Chapter 169: Senate

After entering the town, the crowded streets within gave Belair a sense of familiarity.

In his current territory, commoners were gathering in the town to defend against Werewolves, which also resulted in the town becoming crowded.

However, compared to the somewhat lifeless commoners in his own town, this place felt more lively, with the constant shouts of peddlers echoing through the streets.

The Knights cleared the path and escorted Belair to a house beside the Lord’s Fortress.

This was the Senate. The house was not very large. Compared to the architectural complexes of the Church of the Sanctuary that Belair had seen, it looked more like a commoner’s dwelling.

But as Belair stepped down from the carriage, he breathed a sigh of relief. Three lavishly dressed individuals stood at the entrance to welcome him.

They were three Barons, nobles just like him.

“Baron Belair Burke, welcome.” The man in the middle slightly bowed and said, “Puniel Rich.”

“Bevan Morton,” said the man on the left.

“Jeffrey Sacker,” said the man on the right.

After the self-introductions, the middle one, Puniel, continued, “Administrator Piero is currently inspecting the fishery bordering the east and Lake Salvador. As you know, the Principality of Corlay has already been overrun by those Fishmen, and Lake Salvador borders the Principality of Corlay. Although it contains Piranhas, which serve as a natural barrier, no one knows if those Fishmen might go mad and cross Lake Salvador to invade the York Territory. So today, we are here to welcome Baron Belair.”

“Indeed, no one knows what those mad Fishmen are capable of doing,” Belair bowed deeply and then said, “Thank you, Your Lordships. I, Belair Burke, am deeply honored.”

This was the most anticipated situation he had encountered since seeing the Church of the Sanctuary.

Even though Baron Puniel’s words hinted clearly that the three of them held less power than that Administrator Piero, they were, after all, still nobles. Under the current circumstances, they were naturally considered Belair’s allies.

He signaled Julian and Borien, those Knights, to try and make some connections and perhaps gather some additional information. Then Belair entered the Senate along with the three Barons.

Though it was common for nobles to have loyal Knights present during discussions, Belair felt that in this situation, it was best not to provoke the three Barons.

Inside the Senate was a round table with eight seats. Four of them already had meals placed in front, while the main seat remained empty.

There were four attendants inside, their heads wrapped in white scarves. Their ears were covered, specifically severed, and their hearing destroyed—attendants rendered deaf on purpose.

After the attendants closed the doors of the Senate, Baron Puniel spoke rather directly, “We understand Baron Belair’s intention. It is nothing more than trade relations and military support to drive out those Werewolves.”

“But I suppose you’ve seen it by now. We hold no real power. Even our positions as Senators exist merely to preserve the dignity of us nobles.” His words were blunt.

However, Belair was not surprised.

No Knights, no territory, no army, no Holy Relics, and even imprisoned here as a captive—these nobles were arguably in a worse situation than he was.

It was only natural for such nobles to hold no power.

“Yes, I saw it along the way—the place of the Church of the Sanctuary,” said Belair. “Their churches are even more magnificent than the Lord’s Fortress, and yet the York Territory boasts about them.”

“Of course they boast. If such splendid architecture existed in my own territory, I would proudly invite you all to visit,” Baron Puniel snorted coldly.

“No need to probe,” he continued. “The Lord is simply absent, even unreachable. The Knight Wolf, responsible for military affairs, and Administrator Piero, in charge of administration, have already become extensions of the Church’s power. No one knows what Sir Pegiraov is thinking, but this situation has already come to pass.”

“Nominally, this York Territory belongs to Sir Pegiraov, but now it seems more like the domain of the Church of the Sanctuary. All that remains is an official Proclamation.”

“Even those lowly commoners sing praises of the Church of the Sanctuary. They’ve already forgotten who the true master of this land is.”

“In the former northern part of York Territory, seven villages. In the south, eight villages. And the west, where we were annexed, has sixteen villages—thirty-one villages in total. Among them, fourteen villages with populations exceeding four hundred have Small Churches of the Church of the Sanctuary.”

“Yes, they claim not to interfere in the laws, taxes, or defenses of the territory. But compared to officials, the commoners trust the people of the Small Churches more. As a result, officials appointed by the Senate must consult the Small Churches when doing anything in those villages.”

“Of course, they must consult them. The laws of this territory are now set by the Church of the Sanctuary, and the final interpretation lies with those Priests.”

“The Church of the Sanctuary, under the name of Faith, dominates the souls and wills of those commoners, making them obey their commands. Their Guardian Knights, those Temple Warriors, those Conscripted Warriors, and those damned Honorary Knights, enforce this authority with the blades in their hands.”

“They even wield unknown powers, burning those who resist them with flames. These flames are called the Purifying Flame, incinerating those who oppose the Church of the Sanctuary alive—it is truly cruel.”

“They even call resistance against the Church an act of Sin!”

“And they’re not content with that. They also want to dictate the behavior of us nobles.”

“They force us to wear these ostentatious and impractical clothes, make us take up knives and forks to slowly slice meat.”

As Baron Puniel spoke, he picked up the knife and fork in front of him and cut into the roasted meat. After only two pulls, he grew impatient and grabbed the meat with his hand, tearing into it like a beast. Greasy juices dripped from the corner of his mouth onto his luxurious clothing.

“This—eating meat by the mouthful, drinking wine by the mouthful—is what we nobles should do!” he roared, slamming the table.

The expression on his face had completely changed from when he had welcomed Belair. Now it was fierce and savage, like a trapped beast howling.

“They even regulate the entertainment of us nobles. We must read books, maintain neat and elegant appearances, listen to the pleas of those lowly commoners. Even when it comes to hunting and recreation, we’re only allowed to hunt beasts like wolves and bears.”

“What is the point of hunting such beasts? True hunting is hunting humans, especially those untamed commoners—driven out, shot with arrows, their legs pierced so they can only kneel and howl. Then ride up on horseback, and when their pleas become hoarse, shoot an arrow through their throat, then cut off their heads. That is the glory nobles should earn from the hunt.”

A cruel grin surfaced on his face. His eyes fixed tightly on Belair, like a predator eyeing its prey, making Belair shiver from the bottom of his heart.

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