Throughout history, across East and West, every dictator who has existed has faced one fundamental dilemma: the justification and basis for maintaining their power.
For hereditary monarchs, kings, or emperors, simply inheriting the throne itself serves as their justification.
But for dictators, there is no such pretext. They must somehow justify their grip on power and prolonged rule.
They need to convince the people, saying, “I must govern for these reasons,” or “Here’s why it’s better when I rule.”
And if this justification process isn’t carried out properly—or worse, fails entirely—?
“Well, that’s when total destruction is inevitable.”
At such times, there are usually two endings: either being overthrown and miserably executed by enraged masses or falling victim to a coup orchestrated by someone else.
Sure, if they have an independent power base or enough military strength, they might hold out for a while longer—but at best, that just means living a little longer.
Unless you’re extremely lucky, like South Korea’s “29,000-won president,” even surviving is hard.
Even that octopus-headed tyrant eventually ended up exiled, sentenced to death, dragged off by force, and subjected to all sorts of humiliation.
“These bastards sure used their heads for once. Even came up with the idea of exploiting the very people they usually ignored.”
That’s why the nobles’ schemes struck a nerve with me.
I had seized power through a military coup with the revolutionary army, occupied the capital, and stripped the king of his authority.
I justified my rule by claiming, “I will lead the kingdom properly in place of an incompetent, luxury-driven king.”
There were other arguments, like “holding the nobles accountable for their mistakes” or “reclaiming territories lost to the Empire,” but the essence boiled down to one thing:
That it was better for soldiers to govern than for an idiot who would retreat entire frontlines just to buy a tiara.
I had made my case that way all along.
But now, what if the clergy starts inciting people against us?
What if they label us as disloyal heretics defying the will of the Goddess, tarnishing our reputation everywhere?
“If it starts, there’s no way to counter it…”
It’s a trap.
Once the damage begins, there’s no way to recover a ruined reputation, no defense or rebuttal will work.
In a world where literacy rates are low and religion is deeply intertwined with daily life, the influence of religious figures over the ignorant masses is nearly absolute.
If a priest says a single word, the people will surely swallow it whole.
“A single fabrication outweighs a hundred explanations. And now these bastards are trying to seize the kingdom’s most powerful communication channels? Without newspapers or radios, how is a fair fight even possible?”
Considering the nationwide network and organizational strength of the Goddess Church, their smear campaign would spread like wildfire.
Soon, public support for us would plummet.
The moment we lose our power base, the nobles and royals would undoubtedly go on a rampage, seeking revenge for everything we’ve done to them.
If I want to stop this midway, the only options would be to kill or imprison the clergy outright.
But of course, doing so would just provoke the people into an uproar, demanding,
“Why are you arresting our priests?”
The public sentiment would tank all the same.
It was a simple yet deadly tactic. Just by pulling one faction into their fold, they could drive us into a crisis.
Truly, centuries of power struggles have honed their skills, haven’t they?
“Well, there’s no other choice. If it’s come to this, we’ll flip the board.”
After much deliberation, I arrived at a straightforward conclusion: Since we can’t win on the same stage, we’ll ensure that stage is never even built in the first place.
Fortunately, I had just the right card to play for such a move.
“Lieutenant!”
“You called, sir?”
“Can you contact the priests in the nearby areas? Summon them to my office—no, wait. To our central army garrison. Ask them to come in ten days.”
“Won’t they resist such a sudden request? Surely they have many duties to attend to.”
“Tell them they will be generously rewarded for coming. I’ll make sure they have no regrets.”
So you plan to overturn public opinion through the priests? Then all I need to do is bring the clergy to my side.
The day of the meeting arrived.
“Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Johan, overseeing the northern cathedral of Rahator.”
“I’m Saul, managing the affiliated school of the southern church in the capital.”
“We’re from the southern plains—”
The central army’s training grounds were bustling with priests invited from various regions, wherever travel conditions permitted.
Though they were mostly lower-ranking clergy who had just barely advanced past the position of deacon after receiving ordination, these people were the backbone and roots of the Goddess Church.
Unlike the higher-ranking bishops and above, who rarely engaged in fieldwork, these were the ones conducting masses and administering sacraments.
“Greetings, priests. I am Carolus von Royten, Vice Chairman of the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction.”
I began by addressing them formally yet with a subtle undertone of authority, similar to how I had approached Lady Arschach before.
As someone seeking their cooperation, it was better to leave a polite impression.
“The reason I’ve gathered you here is simple.”
I wasn’t about to tell them to kill each other, of course.
“I am here to offer you a chance to become bishops.”
“Pardon? Bishops, you say?”
“I haven’t heard of anyone being replaced or retiring, though?”
“Not yet. But that will change soon enough.”
I unfolded a list containing the names of the dioceses across the kingdom and their respective heads.
Approximately 100 entries were listed.
These individuals served as the leaders overseeing all clergy in the kingdom.
Among them, five particularly notable archdioceses stood out, recognized for their importance.
These archdioceses formed the core leadership of the Goddess Church within the kingdom.
Since the five cardinals of the archdioceses effectively governed the church in place of the pope, who held little influence within the kingdom:
“You’re all familiar with the regions listed here, aren’t you? I intend to hand these territories over to you.”
And the individuals currently occupying these positions will be replaced with the priests standing before me.
“The method is simple. We’ll charge the bishops with embezzlement of tithes, dismiss them, and expel them from their posts.”
“E-embezzlement, you say? There’s no such corruption within the church—”
“Spare me the lies. I already know how much the upper ranks of the church have been skimming off.”
The priests feigned innocence out of decorum, but I had long since gathered internal information and uncovered the reality.
As with any nation, when religion aligns with power and gains authority, corruption inevitably follows.
It’s an environment where money is easily collected and just as easily misused.
The Goddess Church was no exception.
Thanks to the monthly tithes contributed by believers, even after covering clergy living expenses and maintenance costs for facilities, a massive surplus remained.
With that surplus, they purchased farmland and orchards, amassing wealth.
They lent money at exorbitant interest rates to desperate individuals.
This corruption had persisted for hundreds of years, and its scale was truly staggering.
In total, the wealth amassed was beyond comparison—even if the combined assets of two or three dukes or grand dukes were pooled together.
“Honestly, doesn’t this make you feel wronged? While the higher-ups feast, you’ve had to scrape by just to fill your stomachs.”
And here’s the funny part: this corruption was surprisingly centralized at the top.
The Goddess Church required all donations and tithes collected by individual churches and parishes to be submitted to the central authority.
Except for the bare minimum needed for living expenses and budgets, everything was handed over, leaving no room for the lower clergy to accumulate wealth.
Luxury, corruption, and embezzlement were exclusively the domain of the esteemed bishops and cardinals.
All the money earned by the priests, who worked tirelessly conducting sacraments and officiating Masses, ended up in the pockets of these high-ranking clergy.
You must have felt, at least once, that this injustice deserved to be overturned.
But it was difficult to act on that thought, wasn’t it? Why?
“Even if you rebel alone, it’s obvious no one will support you. That’s why you couldn’t even dare to try.”
The priest who had earlier introduced himself as Johann spoke up.
Yes, that was the truth.
Even if they harbored resentment internally, expressing it openly was an entirely different matter.
The current exploitative structure had been firmly maintained for hundreds of years.
For an individual to rebel now would do nothing to shatter it.
Rather, only the foolish rebels would be permanently buried.
The chance for ordinary priests to rise to the rank of bishop was slim—barely 1–2% at most.
A fortunate few might get promoted and recoup their losses, but the rest would simply be exploited in the name of the Goddess until the end of their priestly lives.
“But this time, things will be different. I will be your backing.”
That’s why I intended to channel their bottled-up anger, steering it precisely in the direction I wanted.
“Gather your believers and rise up. Overthrow those gluttonous bishops, swollen with greed, and punish them in accordance with the will of the Goddess.”
So rise, enslaved ones. Grab your pitchforks and skewer those greedy pigs.
“Are you telling us to incite a revolt?”
“In a sense, you could interpret it that way. But there’s no need for concern. The central army will not intervene. You don’t have to worry about being suppressed by the military.”
I had ensured that the authorities wouldn’t interfere to quell the uprising.
In terms of numbers and power, our side held an undeniable advantage.
The cardinals, apart from their small guard detachments, lacked any substantial military strength.
Subjugating them would be child’s play.
It was, in essence, as though I was shoving them forward and saying, “Go ahead and start.” And to add the finishing touch, I said:
“The priest in each diocese who takes the lead and makes the most significant contribution will be appointed as bishop. I urge you to do your best.”
A performance-based, first-come, first-served reward system.
If you don’t act quickly, someone else will take the opportunity.
For some, this could be their last and only chance to ever become a bishop.
With these perfectly motivating conditions combined, the outcome was inevitable.
Before long, the entire kingdom was ablaze, led by mobs of Red Guards under the guidance of priests.