Chapter 22: The Massacre of Kagard

Priscilla thought she had already seen the height of royal luxury. The golden sculptures and utensils were indeed breathtaking at first glance, but after a while, the knights just seemed like a collection of shiny metal.

But then they arrived in the diocese.

When Priscilla and the imperial knights first gazed up at the towering St. Peter’s Cathedral, surrounded by countless church spires encrusted with jewels and gold, they realized they had underestimated the wealth of the church and its ability to accumulate and protect that wealth.

The devotees they encountered on the streets were all full of piety. 

The priests conducting masses and guiding people on the streets were adorned with rich jewels. Each of them looked bloated and obese, with waists laden with wealth. Even the nuns, who were supposed to be modest, were as alluring as the most high-end courtesans from the capital’s elite nightclubs.

No, they were actually courtesans, weren’t they?

As they passed by a priest and a nun conducting a mass, Priscilla saw with her own eyes the priest’s hand, laden with gold and silver rings, wantonly groping beneath the nun’s robe. The nun, taking advantage of the moment when the believers bowed their heads, shot the priest a resentful yet indulging glance. 

Priscilla swallowed hard.

Were these really priests and nuns? Were they not aristocrats and their kept mistresses?

The Night Witch shook her head, following the guide’s instructions as the team entered the first floor of the towering St. Peter’s Cathedral, which was hundreds of stories high, for a short rest.

Saintess Cecilia and Bishop Peter were figures of stark contrast. One dwelt in a modest church forty floors below ground, while the other resided at the pinnacle of a tower reaching into the heavens.

Priscilla’s visit this time was to represent the royal family in discussions with the saintess. Since Archbishop Peter was devoutly praying to God, the nuns and priests of St. Peter’s Cathedral did not permit Priscilla to proceed to the upper levels.

As a result, they could only rest briefly on the first floor. 

They had to stay there. Considering she had a dinner appointment with an old friend at 10 PM, Priscilla didn’t eat too much despite the priests and nuns’ insistence.

“This place is just too luxurious,” she muttered. 

Lamb meat from the western pastures, live sea fish transported here in seawater bought from the coastal military district, and various delicacies from the Monster Forest.

All of this made Priscilla question whether the drought in their empire was real.

The fragrant aroma of the meat in front of her was real, and so was the drought in the central region.

How could this be?

The Night Witch took a small bite of the tender stewed lamb.

Knight Robert, sitting beside her, whispered that based on the prices in the capital, their meal would be worth gold coins.

***

At 10 PM, Priscilla received permission to ride the stone elevator alone down to the underground chapel.

It was said that this was a product of ancient human technology. But that empire had vanished, and now it was the era of the new humans, so the diocese directly repurposed these facilities.

Priscilla absently watched as the surrounding stone walls changed from a glorious gold to a pale gray covered with green moss. When the elevator finally stopped on a floor full of cracked stones, she realized she had arrived.

Stepping out of the elevator, the corridor’s sides were lined with clean yet simple statues of the God of Light wearing hoods.

A faint salty scent and the smell of grass wafted from ahead. 

“Did Cecilia even have the leisure to cultivate flowers and plants underground to soothe her mind?” the witch muttered to herself as she followed the guidance of a modest nun. 

When she reached her destination, she found herself in the main hall of the underground chapel.

Aside from the kneeling cushion reserved for the saintess, a statue for prayers, candles for illumination, and vents in the walls, the only relatively new items were the dining table and chairs.

Saintess Cecilia was dressed in plain clothes and a fabric cloak, with her light golden hair and golden eyes. She sat on one of the chairs. She had her hands in a prayer position, praying over the black sour bread and salted vegetables on the table. Food typically eaten by the poor.

Seeing her old friend arrive with a look of astonishment, Cecilia simply raised her head slightly and smiled.

“This simple fare has been my diet for years. I cannot forsake my vows, so I can only offer you this,” she said.

“It’s alright. I mainly came for official business anyway.”

Priscilla nodded and then sat down across from Cecilia, holding her staff.

She found the food on the table hard to swallow, but as the urgent communication bell rang, Saintess Cecilia merely frowned and waved the nun to disconnect the call. With a very calm expression, she began to eat the plain food.

As she ate, Saintess Cecilia frowned at the underground communication device that rang with urgency once more.

“Tell them—unless it is truly urgent, transfer the communication to the Patriarch, the White Bishop, or Archbishop Peter. I have long chosen to uphold my vows and pray to God underground. Why do these mundane matters have to seek me out at such times? Is there really no one capable above ground?”

The nun, not daring to neglect the saintess’ displeasure, hurried over to communicate with the person on the other end. After some discussion, the annoying ringing finally ceased.

Now, the two friends could finally have an uninterrupted conversation.

With this thought, Cecilia’s brows relaxed, and she took a few more bites of the salted vegetables that most people would find hard to swallow.

She asked the Night Witch what had brought her here this time, while also stating that she had renounced all worldly rights.

“If you’re here on behalf of the royal family to engage with the Church, I can only personally pass on the message to the Council of Bishops. Perhaps Archbishop Peter might temporarily lower his stance for my sake. I can’t guarantee that they will heed my words, though. As you know, when it involves the interests of many, even I can’t presume to decide for them.”

At this point, Saintess Cecilia couldn’t help but feel a bit emotional.

“After all, not everyone is like the late emperor. I still pray for his soul, hoping that even in death, he can watch over the thriving empire he and Yang Hao built. But then again, Priscilla, why do you speak of the diocese’ and the royal family as if they are separate entities? Is our empire now clearly divided into factions?”

“Uh…” 

The Night Witch hesitated, looking at her friend who had confined herself underground for two years, spending almost every day praying in the chapel and ignoring worldly affairs since the diocese gained true independence.

She was at a loss for words to describe to her the current state of the Roman Empire above ground. Thankfully, the Saintess did not press further, simply nodding in agreement that they should first address the matter at hand.

This serious discussion continued from 10 PM until almost 11:30 PM.

The royal family proposed opening the teleportation gate network to St. Petersburg and integrating it with the network in the north. This arrangement would aid the Church’s missionary efforts, but as a condition, the Church was to offer financial support to the royal family.

Cecilia considered this reasonable, yet she was puzzled. 

Wasn’t this an agreement made long ago? Why was it only now being brought up for formal discussion?

This led her thoughts to Yang Hao. Although it was true that she had secluded herself underground out of spite, praying day and night, it was because she trusted him to guide the Roman Empire to greater heights under the late emperor’s spirit.

Why was it that only now a matter that should have been resolved during her seclusion was coming to the fore? 

And had the teleportation gate network become a monopoly of the royal family?

This gave Cecilia a headache. After all, the teleportation network was no small matter.

It was a convenient product of ancient human technology, modified with modern magic—though extremely costly, it offered unparalleled convenience in commerce, military operations, and religion.

The royal family could dispatch representatives to coastal cities to supervise military operations at any time. Merchants, upon paying a fee in areas with an active teleportation gate network, could conduct business without the constraints of time and distance, potentially averting financial loss. Similarly, Church priests could use the network for efficient, nationwide missionary work.

Now that only the northern teleportation gate network was open, it meant the church could only conduct missionary work in the north.

This restriction imposed by the royal family made the secluded Saintess realize that the situation above ground was even more turbulent than she had imagined.

‘Did he not work diligently?’ 

The thought of a complaint briefly crossed the Saintess’s mind, but she quickly regained her composure.

She contemplated the church’s financial situation. Although the church had indeed accumulated a significant amount of wealth recently, the issues surrounding the Elven Forest had caused considerable financial losses.

Therefore, she reasoned that the financial support she could suggest to the Council of Bishops would need to be modest.

“We can offer a maximum of three million gold coins annually, or goods of equivalent value. That’s the utmost we can do. According to the ledger, even Archbishop Peter is grappling with the Elven Forest situation.”

“Three million?”

“Is that insufficient? For old times’ sake, let’s add another million.”

Priscilla’s jaw dropped in astonishment. She had initially been stunned given it was an annual financial support of three million gold coins.

With such funds, managing the drought by purchasing substantial amounts of food under the guise of luxury goods would become feasible. To her surprise, her brief pause had unexpectedly secured an extra million gold coins.

The church’s wealth truly was not to be underestimated.

Priscilla nodded, albeit with difficulty, gazing at her friend’s account books with a genuine desire to know the full extent of the church’s riches.

Just as they had reached an agreement and were about to shift to minor topics, another ring of the bell interrupted them. 

The Saintess, with a heavy sigh, instructed her attendant to disconnect the call.

“Recently, I’ve been constantly disturbed,” she said apologetically. “Every time I answer, it’s always trivial matters. Even a small town’s festival requires my presence to display miracles. I can’t take it anymore, so I simply refused all communications, yet they remain so persistent.”

“No matter how much you wish for peace, those under you still rely on your leadership,” said the witch.

“But I am merely a saintess, Priscilla. I am just a guide leading people to our Lord. I shouldn’t hold any political power, even if it’s necessary. Besides, I hate dealing with people two-faced people.”

“My personal opinion won’t change the bigger picture. But you can.”

“When will he be willing to come here on his own?”

“Uh…” 

He wouldn’t be coming anymore. Before Priscilla could reluctantly voice this and brace herself for a confrontation with the saintess, another piercing ring echoed through the room.

Saintess Cecilia’s brow creased in annoyance. “Eleanor! Disconnect it, please.”

The attendant complied, but the call was immediately followed by another round of insistent, jarring rings.

Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

Once again, the attendant disconnected it.

Yet the caller was persistent, seemingly determined to get a response from the saintess. The incessant, urgent ringing agitated both women in the room. Even Priscilla, who believed she had grown accustomed to the hubbub of court life, felt an unusual desire to smash the summoning bell.

At last, the saintess yielded.

With a heavy sigh and a deep breath, she approached the attendant who bowed in respect and activated the wall-mounted bell.

“This is Cecilia speaking. I’ll say it again, don’t trouble me with petty matters. I really don’t see a need for my involvement in a small town’s festival–”

“Saintess, Saintess Cecilia, Kagard has been overrun by the demons!!”

The terrified screams of the priest on the other end of the communication bell stunned the saintess.

‘Kagard, where was that, exactly? And it’s been overrun by monsters?’

Before the saintess could fully process this, Priscilla turned ashen. She hurriedly moved to Cecilia’s side and yelled into the bell.

“What’s happening in Kagard?!”

Although the unexpected voice caused some confusion for the priest on the other end, he continued to wail.

“Kagard was celebrating a festival when demons suddenly attacked it. The local high priest has already died on the city wall, and now the demons are massacring the people of Kagard. Saintess, if the Holy Guard is not dispatched immediately, not one in a hundred people residents will survive! Almost the entire population of the county has gathered in the town for the festival, please reconsider.”

Priscilla and Cecilia looked at each other, both shocked.

***

Meanwhile, in the town of Kagard.

Yang Hao had strung up Kagard III, the one who had falsely accused him, on the cross of his favorite church. He made sure the count could witness the destruction of his ancestral town while still alive.

“Order the Golems to attack every living person, except for us. Every single one,” he said to Narujia as he loaded the unconscious chief doctor and his family onto a Golem’s back.