Chapter 174: Selling
"I am truly sorry, Bishop. I am willing to dedicate my life to the Lord, but my grandmother taught from a young age that I am the future heir of the Adams Family, and I must bear that responsibility." Agamnon knelt to the ground, bowed deeply, and said.
"Ah, you need not feel such guilt. Your initial intention in coming to the Church was for your family, and even after witnessing so many things, you have still managed to remain true to yourself. I am glad for you—you have not lost your way." Corleon sighed and said.
Though he had long known what Agamnon's choice would be, Corleon still felt a trace of disappointnt.
The Great Church was the core, and the one presiding over the Great Church ought to be the Bishop. However, the power of the Commandnt · Bishop was far too overwhelming. Even a Priest like Nyx could assimilate hundreds of people within a single day, and the Bishop’s strength was even more terrifying.
Because of this, anyone who chose to beco a Bishop could no longer serve as the head of a family.
For a family to survive, it could not remain spotless, and yet a Bishop, as the Servant of the Lord, must also issue orders that could themselves beco sins. How great a defilent would such things bring upon the Bishop’s Faith?
That was why Corleon made Agamnon choose.
Even though he had known the result long before.
"Then please, retract the power of the Lord." Agamnon said.
"I hope you can serve as the Church Discipline Prefect of the Monastery, to teach the Church's Scriptures, instruct those Apprentices of the Monastery qualified for a second year of study, and guide the Monks recomnded by the Small Churches for advanced studies." Corleon said. "When you co of age and leave the Church to return to your family, the position of Prefect will be passed on to another."
"I am willing to teach them," Agamnon said.
He had already done this sort of thing many tis. After the death of Nyx, it was he who had taken over the responsibility of instructing the Apprentices of the Monastery in the Church’s Scriptures. Most of the current Priests had essentially been nurtured by him. Taking on this appointnt was rely giving him an official title.
"Then the power of the Priest shall remain with you. You must also explain and demonstrate the power of the Lord to those who are qualified to beco Priests, so that they may maintain reverence." Corleon said.
"As You will." Agamnon responded.
…
Piero arrived at the Monastery. The number of Apprentices of the Monastery from the first and second batches had already exceeded a hundred, but because of the Dean’s regulations, all of them spoke only in whispers as they walked the halls.
Privately, they said the rule existed because the Dean was under a Curse that prevented him from speaking freely, and seeing others speak without restraint would make him sad.
Piero found their speculation rather amusing. He could confidently tell them: they were correct.
Of course, he dared not say it out loud. That the Dean of the Monastery was petty was common knowledge—and right now, he needed to ask the Dean for a favor.
On his way to the Dean’s office, the Apprentices he passed greeted him politely.
This discipline gave Piero a strange feeling, like he had walked from a world filled with people always speaking of profit and power into a civilized society.
Although these Apprentices' ambitions for power were not small at all.
Moreover, if they could learn not to reveal contempt in their eyes or expressions while greeting, Piero might have been genuinely pleased.
These youths were smart enough, but lacked the polish of reality.
But that was only natural. So long as they revealed themselves as Apprentices of the Monastery, commoners would respect them, and the Local Gentry would treat them as honored guests.
Piero had not grown up with the Monastery as his backing, so he only smiled mildly and returned their greetings according to the still-imperfect etiquette that these Apprentices had formulated in their power struggles.
As a result, the contempt in their eyes deepened. After Piero passed, he could even hear them saying he was a useless man, and that if they were the Administrator, they would XXXX...
Piero rely listened, expression unchanged, and walked straight to the Dean’s office.
He raised his hand, but before he could knock—creak.
The door opened.
It was no secret that Oscar, the Dean of the Monastery, was a Mage. Piero knew this, so he stepped inside without surprise.
"So, the busy Administrator Piero, what matter brings you to the Monastery today?" Oscar was using Magic to guide ink across a blueprint, eyes fixed intently on the complex patterns without looking up as he spoke.
"I just ca from the Great Church," Piero said.
Oscar paused, returned the excess ink to the bottle, and the door to the Dean’s office closed on its own.
"Ah, sounds troubleso." Oscar sat down. A teapot steeping red tea and two cups descended onto the table and poured themselves tea.
"Every ti I see this Magic, I find it fascinating." Piero sat down, eyes following the teapot as it returned to its place.
"The three great branches of Magic—manipulating elents, controlling souls, transforming matter—now that is fascinating. As for levitating objects like this, anyone with a strong enough Will can manage it." Oscar said. "All right, state your business. My ti is precious, and I don’t believe you ca just to discuss how amazing Magic is."
Piero didn’t bother with small talk. In truth, there wasn’t much point trying with Oscar. These Scholar-Teachers of the Monastery were pure-hearted enough, and especially with the Church behind them, they had no interest in attending banquets or socializing.
To them, anything that wasted their research ti was an offense.
"The Marquis Territory suffering from the Wolf Catastrophe in the North—there is now only one Noble remaining who has co to seek help. The Church will send warriors to clear the Werewolves, and the Senate will dispatch an army to assist. However, the Marquis is already dead. That land is now a vast, unclaid territory. So, apart from clearing the Werewolves, the Senate’s army also hopes to occupy that land," Piero said bluntly, revealing his intent to annex without euphemism.
"The Church will not get involved in such matters. You can decide as you see fit," Oscar replied. He understood the Church’s stance far better than Piero.
Under the Bishop’s high standards, even within the York Territory, there weren’t enough Priests to go around—how could they proactively involve themselves in matters like these?
Moreover, the Bishop never directly interfered in political affairs.
"Yes. That is what I’ve decided, and the Senate has approved. I also just consulted the Bishop and received tacit consent," even if it was only conveyed by Agamnon.
"Then why have you co to ?" Oscar sipped his red tea.
"The people there are lost and suffering. Their production has stopped for a year, ravaged by Werewolves. Compared to the York Territory, it is a wasteland. I believe the knowledge gained by the graduates of the Monastery can help revive it more quickly. So I hope that the first batch of Apprentices of the Monastery may accompany the army, to aid those who have suffered, and bring them the Lord’s rcy sooner." Piero said.
"Ha, so that’s your angle." Oscar laughed. He already knew much of what the Apprentices were doing—in fact, many of their actions were at his direction.
He didn’t care about power; he cared about what disruptions these educated people could bring to the existing order.
He saw this as a grand experint.
And just from hearing Piero’s words, he could guess his plan.
"Let guess—the Bishop gave tacit consent again, didn’t he?" Oscar said.
"Yes," Piero smiled and replied.
"I can let them go, but what do I or the Monastery gain from this?" Oscar asked directly, indifferent to the Apprentices’ feelings.
Of course he didn’t care. The Monastery was their foundation. The Senate feared them not just because of the Apprentices’ cunning, but more because of the Monastery behind them.
Because of the Monastery and the Church, people played by their rules. But if others abandoned those rules, the Apprentices wouldn’t even qualify to sit at the table.
Just like now, when Piero spoke directly with the Bishop and the Dean of the Monastery, the Apprentices beca nothing more than goods in a trade.
"I can’t think of anything the Monastery lacks. So, I’ll let the Dean decide. Whatever you need, we’ll do our best to et it," Piero said.
"Hmm, that really is a problem. I don’t know what I need either," Oscar rested his head on his hand and said.
"But since the Bishop gave his consent, I will naturally handle this. As for my reward—we’ll talk about that later when I need it."
The corner of Piero’s intact eye twitched. These kinds of vague promises were always troubling.
But he also knew Oscar couldn’t lie, which ant he truly didn’t know what he wanted.
After a mont’s hesitation, Piero said, "I am rely an Administrator who could be replaced at any mont. I fear that when you need sothing, I may not be in a position to repay you."
"Don’t worry about that. I won’t make things difficult for you. Whatever I ask, it will be sothing you can do," Oscar said.
"In that case, thank you for your help, Dean," Piero finally said.
"Well then, with that matter settled, I presu you don’t need to escort you out," Oscar said.
"That matter is settled, but I have one more request, Dean," Piero said.
"..." Oscar raised his hand, signaling him to speak.
"My child is now twelve. She’s of age to enter the Monastery. I want her to study here—but she’s a girl, and I haven’t seen any girls studying in the Monastery."
"Oh, I see..." Oscar mused for a mont, then said, "The Bishop never distinguished by gender. So long as her age is sufficient, and thirty Gold Coins are paid, she may study here."
"Then, co February, I will bring her," Piero said.
February and August were the two annual periods when new Apprentices entered the Monastery.
After Piero left, Oscar sat in silence for a mont, then suddenly chuckled.
"Ha, so you’re all learning too—undermining from within, huh? Looks like the third batch of Apprentices will be quite a lively bunch."
…
After returning, Piero conveyed the Monastery’s response to Puniel. Upon receiving the confirmation, Puniel went the next day to the tavern where Belair was temporarily staying and inford him.
"After discussions with Administrator Piero, we’ve decided that we need to help you. We will conscript a group of warriors to assist you, and I will personally lead this force," Puniel said.
This was the most beautiful sound Belair had heard in days—even though Puniel added that all the funding for the conscripted warriors would need to co from Belair.
Belair imdiately handed over all the remaining gold, silver, and gems he had brought.
That was but a small pile from one-third of the Marquis Territory’s gathered wealth.
The amount made even Puniel, in that mont, unable to look away.
"I will summon five hundred brave warriors. I will help dear Brother Belair sweep away all enemies." Puniel's muscular arm wrapped around Belair’s neck, confidently increasing the initial three hundred to five hundred.
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