Chapter 249 - 244: The Church Offers You Its Loyalty
New Year’s Day.
A clamor like never before filled the two towns of the Grey Marsh Territory, Newly Town and Minas Tirith.
Colorful strips of cloth hung in the streets. Though simple, they washed away the gloom of the past.
In Mi Port especially, wooden stages had been erected in several large squares, where multiple theater troupes were energetically performing a variety of plays.
Not just "When Candy Comes Knocking" and "Rocky," but also several newly written plays.
The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and ale, as children weaved through the crowds, their laughter echoing all around.
Inside the banquet hall of Mi Port’s newly built Lord’s Mansion, the atmosphere was just as lively.
Velin stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows with a cup of black tea, watching the bustling scene in the square outside.
Kael walked up behind him.
"My lord."
He handed over a stack of parchment documents.
Velin took them but didn’t look at them right away.
On the topmost sheet was a clear, bloody fingerprint.
"Fabian’s?"
"He and his subordinates, seven men in total, all left their prints."
Only then did Velin lower his gaze, leafing through the documents page by page.
They were letters of repentance, handwritten by Fabian and the others, detailing their various disgraceful acts from the previous night while under the influence of drugs.
As for how Fabian had made his colleagues sign these documents, Velin didn’t care.
He only needed the result.
At the end of the documents was an addendum: the "Church secrets" that Fabian had confessed of his own volition.
The Church’s true purpose in sending him here was to monitor Velin, gather any evidence that could be defined as "heresy," and pave the way for a complete takeover of the Grey Marsh Territory’s secular power in the future.
He also "exposed" several internal Church scandals.
For instance, a certain bishop was keeping over a dozen mistresses and living a life of extravagance.
Another example: the Church was using the pious donations of its followers to secretly run a massive money-lending operation in the Royal Capital, with astonishingly high interest rates.
Velin skimmed through it all, his expression unchanging.
He turned and handed the documents to Tristan, who was beside him.
"Record this."
Tristan took the documents. "Under which file classification, my lord?"
"Common knowledge."
Tristan’s movements paused for a moment before he returned to normal.
"Understood."
’Fabian is still too naive. What he knows is probably just the tip of the iceberg.’
"And Father Fabian?" Velin asked Kael.
"He asked me to convey his apologies. He is unable to attend the banquet tonight."
"What about the event in the square later?"
"He will be there on time," Kael confirmed.
Velin nodded and asked no more questions.
The banquet continued late into the night.
When the clock tower’s bell chimed, Velin set down his cup.
He led all the core officials of the Lord’s Mansion through the crowd, out of the banquet hall, and headed straight for the high stage that had been prepared in the Central Square.
The boisterous square gradually quieted down at the lord’s arrival.
Thousands upon thousands of subjects looked up at the figure on the high stage.
"Happy New Year."
He began with the simplest of well wishes.
A tsunami-like response erupted from below the stage.
"Happy New Year, my lord!"
Velin raised a hand, signaling for silence.
"In the past year, we have built something from nothing. With our own two hands, we have built homes, reclaimed fields, and lit the forges upon this muddy swamp."
"Every single one of you has proven your worth with your sweat."
"I promised that here, labor would be the only measure of all things. Effort will be rewarded, and hard work deserves prosperity."
"Today, I will reaffirm this point. The Grey Marsh Territory does not support lazy bums!"
The moment he finished speaking, murmurs of discontent arose from some corners of the crowd.
Velin paid them no mind.
"Next, let us welcome a special guest. He will bear witness for all of us to the dawn of a new Chapter for the Grey Marsh Territory."
The crowd looked in the direction Velin indicated.
They saw Fabian, dressed in a brand-new clerical robe, slowly walking onto the high stage, accompanied by two assistants.
The crowd exploded.
"It’s Father Fabian!"
"What’s he doing here? Has the lord decided to compromise with the Church?"
"I knew it! There’s definitely going to be more free bread!" The lazy bums who had once depended on the Church’s charity wore smug expressions.
Meanwhile, the workers who had been toiling on the construction sites frowned, a trace of unease rising in their hearts.
Fabian walked to the center of the stage, first bowing to Velin, then turning to the tens of thousands of subjects below.
He took a deep breath and picked up a simple sheet-metal megaphone.
"Lambs of the Lord, my brothers and sisters of the Grey Marsh Territory."
"Today, I stand here for a confession."
A confession?
Everyone was stunned.
"Not long ago, I distributed free bread to you all in the name of the Lord. I believed this to be the Lord’s grace, an embodiment of mercy."
Fabian’s voice, carried far by the megaphone, was tinged with a heavy solemnity.
"But I was wrong."
"I was grievously wrong!"
He suddenly raised his voice.
"My actions, far from glorifying the Lord, have instead bred laziness and encouraged getting something for nothing! This is the greatest blasphemy against the Lord! For the Lord taught us that only the diligent shall receive blessings!"
Below the stage, the smiles froze on the faces of the lazy bums who had just been looking so smug.
Fabian didn’t look at them.
His gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on the workers whose clothes were still flecked with mud and whose hands were covered in calluses.
"The ’Gray Marsh Dream’ advocated by our lord—where everyone creates value and earns their reward through their own hands and wisdom—that is what truly aligns with the teachings of our faith!"
"Exchanging labor for bread, watering hope with sweat! That is the sight the Lord wishes to see!"
"Therefore, I hereby announce."
Fabian set down the megaphone and, with all his might, bowed deeply to everyone below the stage.
"The Church of the Ever-Brilliant Lord will fully support all policies of the Lord’s Mansion! The mistake of free bread will never be made again! The Church will stand with all the hardworking subjects of this land!"
These words were like a clap of thunder, exploding over the square.
After a moment of dead silence.
"YEAH!!!"
Someone, no one knew who, was the first to roar.
Immediately after, a tsunami of cheers erupted from the formations of the core subjects.
They clapped furiously, waved their arms in excitement, and some even began to jump for joy.
A burly man who looked like a foreman, his face flushed red, roared at the person next to him.
"Did you hear that! Even the Father says we’re right! Our sweat wasn’t for nothing!"
As for the lazy bums, their faces were ashen. Amid the frenzied cheers, they had nothing to say and quietly retreated toward the edge of the crowd.
On the high stage, Velin gave a slight signal.
Valerius understood immediately and gave an order to his men.
WHOOSH— With a sharp whistle, a silver streak of light pierced the night veil, shooting straight into the clouds.
BOOM!
A massive ball of light exploded over Minas Tirith, transforming into a sky full of golden, wheat-ear-shaped light that rained down slowly.
The light was so brilliant it illuminated the entire port as if it were day.
The crowd gasped in amazement. Everyone tilted their heads back, staring blankly at a wondrous sight they had never seen before in their lives.
Then came a second, a third... Dozens of streaks of light soared into the sky one after another.
The night sky became a canvas, splashed wantonly with the most brilliant colors.
Crimson Red flames exploded, forming a giant hammer that shimmered alongside a rotating gear.
Emerald green specks of light gathered, condensing into a wheat seedling breaking through the soil, growing strong and vigorous.
When the final firework—a giant vine made of seven-colored light—slowly faded in the night sky, the cheers in the square reached their peak.
Fabian straightened up and, under the afterglow of the brilliant light, walked before Velin and bowed again.
This time, his posture was even lower, his forehead nearly touching the tips of Velin’s boots.
"My lord, the Church offers you its loyalty."