthermore, I trust Prince Colin's character. Even if he were to live under the same roof as Miss Yaya, Prince Colin would never overstep any boundaries, after all..."
She was too embarrassed to say the second half.
Last night, if he really wanted to take advantage of her, she probably wouldn't have been able to refuse given her condition.
Without a doubt, he is a true gentleman!
Looking at her prince's composed demeanor, as if he were the "empress," Theresa couldn't help but sigh inwardly, thinking of the novels she had read before.
Since ancient times, childhood sweethearts have always been no match for those who appear out of nowhere, precisely because of their blind confidence.
Trust is a virtue of chivalry, but blind faith is a danger.
"Your Highness."
Theresa's voice deepened, a kind of composure she only displayed when analyzing the enemy situation on the battlefield.
“Your trust is admirable, but as your subordinate, I must report to you the intelligence I gathered on the way into the city.”
Eileen looked at her and blinked blankly.
"intelligence?"
"Yes, about Miss Yaya Mitia."
Theresa stepped forward, lowering her voice as if it were some kind of secret military matter.
"Although it was only a few words, I heard some rumors from some of the old servants in the manor and the guards in the city. It is said that when this young lady first arrived in Thunder City, there were rumors that she had gone out with Prince Colin late at night. Some even... privately called her 'the mistress'."
"hostess?"
Eileen's smile froze.
The composure that lingered on her face just a moment ago vanished like a punctured soap bubble in the summer evening breeze.
Seeing the expression on Eileen's face, Theresa felt a pang of pity.
Actually, "a late-night stroll together" was a plot she read in a novel, while "the mistress" was her thought in the quiet of the night.
However, in order to get Princess Eileen to take things seriously, and for the honor of the Campbell family, she, as a knight, was willing to go all out!
May Saint Sis forgive her well-intentioned lie; she was forced to do it.
"...Although these messages were quickly wiped out as if by an invisible hand, disappearing completely and without any way to verify them, Your Highness should understand that in this world, complete 'disappearance' often means that some powerful force is deliberately covering it up."
Eileen swallowed.
"Could it be my brother..."
“Your brother has no reason to do this.” Theresa shook her head and continued in a serious voice, “I’m worried that Miss Yaya has some ulterior motive… She deliberately erased her traces to lull you into a false sense of security!”
It's a pity that Miss "Ya Ya" isn't here, otherwise she would definitely jump up excitedly and say, "That's right, that's exactly what I plan to do!"
The idiot from the Padrich family doesn't have that much cunning. She's probably the kind of person who would rather not read a strategy guide for the Demon King written for her than read it because it's too long, and instead have Xiao Luoyan analyze it for her.
Faced with Theresa's relentless pressure, Eileen's fingers gripped the hem of her skirt tightly, and her voice gradually began to tremble.
"Then...then them..."
"Something might have already happened!"
"what happened?!"
"For example, scandals or the like."
"...Is it a rumor? Is it about having tea together? Or..."
She couldn't finish her sentence, but the instant flush on her face said it all. Her previous confidence vanished, replaced by a panicked unease.
Unaware of her own instigation, Teresa followed Irene, who was retreating, from the window to the fireplace, where the light from the magic crystal lamp illuminated her resolute profile.
"Your Highness, the above is information I've heard secondhand, and what follows is my analysis. If you don't want to hear it, please pretend I never said anything... I won't mention it again."
It was clearly not an indication that she was going to stop. Looking at Theresa's face, which seemed to say she would "suffocate if she didn't finish what she was saying," the kind-hearted Miss Eileen swallowed hard, gripped her collar tightly with her right hand, controlled her wildly beating heart, and prepared herself to take the blow.
"Then...you go ahead and tell me."
Theresa's face lit up with joy, but she quickly composed herself and continued speaking seriously.
"Miss Mitia from the Holy City traveled all the way from her hometown to this distant land. Such touching sincerity would surely have captivated any man. To be honest... if I were a man, I probably wouldn't be able to resist such deep affection either."
Eileen: "...?"
Ignoring the stunned prince, Theresa placed her hands on Irene's shoulders, stopping her from escaping, her tone becoming more serious than ever before.
"Your Highness, although I lack experience in that area, based on my knowledge and understanding of the battlefield situation, I believe you are currently at a disadvantage. This is not an exaggeration; if we cannot muster the courage to break through the enemy lines in one fell swoop, defeat is probably only a matter of time!"
"Defeat, defeat is..."
"It means your castle has someone else's flag flying!"
"Then, what should I do?"
"Launch the attack immediately!"
attack?
How else can we attack?
Could it be...?
Eileen's heart pounded violently in her chest.
The memory of that enchanting night flashed through her mind again, the scalding heat surging inside and outside the city walls, engulfing all the weariness and confusion in her heart.
If we were to go any further, it would probably only be... that kind of thing.
Just as her thoughts soared to the top of the castle, she hurriedly took two steps back, jerking off the hand resting on her shoulder as if electrocuted, unable to look into Theresa's encouraging eyes.
"Attack...? This is... utterly shameless..."
At least……
You can't just do things on your own initiative, can you?
At the very least, it should be in a room filled with incense, with both of them slightly tipsy, slowly drawing closer to each other under the candlelight... If that were the case, she wouldn't necessarily be unable to take the initiative.
Just as Eileen's thoughts were completely out of control, Theresa smiled and placed her fist against her chest.
"Your Highness, please don't worry, I will never let you fight alone... I will help you!"
"...?"
Eileen was stunned.
help?
How... can I help?
Just as her mind went blank, Theresa had already gone to the suitcase and returned with a wooden box wrapped in velvet.
She solemnly handed the wooden box to Eileen, looking at the bewildered woman.
“Your Highness, this is something Lady Antony left with me. She said that you will need it sooner or later, and when that time comes, she asked me to make sure to hand over this decisive weapon to you.”
Mrs. Antonie?
Eileen was stunned.
Based on her impression of that gentle and virtuous lady, she seemed to have never been involved with that mysterious atmosphere.
Is it a magical device?
Or perhaps a magic scroll that enhances charm...
With a mix of trepidation and anticipation, Eileen reached out as if possessed and gently unfastened the gold clasp with her trembling fingertips.
The lid pops open.
It has neither the radiance of magic nor the brilliance of gemstones.
Lying on the black velvet background, it seemed to be just a thin, light mass of fabric that looked as if it might float away at any moment... uh, fabric?
If you didn't look closely, Eileen would even suspect that it was leftover scraps from making clothes.
The semi-transparent black gauze robe was so light that it could be blown away by her breath. The delicate lace pattern was like a mandala blooming in the night. The fabric was less shameful than shameful, exuding a breathtaking boldness and debauchery.
Eileen stared intently at the fabric in the box, her emerald green pupils trembling as if an earthquake struck, her mind almost momentarily blank.
This is absolutely not proper clothing! What's the difference between wearing this and not wearing anything at all?
No--
This subtly revealing design is practically more blasphemous than wearing nothing at all!
Eileen only had to imagine what it would look like on her before her cheeks turned as hot as lava, and she wished she could bury her face in the fireplace to calm down.
"The lady said that she specially commissioned a tailor to make this according to your measurements," Theresa continued, adding without changing her expression, as if it were not "The Emperor's New Clothes" but an indestructible armor. "According to the lady, men have virtually no defense against this kind of 'half-covered' clothing. It's no exaggeration to say that you'll win as soon as you put it on."
"Wearing this... will make you win?" Eileen's breathing quickened, her brain on the verge of oxygen deprivation, as she reached out and took out the clothes.
Theresa gave her another encouraging look.
"That's right! For the sake of the Campbell family's future, please change your clothes!"
pity--
Theresa overestimated Eileen's courage in that regard; shame ultimately broke through the high wall called reason.
Her face instantly turned bright red, almost as if it were about to bleed, and the white smoke emanating from her body made it impossible to tell whether it was evaporating sweat or the steam from boiling water.
Wearing something like this to see Colin...
In her imagination, she was already standing at the door, seeing the face behind the door that went from stunned to infatuated, and finally the two of them went to the Wanren Mountains for a passionate encounter.
"Waaah..."
Overwhelmed by brain overload, Eileen let out a short, mournful cry, her head snapped back, and her body went limp as she fell backward.
"Your Highness?!"
Theresa reacted quickly, rushing forward and grabbing Eileen's slender waist before her head hit the ground.
At the same time, in the master bedroom upstairs, Vivian, who was happily eating potato chips, suddenly froze in her tracks and jumped out of bed with a start.
Just a moment ago, she felt Eileen's heart rate break through the limit, and the extreme shame and excitement almost made her head burn.
"What's going on?!"
Has some white-haired vixen become so shameless as to show off right under Lady Vivian's nose?
This is absolutely outrageous!
Alarm bells rang in Vivian's mind, her scarlet eyes flashed with ferocity, she threw away the unfinished potato chips, and sat back down cross-legged on the bed.
"Don't even think about it! Waaaaah..."
Logically speaking, even if the initial adopter has a certain degree of control over their followers, it wouldn't be an easy task for a platinum-level superhuman to withstand the power of a diamond-level expert.
Unfortunately, Eileen's health was depleted by Teresa's relentless attacks, giving the Colin family's vampires an opening.
Almost instantly, Vivian's eyes cleared, but then she was terrified by the breath blowing in her face.
Holy crap—
What the heck?!
What Vivian saw was not a ghost, but Teresa's face.
The usually serious female knight was now flushed, breathing heavily, and staring intently at him, their noses almost touching.
Vivian instinctively tried to dodge, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist. This wasn't her body after all; she couldn't unleash her diamond-level strength.
"Your Highness!"
Seeing Princess Irene suddenly struggle, Theresa gasped and was pulled down onto the carpet by Irene, who was falling backward with all her might.
The two were pressed together, and Vivian's brain was about to shut down, especially when a shameless black lace nightgown landed right in front of her.
No!
Vivian's virginity must not be lost here!
"grumble--!"
A loud scream rang out in Vivian's bedroom. Hearing the commotion upstairs, Theresa instinctively looked up.
At that moment, the connection between the newcomer and their companions was finally severed, and those reddened eyes were once again tinged with a bewildering emerald green.
what happened?
While Eileen was completely confused, Vivian, who was terrified, had already huddled in the corner of the bed in the bedroom upstairs.
She was clutching her knees tightly with both hands, her face was deathly pale, and her chest was heaving violently, as if she had just crawled out of the dungeon of the holy city.
turn out to be……
Is this the bond between lords and knights in the human world?
She had only seen it in Heineveld's novels before, and even thought it was nonsense at the time, but she never expected that reality would be even more exaggerated than the novels.
Vivian stretched out her trembling little hand and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, her red eyes filled with terror from the earthquake.
"Humans... are truly terrifying..."
...
Night was falling in Thunder City, while thousands of kilometers away in the Holy City, the bells were just ringing before nightfall.
In the private prayer room of St. Clement's Cathedral, it was so quiet that you could even hear the candlelight burning.
The afterglow of the setting sun pierced through the towering stained glass, transforming into elongated beams of light that illuminated the milky-white marble statue.
Countless tiny dust particles danced around the few beams of light that were about to disappear, much like mortals trying to grasp something in the torrent of history.
Gregory, the old man revered as "Gregory IX," is sitting alone on a bench in front of the statue.
He was holding two letters in his hand at that moment.
The letter on the left was from the distant province of Twilight, signed by Chief Justice Jiménez, and its words were filled with fervor for divine favor and an eagerness to claim credit.
In Jiménez's letter, he mentioned that, under the protection of the Holy Light and the thunderous methods of the Court of Justice, the chaos that had been entrenched in the Twilight Province had turned to ashes.
The new "Holy Light Council" has become the Vatican's most loyal hound, relentlessly pursuing heretics who attempt to seize divine authority.
The court intends to conclude its sacred mission in the Twilight Province before autumn arrives, handing over local governance to the Council of Holy Light.
A hint of mockery flashed in the old man's cloudy eyes.
Based on his understanding of Jiménez, if the situation there were truly as smooth as he claimed, the Chief Referee would not have left in such a hurry.
Finish before the harvest...
This means there's an 80% chance of a bumper harvest this year, and local production efforts are likely in complete disarray. The court can only try to shift the blame before people actually start going hungry.
That Holy Light Council is probably just taking over the mess. It's a pity that the people there will have to endure another year of hunger.
Fortunately, the same kind of chaotic corruption rarely erupts repeatedly on the same piece of land in a short period of time.
Gregory IX sighed softly, paused for two seconds to mourn for the people suffering from famine, and then turned his gaze to the letter in his right hand.
It was a petition from the capital of the Kingdom of Laine, written by Bishop Claude of Roland.
He lamented the poverty of the parish, how the children of the Holy Light could not afford bread, and how the priests could not even scrape together the gold coins needed to repair the church roof. And all the blame lay with the Duchy of Campbell, downstream on the River Run, where the duke was pushing blasphemous reforms, swindling their gold and silver with counterfeit paper.
[...We humbly beseech the Holy City to grant us funds to appease the restless faithful...]
Gregory IX silently read the letter in his hand, and in the end, without even sighing, simply shook his head gently.
He slowly raised his head, his gaze passing over the two letters and landing on the setting sun about to sink below the horizon outside the window, a sense of melancholy rising in his heart.
Did the same sun shine on the territory of the Ottoman Empire five hundred years ago?
How glorious the Holy See was back then!
The Empire's army is powerful and its road network extends as far as the eye can see!
Their strength lay not only in martial virtue, but also in civil virtue. The nobles of the Senate maintained their alliance with the royal courts of the various kingdoms through the bonds of blood; their bloodlines were as if they were intertwined!
As for the Papacy, its influence surpasses both of the other two.
The bishops sent from the Holy City to each kingdom are the true uncrowned kings of their respective lands, and even the most powerful monarchs must bow to them.
Every pastor must make a pilgrimage to the Holy City at least three times in their lifetime: once in their youth, once in their middle age, and once in their old age.
Back then, the Pope could mobilize millions of soldiers from the vast territory of the Austronesian continent with just a wave of his scepter!
The lizardmen retreated to a corner of the Old World, the orcs and elves were forced to flee, and the power of the human race and the Holy Light became stronger than ever before.
And the Os Empire embodies all of this supreme power!
However--
The good old days are gone forever.
The empire's gaze gradually shifted beyond the waves of anger, turning to that new continent teeming with gold. The Holy City was both more youthful and more aged than ever before.
The newly promoted officers had only their eyes on military achievements and the treasures of the colonies. They would rather send the young men of the Holy City to fight on the front lines than look back at their own backs.
In their eyes, the kingdoms of the Old World were symbols of poverty and barbarity, and their kings were a bunch of hopeless savages.
The Senate's attitude was largely the same.
As trade on the vast ocean continued to flourish, the kingdoms gradually went from being the main course for the major families of the holy city to being an appetizer.
The amount of gold coins an Imperial citizen spends in his lifetime is more than ten Rhodes citizens combined, and the relationship between the Kingdom of Rhodes and the Empire is still the closest; the more distant the land, the worse it will be.
Unable to implement the empire's advanced order on its old grounds where conservative forces were deeply entrenched, they simply turned their attention to the distant lands beyond the Whirlpool Sea.
This was not only driven by self-interest and the failure of kinship politics, but also a long-term conspiracy by the nobles of the Holy City to check the power of the Church.
After successfully sidelining the immortal emperor, they quickly turned their attention to the Church of St. Clement. This was almost inevitable, without anyone's prompting.
Gregory IX was well aware of the plans of the families in the Holy City: they wanted the authority of the Papacy to die along with the rotting flesh of the Old World, so that a new empire could be created!
This conspiracy didn't begin today; it has been going on for five hundred years. The open and covert struggles between the two factions even indirectly gave rise to a faction of military officers representing the common people.
The result of this struggle was that the bishop who once guarded his territory had been reduced to a court jester at the king's dinner table.
The most typical example is Claude, the bishop of Roland!
Gregory IX remembered the name clearly and was also frustrated that the regional bishop had stooped to borrowing money from the pope on behalf of a secular monarch.
Although secular kings in the past also borrowed money from the Pope, they usually wrote letters in person, and the Pope would then approve the allocation of funds to the local diocese bishops.
These greedy insects... have probably already squandered all the gold that the Vatican had stored in various places.
These days, the only local institutions still directly controlled by the Holy See are probably the adventurers' guilds in various regions.
However, like the bishops, those institutions had long been riddled with holes by local forces, and it was hard to say how many adventurers still remembered that they were servants of the Holy Light.
Just as Gregory IX was reminiscing alone about the afterglow of the setting sun, the oak door behind the bench let out a soft groan, breaking the tranquil silence of the prayer room.
"Your Holiness, you wanted to see me?"
Cardinal Frans Hilfen entered.
He is Cassie Sylphine's uncle, possessing extensive artistic appreciation and theological knowledge, and is also a superhuman with unfathomable strength.
No one knew his true strength, because there had been no war around the Holy City for a long time, and even if there were, the cardinal bishops usually didn't need to intervene.
Most bishops and popes take their supernatural powers to their graves.
Gregory IX did not speak, but slowly extended his withered hand from beneath his sleeve and handed over the two letters.
Frans accepted it respectfully, as if it were a glass of red wine offered by another gentleman. By the candlelight, he first looked at the letter from the Twilight Province.
That was good news from referee Jiménez.
Looking at the almost fanatical words on the letter, Frans's well-trimmed eyebrows rose slightly, and a meaningful smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
His familiarity with Jiménez was no less than that with the Pope; that mad dog of humble origins had an almost pathological obsession with heresy.
Nobles of noble birth often look down on these stray dogs. These guys often lack a stable core and will stop at nothing to climb the social ladder. Today they might bite the bone their master throws to them, but tomorrow they might bite their master's hand.
In his view, the so-called "eradication of chaos" was nothing more than a carefully crafted farce to cover up his own incompetence.
And that seems to be the case.
Before they even got their first harvest, those guys were already eager to unilaterally declare victory and then gracefully withdraw.
"What do you think of Jiménez's letter?" the Pope asked Francis in a calm and gentle voice.
Frans replied calmly.
“I’m not surprised that he stumbled. But knowing him as I do, he probably wouldn’t dare to lie on crucial issues.”
Gregory IX nodded.
He felt the same way.
Regardless of whether the court is disgraced locally, it's enough that the corrupting influence of chaos disappears from that land.
“He wants a victory. So let him have one. St. Clement’s Cathedral needs his triumph too.”
Gregory IX nodded and said.
“I want to entrust this matter to you. The Sylphyn family has experience in this area.”
"It's an honor to serve you."
Frans smiled faintly, as if brushing dust off his sleeves, and casually placed the "good news" on the bench beside him.
He then unfolded the second letter from Bishop Claude of Roland.
At first, France's expression was relatively calm.
However, as his gaze shifted downwards, and he saw the stray dog, of humble origins like Jiménez, howling without dignity for the gold coins, he finally could not suppress the boiling anger in his chest and uttered a blasphemous curse in front of the statue of Saint Sis.
"That despicable clown!"
Gregory IX gave him a deep look, but Frans did not restrain himself at all, and in his anger, he crumpled the letter into a ball.
"How dare he ask the Holy City for money? Is the scraps that Theodore gave him not enough to satisfy his greedy mouth?!"
In the eyes of the Holy City, Bishop Claude of Roland City was a living joke.
Over a decade ago, this man was a dwarf clown in the King's Palace, skilled only at juggling and entertaining the king with his antics. But because he successfully pleased King Theodon Devalo of Ryan, he rose to the position of regional bishop through the latter's machinations!
Although secular kingdoms usurped the authority of bishops as early as five hundred years ago, Claude was undoubtedly the most blasphemous example of this.
This guy is the bishop with the lowest "holiness" in history!
What infuriated the Vatican even more was that this guy's resume was flawless; he had risen through the ranks from priest in the church, only his promotions were relatively rapid.
This incident even became a pretext for the senators and military officers to attack the Church of St. Clement's "crown falling."
Or rather, a laughing stock.
The thought of Claude's old face covered in rouge powder made Frans feel a wave of nausea and he wished he could burn the letter.
"Your Majesty, that kingdom is beyond saving."
After venting his anger, Frans turned around and looked at the Pope who was staring at him, his voice filled with chilling coldness.
"Why does Chaos always favor the Kingdom of Lion? Why do those filthy evil spirits always breed in that land? I think the answer is obvious, because it is the most blasphemous place in the Old World!"
He pointed out the stained-glass windows of St. Clement's Cathedral, in the direction of the Kingdom of Ryan, his eyes filled with disgust and hatred.
"Under the rule of the Devalo family, faith has long since rotted into a plaything of power! Even clowns can spout nonsense on the altar, and the holy light they utter only disgusts me!"
Blasphemous curses echoed in the sacred prayer hall, and the flickering candlelight was like a frightened ghost.
This is the closest place to Saint Sis, but it is clear that even Saint Sis is unwilling to respond to this blasphemous wish.
After a brief silence, Gregory IX sighed softly, but ultimately did not blame his most trusted cardinal.
"Enough, Frans, let's stick to the facts."
The old man's voice was tinged with weariness, like a candle that was about to burn out, every drop of wax on the candlestick filled with helplessness.
The problems on the table are very real, and also very harsh.
Will the Holy See of St. Clement provide this money or not?
They have already sent angels to the people of that land, and now the king there is calling for more aid.
Five hundred years ago, this issue wouldn't even be discussed here, and the Angels wouldn't have even descended upon the Twilight Province.
However, it is now the year 1054 of the Os calendar, and this vast empire has existed for nearly a thousand years, its age spots as numerous as its hair.
Seeing the hesitation in the Pope's eyes, Francis snorted and said meaningfully.
"...The church assets of the Kingdom of Ryan were effectively seized by the royal family two hundred years ago. Lending them money now is like taking money from the already meager coffers of St. Clement Cathedral to fill Theodore's bottomless pit. Do you think it's worth it?"
The Pope said softly.
"I'm not only considering economic interests."
"I'm talking about interests beyond economic benefits!"
Frans continued, his face contorted with resentment.
"We've already stopped providing accommodation subsidies for pilgrims. Those believers who have walked from thousands of miles away now have nothing but a few pieces of bread and a glass of sour red wine. If we really want to solve the financial hole in the Kingdom of Ryan, we'll probably have to remove the red wine from the Eucharist as well!"
The Pope fell silent.
The Papacy's income is indeed substantial; the tithes from various regions each year amount to an astronomical sum, and they also contribute to the trade across the vast oceans.
Including donations from pious nobles, the treasury of St. Clement's Cathedral held an astronomical sum. Yet, their expenses were equally exorbitant.
The Adventurers' Guild is one of them, and the tithe they levy on the colonies is just equal to their investment in the colonies.
Especially recently, they have spent too much money on the Knights Templar in order to spread the gospel of the Holy Light to the virgin land left by the Dragon God, and also to fight against the corruption of the local area by Hell.
It is said that a demon king named Ig has already begun to rise in the area, sowing the seeds of hell deep within the Sun Stairway Mountains, and even into the heart of the continent of Gana...
In short, in order to keep this massive machine running and to prevent the cause of the Holy Light from drying up, the Holy See has already made many painful cuts. They cannot afford to invest more money in a deal that is destined to lose money.
After all, even if they really emptied their coffers to save the Kingdom of Ryan, the people there wouldn't thank the Church; they would only blasphemously thank the village girl who proclaimed herself a saint.
The Devallo family's credit has long been bankrupt due to centuries of defaulting on debts; no matter what grand ambitions they make, they will eventually become worthless.
Hoping to use the Empire's army to help the Papacy collect its debts?
The Senate and the military officers will probably be laughing their heads off—
Don't you have a court of judges?
Why not let the magistrates' court handle it?
They will only act for common interests, such as the corruption of chaos. As for the debts between the Papacy and secular kingdoms, those are economic disputes and not enough to warrant the imperial army's intervention.
As for resorting to the last trump card, summoning angels to collect debts, that's utterly ridiculous.
"But... are we just going to watch like this?"
Gregory IX looked out the window at the twilight that was gradually falling into the night, and his voice still carried a hint of reluctance.
"...Lane is heading towards destruction. If we leave it alone, the believers there will truly become lambs without a master. The Papacy needs the support of the kingdoms to maintain its influence in the Old World, which is our foundation."
"Precisely because that is the foundation, Your Majesty, we must not lend them money!"
Frans, his voice icy, walked to the Pope's side and looked intently at the still hesitant old man.
The Pope looked up at him.
Why?
"Because the chaos in Roland City is the result of that tyrannical ruler's perverse actions!"
Frans sneered, his eyes showing both disdain for the shortsightedness of secular monarchy and a hint of mockery at seeing a clown fall into a mud puddle.
"The current chaos in Roland is a direct result of Theodore's perverse actions. He must reap the consequences of his own actions! If the Vatican allocates funds now, it will only prolong the suffering of the locals!"
The Sylphine family is a prestigious family in the Holy City. Francis not only has a deep piety for the Holy Light, but has also learned too many lessons from history.
Extending the lifespan of a tyrant will only be seen as aiding and abetting the tyrant. Saint Sith will not only punish tyrants, but will also judge those who "do unjust good in the name of benevolence."
It may sound cruel, but the lifespan of the Devallo family has come to an end, at least in Frans's view.
Even if he had never been to that place in his life, he could see this clearly.
“The nobles of Ryan are not short of money at all, and I bet not a single penny of the money we lend to them… or rather, donate to them will end up in the hands of those who truly need it!”
“If this money becomes a butcher’s knife in the hands of a tyrant, what will the people struggling with hunger think of us? They will see us as accomplices of the tyrant, as corrupt people who betray their believers for gold coins, which will push them further into the embrace of heresy!”
The Pope's eyes widened slightly as he stared at Francis in disbelief, never expecting that this cardinal who valued tradition would say such a thing.
Although he didn't say it explicitly, his meaning was already quite clear—
He wants the Devalo family to die!
Seeing the Pope still hesitating, Francis continued with a pained expression.
"Your Majesty, have you forgotten the tragedy that occurred in Twilight Province last year? The priests there sold their souls to the secular lords and became too deeply bound to them. They were seen as part of the exploiters by the angry, starving people, to the point that almost all the honest and kind people were slaughtered!"
"In order to protect the lower-ranking clergy of Roland City, and to preserve our foundation there, the Vatican must sever ties with the leeches that are sucking our blood. No matter how deep the connection between the Devalo family and us may be, that was a long, long time ago."
Gregory IX: "But... we have to give them a way out."
"Then let him go to the Senate to borrow it!"
Frans offered a sarcastic suggestion, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"If they can win over those misers, it means Saint Sith hasn't given up on them yet."
The Pope fell silent again.
Looking at this powerful cardinal, he seemed to see a glimpse of the future of the Vatican—cold-blooded, pragmatic, and ruthless in its pursuit of survival.
He is now unsure whether the great fire he saw in the prophecy came from the Sylph family, which symbolizes the "golden rose and the scrolls".
They are the oldest and most learned family in the holy city!
When Prince Colin returned, it was Count Cassie Sylphine, the nephew of Bishop Francis, who received him.
The Pope asked one last question.
"What if the Kingdom of Ryan falls because of this?"
"France said coldly."
"Then let it fall. Secular kingdoms can change dynasties, and the demise of the Devalu family is merely the beginning of another family's rise. Whoever becomes king, the Holy Light must endure on this land. We must never allow the corruption of Chaos to cross the Brass Pass and blow in from the dimensional desert."
"Therefore, we must make trade-offs!"
The Pope sighed deeply, and the sound that echoed in the prayer hall was like Saint Sis's recollection of an era about to fall into darkness.
"It seems we have no choice but to leave our children to face the darkness alone."
He no longer hesitated, but still felt ashamed.
As Francis said, on the other hand, the Holy See no longer had the capacity to forgive the greed of the Devalo family.
On the other hand, they only needed to save the red wine from the pilgrims' communion to pull the Kingdom of Ryan back from the abyss.
It's just that the people there aren't worth it.
What saddened the Pope even more was that he himself thought so too; at least he did not deny the unspoken message from Bishop Francis.
What they said were just excuses.
Frans straightened his red robes and said in a cold voice.
"It's not five hundred years ago now, Your Majesty."
"Excuse my bluntness, but those barbarians should have learned to be self-reliant long ago."
(End of this chapter)
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