Chapter 101

The coronation of Randes de Hacat, the seventh king of Lecy, caused a
sensation across the entire continent of Auston.

Since Eloy V took the crown himself from the astonished pope, that iconic
event had already signaled that the influence of religion on the continent of
Auston had disintegrated before Auston itself did.

The fragmented Auston was divided and occupied by seven countries, each with
its own system. The kings ruled as they pleased, whimsically adding or removing
aspects of their nations as if they were children building sandcastles. Yet,
most of them retained the systems from before the kingdom of Auston split, and
the power of religion had long since scattered like drifting sand.

A shockingly young bishop crowned the king, who was almost ten years older
than him. The news of the ceremony had spread throughout Lecy and even reached
other countries before it formally took place.

Two hundred years was enough time to change everything and to form new
habits. Coronation ceremonies on the continent followed the example set by Eloy
V, where kings crowned themselves. This pleased the kings, and no one ever
tried to revert to the outdated system of surrendering power, which would be
almost impossible for kings who held such power.

But the impossible did happen.

While many doubted it was just a ridiculous rumor, the king of Lecy received
the bishop’s coronation in the palace on October 12. The entire ceremony was
completely traditional: the king kneeled on one knee at the end of a long,
seemingly endless red carpet, and the bishop placed the crown on the king’s
head and then handed him the scepter, symbolizing that Randes de Hacat’s power
as monarch was granted by the sacred religion.

A painter on site faithfully recorded this moment that marked the official
revival of religion on the continent of Auston.

In the painting, the bishop appeared noble, majestic, and beautiful, with
golden hair, a slender figure, and a gentle, serene expression. In contrast,
the king seemed insignificant, even though he was dressed splendidly. He humbly
bowed his head and reached out like a child, asking for the scepter from the
bishop’s hand.

This was the artist’s cleverness; he perfectly captured the intentions of
both the king and the bishop, creating a painting that met their requirements.

Copies of the painting quickly became popular across Auston, moving people
not only with the painter’s extraordinary talent but also with the beautiful
and inspiring message conveyed by the painting.

The power of religion had merely scattered, not disappeared.

After two hundred years of division, chaos, war, and hunger, people were
desperate for something to save them, whether it was God or the
revolutionaries.

—

“Achill, I trust you as I trust my brother. We’ve been through everything
together, and you’ve saved my life many times. My gratitude towards you is
boundless,” Barnett sincerely emphasized, “but I can’t trust your Bishop
Eugene. I know the hypocrisy of the clergy far better than you.”

Achill frowned deeply, his face showing loyal and steadfast character.
“Barnett, Eugene is an orphan, you understand? He had no parents, was abandoned
at birth at the monastery, and is blind. He has lived in darkness all his life.
He is a truly pitiable person, but he doesn’t wallow in self-pity. He helps
everyone around him. I saved your life, and he saved mine. You consider me a
brother, and I consider him a brother too. Barnett, you are unwilling to give
your trust, but he is willing to trust me. He said in his letter that if you
are willing to meet him, he will come alone.”

Barnett fell silent for a long time after listening to Achill. He was a tall
and strong middle-aged man who was once a noble, though he had since fallen
from grace. He was educated, skilled in painting, art, philosophy, and also
proficient in horsemanship and swordsmanship. He had always lived a standard
noble life until significant changes occurred in his life. Now, he chose to
challenge his former way of living.

Barnett had gathered a group of people who called themselves
revolutionaries, though they had no real program. Besides a few fallen nobles,
most were peasants who didn’t care about those matters; they were simply unable
to survive any longer. Even such a loose organization had already driven the
nobles of Lecy to distraction.

After thinking for a while, Barnett said, “You should know this bishop
performed the coronation for the new king.”

“Of course, I know,” Achill smiled, feeling proud of his former
playmate.

Barnett immediately saw that Achill didn’t understand the significance of it
at all.

Barnett thought to let it go; Achill’s mind was not suited for such matters.
He patted Achill on the shoulder. “Tell him I am willing to meet him, but
not with him coming to me. Instead, I will go to him. We won’t meet on
Falklands or in Esburg. Find a safe, neutral location in between.”

“Alright, no problem. I can go with you then.”

“That would be perfect.”

Achill turned to leave but then looked back. “What about the prince?
Should we bring him along? It might be safer.”

“Forget it,” Barnett couldn’t help but tell Achill part of the
truth. “He was abandoned the day the new king was crowned. He’s nothing
but a waste of resources here. And don’t let him feed the pigs anymore; he’s so
stupid he falls into the pigpen every time. The pigs are scared of him. Let him
clean the toilets instead. At least the waste won’t run around and cause
chaos.”

Achill laughed, showing his white and ruthless teeth. “I’ll go give him
a beating.”

Sharman was brought back to Falklands, in an even worse state than when he
left. He cried the entire way, not expecting to be truly abducted. The priest
had told him something entirely different. Berna drove the cart outside, while
Achill, unable to bear Sharman’s crying, beat him severely.

Achill hated the nobles, those rich men who looked down on the poor. He
particularly despised someone as weak and useless as Sharman.

Achill beat Sharman again.

Sharman tried to endure it but eventually couldn’t hold back his sobs. He
was the crown prince, accustomed to living in silk, gems, and flowers. He
couldn’t accept being tortured by the revolutionaries. He pleaded with Achill
to let him go back, offering to pay any amount. To show his sincerity, he
offered to write a letter asking for the money to be sent first.

“Pah—”

Achill relayed Barnett’s words to Sharman. “Your brother, Prince Oss,
has already been crowned king. You’re now nothing but a useless burden to him.
He’d be glad for you to die here. Why would he spend a penny on you? Did the
pigs root around in your brain while you were feeding them?”

Sharman clutched his head, clearly hearing Achill’s words. He lowered his
arms and stared at Achill. In just two months, his noble elegance had
completely disappeared. Hearing what Achill said, Sharman felt a dizzying
sensation, as if a weight finally fell from above him. He trembled, his teeth
chattering, his eyes revealing an uncontrollable fierceness.

Achill, who feared no one, coldly smiled. “Don’t glare at me like that,
unless you want another beating.”

Sharman slowly lowered his head again, a new wave of violent anger sweeping
over him. Never in his life had he felt such intense hatred.

Randes… and that evil bishop…

Sharman glared at the ground, trying hard not to cry.

—

The coronation pushed the bishop’s prestige to its peak. In the light of
power—the long-lost religious power—his age and appearance became
insignificant. In Esburg, few dared to look him in the eye.

Bunier, considered the bishop’s confidant, was appointed as the priest of
Esburg by the bishop.

In the past two hundred years of decline, the religious promotion system had
become chaotic. For example, the bishop’s position was granted by the old king,
which was obviously irregular in traditional religion. To rectify this, the
bishop held a ceremony in the church, proclaiming his position as ordained by
God.

From this day forward, the religion in Lecy would fully revive, not
recognizing any positions granted by royal power, including all clergy
positions in other countries.

This was indeed very arrogant, clearly aiming to make Lecy the religious
center of all Auston. However, this was not something the bishop could achieve
with a mere proclamation.

After ascending to the throne, Prince Oss immediately set about reforming
and addressing the myriad issues left behind by the former king, calling upon
several capable officials from his fiefdom to assist him.

Among them, Harlan, known for his exceptional skills in administration and
diplomacy, took on a significant role. Upon meeting the king for the first
time, Harlan expressed his deep concern.

“Your Majesty, I don’t understand why you accepted such a
coronation,” Harlan exclaimed. “I have personally witnessed that
priest’s insatiable greed and hypocritical pretense!”

The king threw a trinket from the table at Harlan, who caught it deftly,
only to be coldly reprimanded by the king, “I will not allow any
disrespect towards the bishop.”

Harlan was stunned, thinking how his once-great lord could have become such
a devout believer in just a few months.

Later, Harlan encountered the bishop in the palace corridor. At first, he
did not realize it was the bishop, despite the distinctive red clerical robes.
He nudged the person beside him and remarked, “Who is that? He’s quite a
striking beauty.”

Bill, astonished, almost dropped his jaw. “What are you talking about?
That’s Bishop Eugene!”

Harlan was equally shocked.

The portrait had not circulated to Oss, and Harlan had not expected Bishop
Eugene to be so young and beautiful. He had always thought those were
exaggerated rumors. Oss was a place without even a church, so Harlan found it
difficult to feel the same reverence as others. He simply admired the bishop’s
appearance and then shrugged at Bill. “Alright, I can see why he has so
many devoted followers. He would drive all the girls in Oss crazy.”

“Shut up,” Bill muttered, giving Harlan a hard shoulder bump.
“The bishop is a very devout cleric. That’s too offensive. Don’t forget he
stayed by the king’s side during the worst of the plague.”

“Is that offensive? I was praising him,” Harlan raised his hand.
“As far as I know, clerics can marry, right? Is he married?”

Bill clapped his hand over Harlan’s mouth and greeted the approaching
bishop. “Good afternoon, Bishop. The king is waiting for you in the
study.”

Harlan removed Bill’s hand. “Hello, Bishop. I’m Harlan, like Bill, I
used to serve His Majesty. Now I’m in charge of our country’s diplomacy. It’s
an honor to meet you.”

“Hello,” the bishop responded politely.

His perfect balance of restraint and nobility immediately earned Harlan’s
admiration. Surprised by how different the bishop was from his expectations,
Harlan requested to kiss the bishop’s hand.

The bishop allowed it.

After kissing the bishop’s hand, Harlan smiled at Bill once the bishop
entered the study. “I take back what I said earlier.” Bill relaxed
slightly, only for Harlan to laugh and add, “I believe the men in Oss will
be just as crazy about him.”

—

The king had already stood up upon hearing footsteps. When he saw it was his
beloved bishop entering, he immediately walked over without his cane, taking a
few steps to reach him. Grasping the bishop’s shoulders, he kissed him without
hesitation.

Like lovers deeply in love, the king first offered his passion. They kissed
for several minutes, and the young, energetic bishop soon found himself swept
into a sea of desire in the study with the equally vigorous king.

The two met frequently, with the bishop seeking the king for discussions and
the king often visiting the church for confession, albeit on the bishop’s
wooden bed, using his strong body to atone for not spending the entire night
with the bishop last time.

Almost every meeting led to a passionate encounter, and with each new
meeting, they would fall into each other’s arms with even greater fervor.

Sometimes, even the bishop wondered privately how he had changed so much,
becoming so addicted to this physical pleasure.

Of course, the bishop never considered it a fault. He was willing to enjoy
it and liked to enjoy it.

After their intense “exchange,” they each adjusted their clothes. The
bishop’s face was still flushed with heat, his body lingering with the tingly
sensation that followed strong passion, which gave him an unusual sense of
relaxation. The king roughly adjusted his clothes, then embraced the bishop
from behind, gently stroking his body through his clerical robes and kissing
the soft golden hair behind his ear.

The king greatly enjoyed both the tenderness afterward and the fiery passion
they shared.

“Eugene,” Randes whispered in his ear, “I love you.”

The bishop responded by playing with his golden hair, moving slightly away
to avoid the king’s warm lips. “Your Majesty, I need to go away for a period of
study and travel.”