A person at the Pinnacle of Power, when destitute and at their end, will inevitably try to climb to any force within their grasp.
The stage has entered a brief Authority Vacuum, and all the actors are vying to analyze and seize their share in this period of powerlessness.
Traditional Western fantasy novels are especially fond of writing such plots centered around Authority Struggle, whereas light novels tend not to use such storylines.
Because it’s simply too grand, with too many plotlines—hard to write well.
In short, it’s [Authority Struggle], which doesn’t really fit the simple, brainless style that light novels typically focus on.
The protagonist in light novels would almost never choose to be an Intelligent Schemer as their role. Of course, there are exceptions, but they’re rare.
But unfortunately, Samimi here is not an Intelligent Schemer character. Instead, she’s a Black-Hearted Street Novelist. The stories she’s best at crafting are those densely woven with plot and intrigue; otherwise, her novels wouldn’t have gone unread.
So she does have some confidence in herself—at least she’s not a fool.
But what does the Pope’s death have to do with a humble local nun like her?
The power struggle among the great forces of the Church in the Royal City—what does that have to do with a little Demon-Hunting Nun with no ambition like herself?
Samimi crossed her long legs, flipped through the newspaper, and couldn’t care less—she only cared about how many chains she’d collected today.
“Focus! Focus! Focus!”
Yet, on a dark, stormy night, the back gate of Sweet Melon Chapel echoed with faint knocking.
It was the first time anyone had come knocking at such an hour. If not for Niubao’s keen ears, Samimi would never have heard it.
Anyone sneaking around to the rear gate of the chapel in the dead of night must be up to no good.
Samimi quickly got out of bed, pulled Niubao along, donned their rain cloaks, and quietly crept to the back gate of the courtyard wall.
“Who’s there?” Samimi called to the small wooden door.
“It’s the Chief and the Left Hand.” Niubao had already caught the scent of the visitors through the door.
“Niubao, you’re not even a hound—why is your nose so sharp?” Samimi teased.
“It’s me.” A weary, low male voice came from outside; just by the tone, she could tell it was the Papal Left Hand.
With no choice, Samimi opened the door to see what they wanted, though she already had a good idea—clearly, they were here to drag her into trouble!
Now that a major Main Plot event had erupted in the world, could she really stay safely tucked away in Sweet Melon Town and mind her own business? Impossible.
The will of the world was definitely going to pull her into this. How could it let such a fun “rice weevil” off the hook?
After opening the door, a group of black-clad figures filed into the back courtyard of Sweet Melon Chapel.
“Did anyone follow you?” Samimi shut the door skillfully, her tone as professional as her movements.
“No, we traveled here under cover of darkness,” the Papal Left Hand replied.
“Come on in.” Samimi and Niubao led them into the chapel proper, a landmark building that usually served no purpose, but now, at last, came in handy.
Inside the chapel were dozens of long benches, enough for all to sit and rest a while.
Besides the Papal Left Hand and Chief Mei Shan Lin, the other black-clad people were Adjudication Knights, some familiar old faces and some new ones.
But none of them wore their Adjudication Knight’s light armor or their imposing white greatcoats; each looked utterly exhausted, and a few collapsed onto the benches the moment they sat down.
Chief Mei Shan Lin looked especially pitiful, curling up on a long bench like a frightened chick, so Niubao had to go comfort her.
“Miss Nun, we must trouble you this time,” said the Papal Left Hand.
“We’re all on the same side, why be so polite?” Samimi waved her hand, putting on a generous front, but in her heart, she knew she really had been dragged into this mess by them.
What’s done is done—no amount of complaints would change it.
Because, the moment she opened the door and let them in, she was already involved.
“Everyone, take a rest. Are you all hungry?” Samimi asked.
“We brought marching rations. Thank you for sheltering us, Miss Nun,” the Papal Left Hand said gratefully.
“Just call me Samimi. If you need anything, you can come find me in the room out back.” Samimi and Niubao went around closing all the chapel windows, locked the front door, and then left via the back.
Once they left, the Chief Judge Knight approached the Papal Left Hand and asked, “Can we trust them, or should we assign someone to watch over them? What if they go out and inform the authorities?”
“After cooperating with us for over a month, and after thinking of the trauma Chief Mei Shan Lin suffered to get us back here, if you can’t trust the Demon-Expelling Nun, then there’s no one left to trust,” the Papal Left Hand replied.
“You’re right, sir. It was my mistake for doubting the Demon-Hunting Nun.” The Chief Judge Knight nodded.
“You understand now. You face endless corpses without fear, but this case has shaken your resolve.” The Papal Left Hand patted his shoulder. “You all haven’t slept for thirty hours—really, take a good rest.”
The Chief Judge Knight nodded, found a long bench at random, and fell asleep as soon as he sat down.
The other Adjudication Knights also all lay down, and the air was filled with the sound of peaceful, steady breathing.
“Pope, you asked me to have the Chief taken away. Was this exactly what you predicted, even this moment?” The Papal Left Hand sat slumped before the statue of the Virgin in the sanctuary, feeling as though he had aged years in an instant.
He knew the source of his headache was simple: the Pope’s Position, like the King and the Royal Family, was hereditary.
Samimi and Niubao went to the Warehouse to fetch a large stack of towels, returned to the chapel, and distributed them among the Adjudication Knights so everyone could wipe off the rainwater from their bodies and dry off.
“Miss Nun, can we talk for a moment?” asked the Papal Left Hand.
“Sir, your voice doesn’t sound good. Why not get some rest and talk tomorrow?” Samimi replied.
“There’s no time, Miss Nun.” The Papal Left Hand’s voice was grave. “What I have to say is serious, and you need to consider it carefully.”
“Alright, I’m listening.” Samimi dragged a bench over and sat beside him.
“Did you hear the news about the Pope’s illness and death?” the Papal Left Hand asked.
“The rumors about the Pope’s illness have been everywhere for days,” Samimi answered.
“The Pope didn’t die of illness. He was murdered.” The Papal Left Hand said, “The Pope must have foreseen the assassination and so had me take the Chief away in advance.”
Samimi put on a look of shock, but in truth, she was not the least surprised.
“The Pope knew he couldn’t escape death. Not many in the Church could accomplish such a thing—only the two Cardinals who wielded the real power in the Holy See.” The Papal Left Hand analyzed.
“A coup for power?” Samimi asked.
“You may not know, but the Pope’s authority had long since been hollowed out by them. Yet he continued to push for Church Reform in secret. That must have angered the Old Faction, and led ultimately to his assassination,” the Papal Left Hand said.