Chapter 5: Ignorance, The Truth Behind the Downfall, and Clues

On February 16th the Night Witch Priscilla reached a small town mere kilometers away from her native Skool Village using the portal network under Count Kagard’s jurisdiction. Her party was not only drained but also deeply moved by the trials they had faced on their journey.

The divisions within the Roman Empire were not confined to the upper echelons but were starkly evident among the general populace.

Inhabitants of the central agricultural district lamented loudly, despaired by the looming famine brought about by severe drought.

On the other hand, those in the border regions, untouched by the drought, derisively mocked their so-called ‘faithless’ brethren.

It seemed they failed to grasp that the drought was unrelated to their religious fervor. They remained oblivious to the fact that they too might soon share in such misfortunes.

To Priscilla, the border communities displayed neither empathy nor accountability towards the suffering central regions. 

“Robert… as previously directed, you lead a group into the town to gather information. And keep a lookout for anomalies. Aya, you should… Wait a minute. What are they up to?”

Before she could regroup, Priscilla’s intention to dispatch the Imperial Knights was interrupted when she inadvertently spotted townsfolk digging something up beyond the portal.

With a puzzled frown, she signaled to the knight named Robert to investigate. He promptly reported back with astonishing news. The town’s residents were in the process of disassembling an underground steel heating pipeline, a project left incomplete due to Yang Hao’s untimely ousting.

“Why on earth would they do that?”

Given that the town’s heating infrastructure was unfinished, disassembling the steel pipelines wouldn’t yield the warmth so desperately sought during winter.

Priscilla struggled to fathom the townfolk’s actions. Even accounting for the unusual cold of the border region’s early spring, would they genuinely go to such lengths for mere steel columns?

Confronted with Priscilla’s perplexity, Knight Robert remained silent for a lengthy pause. He then pointed to a conceited man some distance away who was directing the townspeople in their digging.

“From what the workers here have told me,” Robert began, “a man who calls himself Weasel, a follower of the Church of Light who professes to have visited the capital, guaranteed everyone that if they excavate these underground pipelines and bring them home, imbued with faith, they can heat their dwellings.”

“That’s absurd! I’ve reviewed the design schematics he left behind. These systems are designed to distribute heated water for warmth, not to harness some faith to conjure up warmth spontaneously.”

“Yet, Lady Witch, that is the present reality. The people are too desperate to think about the details. Every winter, villages in the frontier regions witness deaths because of the lack of firewood. Their actions are driven by a need to stave off the biting cold, they don’t pause to question such claims.”

A sigh escaped her. “It’s tragic. The towns and villages along the Roman Empire’s borders lose numerous souls to the cold every year, be it a handful, dozens, or even hundreds.”

Yang Hao initially championed this energy-intensive underground heating project precisely for these communities. Opting for the capital as the initial testing ground, he laid these life-enhancing pipes. Within the empire’s nascent years, he successfully garnered the capital’s endorsement.

Yet, ironically, a few years on, this initiative morphed into a distorted truth wielded by the Church of Light to manipulate the populace. 

By alleging that “the faith of the capital’s residents surpasses that of those on the borders,” they seduced the villagers to relinquish a portion of their earnings, persuaded them to trade their belongings for ‘redemption scrolls’, and then to seek divine favor with confessions within the church’s sanctum.

Throughout her observations, Priscilla discerned this recurring behavior among the border populace. 

Bereft of education, their perception of the world remained skewed.

In their eyes, a bountiful harvest demanded more than just toil, it mandated faith.

For warmth, aside from firewood, they believed in the potency of prayers at the church, persevering through a frigid night was attributed to their unwavering faith. Conversely, succumbing to the cold was deemed a testament to wavering devotion.

Now, there was even more of this nonsense. Priscilla simply couldn’t comprehend it, and her Imperial Knights were just as bewildered.

She faintly overheard someone sighing, “Everything started to go downhill once the Regent left.”

The subtle sigh soon got lost amidst the ceaseless laboring of the townspeople, ultimately being overshadowed by the fervent prayers of the devotees.

***

Before heading to Skool Village, Priscilla and her team needed some final preparations. While the teleportation network was undoubtedly a boon, each transit inflicted an inescapable nausea and sapped their strength.

Even the strongest warriors found it challenging to venture long distances immediately after using the portal, let alone a witch like Priscilla.

During their brief respite, they scoured the town for information, asking if anyone had seen the man who had descended from his high standing in the capital.

“That one? The former Regent you mean? When word spread of his downfall, Skool Village’s residents moved away. Nobody wished to be linked to such a fallen figure. The village chief, who once took pride in having groomed him, now keeps a low profile.”

“You’re referring to the ex-Regent? Uh… I’d prefer not to delve into that. With his disregard for the God of Light, our harvests have suffered… Over in Kagard, I’ve heard they’ve reaped nothing, all due to the massacre he led. Their farmers now consider venturing into the Monster Forest to capture heretics as offerings to the God of Light, praying for a miracle to restore their lands.”

“I’ve heard that those factories shut down. Truly a blessing. Anything not handcrafted by artisans and not blessed by priests surely isn’t fit for use.”

“Hmm…” The townsfolk shared a mix of hearsay and personal perspectives.

Priscilla, who had recently returned from Kagard, was aware of the truth. There was no massacre in Kagard. The closest event resembling a massacre was an annual livestock slaughtering and meat-curing festival.

Yet even here, the locals, as well as the people of Kagard, had fallen prey to these falsehoods. They clung to comforting lies rather than confront unsettling truths, finding solace in imagined tragedies.

She recalled the words of the former chief judge, who had insisted that all accusations against the Regent were fabricated. But Priscilla had doubted her. Restricted to the palace and cut off from the world, she had no means to verify those claims.

And so, when accusations flew against the Regent, she hesitated to stand by his side. Uncertain about the truth of her lover’s actions, she felt robbed of the words needed to defend him. 

Now, she faced the bitter truth, but its realization came too late. He had already been exiled, and his whereabouts remained unknown. Though she yearned to right her past wrongs, she didn’t know where to begin her search.

None in the town had encountered the man. It was plausible that he had steered clear of any settlements, choosing instead to traverse the very roads he had helped establish, all alone.

With her head hung low, Priscilla murmured words, her expressions hidden from the knights.

“It shouldn’t have been this way. Why did the royal family betray us? Why?”

“Lady Witch?”

“There wasn’t any massacre. All those charges… they were fabricated. Why has it come to this?”

Her soft murmurs left the accompanying knights in contemplative silence.

As they walked past the town’s deserted nighttime academy, they witnessed prodigious noble children brazenly flaunting their magical prowess. This momentarily disoriented Priscilla, stirring memories of the genuine reasons for her reticence.

A nearby knight voiced what she could not articulate.

“In the year 003 of the Imperial Calendar, His Majesty the Regent proclaimed his ambition to bring the Roman Empire into the industrial age through steam technology. With this transition, the inherent disparities in talent between commoners, knights, and magicians would be considerably reduced. In this new industrial era, people would no longer require divine blessings, and the roles of nobles, landowners, and even the authoritative hand of the royal family would become obsolete. The military would transition into a state asset, bolstered by industrial advancements. The Regent’s words offended many. Not only his enemies, but even some of his former allies turned away. The Holy Lady took offense at his blasphemy against the gods and isolated herself in the Grand Cathedral of St. Petersburg in the ecclesiastical district. She’s vowed only to reemerge as a divine envoy when he seeks divine repentance. General Dreycar, the war-obsessed fiend who always saw the Regent as an enemy, found further cause for enmity in the idea of a nationalized military that sidelined warlords. Noble-born scholars opted for silence, bound by family loyalties, while landowners stoked tensions to safeguard their holdings. All these machinations revolved around the royal family. With the Regent responsible for grooming the next empress, her endorsement of such revolutionary beliefs threatened the very essence of Roman royalty. At best, they’d devolve into a renowned lineage, or even face the humiliation of commoner status. To prevent this, a coalition, spearheaded by the royal family and comprising nobles, landowners, warlords, and the clergy, conspired to oust our Regent. As for us… our complicit silence now demands atonement.”

Knight Robert heaved a deep, resonant sigh. Even concealed by his helmet, Priscilla could sense the anguish and torment etched on the face of the man beneath.

She paused, the weight of the moment evident, before gently asserting, “Robert, you are the Roman Empire’s most venerable knight. Remember, once upon a time, he took an axe blow for you.”

Knight Robert was forever indebted to Yang Hao. In the heat of the unification war, Yang Hao valiantly intercepted an axe intended for Robert, delivered by a savage barbarian. This heroic act saved Robert, but it cost Yang Hao dearly, grievously wounding his left hand.

In gratitude for this monumental act, Knight Robert vowed unwavering loyalty to Yang Hao. However, during the tumultuous period known as the SIlent Incident, Robert’s voice went conspicuously silent.

Confronted by the reminder from the Night Witch, Knight Robert merely lowered his gaze, countering with a frigid, sardonic laugh. 

“It is precisely because I bear the title of a knight that I cannot abide by a future where knights are placed on the same pedestal as mere commoners. I confess, there are shadowed corners in my heart, places where I’ve strayed from the knightly path. But what of you? Lady Priscilla, the revered Night Witch, on what grounds did you choose your silence? Was it not because in the Regent’s future, even prodigiously talented magicians wouldn’t gain preference solely due to their innate gifts? You opted for silence, shielding the budding magicians of exceptional promise, for your esteemed position today is a testament to your rare prowess. If the Regent’s vision of industrialization comes to fruition, the role and existence of magicians might be threatened into oblivion. You betrayed your cherished lover for the magicians’ cause, I betrayed my esteemed master for the sanctity of knights. Our silences were chosen, bearing the hefty responsibilities we shoulder. Neither of us stands on any moral pedestal. We are, in essence, dishonorable defectors. Yet, it is imperative that within 21 days, we facilitate his return, reinstating him as the Regent. If we fail, our nation stands on the brink of annihilation.”

As he had so aptly put it, in their previous silence, none of them could claim moral superiority. Indeed, internal disputes among traitors were meaningless. Their present mission was clear, to make amends for the sins of their country.

The knight and the witch shared a silent, charged look, each exposing and prodding the other’s sensitive wounds. Just as they relinquished this silent stand-off, preparing to delve back into their individual duties.

Across the street, Priscilla’s eyes landed on a familiar silhouette clothed in white.

It was Sister Teresa from Skool Village, not a follower of the God of Light, but a disciple devoted to the Light.

Currently, she was on her way, her arms cradling a basket overflowing with loaves of bread and other essentials. Among the items, Priscilla discerned a brand-new razor and a pair of men’s boots tucked amidst the other goods.