"Also for technical reasons, we don’t want the Church to know... that we can detect all supernatural activity throughout the city. So this ti, we’ve rented an entire building on the street opposite the Church. It’s not only for surveillance; we also plan to dig a tunnel."
Due to the Kingdom’s burial customs, every church has catacombs beneath it. This is especially true for an ancient one like Saint Miller, which has layer upon layer of catacombs underground, mostly filled with the higher-status deceased among the faithful.
Thus, the Star Robe Team and the Cultists from before had the exact sa idea—to undermine the Church, you start from underground.
However, the convoy carrying their "tools of the trade" got stuck in traffic.
"These roads are getting worse and worse! The streets are packed with people and carriages!"
’No, those might be protestors...’ Rorschach thought as he looked out the car window and saw a bakery by the roadside.
Commoners had neither the ans nor the ti to bake their own bread. Bakeries and bakers were essential elents of the city, the foundation that fed its people.
But today, citing a shortage of raw materials, the bakery had not only raised its prices but also limited its sales.
"What? Six Copper Coins for a pound of bread? And they’re already out?" Rorschach and the other Mages then saw a crowd of won, their bread baskets and stomachs empty, their hearts full of fury.
Their husbands were at work, their children were growing, and they themselves had much labor to do. Yet today, they had spent the entire morning waiting in line at the bakery, only to be told they couldn’t buy a thing.
"We’re out, we’re just out... OUCH!" The bakery owner cried out as a brick hit him on the head. He clutched his head and quickly slamd the door shut.
BANG BANG BANG! After pounding on the door and windows to no avail, a bold woman surprisingly suggested, "That profiteer definitely has food inside! He’s just waiting for the prices to go up again! We can’t live like this! Let’s go to His Majesty the King and plead our case!"
"To the Royal Palace!"
"Let’s find His Majesty!"
The Mages in the carriage were incredulous. "Did I hear that right?"
Rorschach shrugged. "The ti has co to test your King’s benevolence."
The inability to buy bread and the price hikes were not isolated incidents. In fact, lower-class families were already beginning to starve. The won raised their bread baskets and brooms, marching boisterously toward the Royal Palace as more and more people joined them.
"We want bread! We want bread!"
At the outer periter of the Royal Palace, a Guard tried to perform his duty. "Halt!" However, seeing the massive, swarming crowd, the few Guards hesitated, even though they held long guns with bayonets and the people before them were practically unard.
"Sir, we just want to speak with His Majesty! To let our saint know his subjects are starving!" The woman at the front raised her bread basket high, showing that it was empty.
"Let us in!"
"Let us in!"
The waves of shouting grew louder and louder. One of the Guards turned and left. "I’m going to report to the Guard Captain!"
This created an opening. The won paid it no mind and began squeezing through the gap in the human wall, finally pouring inside in a steady stream.
’Should we stop them?’ The Guards looked at the intruders. They weren’t enemy soldiers, not sans-culottes, nor were they people with Divine Power or Magic Power. They were just won in aprons and coarse cloth headscarves.
So were older, like their own mothers; so were younger, like their sisters. In any case, no Guard wanted to harm these simple yet audacious intruders. They only tried to block them by holding their guns horizontally, but there were too many people. The guns were pushed aside by bread baskets woven from vines and straw...
"Guards! King’s Guard!"
Amidst the shouts of the palace servants, the intruders had already reached the grand hall. The luxurious decorations distracted the won sowhat. As they crossed the courtyard and the hall, their pace slowed, allowing the Royal Palace’s Guard to regroup.
The Guard Captain and the mbers of the guard, who were sons of the Nobility, had no such psychological burden. The Guard Captain took out his exquisite Short Gun and fired a shot into the air. This act was a major taboo in the court, but seeing the hundreds, even thousands, of people made his scalp tingle. He needed the smoke and the loud noise to bolster his own courage.
That shot, however, brought everyone’s attention back. The leader was a true hero. Like the Saintess who had led the people of the Kingdom against the Istani a century ago, she held her head high and strode step by step toward the Guard Captain.
"We are here to petition. We only wish to have a few words with the King. Sir, if things go on like this, we’ll starve to death anyway. Do you think we’re afraid of your gun?"
Her bread basket beca her Holy Shield, her broom a Holy Sword. Though the shield could protect no one and the sword could harm no one, the woman’s inexplicable courage drove her ever forward.
Her followers surged after her. For the first ti, the marble steps of the Royal Palace were trod upon by so many "lowly people."
"Lunatic... crazy bitch!" The Guard Captain tossed out this remark and hurried into a room, surely to "protect the important personage on the second floor of the Royal Palace."
Oh no! The Guard Captain had entered the Queen’s tea room. A handmaiden shouted, "Your Excellency the Guard Captain, what is wrong with you? Firing a gun outside and now barging in here unannounced!"
Queen Mary, not as blindly impetuous as a maid, asked, "Guard Captain, has sothing happened?"
"There are intruders! Your Highness the Queen, they’re here!"
Just then, the Queen shot to her feet. The won had already broken in—in fact, the Guard Captain had led them right here.
The woman before them was so beautiful and graceful. Her dress seed to glow, her hair was so silky, and to the side, afternoon tea snacks were arranged like a multi-tiered tower. They were so exquisite that the won, who had never seen such pastries, didn’t even realize they were edible.
"What do you want?!" The question, the panic—the emotions contorted the beautiful woman’s face. White makeup powder flew from her skin in the sunlight, releasing a fragrant scent.
"This is Her Highness the Queen! That’s far enough!" The Guard Captain stepped forward to shield the Queen, his courage seemingly restored.
’So that beautiful woman really is the Queen!’ The thought surfaced in the minds of many of the won who had entered, along with a question: ’Why is the Queen afraid of us?’
This grand intrusion, which had reached the Queen’s very chambers, finally alard Charles XVI. After the Queen’s tearful complaints and the Guard Captain’s exaggerated, responsibility-shirking report, the King decided to "risk it" and et with the brave housewives.
"His Majesty the King!"
No introduction was needed. The rather short man before them truly possessed an otherworldly air. See, in the entire Royal Palace, only he could still manage a gentle smile, a stark contrast to the nervousness, fear, and resentnt of everyone else.
"I understand your grievances. It’s true, everyone needs bread to live! You are not to be blad. It is I and my ministers who have failed in our duties.
"I promise you, the bread supply in Valuva will be restored. As for the profiteers, I will not spare a single one!"
Charles XVI was truly a benevolent monarch! At least, he was more than happy to receive the people’s adoration—so long as it didn’t require him to sacrifice his pleasures and position.
By the ti Count Dipresy arrived, the won had already left, showering the King with thanks. The King, however, looked at the countless muddy footprints in his palace, his affable smile long since replaced by a dark scowl.
"Guard Captain, make all the grain rchants cough up their hoarded supplies! Seize two of the worst offenders, hang them in public, and declare my wrath to appease the people’s anger!"
Then, the King turned to Dipresy. "Count Dipresy, convene the Third Level Estate Assembly at once! Also, get Nekker back here, imdiately! I don’t care where he’s hiding, I’m ordering that man to get his ass back here and clean up this ss!"
The King’s hand trembled as he pointed at the muddy footprints.
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