CH 133 Under The Fog

"They're coming."

Outside St. Wyth's Cathedral, the crowd of onlookers became agitated.

The Iron Rose Cavalry came from the other side of the long street and in the light of day their armors shone brightly. Their right hands with iron gloves rested on the hilt of their swords, and their left hands held pointed spears. In front of the Iron Rose Cavalry that had experienced many bloody battles, the preening civilian guard that had been surrounded by the crowd became very lacking in comparison.

Even if a lamb was fitted with iron horns, it was still a lamb in front of a real lion.

Not far from St. Wyth's Cathedral, some nobles and lords could be clearly seen standing behind the windows of buildings on the street. Hiding secretly behind the window and spying, this kind of behavior was not so "noble", but now the entire nobility of Metzl have been tossed around enough by their Majesty the King——that was a villain who would throw people to the guillotine anytime and anywhere!

The nobles now have long learned that they would never easily set foot in a place where there were Iron Rose Cavalry when there was no guarantee that the King would not suddenly order one of them to be dragged out and beheaded.

Especially as the nobles have tasted suffering a step before the commoners.

Everyone knew very well that Archbishop Anil standing in front was just a figurehead, and the hands behind all of this was actually the one holding Legrand's royal scepter. Since the abolition of the purgatory theory, those hands have brutally caused many people's heads to fall to the ground. In the early days, the irritable and most pious Earl of Ercu led his cousin and son to try to prevent the King from executing the Archbishop of St. Wyth, and as a result he was still now facing the wall of his cell in Mohn Tower.

The ten o'clock bell rang on time.

Archbishop Anil led his followers dressed in black, and walked out from the guard of the Iron Rose Cavalry, looking slightly haggard.

"I'm here to ask you to clear up some doubts, Mr. Archbishop." The priest said, "If we don't even respect the Pope, who will guard our barren and restless souls?"

"Do we believe in the Holy Lord or mortals who blaspheme the majesty of the Holy Lord?" Archbishop Anil asked, "It has been clearly taught to us in the holy book, even if it is the Pope, as long as he makes a mistake, we must still follow according to the holy book, conquer mistakes and make them correct. Do you believe that the Pope is higher than the Holy Lord?"

"The holy book gave Peter a treasure ship, and Peter gave the Pope two swords. He is the spokesperson of the Holy Lord in the world, and we respect him as we respect our beloved Father."

"Then why don't we take a look at what good things the popes have done?" Archbishop Anil said, "The persons who call themselves the Pope, shouldn't they serve the world in the way of the Holy Lord, otherwise why are they called the servant of servants? But that's not what they do."

His student, Father Miller, unfolded the "Open Letter to the Believers of Legrand" that had already been written.

The young priest read aloud, his voice clear and powerful.

".....the Pope, he claims that he alone has the right to interpret the holy book, so then what is the point of the Holy Lord granting us the holy book? Let us burn the holy book and be content with the belief that only the ignorant gentlemen at the Holy Spirit Bay are blessed by the Holy Spirit, when in fact, only devout believers have the Holy Spirit…..

"The Holy Lord has given us His wisdom. The holy book is His open arms to the world. All pious and converted people can find the way to salvation from it. The Pope firmly clutches the holy book, like a greedy goshawk clings to the door of true faith, and enshrines himself….."

……

This was an unprecedented denunciation in the field of theology.

It was written jointly by theologians represented by Archbishop Anil and historians represented by the Earl of Wally. First, on the basis of theology, Archbishop Anil attacked the most well-known papal prerogatives one by one, starting from the right to interpret holy books. After the pope's prerogative had been severely denounced as absurd, he began to trace back, in a somewhat moderate manner, the development of the papal power, with all the lies that accompanied it.

The crowd gradually quieted down.

The onlookers, merchants, and nobles began to feel a little uneasy, and this uneasiness was mixed with some faint restlessness.

".....With the strength of both sides of the Abyss Strait, the richest monasteries and territories all donated money to support the man who wears the papal tiara. However, he wears this crown for himself with a dishonorable lie. He himself has as high as 400,000 to 500,000 pounds in income each year, but greedily lets his 3,000 secretaries continue to collect money in the name of "annual payment" and "indulgence payment". This money in the name of the Holy Father can't fill up their bottomless greed that has been fueled by their continually expanding ambition....."

Father Miller's voice became louder and louder, echoing in front of the holy church.

Under the sky, in the shadow of the cross, young and old monks raised the cross in their hands high and made silent accusations.

Before this, no one had ever pointed to the majestic Holy Court so clearly, pointing out that the owner of the papal tiara who was accustomed to judging others in the name of "heresy" was the real sinner.

The belief that had been around for more than a thousand years was collapsing, and there was no such fear and hesitation anymore. People look at each other in blank dismay, terrified and infantile in front of the Holy Lord. They vaguely feel what was right and what was wrong, but the beliefs they have accepted since childhood made them instinctively feel resistance and fear.

The weapons of the civilian guard were put down.

Even flocks of birds dare not fly away.

Just as the crowd gradually fell silent, a nimble figure jumped out from the place close to Father Miller, and rushed towards him with lightning speed.

The crowd exclaimed, but Father Miller still stood upright, reading aloud.

"So-called indulgences, what are they for? Is it salvation? No, it's their greed and wickedness, which is greater than any greedy person in the world. They make us ignorant because they are afraid that we would know the truth. They also use burnings or force on those who disagree….."

A cold light flashed, and the dagger in the assassin's hand was blocked by the Iron Rose knight who stepped forward with his spear.

"But is this enough? The magma will eventually break through the earth's crust, and the lies of paper and grass will be burned by the dangerous fire they played with."

The knight's spear flicked lightly, knocking the assassin unconscious before he was about to take the poison. Immediately, someone came up and dragged him down, so quickly that it seemed that there was no such episode.

".....All devout people have the responsibility to punish the above crimes."

Father Miller's words hit the ground heavily.

From the crowd, an old professor of the Royal Academy of History stepped out. The old professor with a badge engraved with a hanging sword on his chest lit the pyre with his thin hands. The Iron Rose Cavalry parted, making way for a group of young students in classical robes, and they added wood to the pyre one by one.

The fire grew bigger and bigger, the flames rose, and the heat distorted the space.

There was only silence.

Archbishop Anil walked towards the fire, and firmly threw a book of papal decrees into the raging fire: "The eternal fire will judge everything in the end, and all sins will be punished."

In the silence, the papal decrees representing the supreme authority of the spiritual kingdom were swallowed by flames, and thick smoke began to rise.

His followers followed closely behind, and they also threw in some of the books of the moralists and the works of the Pope.

"And this!"

In the solemnity, a merchant squeezed out from the crowd, holding several indulgences in his hand.

He threw the indulgences into the fire.

Thick smoke billowed upwards, the sky was cloudless, and the sun scorched the earth almost menacingly.

The fire burned almost all morning, because people kept coming over and throwing things related to the Pope into the fire. After all the papal decrees were reduced to ashes, a naughty rascal took the lead in singing a funeral song to the ashes.

Archbishop Anil looked at the pile of ashes silently and did not stop them. He just sighed, turned and left.

Everything was twisted in the fire and turned into ashes.

………………

"Which family was it?"

The King was reading Charles' letter in the study while listening to the report from the Head of the Households. The assassination attempt that occurred during the burning of the papal decree seemed to have been within his prediction from the beginning.

"The Mason family."

The Head of the Households replied.

The King thought about it for a while. The Mason family's territory was mainly in the central coastal area of Legrand, and one of the ports happens to be outside the influence of the winter and summer monsoons. The Mason family had always done a good job in shipping, but according to the investigation of the King's financial officials, the other seemed to have covered up on tariffs.

The King made a mark next to the Mason family on the list of many nobles in his heart.

"What about the rest?"

The Head of the Households reported to the King what the spies had observed, the members of the aristocracy who had been involved in the agitation of the civilian guard in the past two days. The King nodded slightly, thought for a moment and made some corresponding arrangements.

Taking the fact that Archbishop Anil came forward to burn the papal decree as bait released by the King, some small fish were now hooked. But the more important thing was not these little fish, but the other side——

Charles and the others were about to launch an attack.

The Head of the Households took a look at the sky, and gently advised the King to rest.

The King for once listened to his suggestion, put down his pen, and glanced to the northeast.

………………

Unlike the cloudless city of Metzl, Legrand, the Eagle's Mouth Bay in the Lowland Alliance was gloomy at this time.

It was nightfall, and there were still dark clouds like mountains in the sky. One couldn't even see a single star, let alone the moon. As one of the most important harbors in the Lowland Countries, Eagle's Mouth Bay was now shrouded in a depressing darkness, and the sporadic lights were extremely lonely. And near the pier, there were resting ships moored.

The tall lighthouse was lit, but at this moment the sea was shrouded in thick fog, and the light from the lighthouse was pitifully weak.

The night watchman in the lighthouse yawned.

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall to doze off.

Suddenly, the night watchman felt a chill. He woke up and glanced at the sea casually. With a glance, he didn't realize what he saw at first, and rubbed his eyes vigorously, only to be sure that there really seemed to be a huge and terrifying black figure in the thick fog.

What was that?