Chapter 6: Teresa’s Good Spirits and the Silent Empress

For Sister Teresa, today was indeed a joyful one.

The man of the house had finally come to his senses, abandoning his preoccupation with the affairs of the Roman Empire. Instead, he took his axe and earnestly went to the mountains to chop firewood.

Though his absent-mindedness was somewhat frustrating, Sister Teresa found solace in knowing it was certainly a more practical approach than his prior, futile ruminations on the unsolvable conundrum of the Roman Empire.

After all, the entire empire was originally a collection of various human territories that merged five years ago due to various interests, forming the Roman Empire, with the royal family at the top, warlords and the pope as the secondary leaders, nobles and landowners at the grassroots level, and ordinary civilians as the fuel and consumables.

This newly established nation was not stable from the beginning. 

And of course, those who rose to nobility were far from foolish.

Everyone could see that he intended to diminish the influence and rights of all societal classes, save for the ordinary citizens. However, such a monumental shift wasn’t to be taken lightly or accomplished easily.

A minimum of two or three decades of meticulous preparation would be necessary, followed by an even lengthier period for implementation. What complicated matters was the fact that those in his circle were, more or less, intricately linked with the very classes he aimed to diminish.

Take Priscilla, who also hailed from Skool Village, as an example. She was an exceptionally talented witch, and she held a mage’s pride deep within her.

Upon learning of his plans to diminish the divide between mages and ordinary citizens, potentially equating the two, it was likely that alternative thoughts had begun to sprout in her mind.

And then there was the Holy Lady of St. Petersburg Cathedral. She was an ardent devotee of the God of Light, firmly believing that aside from the God of Light, no other sun illuminated this world. Expecting her to endorse Yang Hao’s policies was, in truth, nothing short of hoping for a miracle.

The founding general and Yang Hao shared a relationship anchored in reciprocal benefits. Even if the plan to nationalize the military was kept under wraps, the warlords would eventually turn against him, stabbing him in the back.

In all this turmoil, the most pitiable figure was undoubtedly the heiress to the Roman Empire, the future empress, who was still a little girl.

The role of the future empress was rather awkward within the Roman royal family. After her parents met their untimely demise in an accident shortly after the nation was founded, she was left with two nominal guardians. One was Yang Hao, now in exile, and the other was her uncle.

Sister Teresa hadn’t met the empress’s uncle, but according to what she’d gleaned through divine arts, he was a man as sinister as a snake and as crafty as a jackal.

A shadow fell upon Sister Teresa’s face. She believed that Yang Hao must have nurtured spokespeople for himself and likely concentrated most of his power on the empress and the royal army.

But why was the empress silent? 

Under Yang Hao’s guidance, it seemed impossible that she would be so ignorant as to abandon him, who was almost like a second pair of parents to her.

If people like Priscilla chose silence due to their vested interests, then why did the empress?

Sister Teresa was lost in her thoughts.

Shortly afterward, she felt a wave of relief wash over her as Yang Hao finally stopped brooding over these matters. The mere thought of it gave her a headache, let alone finding ways to unravel this tangled mess.

In her opinion, this tangled mess shouldn’t be untangled at all. It would be more straightforward to simply set it ablaze.

“Sigh, never mind, let’s not dwell on these matters. His boots are nearly worn out, I should buy a new pair. The razor is so blunt that no amount of sharpening helps, I need a new one of those too. All that’s left are bread, candles, firewood, a blanket, and a lantern.”

Yang Hao often went out to chop firewood, sometimes venturing quite far. Using a torch to light the way home risked igniting a forest fire, so buying a lantern was essential.

Though the rising prices had made lanterns considerably more expensive, causing Teresa quite a bit of heartache, it was a necessity. If worse came to worst, she could pretend to convert to the God of Light and find ways to earn more during the Mass.

Humming a tune whose name she couldn’t quite recall, she headed toward the city outskirts. 

Just as her mood lifted, and she began pondering, “What should I have for dinner tonight?” she caught a glimpse of the flag of the Roman Empire rising at the location of the town’s teleportation gate out of the corner of her eye.

A sudden, ominous feeling welled up from the depths of her heart.

Sister Teresa casually glanced over her shoulder, triple-checking that no one was tailing her.

“Don’t tell me they’ve already arrived,” she muttered to herself, quickening her pace toward the monastery.

***

Meanwhile, at the imperial palace of the Roman Empire, the young empress was being attended to by her maids, preparing for her public address marking her upcoming ascension to the throne.

In reality, she didn’t have to do anything. She merely had to be adorned like a puppet by her maids. Once her uncle’s appointed chief maid led her to the podium, her role as the puppet would be completed.

She didn’t even have to speak. Because she was unable to.

“Sir, we are ready,” said the chief maid.

“Everyone, except the chief maid, you may leave.”

“Yes. We wish you all the best.”

After dressing the empress, the maids vacated the room, obediently following the orders of the empress’s uncle.

The chief maid, however, remained. She directed her calm gaze toward the empress’s uncle, placing a comforting hand on the empress’s trembling shoulders. She took a measured breath, asking, “Is this acceptable?”

A voice identical to the empress’s resonated from the abdomen of the elegant chief maid, though her lips had not parted.

In response to this, the empress’s uncle simply nodded, his satisfaction evident.

With this arrangement, he had ingeniously secured the means to voice decisions on behalf of the empress, steering the empire’s course without becoming the focal point of public criticism.

Yet, this was but a part of the solution.

In reality, he had merely acquired a legitimate platform from which to speak. The unresolved challenges were substantial. Addressing the looming drought and the imminent famine threatening the empire, navigating the border conflicts with the Elven Kingdom and the diocese, and strategizing against the watchful eyes of the formidable nations from across the sea.

Now, more than ever, the Roman Empire was in dire need of its regent.