Chapter 239 - 234: Foreign Organ
In front of the church construction site, a long line stretched from the edge of the wooden platform all the way to the muddy road in the distance.
People crowded together, craning their necks, waiting for the aroma of bread to become food in their hands.
Velin and Tristan walked along the side of the line.
Their arrival sent a ripple through the crowd.
The workers recognized their lord. The sound of their hushed conversations died abruptly. Some instinctively shrank back, their gazes shifting away.
Velin paid them no mind.
He observed the expressions on the people’s faces and watched the Priest’s assistants distributing the bread with practiced movements and pious looks.
Fabian stood on the high platform, having just finished the morning prayer. He saw Velin, his expression unchanging, but Velin could detect a certain stiffness in the man’s posture.
’It was the smugness of a Hunter watching his prey walk into a trap.’
Once the distribution was finished, the crowd gradually dispersed. Some found a spot to eat their bread immediately, while others flocked to the church’s foundation, ready to haul stones in exchange for a cup of wine and some cloth.
Fabian descended from the wooden platform and approached Velin.
"Lord Velin, your arrival adds even more splendor to this blessed land," Fabian said with a slight bow.
"Father Fabian," Velin replied. "I came to ask if the church’s construction here requires any assistance from the Lord’s Mansion."
"Your Lordship’s concern is the greatest piety one can show to our Lord," Fabian said, a gentle smile on his face. "However, you have already provided the best possible assistance."
He gestured toward the workers who were eating their bread.
"You see, you built homes for them and gave them work to do. But man does not live by bread alone; he also needs spiritual nourishment. Our Lord’s grace is filling their empty souls. Your merit system keeps them alive, but the Lord’s glory gives their lives meaning."
Tristan’s eyebrow twitched.
On the surface, it was a compliment, but it was actually saying that Velin’s rule was confined to the material plane, while the church controlled the higher spiritual realm.
"Meaningful?" Velin began. "All I see are my craftsmen and laborers, abandoning their tools and duties for a piece of free bread. Order in the port is built upon a contract of labor and reward. Father, your ’grace’ is turning it into a giant soup kitchen."
"You seem to be confusing the Lord’s generosity with charity," Fabian said, his smile unwavering, but his words now carried a didactic tone. "This is a trial, and a purification. It allows them to understand that worldly wealth is not the only thing to pursue."
"I would rather my people pursue worldly wealth," Velin cut him off, "than kneel here waiting for the church to feed them. Are you cultivating a flock of believers, or a mob of useless layabouts?"
His words were harsh.
Beside Fabian, a Holy Knight in plate armor, a holy cross etched onto his chestplate, took half a step forward and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"My Lord! Watch what you say about the church!"
[View]
[Comprehensive Evaluation: ...Target’s anger is rising sharply. The foreign organ is amplifying its rage and aggression.]
’A living organ that links to its host’s emotions?’
’What on earth is it for?’
Fabian raised a hand, stopping the Holy Knight.
"Connor, stand down. Lord Velin is merely worried about his city. His words hold no malice."
The Holy Knight reluctantly released his sword hilt but continued to glare at Velin.
"Father," Tristan stepped forward at the opportune moment and said to Fabian, "my lord did not mean to offend. It is just that the construction schedule at the port has truly been affected. Perhaps we could discuss a solution that benefits both sides? One that allows the Lord’s glory to be spread without bringing the work to a halt."
These were his pre-rehearsed lines.
Fabian looked at Tristan, then back at Velin. Beneath his sorrowful expression was unconcealed, absolute confidence.
"Of course. The church never wishes to conflict with secular order."
He paused for a moment before offering his "solution."
"It is quite simple, really. The faithful of Minas Tirith are already bathing in grace, but the people of Newly Town are still fumbling in the darkness. Their souls need saving, too."
"All that is required is for the Lord’s Mansion to fund the construction of a main cathedral in Newly Town. Furthermore, as the ruler of the Grey Marsh Territory, you, Lord Velin, must personally lead your officials to attend church services every week, setting an example for all your subjects."
His voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable weight.
"Finally, you will assist the church in implementing the ’Tithing’ throughout the territory, giving all subjects the opportunity to offer their devotion to our Lord. Once these things are done, the ’Blessed Bread’ of Minas Tirith Port will naturally no longer be necessary."
The color drained from Tristan’s face.
’This was an unequal treaty.’
’Funding a cathedral, the lord leading services, and implementing the Tithing on top of it all.’
’This was tantamount to surrendering a share of the Grey Marsh Territory’s financial, administrative, and spiritual authority entirely to the church.’
’Although most other well-developed territories were in this situation...’
’But... once you’ve tasted independence and freedom, who would willingly bind their own hands?’
Even Tristan, who was only an administrator, was unwilling to accept it.
"It seems we have nothing more to discuss."
Velin, a smile on his face, said not another word and turned to leave.
Tristan gave Fabian a hasty bow and hurried to catch up.
Fabian watched their retreating figures, the gentle smile slowly fading from his face.
"Father, they are too arrogant!" the Holy Knight, Connor, said in a low voice.
"Arrogance is one of the original sins, Connor," Fabian said softly. "Our Lord will break it himself."
He returned to his own humble quarters and closed the door.
The clamor of the outside world was shut out.
’Velin Klein, the legendary pioneer who rose from nothing, is nothing special after all. Faced with the church’s thousand-year-old overt schemes, he can do nothing but rage impotently.’
’Fabian had traveled to many places and met many lords.’
’Some were stubborn, others cunning, but in the end, they all had to bow to the church’s system.’
’The thought of Velin’s feigned composure, the thought of the fragile merit system he had built on the verge of collapse, sent a strange thrill rising from the depths of his heart.’
’It wasn’t because the doctrine was about to spread, but because a powerful, high-and-mighty figure was being played like a fiddle in the palm of his hand.’
’He loved to watch them struggle.’
That thought made him shudder violently.
’No.’
’This isn’t piety.’
’This is hatred. It’s jealousy.’
Ever since receiving the Archbishop’s "Anointment of Divine Grace" in the Holy City at the start of the year, his skill in the Divine Arts had indeed grown.
But at the same time, these dark, twisted thoughts had been surfacing more and more frequently.
’This is the Lord’s trial for me.’
’The greater the power, the greater the temptation.’
’I must purify myself with even stricter penance.’
While repenting in his heart, he walked to his bedside and dragged out the familiar wooden box from underneath.
...
"My lord, he’s going for the throat."
Walking back to City Hall, Tristan could no longer conceal his anxiety.
"The church’s wealth is nearly infinite. He’s throwing Golden Suns around like pebbles; we can’t possibly keep up. The core of the merit system is labor incentive, but he’s pulling the rug out from under us with free bread. The workers are leaving. We can’t afford to lose."
Tristan stopped in his tracks. "What do we do?"
Velin didn’t answer.
He walked to a high point and looked out over the entire port.
In the distance was the queue of people; closer by, the construction sites sat empty.
The two scenes formed a jarring contrast.
"He’s not flawless," Velin said suddenly.
"What?" Tristan didn’t quite follow.
"His methods have no openings. But he himself does," Velin said, turning around. "He thinks he’s on the fifth level of a grand strategy, using his infinite wealth to crush us from a higher plane. But he’s actually still on the first level."
"My lord?"
"He thinks the key to this war is bread. But he’s wrong."
"Tristan, you stay in Mi Port. Find a way to stall him and stabilize the construction crews that are still working."
"Where are you going?"
"I’m going back to Newly Town." Velin looked at Tristan’s confused face.
"I already have an idea. I’m going back to find the right person to execute it."