When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

"The Duke wants to cooperate with me to resist the Church? This doesn't seem like a cooperative attitude, does it? You're arresting people, my people, no less?"

Horn truly didn't expect it; it really was Duke Kush causing trouble.

Fresh from having a wet paper towel off his face, Buerwelf's expression was noticeably dispirited.

Clad in rough cloth garments, he sat uneasily on a small stool, timidly looking at Horn, who sat imposingly.

"It's true, this is how the Duke wants to cooperate with you..."

"Someone, bring a few more sheets of paper."

"It's true, it's true, that's exactly what the Duke told me."

"Stop spouting nonsense, you're with the Church, trying to help them capture me, aren't you?"

"I'm not with the Church; it was Lord Duke Kush who bribed the Cathedral Priest for me to obtain this holy position. I only listen to the Duke." Buerwelf shook his head fiercely.

"Then why did you capture my people? Why kill our guards?"

"Capturing your people, it was just to keep you in Thousand River Valley. Killing the guards, that was those bastards acting on their own, they were too heavy-handed."

"Keep me in Thousand River Valley?" Horn pointed at himself with his finger. "Why keep me here? What's this got to do with the inexplicable taxation?"

Buerwelf Bishop glanced around the room, hesitation written across his face.

Horn, however, had a premonition that the Bishop's forthcoming answer would unravel all the mysteries of the past few days.

"Not talking, huh? Strip his pants, bring a funnel and Slime Juice!"

"I'll talk, I'll talk."

With a furrowed brow, after a long ponder, Buerwelf finally whispered, "Juano Jos is dead."

"What?!"

The news that Dean Juano was burned to death on October 27th, at first, was dismissed as just another rumor.

But with the increasing number of eyewitnesses, this rumor was confirmed.

Panic instantly spread across the lands; initially restless peasants, out of fear, settled down once again.

Yet everyone knew this calm wouldn't last long.

The only thing that could ignite the three giants of Thousand River Valley, Hemashi Territory, Kush Territory, and Blago Monastery.

Now Duchess Hemashi remained silent, Blago Monastery was leaderless; neither the Empire nor the Church dared make a move on the former two.

The only one who could easily be provoked and had the capability to ignite the powder keg was Duke Kush Danai.

For Archbishop of Constans who was nearing a break, Duke Kush was a thorn in the side.

"The Duke rushed back from elsewhere, fearing arrest by the Church, coupled with this sudden taxation, although the Duke hasn't said it outright, I feel war is on the horizon."

"But what has this to do with taxation, what does it have to do with me... oh—" Horn understood now.

What cooperation? This was clearly Duke Kush wanting Horn to become the Little Ming King.

Pushing Horn up as a puppet, extracting Duke Kush himself from the situation.

But still, it didn't make sense, was there a need?

Duke Kush is from the old royal family of Thousand River Valley, having made money through industrial and agricultural prosperity, even raising a standing army abroad, a so-called secret army.

Yet Horn had no money, no soldiers, only a title, and a legitimacy weaker than Duke Kush's.

Horn had conducted a sample survey among the refugees at the camp, asking whether they preferred to be soldiers for the Saint's Grandson or the Duke.

The result was disheartening.

Without the Duke, these refugees would never heed Horn.

After all, the Duke's reputation had settled over two or three decades, along with his family nearly a century.

This was why Horn urgently sought a territory of his own; his current power may seem strong but was just a castle in the air.

"He doesn't dare start a rebellion, fearing the Church's persecution, using my name to rebel, if he succeeds, he kills me; if he fails, he sells me out, is that it?"

"You, you speak too bluntly..."

Truly, the same black heart beats in all crows under heaven, Horn thought of making Duke Kush into a Chen Sheng or Wu Guang, while Duke Kush thought to make Horn into a Little Ming King.

"I'm puzzled, it's already come to this, to rebel is to die, not to rebel is also to die, it's just one last step, why the hesitation?"

Horn still couldn't understand, if he had the Duke's power, he wouldn't wait till now I'd go to a tavern and shout 'fifty thousand Dinar for a loaf of bread.'

"You know, these refugees now causing a ruckus, in their heart they still see the Church as the legitimate." Perhaps guessing Horn's thoughts, Buerwelf smiled wryly.

"Sir, if you were to rebel with a heretic flag, without invoking the name of the Church of Miseria, you might not even be standing here now, you might be angry, but this is the truth, I like speaking the truth."

In other words, Miseria's intentions were good; it was the Pope's poor execution down below, maybe switching a Pope would solve it.

Initially, Horn wanted to argue, but remembering he's still deceiving people under the Pope's guise and the experiences he's been through, he fell silent.

Weak nations have a simple nature, hoping a change in ruler brings better days, hoping others or even a savior to come to their aid.

But Horn knew only by becoming stronger would others continue to help you.

What's the use in changing people? Can't change? The seat can't change, but the mindset?

Buerwelf said with a bitter smile, "In the past, the Duke's ancestors were tricked like this, led farmers to armed protests.

The result: the Pope admitted his mistake, asking both sides to take a step back, and the farmers willingly went home, losing the Kush's original family seat Joan of Arc Castle in the process.

These farmers are not resolved; they always think of their acre and a half at home, fear implicating family and children, fear implicating themselves, fear retaliation, fear they won't reach Paradise Mountain.

If they were more resolute, Thousand River Valley would've returned to the Kush family long ago, we wouldn't wait till now."

Upon hearing this, Horn was suddenly taken aback, and Armand beside him clearly realized something, both exchanging glances.

After a full minute of silence, Horn coughed and looked at Buerwelf:

"Suppose I say, I have a way to make these farmers resolute?"

"Sir." Buerwelf sighed, "What you've thought of, most of us have thought of and experimented with.

But fact proves the cost is too high, even backfires on us. The Empire has two Churches, one in the Holy Seat City, one in people's hearts.

Destroy one, the other will revive it; we can't destroy the real Church, let alone the one in people's hearts?"

Horn stood up, paced rapidly in the room.

Originally, he wanted to go to Black Snake Bay, returning to Thousand River Valley with a new identity.

But now, maybe he could leave some influence in Thousand River Valley, when he returns victorious, the transition would be smoother.

This is also political capital, or else losing the name of Saint's Grandson would be a pity.

"I might not completely erase the Church's image in their hearts, but I have ways to destroy all trust and recognition Thousand River Valley People have in the district, by then, they'll naturally become resolute."

Horn gazed into Buerwelf's eyes and said, "Give me a token of yours, notify the Duke for detailed discussions, I know he's faking illness."