Chapter 228 - 223: National Covenant
Inside the town hall, pillars of Stone Skin Soft Vine wrapped around gray rock supported the dome.
Winter sunlight streamed through the wide skylights, casting tracks of light on the floor. Countless dust motes danced in the beams.
The atmosphere was solemn yet fervent.
The royal messenger stood in the center of the hall, his high-pitched voice echoing through the space.
"...By this decree, Velin Klein, Pioneer Baron of the Grey Marsh Territory, is hereby granted the right to pioneer the Southern Archipelago!"
"May he guard the Duchy’s maritime borders and bring glory to our nation!"
The final syllable faded.
A brief silence fell over the hall before erupting into a torrential roar of cheers.
"ROOOAR—!"
Barrett pumped fists like iron tongs, his roar drowning out all others.
Ola Stonebeard’s face flushed red. He didn’t cheer, but instead twirled his meticulously braided, reddish-brown beard with his thick fingers, letting out a low, rumbling laugh.
From the muddy, foul-smelling Gray Marsh to this magnificent harbor rising from the ground before them.
This was a moment for the victors.
This was an undeniable glory that belonged to them all!
Tristan stood behind Velin, his eyes locked on the parchment scroll in the messenger’s hands.
’The royal wax seal, the personal signature of the council chairman.’
’This isn’t just a piece of paper; it’s the cornerstone of the Grey Marsh Territory’s future. If he fully assimilates the Southern Archipelago, Velin could be promoted to a Count.’
The messenger let out a long breath, a look of sincere respect on his face as he carefully presented it to Velin.
But at that moment, a gentle voice spoke up.
"Please wait a moment."
A hand in a pristine white silk glove reached out from the side, pressing lightly on the parchment scroll.
The roaring cheers died away, as if choked into silence.
The atmosphere in the hall shifted from fervent to something else entirely.
All eyes turned toward the voice.
A Priest, dressed in a simple white clerical robe, had emerged from behind a Templar Knight at some point.
He appeared to be around forty years old, with a clean-shaven face and a gentle, warm smile playing on his lips.
His appearance instantly silenced the guards who had been ready to shout in anger.
In the crowd, a few elderly clerks even made the sign of the Holy Emblem over their chests reflexively. They considered it a grace from the Lord to have such a noble Priest witness this honor.
But the faces of Barrett and several centurions darkened, their hands unconsciously dropping to the hilts of their swords.
Tristan’s pupils contracted sharply.
The Priest ignored the crowd’s varied gazes. He smiled, taking the scroll from the stunned messenger’s hand with a fluid, natural motion, as if it were his duty all along.
"By order of Archbishop Edmond Augustine of the Saint Zelheim Cathedral, of the Eternal Radiance Church."
His voice was warm and pleasant, filled with a sacred, soothing power.
"According to the National Covenant, signed by both royal and divine authority at the nation’s founding, this pioneering charter must include a church clause."
He unrolled the bottom of the scroll with a flourish.
All eyes were drawn to it.
At the end of the parchment, beneath the royal family’s bold signature, was an additional line of elegant, small script written in silver ink, looking starkly out of place.
The Priest, in a tone like one chanting a hymn, read it out clearly, word for word.
"The recipient, Baron Velin Klein, is obligated to ensure the light of the Lord of Eternal Radiance may be spread throughout his newly pioneered territory, and to provide all conveniences for the Church to establish a mission."
Beneath the script was the imprint of a Holy Emblem: a burning flame.
The silver ink shimmered in the light streaming through the window.
Both sacred and cold.
A dead silence fell upon the hall.
The joy that had filled the air moments before was snuffed out.
’This is a gilded shackle.’
’An order that cannot be refused.’
’To refuse it is to deny the National Covenant, to deny the King who granted Velin his authority, and to declare war on the faith of the entire Duchy.’
’To accept it is to open a door for the Church in his own territory—a door that will never close.’
’They will take root like ivy, entwining every stone and brick, siphoning sustenance from the populace, and monitoring every corner of the territory until they have turned this land into their own pasture.’
After reading the clause, the Priest acted as if he hadn’t noticed the myriad expressions on the faces of the crowd.
Still wearing that gentle smile, he walked up to Velin, flanked by two Templar Knights.
He held out the scroll.
His posture was no longer the gentle one he had shown the messenger, but one of condescending scrutiny, as if bestowing some supreme gift.
Velin looked at him but didn’t immediately reach for it.
His gaze was as tranquil as a deep pool of water.
[View].
In an instant, a strange stream of data appeared before Velin’s eyes.
[Name: Fabian]
[Rank: Level 4 Divine Official]
[Bloodline: Luminous Heart-Mirror (Silver Tier) 23%, Mixed Bloodline 77%]
[Abilities: Pious Prayer, Cast Divine Art]
[Overall Evaluation: Foreign biological organ implant detected. Suspected use is to amplify sonic waves and psychic resonance. Implant is highly coupled with the user’s nervous system, carrying a risk of irreversible mental contamination.]
A flicker of surprise passed through the depths of Velin’s eyes.
’Foreign organ implants?’
His gaze swept discreetly over the two Templar Knights beside the Priest.
[Name: Sergei]
[Rank: Level 4 Holy Knight]
[Bloodline: Body of Bedrock (Silver Tier) 18%, Mixed Bloodline 82%]
[Abilities: Unwavering Faith, Punishing Strike, Cast Divine Art]
[Overall Evaluation: Foreign biological organ implant detected. Used to replace original organs and provide Extraordinary energy. Vital signs are stable, but metabolic rate is abnormal.]
...
’All three of them have undergone unnatural body modification.’
’Another technology for modifying the human body.’
’Is this the source of Divine Art?’
’Gaining Extraordinary abilities by implanting ’organs’?’
’And the price is mental contamination?’
’Is this biotechnology, or some strange form of Alchemy like the Empire’s?’
Countless hypotheses flashed through Velin’s mind, only to be swiftly categorized and filed away.
The expression on his face didn’t change in the slightest.
Seeing Velin’s hesitation to take the scroll, the smile on the face of the Priest, Fabian, faded slightly, and a hint of coldness entered his eyes.
Just as the oppressive atmosphere in the hall grew so thick that Barrett’s breathing became heavy, Velin extended his hand.
He calmly took the scroll that bore both glory and shackles.
"Thank you for the Lord’s grace."
His tone was flat, betraying no emotion.
Everyone watched him, waiting for his reaction.
He knew that the overt war against the Iron-Wall Marquis was over.
But a more dangerous, more insidious war—a war of ideas, a war for hearts and minds—had just begun.
Velin raised his head, his wine-red amber eyes looking past the statuesque Templar Knights to the Priest they guarded.
He offered a polite but distant smile.
"So, when can we expect the Church’s artisans to arrive?"