Chapter 113

The bishop pushed open the window upstairs, and the fresh smell from outside wafted in. Compared to Roque, the air in Lecy seemed softer.

During his journey, the bishop occasionally thought of Lecy. He wasn’t sure if this could be called longing. The feeling wasn’t entirely unfamiliar; in the previous world, he would sometimes think of the frontier, the desert sky, and the sunset. Strangely enough, those images remained in his mind as if they had become part of his core memory. None of the previous mission worlds had left such a deep impression on him.

“Bishop.”

Adonis’s clear, clean voice sounded behind him, and the bishop turned his face slightly.

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

Adonis ran over, his steps particularly lively, making it obvious that he was in a good mood, or perhaps he was always so cheerful, radiating a contagious glow like the sun.

The bishop’s cold expression didn’t waver. He knew the youth’s facade and true nature well; no one was better at this than the bishop. Adonis’s pretentious cheerfulness seemed somewhat childish and laughable to the bishop.

Adonis’s gaze fell on the bishop’s beautiful and noble face, still unable to determine what the bishop was thinking.

He chose to join the Knights as a political investment. Roque had eight princes, and he wasn’t the most special one, so he had to find a way to stand out. If the king of Lecy could kneel before the bishop, what pride could he not abandon to swear allegiance to the bishop?

If the bishop were willing to support him as he supported the king of Lecy, his chances of inheriting the throne would increase significantly. Unfortunately, Adonis hadn’t yet found the right opportunity to make this deal clear.

The bishop seemed like a smart person. There should be a tacit understanding between them, but Adonis couldn’t be sure because the bishop was so introverted and deep that he couldn’t read his thoughts at all.

“Am I too dull?” Adonis’s voice was full of guilt. “I keep asking you stupid questions.”

The bishop said, “Is that so? I think you’re quite smart.”

Adonis boldly asked, “Among your followers, am I considered insightful?”

“Perhaps.”

The bishop’s answer was ambiguous. Adonis, well-versed in this, humbly said, “I still need to keep learning.” Then he shifted the conversation to praise the elegance and beauty of the Church. The only flaw was that the building where the bishop lived was too simple. He wanted to donate some money to improve it so that it could match the bishop’s holy and great character.

The bishop said, “We are born with sin. We are not in this world to enjoy but to atone for our sins. I don’t need such good material conditions.”

Adonis lamented, “I am so foolish. I knew I was a stupid person! Bishop, please forgive my shallowness. Then let the donated money be used for good deeds, directed by you. I am not good at using it and would only do bad things.”

“Adonis, you are too self-deprecating.”

Adonis emphasized his ignorance and incompetence once more. After promising a substantial donation, he tactfully left to allow the bishop some quiet rest.

As the footsteps gradually faded, the bishop pulled out a chair and sat down. He was a bit tired and put his legs up on the desk.

Everything that had just happened was a typical exchange of interests that the bishop considered sophisticated and appropriate, speaking in hypocritical coded language, achieving consensus through a series of compliments and self-deprecations, without quarrels or conflicts—unlike the chaotic, disorderly, emotionally charged surprises.

This was a true cooperation.

Yet, it was also very dull…

The bishop exhaled lightly through his nose. He sat quietly for a while, suddenly wondering if Adonis would agree if he proposed a physical transaction. Could he derive any pleasure from it?

The thought made the bishop laugh. He laughed to himself for a while, thinking if that were the case, he would be treating Adonis like a male prostitute.

For a natural person to have such licentious thoughts… he was quite impressed with himself.

The bishop folded his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face.

Pleasure. He was seeking pleasure. But living only for pleasure seemed somewhat empty. To speak honestly, he asked himself and answered himself: he didn’t really want to sleep with Adonis.

He knew Adonis had a great body. When he spoke close to him, the healthy, youthful masculine scent was evident. If he truly wanted to seek pleasure, he could always find a way to make Adonis submit. Adonis would be very accommodating, serving diligently like a stallion eager to mate.

But that held no interest for him. The bishop couldn’t even bother to imagine it. The foreseeable dullness, the absence of a spark in his body, made him crave something more intense and real—a desperate collision, a love that drove one to madness, heart-wrenching pain…

The loyal knight had already delivered the message, so why hadn’t the recipient arrived?

The bishop lowered his legs from the desk, stomped his foot on the ground, and paced around the room, measuring its size with each step. He then sat down, and pressed his weight onto the bed, which creaked under him. The bishop chuckled again, lay down, and let his gaze drift into the darkness. The smile on his face disappeared.

He was being emotionally manipulated…

The bishop took out the cross from his collar, warmed by his body heat, and asked himself like a devout follower.

Have I thought of him during my absence?

—Yes, often.

Do I feel joy at the prospect of meeting him again in Lecy?

—Yes, not just joy, but anticipation.

Is this anticipation merely for the pleasure of tormenting him?

—Partly…

And the other part?

The bishop fiddled with the cross, refraining from giving a definitive answer.

*

The bishop stayed in Chasburg for half a month. The king never summoned him, nor did the bishop take the initiative to visit the palace.

At the end of March, the bishop left Chasburg again with the Knights, heading to the next country.

Barnett had returned to the bishop’s side, carefully planning his words in case the bishop questioned him about his conversation with the king, wondering how best to phrase his response.

However, the bishop did not inquire.

This made Barnett feel ashamed, and he proactively told the bishop that the king trusted him greatly.

Even though the bishop had accepted a prince from Roque, which seemed opportunistic, the king had no doubts. Barnett emphasized, “First of all, I apologize for reporting this to the king out of inappropriate motives, but the king immediately criticized me severely. He insisted I must believe in your loyalty to Lecy, so I am very sorry.”

The bishop smiled, “It’s not your fault. I know you are loyal to Lecy.”

Barnett bowed deeply in a knightly manner, “If this displeases you, I am willing to accept punishment.”

“No, I don’t want to punish you.”

The bishop seemed to be in a bad mood, so Barnett added, “I will no longer report anything to the king. The king trusts you.”

This meant that Barnett would no longer write to the king detailing the bishop’s every move and word during his journey.

The bishop considered asking if this was the king’s order but then thought that someone as loyal and reliable as Barnett would continue his reports unless specifically instructed otherwise by Landes.

“Very well,” the bishop smiled. “That’s good.”

Spring, summer, and autumn passed as the bishop traveled through several countries. He did good deeds everywhere, bringing food, water, and religious teachings to people. He won debates, delivered speeches from high platforms, earned the respect of several kings, and amassed considerable wealth and many followers. He won over those who accused him of arrogance, elevating his reputation above any other religious leader in any country.

For two consecutive years, the bishop did not return to Lecy. His Knights grew with more noble youths joining, all wealthy lords who could afford strong horses and sharp weapons. Each knight represented a small squad of over a hundred men from their estates. The Holy Knights, honored by the bishop’s personal blessing, became immensely prestigious. Though some initially joined with impure motives, like Adonis, under the bishop’s guidance, they slowly transformed into genuinely devout followers.

After traveling through all the countries, the bishop began his return journey, starting with Roque. There, he conversed with the king of Roque, and Adonis ascended to the throne, becoming the second king crowned by the bishop on the continent of Auston.

“Every member of the knighthood is your brother,” the bishop said, cradling Adonis’ hands in his own, his voice flowing gently like spring water. “The Lord will guide you, I will teach you, and your brothers will help you in times of difficulty. Adonis, from now on, you are no longer a lonely child. You have a real home.”

Adonis, with tears streaming down his face, kissed the bishop’s shoes. He was a prince lost in political intrigue and struggles, but by the bishop’s side, he found true solace for his soul. He cast aside his hypocrisy, changed himself, and from the bottom of his heart became a devout believer.

The news of the new King Roke’s coronation and his acknowledgment by the bishop quickly spread throughout the continent of Auston. It caused a huge impact, just like the coronation of King Lecy years ago, but with even greater force.

The bishop’s prestige and the submission of the two kings made the rulers of other nations uneasy, a fear that came from an inexplicable intuition.

This fear exploded completely when the bishop returned to Lecy.

Lecy declared war on Messin—in the name of God, to punish the unfaithful sinners.

The campaign was personally led by King Randes. After three years of governance and recuperation, the strength of Lecy was no longer what the continent’s nations had in mind. The battle lasted only two months before the King of Messin announced his acknowledgment of his unfaithfulness to God, his disrespect to the bishop, and his willingness to undergo the bishop’s baptism and coronation anew. He also recognized that all religious practices within Messin were illegal unless verified by the bishop.

This campaign was later known in the unified continental history as the beginning of the “Holy War.”

On the day of triumph, King Randes led the army back to the capital and immediately went to Chasburg Cathedral to pay his respects to Bishop Eugene, who had baptized him.

In front of witnesses, the bishop commended the king for his piety. The king kissed the bishop’s hand; everything was extremely solemn and respectful. Afterward, the king left with his guards, and the bishop returned to the church with the crowd.

Harlan handed the king, who had entered the carriage, a rolled-up letter tied with a ribbon.

The king glanced at it. “What is this?”

“A list of all eligible noble ladies in the capital.”

The king looked away. “I don’t need it.”

Harlan put away the scroll and shrugged. “Alright, I knew you would say that.”

The king ignored him and turned his face to the carriage wall.

“With all due respect,” Harlan couldn’t help but say, “since you still love—”

“Shut up.”

The king coldly rebuked, “Unless you want me to kick you out of the carriage.”

Harlan covered his mouth with his hand, indicating he would say no more.

But he really didn’t understand. The king had been pining for that person for three years without change, yet he never showed it. The two acted as if nothing had ever happened. Even though Harlan was a master of love affairs, he couldn’t fathom it.

Could it be the king’s proud dignity that kept him from pursuing the bishop? No, Harlan knew the king well. The king’s pride wasn’t something that would restrain him like that.

“May I say one more thing? Just one.” Harlan held up one finger.

The king did not respond.

Harlan asked, “So do you still plan to marry?”

The diplomat was kicked out of the carriage.

The conversation ended.

The king finally had a moment of peace. His tense face revealed genuine emotion, his hidden longing and love surging in his eyes. He clenched his fist against his brow, trying to resist the overwhelming tide of emotions. He sniffed his fingers; those two fingers had held the bishop’s hand. He didn’t know how much willpower it took to restrain himself from kissing the back of the bishop’s hand too fervently.

The king panted heavily, trying to suppress all his wild emotions repeatedly, his face twisted in agony.

When would he be able to forget completely like the bishop?

He didn’t know, perhaps never in his life.

He really wanted to be as cold-hearted, but he couldn’t. His heart still ached with love for him.

He could only choose to focus all his energy on their common goal—to unify the entire continent and offer the papal crown. Maybe by then, he could again ask him to face him and his feelings without prejudice.

“Bishop.”

Bunier stepped forward to remind him, “It’s time for your meal.”

The bishop was sitting on a bench feeding pigeons. He shook off the crumbs from his fingers and stood up, clapping his hands.

“There is something I need to report to you,” Bunier said. “Duke of Sharman has written again.”

“About the same matter?”

“Yes.”

Bunier continued, “You know, he has been very devout these past few years,” he observed the bishop’s expression, “he is very eager to join the knighthood and follow you.”