Chapter 267: Absolute Supremacy of Power

Violating the Holy Scriptures meant one needed to face judgment. But was this judgment based on the Holy Scriptures—or on power?

Just as Grand Duke Raymond had demonstrated: the old man who handled affairs for him deceived him, and therefore, Grand Duke Raymond passed judgment on him.

And who had first determined that deception was a sin?

Naturally, it was someone with strong power.

Just like Grand Duke Raymond—because he possessed great strength, he could declare the old man guilty.

Did Jeven not know this?

Of course Jeven knew.

Every priest was rigorously trained. How could they not have been taught about the true essence of authority? One of the standards for raising priests was that their physical strength needed to reach the level of Upper Warriors. This ensured they had at least some measure of self-defense.

Yet, though every priest understood these theories before leaving the Clock Tower, once they entered villages and lived peacefully among villagers, the “power” they held in their hearts gradually shifted toward the Holy Scriptures and commandments.

They came to believe that as long as they upheld the Holy Scriptures and commandments, they held authority within the Diocese of York.

The Church’s influence in the Diocese of York had seeped too deeply—so deep that the mere word “Church” itself represented irresistible power.

Only in places where the Church’s power was relatively weaker did priests not suffer this distortion. There, when spreading the Holy Scriptures, they infused them with the backing of power.

Like relying on the power of their superior, Bishop Marl.

Like cooperating with Earl Richard.

Like calling upon the Temple Warriors under Bishop Marl’s command.

Because of this disparity between regions, when Agamemnon initiated Anathema, the Adrian Diocese under Bishop Marl responded collectively, while only a portion of priests within the Diocese of Rod answered the call.

For priests of the Adrian Diocese, what they urgently needed was a power strong enough to make gentry and nobles tremble.

Only thus could they make the gentry and nobles accept the Church’s ideology and commandments.

Those who truly lost their reason, and simply believed that unwavering faith alone could spread belief in lands where faith was blank, ended up like Bishop Landon in the Land of Anathema.

Jeven suddenly realized—he was just like Bishop Landon. He had forgotten that on this land of the Corlay Family, there was no influence of the Church. In fact, because of the existence of the Theocracy, the people here likely held little goodwill toward the Church.

So, when faced with Grand Duke Raymond’s question: “Is faith power?”—how should Jeven answer?

He was at a loss.

When he first became a monk, he had always been backed by both the Church and his grandmother from the family. Thus, he had never truly practiced or directly encountered the workings of power.

In his experience, it seemed that as long as one held firm faith, power would naturally rise to support it.

Therefore, when Grand Duke Raymond directly asked about the relationship between power and faith, Jeven dared not hastily make a conclusion.

Jeven stayed silent. Grand Duke Raymond was not impatient. He even beckoned someone to bring Lord Jared a chair.

Jeven watched the servants carrying the chair. They were two scrawny men, visibly struggling with the weight of the chair. Yet, if it were a knight, he could have lifted it easily with one hand.

Raymond’s eyes rested on Jeven as he said, “I believe faith—or rather, conviction—is meant to command power. But where does that power come from?”

“For a knight, it comes through relentless training. For a noble, it comes by gathering knights. For a king or a grand duke, it comes from building an army of both knights and nobles. That is the source of a grand duke’s power. Or, as in my case, through bloodline.”

“Then, what about the Church’s power? Is it truly a strength born just from chanting the Holy Scriptures? Let me guess—at the beginning, wasn’t the Church sustained by nobles providing food and money? Oh, wait—no, perhaps considering the Church’s origins, it was more likely the gentry.”

“But after food and money from the gentry made the Church strong, did the Church then subdue those gentry with overwhelming power, forcing each one to carry a copy of the Holy Scriptures, making them act according to its rules?”

“Therefore, can I not conclude that before the Holy Scriptures came into being, what existed first was power—and when power became strong enough, it determined what went into the Holy Scriptures, instead of being bound by them?”

Raymond’s tone was slow—so slow it seemed deliberate, to make Jeven hear clearly, bit by bit, and reflect upon it.

“But as I stand here now, I think I am strong—immensely strong. I don’t believe the Church can use the Holy Scriptures, or any of its rules, to restrain me. Because I am strong. And, at least for now, I have not seen the Church stronger than me.”

“Even in spirit, I don’t think the Church surpasses me.”

“Look—you, or the Church, dared send only a merchant, with three Wild Knights and a few dozen warriors, to negotiate with me, a grand duke.”

“An insult? No. If you were stronger than me—much stronger—even if you sent just a slave, I would still treat him with the honor due a grand duke’s guest.”

“Because strength allows you to set the rules. But when a merchant doesn’t even dare come alone and needs guards—”

Raymond glanced at Jared, then continued, “See, I let only Sir Jared go to your territory with a knight’s squire. I never feared he might die there. And even if he did, I have the confidence to avenge him, to give you a retaliation you cannot endure.”

“But what of your merchant? He even needed to humiliate nobles loyal to me just to bolster his own status. Like a man trembling all over, saying to me: don’t look down on me, even if I’m weak, I can still slap your dog.”

“When your emissary must show weakness in such a way—why, Bishop Jeven, would you expect respect? Do you think a man who must seek status by striking a dog is worth my respect?”

Lord Jared sat upright, head slightly raised, a smile on his lips. Even as Raymond likened him to a dog, he appeared as though receiving praise.

Finally, Raymond said, “What I mean is—your insult to me lies not in this merchant, but in the fact that you failed to show me true sincerity—that is, strength I can recognize.”

He explained meticulously, as though afraid Jeven would not understand.

Jeven opened his mouth and asked in a heavy tone, “Even if this brings war?”

Raymond laughed, firmly replying, “Even if this brings war.”

Jeven pressed on: “But once war begins, many will die.”

“Hahaha…” Raymond laughed twice. “What war doesn’t bring death?”

Jeven was silent for a moment, then said, “But they die merely because you need proof.”

Raymond replied, “So what? They are my property. To die for me is their honor.”

His eyes shifted past Jeven to the two women in the carriage. With a smile, he ordered, “You two—end your lives.”

Jeven instinctively turned back. The two women, without hesitation, drew daggers and slit their throats.

Their bodies collapsed, twitching in pain, faces contorted, throats torn open so only rasping sounds escaped.

Soon, the sounds ceased. Two corpses lay in the carriage.

Raymond gestured to the servants to carry it away. “You see? To die for me is their honor. They are my property.”

Jeven’s throat was parched. He saw in Raymond’s heterochromatic eyes both sincerity and confusion.

This grand duke was truly asking for guidance.

Jeven’s hands trembled. His mind whirled. Then, glancing at the servant trembling in the shadows—the one who had carried Jared’s chair—suddenly inspiration struck. His trembling ceased. His eyes fixed on Raymond.

Jeven said, “What you said about knights growing strong through training is true. But what supports that training is ample food and resources. Grain is planted by farmers. Meat comes from herders and hunters. Wooden weapons for training are crafted by carpenters. Iron armor and swords are forged by blacksmiths. Only through the production of these commoners can a knight grow strong.”

“One knight is like this. A noble is like this. And even all the knights and nobles under your command as a grand duke are the same. Thus, this power ultimately originates from the support of commoners. And what those commoners look to is the Holy Scriptures—it is they who provide power to the Holy Scriptures.”

“That is why the Holy Scriptures were born—because they protect the commoners. And thus, just as they provide for knights, commoners willingly provide power to the Holy Scriptures. That is their true source of strength.”

At this, Lord Jared’s face changed slightly. He lowered his head.

Raymond, however, only laughed. “You’ve never governed, have you?”

Jeven froze. He didn’t understand why Raymond asked this, but after hesitating, he nodded. “Yes. Before becoming a bishop, I only preached in villages as a priest. I never handled governance. And now, in the diocese city I oversee, there are no commoners.”

Raymond said, “Then, before that little girl passes judgment on me, Bishop Jeven, please help me manage affairs. You are now my appointed administrator. Everyone in my domain must obey you. That is my will. Whether you need to check food, wealth, population, or even how many illegitimate children each noble has—you have authority.”

Jeven could not grasp Raymond’s intention.

Raymond stood and looked into Jeven’s doubtful eyes. “I accept what that merchant said—that you are noble. But the world you’ve seen is too narrow. I hope, once you see reality, you can give me an answer again.”

“Oh yes—the woman from the Theocracy, the one you wanted to trade for—I’ve had her released. After she’s cleaned up, she’ll be sent to your chambers. Jared, during this time, you will serve Bishop Jeven. I will not allow my honored guest to be insulted in my lands.”

With that, Raymond turned and left.

Lord Jared immediately rose and bowed deeply. “Yes, it is your will.”

Only after Raymond disappeared completely did Jared straighten.

He looked at the still-stunned Jeven, sighed, and asked, “Would you like to eat first before looking into administrative matters?”

Jeven shook his head. “Did I say something wrong? Or was it something else?”

Jared shook his head. “You were right. Completely right. As you said, we nobles and knights live by the commoners’ support.”

Jeven grew more confused. “Then why…?”

Jared said, “You got the order wrong.”

He paused, then added, “If all commoners die, as long as nobles survive, people can be bred again. But if nobles die, commoners will face extinction—whether by other nobles, or by foreign races, or by unknown beings.”

“You were correct. But this is the operating law of human society. Scholars discovered this long ago. We nobles, with our noble bloodline, of course know it as well. Yet we live in this world, and we must follow the rules it gives us.”

“In other words—absolute supremacy of power.”

…

Time passed. Above Rod City, the clouds were torn apart by Olivia’s battle aura, revealing a vast blank sky where the light of the Morning Star shone down.

Leo and Vito led warriors into formation at one corner of Rod City, faint Holy Light radiating from them, resisting the pressure of Olivia’s aura.

The Virtue Knights and mercenaries had already been moved outside the city.

“Olivia’s aura grows ever more terrifying,” Leo said gravely, eyes fixed on Olivia at the center.

Supported by Leo and Vito, Melia could barely remain here. But even her breathing grew heavy, Olivia’s aura pressing against her chest, making it difficult to inhale.

She turned her gaze away—for staring at Olivia too long made her eyes sting. Looking at Vito, she said, “The warriors Senator Puniel gathered are nearly here. But once they arrive, I fear they won’t even be able to enter the city.”

“I don’t think those warriors will even get the chance to see Olivia,” Vito said, eyes locked on her. “The moment has already come—for Olivia to speak those words.”

As soon as he finished, the oppressive aura abruptly contracted. The pressure crushing Melia vanished. She gasped deeply, then heard Olivia’s voice.

“The time has come. I will go punish the grand duke who defied the Church’s will. I’m a little hungry. I’ll be back soon for dinner.”

The voice was still that same dull seriousness, as if whispered right beside Melia’s ear.

She almost responded, but then Olivia’s body suddenly burst forth with a wave of force. Pale blue magic swirled, heavy armor encasing her. With a slight motion, her figure shot out like a streak of blue light.

Melia opened her mouth, wanting to tell Olivia to wait until Puniel’s troops arrived and act together. But the words never left her throat.

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