Chapter 109

“The wedding downstairs at the manor continued in wild revelry, while upstairs in the bedroom, they too were caught up in passionate celebration.

The king hurriedly led the bishop by the hand. When they reached the stairs, the king grew impatient and lifted the bishop off the ground, his footsteps echoing loudly as they ascended. The bishop clutched at the king’s robes, his heart pounding in sync with their steps.

Once the switch in their bodies was flipped, there was no turning back.

There was a sense of anticipation and inevitability about what was to come, a flickering flame with a hint of anticipation for known pleasures.

As for whether the bishop had exercised restraint during this time, he was not inclined to deceive himself.

Indeed.

He fully understood this new kind of pleasure.

At this moment, chaotic thoughts were pushed aside from his mind, leaving only the simplest, most primal instincts to dominate.

Kicking open the bedroom door, the king pressed the bishop against the wall and kissed him. The bishop’s palm rested on the scar on the king’s face, pressing with a hint of malice against the rough skin.

He kissed the king back, a faintly crazed smile playing on his lips.

His madness stemmed not from what was about to happen, but from fully embracing the change within himself in this regard—no longer passive, but actively choosing, pursuing. For a natural man with minimal primitive desires, this was a seismic shift.

The restrained love that had simmered for so long nearly drove the king mad. He fumbled with the bishop’s elaborate attire, the bishop biting his lower lip, reaching for the king’s belt.

They tumbled from the wall to the carpet, then from the carpet to the bed. Outside, the festivities were in full swing, with singing and dancing, but the bishop and the king were gradually losing themselves, shamelessly reveling in the bedroom.

Even at two or three in the morning, laughter still echoed sporadically in the garden, the crowd yet to disperse, and the king and the bishop still inseparable.

The bishop lay on his side in bed, no candles lit in the room. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting an ethereal glow on the bishop’s body, resembling a pristine statue. The king gazed at the bishop from behind, enraptured, arms outstretched as he embraced the bishop from behind, kissing his shoulder. The bishop’s skin was supple and smooth, seeming as if it could melt under his touch.

The king’s breath quickened, trailing along the graceful curve, kissing up to the bishop’s lips. The bishop’s lips pursed lightly, unmoved by the king’s advances. The king persisted, finally coaxing the bishop’s lips apart with patience that seemed capable of melting anyone. The bishop responded, meeting the king’s kiss, lifting his left hand to rest on the back of the king’s neck, prompting the king to embrace him tightly.

The king’s heart surged; this time felt unlike any before.

“Eugene, I love you,” the king murmured softly, gazing into the bishop’s face, blond hair falling across his brow, the bishop’s unfocused green eyes blinking slowly. The bishop replied, “I still do not love you.”

*

Before the weather grew colder, the king led the bishop on a tour of the entire Lecy, further showcasing the influence of religion in Lecy.

Upon their return to the capital, Barnett, leader of the revolutionary party, surrendered and accepted trial. The entire capital was in an uproar, unable to believe such a troublemaker would willingly surrender.

Of course, Barnett’s surrender came with conditions; he only agreed to stand trial in a religious court.

The king had never heard the bishop mention restoring the religious court. He went to the church to see the bishop. “What agreement have you reached with Barnett in private?”

The bishop was lighting candles in the hall, holding a white candle in his hand and carefully igniting the flames of the unlit candles.

“I don’t think you need to know what agreement I’ve reached with Barnett,” the bishop said lightly.

The king looked around, making sure no one was nearby, and lowered his voice. “I thought we had reconciled.”

Since the night of Bill’s wedding, the bishop had stopped avoiding him. The king often found opportunities to meet with the bishop privately, and the bishop never refused, even more warmly than before. The king took a half step forward, his body seemingly attached to the bishop’s back. “Eugene…”

“That’s another matter altogether,” the bishop leaned over the candle, “Even if we share a bed several times a day, I don’t need to report to you about any agreements I make.”

The king frowned, “That’s not what I meant. I meant… well, forget it if you don’t want to say,” the king softened his tone, “I know you want to strengthen the power of the church, expand its influence, Barnett’s approach could greatly assist you in that, but even if you told me, I wouldn’t oppose it,” the king spoke sincerely, “I don’t think we are enemies.”

The bishop’s arm paused in mid-air, his hand tilted downwards, and the candle flickered, reflecting faintly in his green eyes, “Why? As far as I know, the last Pope and Eloy V both ended up dead.”

“That’s because they were both fools, ultimately causing the entire Auston continent to fall apart,” the king leaned closer to the bishop, almost whispering, “Eugene, we aim to reunite this continent, we are not like them.”

The bishop remained expressionless, the king glanced around again, lowering his voice even more, “And besides, I love you.”

The way the king said “love” made it seem like the most incredible thing in the world, viewed as the most powerful assurance, even more than the goal of unifying the continent, to strengthen the bond between them.

If he truly wanted to compete with him, wouldn’t he have to understand love even deeper than him, the protagonist?

The bishop was amused by his own thoughts, and the king keenly noticed a slight curl at the corner of the bishop’s mouth, lifting his own spirits, reaching out to hold the bishop’s hand, “Careful, the candle is about to drop.”

“After restoring the ecclesiastical court, I will pardon Barnett,” the bishop said.

The king shook his head helplessly, realizing that once the bishop was determined to do something, no one could stop him.

“Why do you go to such lengths to pardon him? He was part of the revolutionary party; I won’t reinstate him,” the king shrugged casually, “I have my own plans.”

The king shrugged, pretending to be relaxed, “Looks like it’s another plan I don’t need to know about.”

The bishop simply chose silence.

Perhaps people are inherently greedy; before obtaining something, they think they’ll be satisfied with just the bishop’s body. Yet, once the two truly engaged in a relationship, the king found himself desiring love. Aware of the bishop’s differences from others and suddenly distancing himself, the king began regretting his excessive demands. A peaceful relationship should have sufficed. When the two reconciled and the bishop hinted he didn’t necessarily lack love, suggesting a possibility of love, the king couldn’t restrain his innermost desire anymore—he wanted the bishop to love him.

Now, the king had learned the art of avoiding conflicts with the bishop. Whenever he sensed the bishop might turn against him, he promptly changed the subject to less overtly affectionate but still intimate physical contact.

The bishop didn’t reject these displays of affection.

The king embraced him, and kissed his cheek, swiftly redirecting the atmosphere toward their planned rendezvous that evening.

Thus, a small possibility that could have led to war between them was averted.

The ecclesiastical court swiftly resumed its operations, with Barnett being the first to stand trial. The king and some nobles attended as observers. Barnett spoke earnestly, tearfully confessing his repentance. His demeanor was always pleasant, and the eloquent words and pleasingly structured sentences were clearly taught by the bishop.

Touching the emerald ring on his pinky, the king thought, “No one debates better than him, that devil’s throat.”

The bishop promptly pardoned Barnett and restored his noble status, sparking some controversy. Noble attendees glanced at the king, and a tide of discussions surged toward him. This decision, like many before, was made without prior consultation with him. Well, except initially, the bishop communicated less and less with him over time. The king raised his hand to quell the surrounding discussions, nodding in approval toward the bishop, “I defer to the bishop’s wishes, just as I accepted the bishop’s coronation.”

If the bishop could crown the king, why couldn’t he restore a noble’s status?

This act made it clear in Lecy what authority the bishop held to strip someone of their noble status, prompting the continent’s people, who had long lost faith, to truly grasp the significance of the king’s acceptance of the bishop’s coronation. The nobles’ gazes toward the bishop now held a mix of fear and awe.

The trial concluded, and the king spoke with the bishop for quite some time before he noticed that the nobles behind him hadn’t left. Turning around, the king found the nobles approaching with extremely respectful gestures, requesting permission to leave the church.

“You’ve frightened them,” the king remarked.

Once the crowd dispersed, the king joked with the bishop, “Well done, you’re now a more fearsome presence in Lecy than I am.” He believed this was the bishop’s goal, to demonstrate his influence in Lecy.

However, a few days later, the king realized he was mistaken.

“The Knights?”

The king held a pen in his hand, looking up at Haren whose eyes gleamed intensely.

“Yes,” Haren replied casually, almost flippantly, “The Holy Knights, recruiting only noble youths of pure faith, loyal to God, fighting for their beliefs. The church in Rensburg is already bursting at the seams. I took a look myself; I dare say all the young talents of the entire kingdom have gone there. Honestly, I’m quite tempted to join too,” Haren smirked slightly, “After all, the bishop’s authority in Lecy seems even greater than yours, Your Majesty.”

Haren’s mocking tone revealed his loyalty to the king, and the king’s face darkened slightly.

Haren continued to smile, somewhat gleefully, “Your Majesty, congratulations on unleashing a beautiful beast.”

Setting down his pen, the king stood up, picked up the cane nearby, and Haren followed him as they walked out. “The King of Roque sent two letters,” Haren added casually, “One for you and one for the bishop…”

The king halted and turned to look at Haren.

With a playful grin, Haren continued, “To show respect to the most influential religious leader on the continent, King Brady wishes to invite the bishop to Roque. You know how chaotic Roque has been lately—poor harvests, disease, and the winters are too harsh. People are starving, and King Brady hopes that religion can somewhat fill the void, especially a faith capable of winning over revolutionaries. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

The street in front of the Cathedral was filled with carriages, so much so that even the king’s carriage couldn’t pass through. They had to disembark and walk. The coachmen, shivering from the cold inside their carriages, hastily doffed their hats and bowed as they saw the king approaching on foot.

The king nodded curtly, acknowledging them, and about ten minutes later, they arrived at the front of the cathedral.

Monks were controlling the crowd in front of the church. Upon seeing the king, they too bowed respectfully. The king asked directly, “Where is your bishop?”

In the church garden, despite the increasingly cold weather, the evergreen plants remained vibrant green. The bishop sat in a chair, with Bunier standing behind, looking somewhat awkward. “Bishop, must it be this way?” Bunier asked hesitantly.

“Willpower is an important factor,” the bishop replied, draped in a warm cloak. “Help me observe closely; whoever can’t handle it, let them leave.”

“Alright,” Bunier sighed.

Bunier forced himself to look at about a dozen shirtless young men neatly arranged in the garden. These youths were mostly robust, their bare torsos displaying well-toned muscles from the horseback riding and hunting lessons the nobles needed. Their bodies were neither overly weak nor excessively strong like those of laborers crushed by work—restrained yet elegant.

Bunier quietly pointed out a few pale, shivering individuals, urging them to quickly put on their clothes and leave. He also whispered the names of a few who remained impassive and resolute.

The bishop raised his hand to cover his lips, whispering to Bunier’s ear, “Who do you think is the best?”

Bunier mentioned a name, and the bishop raised his voice, repeating it aloud and gesturing for the young man to come closer.

As the king restrained his anger and entered the garden, he was momentarily dazzled by the physical forms around him. Then, scanning the scene, he saw the bishop’s finger tracing over the bowed chest of a young man…

“Eugene—”