The next day.
“Idol worship… I see you’ve figured out how this country really works.”
At the scheduled meeting, the Emperor responded calmly to the Saint’s accusations.
“Are you admitting that you had the Church praise you as a deity?”
“What’s there to admit or deny? I’m sure everything you’ve seen is correct.”
A confession so blunt it was almost refreshing.
He nodded readily when asked if he used the Church to bolster his authority and increase support for the war—as if he never intended to hide it in the first place.
The Saint, who had come prepared to argue, found herself speechless in the face of such an open response.
“…Then, why did you do it? You are also a follower of the Goddess. You know this is a forbidden act.”
“Because it was too convenient.”
“…What?”
An answer so simple and clear that it cut straight to the core.
“Do you know how old I am this year? Sixty-five. I’ve ruled this country for almost forty years.”
The Emperor briefly removed his crown and swept back his hair.
His thinning hair starkly revealed his age and long tenure.
“But there’s never been a time, in all those forty years, when the nation was this obedient, this unified. This year, royal authority is stronger than it’s ever been.”
“Because of the heresy you’ve committed.”
“And so what? I’ve seized control of the entire nation—shouldn’t I be willing to pay the price?”
He knew it was wrong.
He knew the Church would never tolerate such a sin.
If it weren’t wartime, excommunication would have been a very real possibility.
But none of that mattered.
The benefits he gained from seizing this rare opportunity were more than worth the risk.
“When I step outside, everyone worships me like a saint. The once-prideful nobles grovel in submission, and even the royal family doesn’t dare challenge my authority.
At a single word from me, hundreds of thousands of troops move as I command, and supplies are mobilized across the entire country.”
This was still an age where noble lords held their own territories and private armies.
Centralized authority was beginning to take root, but royal power was far from absolute—at least, that had been the case in the Kram Empire.
But war had changed everything.
The nobles’ private soldiers were drained away by the battlefield,
and their places were filled by a national conscript army raised by the Emperor.
With the trifecta of The Prince, The Social Contract, and Leviathan,the scattered powers were consolidated under the monarch.
Public support for the imperial family was at an all-time high—loyal and unquestioning.
“War gifted me with power. So why should I care about some taboo?”
In other words, the Emperor had used war as an opportunity to build an absolute monarchy.
He had used Ishmael’s writings and the embattled Church as tools to do it.
With a few timely policies, clever tricks, and pressure on the clergy, he had seized a level of power no emperor before him had ever enjoyed.
He had gained the strength and standing that his ancestors had dreamed of for so long.
“Honestly, I’m not the only one who’s done this. Those folks over in Navre in the east or Allein up north are no different.
The methods and degrees may vary, but we’re all doing pretty much the same thing.
Everyone knows this is the perfect time to expand royal authority and tighten control over the entire nation.”
And manipulating and exploiting the clergy?
It wasn’t anything particularly new or unusual.
Whenever the Church staggered, those in power would always try to snatch up its influence.
It had happened before, many times, and this was no different.
The Emperor had simply chosen the most effective means at his disposal, in line with tradition.
That’s why he felt no remorse about his actions.
As a politician, he had no reason to.
“If you came here to rebuke me and make me repent for what I’ve done, you’re wasting your time. I have not a single regret about my choices.”
The Emperor, having boldly declared this, paused briefly before softening his tone, as if offering a concession.
“Still, I’ll see to it that the bodies of deserters stop being displayed in the streets. Seems my subordinates got a bit too loyal and started doing strange things.”
Even he thought that decorating the city with corpses like ornaments was a bit much.
It ruined the city’s appearance, and there was the risk of disease as well—he intended to put an end to it quickly.
“…Thank you for your mercy, Your Majesty. Then, I shall take my leave.”
“Not at all. Please return safely.”
In the end, the Saint had to return to her lodgings without achieving anything.
All she carried with her was bitterness, frustration, and sorrow.
*****
“Do I have to back down like this…?”
Agony swirled in Joan’s mind.
Even though she could clearly see the world heading in the wrong direction, she couldn’t stop it.
Was she really supposed to sit back and let nations use the Church however they pleased for their own gain?
“No. I mustn’t give up.”
The situation was hopeless, but even so, the Saint did not despair.
She couldn’t.
As one who received the Goddess’s divine revelations, she might not be able to bring world peace, but to simply give up was unthinkable.
That would be a betrayal.
Since persuading the monarch had failed, there was no choice but to change tactics.
“Let’s focus on the people.”
The war itself couldn’t be stopped.
Things had already spiraled too far—telling them to stop now would just get her cursed at.
The Kram branch of the Church had reluctantly begun supporting the monarch and the war,but lacked the strength to stop it.
If she tried to force it to end, she’d end up like the State Church of the Alcyone Federation—a mouthpiece religion, stripped of influence and run entirely by the state.
“I just have to focus on the original goal. Making sure the war doesn’t escalate any further.”
But if it was just about suppressing the violence of war, there might still be a chance.
If she proposed a suggestion to stop excessive cruelty and fight while maintaining at least a minimal sense of decency, wouldn’t they be willing to listen?
After all, both allies and enemies were followers of the Goddess—what meaning was there in hating each other so intensely?
Capture prisoners and place them in camps, don’t kill soldiers who surrender, and classify civilian massacres as crimes.
Even if it was just these basic principles, she wanted to see them upheld.
At the very least, she could try to suppress the ever-growing hatred.
If she could achieve even just her original goal, that alone would count as a half-success.
“Bishop.”
“Yes, Saint Joan?”
“Could you make preparations for me to give a speech to the citizens soon? And inform the Imperial Court as well.”
“I’ll get on it immediately.”
Once the decision was made, it had to be acted on at once.
She couldn’t stay in this country forever, after all.
Before long, the Saint was granted a day to freely speak her mind in the central plaza of the Empire’s capital.
Thanks to the Imperial Court’s past use of the Church for their own purposes, they offered her at least this much courtesy.
And then, on the day of the speech.
“Greetings, citizens of the Empire. I am Joan Ayendénara, Saint of the Church of the Goddess.”
Before a crowd that had gathered like a mass of clouds, the Saint passionately shared her thoughts and beliefs.
She spoke about how horrifying war was, how the Empire had grown too extreme, and how such trends were of no help to the world.
She desperately tried to suppress the madness and violence people harbored inside.
“Endless hatred toward one another only leads to destruction.
What meaning is there in pointing swords and firing bullets at people who live under the same sky?
Do you think the Goddess is pleased when those who worship her kill each other?
Let us calm our anger, even just a little.
Let us hold love and peace in our hearts, not hatred—”
Though it couldn’t exactly be called a perfect speech, it was nonetheless filled with sincerity and passion.
Unfortunately, however—“What the hell is she even talking about?”
“I came here expecting a sermon from the Saint, but this was just a waste of time.”
To her dismay, no one showed the slightest interest.
*****
“Sigh… What a fool.”
Upon receiving the report from the Church’s Kram branch, all she could do was let out a sigh.
That girl had always been like this, even when she was learning from her.
Her head was filled with flowers.
They’d tried to educate her with a bit of shock therapy, but she still hadn’t come to her senses.
“Humans feed off hatred. That kind of rosy talk won’t get her anywhere.”
Humans are creatures better at hating and raging than at loving and caring.
They speak of peace and unity, but end up waging war day in and day out.
And the citizens of the Kram Empire?
They had long been addicted to government propaganda—Taught to hate demons, despise other nations, and show unwavering loyalty to their own.
“She should have read the room.”
To people already indoctrinated with the seductive ideology of nationalism,preaching religious virtues now was bound to fall on deaf ears.
Especially when national fervor and pro-war sentiment were at their peak due to the ongoing war.
“These guys are probably going to get kicked out of the country soon.”
“You mean the Church delegation?”
“Yeah. After pulling a stunt that tone-deaf, I’m sure the Imperial Court will be dropping hints for them to leave soon.”
At my words, Kalia shrugged.
Maybe it was because she had just come out of the bath, but her face was flushed red, and it looked lovely.
“That would be great news for us. More importantly, how’s the task I asked you about coming along?”
“I’m still working on the draft. A grand plan like this doesn’t come together overnight, you know.”
Grumbling, I waved the bundle of papers in my hand.
Written in large letters at the top were the words:
[Postwar World Order Reform Plan]