Chapter 478: The Siege

A prolonged siege is the greatest blow to morale and unity—no one is immune to it, not even the most devout and steadfast clerics of the Church.

When the situation is stable and there are no major conflicts of interest, the Church can maintain a fragile balance and unity. Though factions abound both inside and outside the cathedral, and the clergy at various levels are entangled in disputes big and small, at least they keep up appearances for the sake of their shared faith—essentially, they give the Holy Light some face. Any disagreements are kept under wraps, so as not to jeopardize the Church’s overall interests.

But when the Church itself has no tangible benefits to gain, or worse, becomes the very source of the threat, that surface unity begins to crack from within.

Not everyone supported the orders coming from the Holy Spirit Plains. Although former Southern Bishop Lemont held the highest authority in the Luán Cathedral, he couldn’t make all the Holy Light clerics stand as one. As a border diocese of the kingdom, the Southern Church had long been riddled with internal divisions.

The local clergy had always resisted directives from the Holy Spirit Plains. In recent years, the younger priests promoted to expand the diocese’s influence often clashed with the cathedral’s elder faction. The lower-ranking clergy wanted more autonomy in this distant land, while the higher-ups constantly worried that these “uncivilized, rough, and unrefined” rural priests would preach recklessly and distort the scriptures. Among them, some conscientious clerics were deeply resentful of the Church’s increasingly harsh actions over the past two years.

Amidst these tensions, former Bishop Lemont led nearly all the top Church authorities to join the war against the Cecil family. It was a desperate gamble.

If they could defeat the oldest noble family on this land and gain greater prestige among the coalition of over forty noble houses, Bishop Lemont would undoubtedly solidify his position in the diocese, and most of the undercurrents of dissent within Luán Cathedral would subside. If only the Cecils weren’t such formidable opponents, his chances would have been high.

But unfortunately, he failed.

His defeat pushed the entire Southern Church into opposition against the Principality of Cecil. The Holy Light faith now faced the real danger of being forcibly eradicated from this land.

Clerics who had never supported Bishop Lemont’s reckless venture were naturally boiling with resentment. And since Lemont hailed from the Holy Spirit Plains, many local priests began to waver. As conditions in Luán worsened, shortages of supplies cast a shadow over the city. Order in the outer districts deteriorated day by day, and the lower clergy accumulated mounting grievances: unlike the high-ranking clerics who could bring their families into the inner city, they themselves lived in the “small chapel district” adjacent to the outer city. The chaos outside was inevitably affecting them—and growing worse.

At this critical moment, leaflets began circulating inside the city, further worsening the situation.

Almost everyone suspected this was a “conspiracy” by the Cecils—but so what? Were the leaflets lying?

The upper echelons controlled the interpretation of scripture, the middle clergy amassed vast wealth through indulgences, and the archbishops of the Holy Spirit Plains gorged themselves in prosperous lands while meddling in the struggling southern border. Now that disaster had struck—the bishop was dead, a large number of Church knights had fallen, and the enraged Cecils had sealed off the entire Church—the consequences were to be borne by everyone within the Church. Who wouldn’t be angry?

Archbishop Flamberon’s face darkened as he crumpled the leaflet in his hand and burned it with the Holy Light. His mind raced—

Though crude in language, the Cecil propaganda was almost entirely true.

Anyone with close ties to the Church, anyone who had even a passing acquaintance with the clerical circles, could see the truth in those words.

These materials were spreading secretly, and four days wasn’t enough for them to reach the entire city… so they had to be stopped immediately.

He looked at the clerics before him. “Notify the Order of Discipline at once. Confiscate all pamphlets circulating between churches. Also, have the exiled knights and Church knights search the outer city house by house. Anyone found in possession of these materials, for any reason, must surrender them immediately. Those who refuse will be treated as heretics.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Furthermore,” Flamberon added, “those who actively surrender materials or report those hiding them will be rewarded with extra rations.”

The Church knights of Luán Cathedral and the exiled knights who had taken refuge there quickly sprang into action.

The gates of the cathedral district, long sealed, were thrown open. Fully armed knights surged out, going door to door to search for “heretical evidence.” Clerics flanked by knights took to the streets, using divine magic to broadcast warnings to any civilians hiding propaganda. Meanwhile, the outer city descended into even greater chaos.

Experienced knights could hardly conduct searches without causing some collateral damage.

Not only was the outer city growing more disorderly, but tension also thickened within the cathedral district.

Clad in black robes and bearing tattooed scalps, the monks of the Order of Discipline silently entered small chapels, interrogating all monks and low-ranking clerics. Numerous pamphlets were uncovered from hidden corners or on the persons of the clergy. Those caught hiding propaganda were immediately punished—first with confinement, then with whipping and divine penalties.

Supernaturals of the Church could not be punished in front of civilians. To maintain the Church’s dignity, all punished clerics were kept in isolation until they completed thorough penance before being released.

In just one day, thousands of propaganda materials were confiscated from all over the city—pamphlets, leaflets. Archbishop Flamberon was stunned by the sheer volume. He hadn’t expected so many.

The printing quality was exquisite—clear text, neat layouts—not at all like crude wax-block prints. He couldn’t fathom how the Cecils managed such fine printing, let alone in such quantities.

But no matter what, these materials had to be destroyed immediately.

All confiscated pamphlets were gathered and taken to the large square outside the cathedral district for a public burning. Heralds in ceremonial robes ran through the city three times, driving all civilians from their homes to witness the burning.

The square was packed with thousands of pale, gaunt-faced civilians. Due to food shortages, most in the outer city had been living in a state of semi-starvation for over half a month. The gnawing hunger bit at everyone’s spirit. No one wanted to be there—lying in bed at home would have conserved what little energy they had left. But gathered here, they only grew hungrier.

Yet the knights’ swords and the clerics’ magic were not to be defied. They had no choice but to come.

A wooden platform was erected in the center of the square. Strong soldiers hauled the confiscated pamphlets onto it in bundles. A tall man in clerical robes stepped forward. His stern gaze swept over the crowd, the Holy Light swirling around him, radiating the oppressive aura of a supernatural.

The crowd fell silent, gripped by fear. A heavy, wordless stillness settled over the square.

The tall cleric looked on with satisfaction and disdain, then raised his staff high.

“You lost and foolish ones! Without the Lord’s guidance, you do not realize you are sliding into the abyss of sin and danger!

“The Cecils are bewitched by demons, and they have spread that demonic influence throughout this city!

“Look at these blasphemous documents—they were found in your backyards, in your neighbors’ homes, even in your own bedrooms! Your eyes are not bright enough, your wisdom not great enough, to see that these are contracts made between the Cecils and the demons—

“They bring these contracts into the city to harm you! You were once blessed by the Holy Light, but these demonic contracts have polluted you, and the Holy Light will turn away.

“Only fire can purify these blasphemous texts. You who have willingly surrendered these documents and come to witness this purification ritual still have hope—while the most hopeless among you will be purified along with these demonic contracts!”

Several burly soldiers stepped forward, pushing a bound man onto the platform. A ripple of unrest passed through the crowd, but most watched numbly, barely reacting.

The tall cleric scanned the crowd’s dull faces, then fixed his gaze on the man—ragged and bruised, barely recognizable beneath swollen eyes and a battered face.

He was a vagrant caught near the city gate. Recklessly charging a soldier, he was found with propaganda and arrested.

The advantage of such a vagrant was that no one knew him, and no one would speak up for him.

“This man concealed a large number of demonic documents and refused to surrender them!” the cleric raised his staff, pointing at the dazed man. “He spread the contents of these documents, corrupting those around him, leading them to question the Lord and the Church!”

The crowd stirred again, some clearly frightened by the cleric’s words. The bound man suddenly struggled, craning his neck as if to shout something—but a soldier immediately punched him in the stomach. The sharp pain sent him back into a semi-conscious state.

The cleric frowned at the unexpected outburst and waved his staff.

“Throw the blasphemer into the pile of demonic documents!”

The soldiers dragged the man roughly to the center of the platform and shoved him into the small mountain of pamphlets. A black-robed monk stepped forward, pouring flammable oil over the pile and the man.

Whispers spread through the crowd. Some stepped back nervously, others prayed quietly, while a few twisted their faces into expressions of grim excitement, craning their necks to watch.

Suddenly, a faint murmur came from behind: “Isn’t that old Sam… but Sam can’t read!”

Those who heard the whisper turned to find its source, hoping for more details—but only saw a figure walking away.

Curious, someone nearby asked softly, “What’s going on?”

“That man about to be burned is called Sam. He can’t read.”

A few people dressed in plain, coarse linen pushed and shoved their way through the crowd. Wherever they passed, low murmurs began to spread:

“That man on the stage—his name’s Sam, I think—is illiterate!”

The unrest grew from a whisper to a low rumble. Though still small in scale, the priest standing on the platform finally noticed the unusual stir. A strange unease welled up inside him. Sensing the faint but growing disturbance, he decisively abandoned the sermon he had prepared and immediately raised his hand, summoning a sphere of holy light.

“Those who defy the will of the Lord shall be purified!”

The scorching light ignited the oil-soaked pamphlets exposing the dark secrets of the Church of the Holy Light. It set ablaze the leaflets, the accusations, and Sam—the illiterate man himself.

Bound and writhing in the flames, he let out agonized screams. The crowd around the square instinctively took a step back from the horrific scene. From all directions, voices rose in anxious chatter. A man dressed like a farmer, carrying a burlap sack slung over his shoulder, stood closest to the pyre. Terrified by the burning, he froze in place, stunned. Only when the crowd around him began to retreat did he stagger backward, following suit.

The priest on the platform scowled darkly. The acrid smell of burning flesh and the restless murmurs of these ignorant, lowly peasants only deepened his irritation. Just then, a faint ripple of magical energy brushed over from somewhere beneath the stage.

The priest’s gaze snapped toward the source, but all he saw was a panicked, foolish mob hastily retreating. Nothing else.

Perhaps it was just his imagination.

Annoyed, he waved his hand dismissively. Surrounded by his attendants and armored knights, he turned and left the square.

(End of chapter)