Chapter 103

Barnett was utterly shocked by the bishop’s proposal.

“The Holy Knights?” Barnett murmured, repeating the term the bishop had mentioned, the muscles in his cheeks twitching.

“Yes,” the bishop said calmly, “Mr. Field, I believe you must have learned this term in your history classes.”

Barnett said, “You want to revive something that exists only in history?” Barnett’s voice was high-pitched and intense.

“Yes,” the bishop replied.

“That’s impossible!” Barnett retorted flatly.

“Why is it impossible?” the bishop responded calmly. “Hasn’t history already shown that it has happened before?”

Barnett knew he was referring to the coronation of the king. Barnett had been very composed, thinking through all his responses before meeting with the bishop, but he hadn’t expected the bishop to say something like this.

Him, restoring the Holy Knights?! He, a revolutionary now reviled by everyone?!

Barnett could no longer maintain his outward composure. Anyway, the bishop couldn’t see him, so he freely let his face show a mix of shock, anticipation, joy, and doubt. In his entire life, he had only felt such conflicting emotions twice.

“Mr. Field, I expect to stay here for three to five days. You can take your time to consider.”

*

“Eugene, eat more. You’re thinner than I imagined,” the old nun said with concern.

The food at the monastery was rough. Given the hard times in Clay, it was already good that the monastery could temporarily provide an extra ration for the bishop.

The beans were cooked to mush, and the potatoes too. The sauce was a bit salty, but it went well with bread. The bishop’s manners were elegant and charming, looking well-adjusted to such food.

The nun, somehow, couldn’t stop her tears from welling up. She reached out and touched the bishop’s arm, feeling extraordinarily happy.

After lunch, the nun showed the bishop around the monastery again. The Clay Monastery was much smaller than the Tesburg Church. The nuns were working and praying, maintaining a relatively good life and taking in a few children, mostly girls, with fewer boys. After all, it was a nunnery, and men were inconvenient. Slightly older boys had to be sent away, just like Eugene.

The monastery was filled with the scent of soil and plants. The bishop and the old nun sat on a bench talking. The old nun said she was healthy and spiritually at peace. Sometimes she missed the bishop but mostly believed he was doing well in the capital.

“You’re an angel,” the nun said, holding the bishop’s hand, “You will turn wherever you are into paradise.”

The bishop asked, “How have you been?”

“Very well,” the nun said happily, sincerely, “Everything is good, just as good as every day in the past.”

The nun went to take care of some young children. The bishop said, “Sister Grey, may I ask you a question?”

“Oh, of course,” the nun said gently, “Dear Eugene, what do you want to know?”

The bishop hesitated for a moment and asked a question that was practically worthless to him. He said, “Do you know anything about my biological parents?”

The nun’s expression became very gentle and loving. She held the bishop’s hand and kissed it, “My child, you finally asked me.”

“Not long after I found you, I tried to find your biological parents. Clay is not a big place. I searched everywhere but found nothing. It was as if you had fallen from the sky,” the nun smiled and kissed the bishop’s hand again, “Eugene, just consider yourself an angel. You are a child of God.”

For some reason, the bishop wasn’t surprised. He kissed the nun’s cheek, “Thank you. I consider myself your child.”

The nun stroked his soft blonde hair, “Dear, I also consider you my child.”

The nun left, and the bishop basked in the sunlight, feeling an unusual calm. It was a calm he had felt in the previous world, in Yongcheng.

The bishop’s shoulder was gently tapped. Without turning around, he said, “Achill.”

Laughter came from behind.

“Eugene, you’re really something,” Achill said, jumping over the bench to sit down, “How do you always know who’s coming?”

“Instinct.”

“Haha, your instincts are incredibly sharp.”

In Clay, Achill had fewer reservations and didn’t need to conceal much. The people here knew little about the revolutionaries, nor did they know who was or wasn’t a revolutionary. They only knew that the strong and kind-hearted Achill would sometimes help with farm work.

Achill was excited. It was the first time he and Eugene had met outside of the Castle Church since their reunion. “Eugene, tell me, how did you persuade that king to accept your coronation? I’m so curious. You’re amazing! I want to know everything!”

The bishop casually replied, saying he had made a significant contribution last time, which scared them, and made the king fear him and turn to religion for strength. Achill listened with exclamations of admiration, full of pride, and happily slapped his thigh. “That’s fantastic! Does this mean you now have more power than the king? Do you want to see Barnett pardon us? Can we finally have a good life?”

Achill’s mind couldn’t be described as simple anymore. The bishop, with a half-smile, said, “That depends on Barnett’s choice.”

As the bishop had anticipated, the so-called revolutionaries had no agenda or leadership ideology. They were just a group of desperate people seeking salvation through rebellion.

Everyone wanted a good life, and there was nothing wrong with that.

The bishop’s thoughts drifted for a moment as he couldn’t imagine what his good life would look like.

*

On the second night after the bishop arrived in Clay, Barnett appeared again. He spoke with a serious tone, having clearly thought things through. He spoke methodically, prepared with many questions, and systematically went through each one with the bishop. He did not allow the bishop to evade any question, demanding precise answers to each one. He scrutinized the bishop’s face, trying to discern any lies, as he dared not easily trust someone from the church, especially from the Castle Church.

They talked for most of the night. Barnett cautiously expressed that he needed more time to consider. The bishop agreed, saying it was the right thing to do and should be taken seriously.

The next day, while the bishop was helping to plow the fields at the monastery, Achill came and asked the bishop to meet Barnett.

“Bishop, can I trust your prestige?”

“You can trust me as you trust the sun to rise.”

“I still have doubts. This isn’t about my lack of confidence. I just want to know why me? There are so many nobles in the capital.”

“But none of those nobles are willing to go to the battlefield.”

Barnett struggled for a long time. This was an opportunity, one he never dared to imagine. Since he launched an attack on the dynasty, he wasn’t as confident as he appeared. He slept and woke in fear, forcing himself to be brave, strong, and fearless because he had no way out. Yet the cunning bishop extended an olive branch, which greatly undermined his resolve.

A legitimate chance to rise again versus the constant fear of being hunted down and killed—anyone would know which to choose.

Barnett gritted his teeth. “I hope you can promise me two things.”

“I agree,” the bishop said.

Barnett asked, “Aren’t you going to ask what they are?”

The bishop smiled, “I believe you won’t ask for something I can’t deliver, Mr. Field. You’ve already demonstrated your caution. I’m willing to trust that.”

Barnett felt the bishop’s attitude towards him change, as if they had reached an agreement. This made him lower his guard a bit. He said softly, “I want my brothers to be pardoned.”

“That’s entirely possible. They will be pardoned, return to their hometowns, have a piece of land, work hard, and live happy lives.”

Barnett slightly bent down and kissed the bishop’s fingers. “You are the first cleric I’ve kissed in almost fifteen years.”

“An honor. Now,” the bishop anticipated the real issue the revolutionary leader wanted to address, “tell me your second request.”

“I once had a lovely son.”

“He was lively and kind, a bit mischievous, but that wasn’t a big sin. He was really adorable, like a little puppy, always calling me ‘Dad, Dad.’ He was my only one. My wife passed away, and he was my only treasure, but he disappeared…”

Barnett’s tone became heavy and sorrowful. “I’ve searched everywhere for him, spent all my savings. I don’t know where he went, oh God,” Barnett’s eyes welled with tears. “Little Carl, I haven’t kissed his sweet face for fifteen years… Bishop,” Barnett bowed deeply, holding the hem of the bishop’s robe. “If I can truly trust you as I trust the sunrise, I beg you, let the light of the sunshine over every corner of Lecy, and let my little Carl walk back to me from the sunlight.”

“You want me to help you find your missing son?”

“Yes, that’s my final request,” Barnett lifted his face. “If you agree, I’m willing to give everything.”

The bishop was silent for a moment, his thoughts briefly drifting to family, to parents and children, and to his own unknown origins.

“I promise you,” the bishop said. “You have my word.”

*

Historically, when religious power was strong, the Pope once had a Holy Knights Order, composed of the most devout noble offspring. They believed in God, were brave and fearless, and saw death as another form of eternal life, making them an unbeatable force.

The bishop had once had a team, and now, he wanted to bring that team back.

Barnett handed over his trust—his letter of authorization—and had Achill escort the bishop back to the capital. This was a test to see if Achill could be pardoned in the capital, thereby testing the bishop’s authority.

The bishop understood Barnett’s strategy and was satisfied. He valued Barnett, hoping he had all the qualities of a leader, including ruthlessness.

Achill, however, was unaware of the underlying motives. He only knew he was to escort the bishop back to Castle, openly! He was overjoyed, singing and dancing around the bishop. He hugged and kissed the nuns, making them laugh heartily.

“Eugene, this is wonderful! We can finally be friends openly—”

The bishop dodged Achill’s embrace. “We’ve always been friends.”

The return journey was much more relaxed. Achill procured a carriage, and the bishop rested inside it while Achill talked loudly, recounting what happened after he took Sharman out of the palace, even though the bishop hadn’t asked.

“Eugene, once that prince is restored, will he seek revenge on us?”

“No, I will ensure your safety.”

Achill laughed, holding the reins happily. “What do you want for lunch? How about I hunt? There are many birds in the forest. You don’t mind, right? I mean, hunting animals. You love beef.”

Achill chattered on, and the bishop remained noncommittal. The carriage gradually stopped. Achill halted it by a river, helping the bishop down to sit on a smooth rock. “Don’t wander off. The river’s ahead. I’ll be right back.”

Achill ran off, leaving the bishop. The sound of flowing water filled his ears, along with the wind and bird calls. Surrounded by nature, the bishop’s thoughts drifted again.

During the three days in Clay, the bishop felt serene and peaceful, yet not bored. In this world, he rarely felt bored, even just sitting and doing nothing. His once empty heart was now filled with something, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it was yet.

The bishop took a deep breath of clean air, deciding not to deny that he had indeed changed. He acknowledged that, besides the intense destruction, sometimes small, peaceful things could bring him joy—a different kind of joy. The joy of controlling everything, the joy of defeating the protagonist, the physical joy, and simpler joys… In this light, it was entirely a good thing. At least he found it easier to be happy.

Achill returned with two birds. He skillfully prepared them, seasoning them with gathered herbs, and roasted them over a fire.

The aroma of food slowly filled the air. Achill noticed the bishop smiling and smiled too. “Eugene, do you think I’m a sinful person?”

“Why?”

“I’ve killed many people,” Achill said. “I think you know that.”

“Not all killers are sinners.”

“This is different from doctrine.”

The bishop continued to smile, “This is my doctrine.”

Achill burst into laughter, suddenly had a wild idea, jumped up on the spot, and said, “Eugene, why don’t you baptize me again? Then, won’t I have received the same baptism as the king? I’ll be so noble then!”

Achill became more and more excited as he spoke, shaking the bishop’s shoulder. “What do you say, Eugene? Please! Let me be king for a moment too!”

The bishop, feeling unexpectedly good, didn’t mind Achill’s antics. Perhaps Achill reminded him of Cheng Wu and Zhang Zhi from his previous world. He even remembered their names…

“Well, okay,” the bishop said casually.

Achill cheered, hugged the bishop, and laughed heartily. “Eugene, I truly love you—”

At that moment, the bishop sharply turned his head.

Achill, still unaware, kissed the bishop’s cheek, let go of him, and knelt properly, bowing his head. “Dear Bishop Eugene, may you accept me as your disciple?”

Moments later, before Achill received a response, he quietly lifted his eyelashes and saw the bishop turning away and not far off, the king on horseback, with a calm yet terrifying expression.