Chapter 273: I Forgive Your Sin

After the banquet that lasted through the night, Jeven used the excuse of still needing to sort supplies to let the nobles rest for a day, while Senator Puniel led the army toward Blackrock Point.

The next day, the nobles, who had just sobered up, heard loud rumbles and tremors.

Then, under the gaze of Bishop Jeven, they looked toward the direction of Blackrock Point. Where they should have been able to see the faint tip of a peak, that tip had now vanished.

Thus, the nobles who knew just how massive the domain of Blackrock Point was became much more obedient.

Only then did Jeven lead them from the Corlay Family’s territory back north toward Rod City of the Northern Kingdom.

…

At Blackrock Point, Puniel rode atop his restless horse, his face flushed with excitement.

“Perfect! This is true taste.” He looked at the erased Blackrock Point and spoke loudly.

Behind him stood four towering frames, now full of cracks. The long arms used for hurling stones were charred, the sinews of some unknown dark creatures that had provided the tension were all snapped, and the gemstones embedded in the wooden stakes and planks, which stored magical power, had been shattered.

Apprentices wrapped fully in black robes, their appearances unrecognizable, rushed about recording the consumption and power of this round of bombardment.

Around these frames, warriors and mercenaries who had just witnessed a mountain peak erased by this round of volleys were terrified. Only the knights still managed to remain calm.

Puniel suddenly turned back and shouted loudly: “We have slain all the dark creatures of Blackrock Point. From this day forth, Blackrock Point is no longer their domain!”

The warriors looked at one another, bewildered. They had merely come here and had not even seen a single dark creature.

Soon enough, someone clever understood Puniel’s meaning and shouted: “Yes, under the wise leadership of General Puniel, we have successfully purged the dark creatures of Blackrock Point! We have conquered this place, and even conquered the Principality of Corlay!”

Puniel nearly lost his composure.

Where had this genius come from, to dare claim they had conquered the Principality of Corlay?

Though, in theory, it was indeed so, for such a claim the credit had to be shared with the Church.

After Grand Duke Raymond Corlay had been slain, the Principality of Corlay was formally declared annihilated.

But Puniel thought again—perhaps if it was proclaimed so, the Diocese of York also had the right to swallow the entire Principality of Corlay? And including the Church’s men in the achievement would not lessen the merit, would it?

After all, though it was never stated outright, everyone knew the Senate of the Diocese of York was the Church’s dog.

Although no living people seemed to remain in these lands, the land itself was more important than lives—especially fertile land. Over the years, after following the Church’s rules, Puniel and the others had learned the true value of food.

So he kept silent, simply listening to the growing cheers.

When the cheers reached their peak, he suddenly raised his hand, and silence instantly fell.

In that moment, Puniel felt immense satisfaction. He thought back to when he had only been a baron—back then, even pulling together five hundred warriors had been his limit. And what elite were those five hundred? If fifty among them were Upper Warriors, that had already been his strongest days.

Feeling content, Puniel shouted loudly: “I will not enjoy this glory alone. This gold, I will divide equally among you. You will march through the Triumphal Arch outside York City, and within York City your brave deeds will be sung!”

Even though the two thousand men here all knew the truth, even though the thirty thousand Jeven had brought back also knew the truth—who cared? What men loved most to hear was always what they wanted to hear. Dean Oscar had already proven this theory with the matter of Marl.

After the warriors’ frenzied cheering, two idle apprentices gathered together. One said: “Isn’t the gold created by the Morning Star affecting reality no different from human excrement?”

The other said: “Indeed, that is its nature. But this is golden excrement. And the red-gold within it, infused with the Morning Star’s power, must be collected and taken back.”

The first said: “So what you mean is, we are refining the Morning Star’s richest excrement?”

The other said: “Since you know, then stop disgusting people by saying it aloud, dear brother Arturo.”

The first said: “Oh, didn’t we agree that when acting as magic apprentices, you would call me Gregor?”

The other said: “Idiot. Gregor has long since graduated, and under the wise General Puniel, was placed into the army. Yes, he is here right now. Aren’t you afraid of being caught? And more importantly, among the fifty apprentices here, forty-five are calling themselves Gregor. So tell me, are you treating others as fools, or are you simply too stupid?”

The first said: “Fine, then if you are so clever, surely you are not using the name Gregor.”

The other said: “Idiot. With so many using Gregor, if I didn’t use it, wouldn’t that make me the bigger fool?”

…

In the end, after only one round of trials with the Monastery’s weapons, the army returned. With not a single man lost, each carried the gold that slowed their march, singing a freshly made ballad of “the wise General Puniel who conquered a principality,” as they passed through the glorious Triumphal Arch of the Diocese of York.

This was the first time anyone had stepped through the Arch since its completion. This time, Piero had even brought from the south several ‘pure maidens’ to scatter flowers—far grander than what Bishop Marl had arranged before. For these maidens were truly noble daughters, and among them, one instantly fell in love with a returning warrior, vowing marriage on the spot.

As for the fact that this warrior’s true name was Gregor Rich—no one cared.

Thus, the tale of the Triumphal Arch spread, carried southward under certain guiding hands.

And amid these triumphant songs, a group entered the gates leading directly to the Church of the Sanctuary.

…

On the first floor of the Clock Tower, a coffin was placed in the center. Monk Agamemnon sat in the right-center row of seats, while in the back row, on both sides, seven knights clad in armor and draped in black cloaks sat quietly, their expressions wary, curious, or contemplative.

On the foremost seat to the left sat Cicero. He said: “I have disappointed my father. On his deathbed, he brought me into his command tent.”

“Father ordered his personal guards, who commanded his army, to swear loyalty to me. The First Guard was Weilin Daniels. I thought of Ando. I hesitated. I did not know whether I should kill him outright as he knelt before me, with my sword at his neck, or whether I should accept his loyalty with my father’s decisiveness.”

“My father saw my hesitation. He took the sword from my hand and cleanly cut off Weilin’s head.”

“Father said he was disappointed in my weakness. Whether killing Weilin or accepting his loyalty, it should have been decisive. A king must lead men forward and cannot falter.”

“Father said he was proud of my kindness. That though I bore the noblest bloodline, I would not, like him, disregard human life.”

“Father said he had seen the palace I built for him. Though its walls were not made of the bones of gods, but of ordinary soil, he felt joy, for he saw my sincerity within it.”

“Father said, as I was, I was unfit to inherit his place. To inherit it was simple—only a firm will was needed. One need only believe: the world must bend to my will. Whether that will was the good written in the Sacred Scriptures, or evil.”

“Father said he would not leave this land he had conquered to me, for my boldness did not match this land—the heart of an empire: three principalities, a fertile green plain.”

“Father said I should not be saddened. He had not fought to this day for his only bloodline to bear such weight. I should pursue what I myself desired.”

Cicero’s voice calmly recounted his final conversation with Pegira.

Corleon’s voice rang out in that hall: “Then, what confusion remains? Since joining the Church, you have done well. You have shown your talent. You built the Church, built York City. Your father was satisfied. I am satisfied.”

Cicero replied: “But this land is still in chaos. The territory of the Corlay Principality has been emptied of people, ravaged by Fishmen. The Ackerman Principality still holds remnants of the Ackerman Family. The proud nobles who followed my father to war are returning to their families. Chaos reigns. As my father’s child, I should bring order. Yet Father left me no such duty.”

“After Father’s death, I knew I had a child. Yet his will lingered, preventing me from knowing who my child was. He left the responsibilities I should have borne to him instead.”

“As my father’s son, I disappointed him. As my child’s father, I am weak. Perhaps I even had a wife, but I cannot remember her face. For this, I feel lost. It is my weakness.”

Corleon’s voice asked: “So, what do you intend to do now?”

Cicero replied: “I do not know. I remain lost. I wonder if I should bear the responsibility Father left for my child, just as Father did the things I should have done.”

Corleon asked: “Could you kill ten thousand men begging for mercy before you? They are innocent. You never knew their names. They are like stones beneath your feet. You could step over them. But you are king. You cannot stumble because of them. So, as naturally as stepping forward, you must kill them.”

Cicero replied: “In terms of strength, I could. But I am certain that when faced with such a situation, I would choose to raise my foot higher instead.”

Corleon said: “But this is what a king must endure.”

Cicero replied: “That is why I am lost. I do not know what to do.”

Corleon said: “You need not be lost. Pursue what you desire. As your father said: as king, he thought you unfit. As son, he was proud of you.”

Cicero replied: “But I am Cicero Lundex.”

Corleon said: “You are also a child of the Lord. The Lord said every man has his mission. This does not come from bloodline, but from the heart. What you desire to do is your mission. You need not force upon yourself a duty because of bloodline. Just as your father did not ask you to inherit his work, but urged you to pursue your will. He would be proud of what you do.”

Cicero asked: “But what of the chaos in these three principalities?”

Corleon replied: “I am still here.”

Cicero said: “I feel pain for my words and actions. I am so base. I yearn for you to bear my duty. I have sinned.”

Corleon said: “I forgive your sin.”

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