Chapter 2019 - 543: Humans Are Truly Terrifying_6

The question lying on the desk was brutally simple—and brutally cruel—

Will Saint Clement's Great Cathedral give them this money or not?

They had already sent an Angel to those lands, and now the King there was calling upon them for further aid.

Had this been five hundred years ago, the question would never have even been brought to the table; the Power Angel would never have descended upon the Twilight Province to begin with.

But now it was Aus Calendar 1054; this colossal Empire had existed for nearly a millennium, liver spots as numerous as the hairs upon its head.

Seeing the hesitation in the Pope's eyes, France let out a cold snort and spoke, clearly alluding to something.

"...The Church properties of the Ryan Kingdom were effectively absorbed into the Royal Court two centuries ago. If we lend them money now, it is no different from digging into the not‑so‑plentiful coffers of Saint Clement's Cathedral to fill Theoden's bottomless pit. Do you think that is worth it?"

The Pope spoke softly.

"My considerations are not solely economic."

"And what I speak of are precisely the interests beyond mere economics!"

France continued, his face full of rancor.

"We have already cut the lodging subsidies we provide to Pilgrims. Those faithful who trudge on foot from a thousand li away now receive nothing but a few pieces of bread and a cup of sour red wine. If we truly want to patch up the fiscal hole of the Ryan Kingdom, I fear we would have to strip the wine from the Holy Meal as well!"

The Pope fell silent.

The income of the Church Court was indeed considerable; the yearly tithes from all lands were astronomical, and the trade across the Vast Ocean provided further revenue.

Including donations from devout Nobles, the money chest of Saint Clement's Cathedral held an astronomical sum. Yet by the same measure, their expenditures flowed like an ever‑running stream.

The adventurer guild was one such expense, and the tithes levied upon the colonies merely matched, at best, what they had sunk into those territories.

Especially of late, they had poured far too much into the Holy Temple Knight Order, in order to spread the gospel of the Holy Light to the untouched virgin lands left by the Dragon God, and likewise to resist Hell's corruption of those regions.

Rumor had it that a Demon King named Egger had already begun to make his mark there, sowing Hell's seeds deep within the Sun Step Mountain Range, even into the very heart of the Gana Continent...

In short, to keep this vast machine running, and to prevent the cause of the Holy Light from drying up, the sacred Church Court had already made many painful cuts; they could not justify pouring yet more money into a transaction doomed from the outset to incur a loss.

After all, even if they truly emptied their coffers to save the Ryan Kingdom, its people would not thank the Church Court. They would blasphemously heap their gratitude upon that self‑proclaimed Holy Daughter from the village.

And the Devalu family's credit had long since gone bankrupt under centuries of default; whatever grand vows they might now make would in the end be nothing but scraps of paper.

Rely on the Imperial army to help the Church Court collect its debts?

The Council of Elders and the Officer Faction would probably erupt in laughter—

Do you not have the Judicial Court?

Why not send the Judicial Court?

They would only intervene for an interest held in common, such as the corruption of Chaos. As for debts between the Church Court and a secular Kingdom, that was an economic dispute, nowhere near sufficient to warrant the march of the Empire's legions.

As for playing the last card, Summoning an Angel to collect debts—that would be the ultimate farce.

"But... are we simply going to stand by and watch?"

Gregory IX turned his gaze to the twilight outside the window, slowly sinking into the black of night; his voice yet carried a hint of unwilling compassion.

"...Ryan is heading toward ruin. If we wash our hands of it, the faithful there will truly become lambs without a shepherd. The Church Court needs the support of the Various Kingdoms to maintain its Influence on the Old Continent—that is our foundation."

"Precisely because it is our foundation, Your Majesty, we must not lend them money!"

France's voice was glacial as he walked to the Pope's side, his eyes fixed earnestly upon the elder who still hesitated.

The Pope lifted his head to look at him.

"Why?"

"Because the chaos in Roland City is the natural consequence of that dull‑witted King's perverse misrule!"

France let out a cold laugh; in his eyes there was both contempt for the short‑sightedness of secular royal power and a trace of mockery, like watching a clown fall face‑first into the mud.

"The present turmoil in Roland City is precisely the outcome of Theoden's perverse misrule. The bitter fruit he has sown must be swallowed by him alone! If the Church Court were to release funds now, we would be doing nothing but prolonging the people's suffering there!"

The Hillfin family was one of the illustrious houses of the Holy City; France held not only a devout reverence for the Holy Light, he had also absorbed too many lessons from history.

Prolonging a tyrant's life will only see you counted as the tyrant's accomplice. Saint Sith will not only punish tyrants; he will also judge those who "cloak unrighteous aid in the name of mercy."

Harsh as it sounded, in France's eyes, the allotted lifespan of the Devalu family had run its course.

Even though he had never once visited that distant land in his lifetime, he could see the truth plainly.

"The Nobles of Ryan are in no way lacking in money, and I would wager that of the funds we lend them—or rather, donate to them—not a single coin would fall into the hands of those who truly need it!"

"If that money is transformed into a Slaughter Knife in the tyrant's hand, how are the hungry masses, struggling in famine, to look upon us? They will deem us accomplices of the tyrant, decayed creatures who betray the faithful for Gold Coin, and that will drive them further into the embrace of Heresy!"

The Pope's eyes widened slightly; he stared at France in disbelief, never expecting this tradition‑minded Cardinal to utter such words.

Though he had not made his meaning completely explicit, the intention beneath his words was already painfully clear—

He meant to let the Devalu family die!

Seeing the Pope still waver, France continued, heart‑stricken and indignant.

"Your Majesty, have you forgotten the tragedy that befell the Twilight Province last year? The Priests there had sold their Souls to secular Lords, bound themselves too tightly to them, and were thus seen by enraged, starving peasants as part of the apparatus of exploitation, so that those upright and kind souls were almost slaughtered to the very last!"

"To protect the grassroots clergy in Roland City, and to preserve our foundation there, the Church Court must sever itself from the leech clinging to our flesh and sucking our blood. Whatever deep ties the Devalu family once had with us, all that lies far, far in the past."

Gregory IX: "But... we must at least leave them some path."

"Then let him go to the Council of Elders for a loan!"

France offered a suggestion steeped in irony, the corner of his mouth curving in a cruel arc.

"If they can sway that gaggle of misers, it will mean that Saint Sith has not yet abandoned them."

The Pope once more fell silent.

Looking at this forceful Cardinal, he seemed to glimpse the shadow of the Church Court's Future—cold‑blooded, pragmatic, willing to use any means for survival.

He no longer knew whether the great conflagration he had seen in prophecy would ultimately spring from the Hillfin family itself, that emblem of the "golden rose and Scripture."

They were the most ancient, and the most erudite, of all families in the Holy City!

Back then, the return of Prince Colin had been hosted by France's nephew, Count Cassette Hillfin.

The Pope asked one last question.

"And if the Ryan Kingdom collapses because of this?"

France replied with ruthless calm.

"Then let it collapse. A secular Kingdom can change dynasties; the fall of the Devalu family would be nothing more than the commencement of another house's rise. Whoever wears the crown as King, the Holy Light must endure upon that land. We must not allow the corruption of Chaos to cross Brass Pass and blow in from the Dimension Desert."

"For that, we must learn to sacrifice."

The Pope let out a deep sigh; his voice echoed through the Prayer Hall like Saint Sith's remembrance of an age about to plunge into night.

"It seems we must let our children face the darkness alone."

He hesitated no longer, yet still felt ashamed.

For on one face of the coins, just as France had said, the Church Court of the Holy City truly had no strength left to forgive the Devalu family's greed.

And on the other face lay the fact that they would, in truth, need only save the red wine of the Pilgrims' Holy Meal to pull the Ryan Kingdom back from the brink of the Abyss.

Simply put, the people there were not worth such a sacrifice.

What made the Pope sigh all the more was that, in his own heart, he felt the same; at the very least, he did not contradict the undertone hidden in Bishop France's words.

What he spoke aloud were, rather, excuses.

France smoothed the folds of his crimson Magic Robe and spoke with icy resolve.

"This is no longer five hundred years ago, Your Majesty."

"If I may be blunt, those Barbarians should long since have learned to fend for themselves."