“…..Saint Elliott faced that tyrant, who had long been bewitched by the dark will of the stars, without any fear. He pointed at the emperor high above and angrily proclaimed: ‘When the day of reckoning comes, you and I shall both perish!’ Yet the emperor, now a mere puppet, only let out a cold sneer: ‘Better to die hungry and miserable than to act like a futile praying mantis flailing its arms!’”
In the Gallery of Saints in the side hall of Saint Elliott Cathedral, Amelia stood before a mural depicting the deeds of Saint Elliott, vividly telling the story to Marianne.
“They then engaged in a decisive battle! Saint Elliott was no match for the tyrant; he was covered in wounds, his blood soaking his holy robes… but in his heart burned only an unyielding faith in the Lord! At the final moment, using his shattered body as a shield and summoning the last of his strength, he hurled the Spear of Saint Eliot—striking straight into the tyrant’s heart!”
“That tyrant, who sacrificed countless lives to forge an elixir for eternal life, even in his death howled, ‘All my ministers have wronged me!’ Tyranny ended, darkness was banished… Saint Elliott sacrificed himself to bring forth the light!”
When the story ended, tears welled in Amelia’s eyes, and clear drops fell down.
She wiped them away with the back of her hand, her voice choking with emotion: “W-w-w Saint Elliott… he was such a great saint… he’s my role model!”
Marianne stood quietly beside her, her crimson eyes calmly watching the scene of the saint’s sacrifice depicted on the mural.
She was not unmoved, but having already heard this story once from Allen, the impact naturally dulled.
Though Amelia told the story with great feeling and immersion, her sobbing as she spoke somewhat spoiled the experience.
It was like when someone tries to tell you a joke but laughs after every sentence; in that situation, you don’t really want to hear the whole joke—you just want to shake the teller.
When Allen recited this passage, he was especially mindful of Marianne as the listener; he used well-practiced modulation and tone and even patiently explained the meanings of difficult sentences to her.
“‘Better to die hungry and miserable than to act like a futile praying mantis flailing its arms’—this phrase means: ‘You rabble might as well starve to death, yet you dare to rebel? Why can’t you just lie down and die quietly?’” Allen translated for Marianne in simple terms, then sharply commented,
“The hallmark of feudal rulers is that they don’t see people as human. It’s as if only they deserve to be treated as such. Honestly, Saint Elliott is like a fantasy-world version of Chen Sheng and Wu Guang, but he actually succeeded in overthrowing tyranny without corruption—doesn’t this story make the noble lords tremble with fear?”
Marianne didn’t fully understand the references to “Chen Sheng and Wu Guang” or the “IF route,” but she understood Allen’s hatred for the old order.
After hearing the story, her only thought was: Allen is the Saint Elliott of our time.
Saint Elliott sacrificed himself; Marianne would never allow Allen to be sacrificed!
Thinking this, she couldn’t help but worry about Allen’s solitary meeting with Archbishop Lucien in the Main Hall.
“Allen…” Marianne whispered unconsciously.
Amelia, immersed in her own feelings, was smugly self-satisfied. Usually, listeners would make excuses and leave halfway through, but this black-haired, adorable maid had stayed until the very end.
As expected, it wasn’t her storytelling that was the problem—those others simply weren’t devout enough!
The Lord’s glory is enough to move every pure heart!
But just as Amelia was basking in this self-righteous glow, her sharp little ears caught Marianne’s whispered name: “Allen…”
What?!
Amelia’s welling emotions instantly froze.
She had painstakingly and passionately recounted the sacrifice of the great saint, yet this maid’s mind was on that notorious Allen de Laval?!
Though she’d just been scolded by her teacher, Amelia’s faith was unwavering.
Names and reputations carry weight; if Allen weren’t a supreme scoundrel, how could his name be so infamous throughout Lucien, the kingdom’s metropolis of hundreds of thousands?
Her clear blue eyes gleamed with resolve. Her teacher had just said, “The Lord grants us wisdom not to sow misunderstanding and hostility, but to discern right from wrong.”
Therefore, if she could expose Allen’s hypocrisy and prove he hadn’t truly received divine revelation, wouldn’t she be following the Lord’s teachings?
Her “hostility” towards Allen was justified!
This thought made her feel like a genius.
No, she was a genius!
After all, she had stood out from countless clerics across the kingdom to become the sole student and assistant of Archbishop Lucien!
Then, the story of Saint Elliott flashed through her mind again, like a bolt of insight—Marianne’s whisper wasn’t worry for her master’s safety!
She had fully immersed herself in the role of the slave rebelling against the tyrannical slave master in the story, feeling anguish over the torment Allen de Laval had inflicted on her!
Amelia had already heard from other clerics about Allen de Laval’s public confession.
His speech was indeed well-delivered and moving!
Yet “clever and wise” Amelia had long concluded that this so-called public confession was just a trick from that devil to deceive the world.
How could such an uneducated scoundrel improvise such a stirring speech?
Clearly, it was a pre-written script, and the story itself was probably fabricated.
Amelia would never believe that a villain like him could have received divine revelation.
Even if there really was divine revelation, she should have received it first!
She was pure and kind, and at least ten thousand times more devout than that despicable de Laval!
Come to think of it, this maid… hadn’t Amelia been too distracted to look closely? Could she be the same maid in the story, the one who was abused?
Amelia suddenly had an epiphany.
That’s right! It had to be so! Allen de Laval was only pretending to repent!
This maid was surely being forced to keep quiet about the continued atrocities he committed!
Hearing Saint Elliott’s story had sparked a rebellious thought in her, which was why she murmured the name of that great scoundrel Allen de Laval.
So that’s it… so that’s it!
Just as Saint Elliott saved those slaves, this maid also needed salvation!
Amelia herself was the Saint Elliott of this age!
Imagining Marianne trembling under Allen’s grip, Amelia’s overflowing sympathy nearly brought her to tears.
So pitiful! So difficult! As a loyal servant of the Lord, how could she stand idly by while the Lord’s lost lamb suffered?
The innocent little nun believed she had completely seen through the truth.
She suddenly grasped Marianne’s slightly trembling hand with surprising strength, causing Marianne to startle.
Amelia raised her head; her clear blue eyes now shone with immense sincerity and passion as they looked directly into Marianne’s crimson gaze.
Sunlight filtered through the cathedral’s unique crystal-paneled facade, dancing on her eyelashes, casting an almost sacred glow over her entire being…
On the polished floor, only the shadow of the two girls’ joined hands remained.
“Well,” Amelia’s voice was crisp and earnest with determination, “we haven’t properly met yet! My name is Amelia! What’s your name?”
Marianne felt uneasy under this sudden enthusiasm and those overly bright blue eyes, instinctively answering, “Marianne… Marianne Duran.”
“That’s wonderful, Miss Marianne!” Amelia’s eyes lit up even more as she eagerly asked, “Can we be friends?!”
Marianne was taken aback.
Huh? Friends? Why?
Had this nun lost her mind?
Friends with someone like me—a former heretic?
Could she be a Church plant sent to test me?
Marianne scrutinized the details of Amelia’s appearance.
The nun’s delicate hands clearly weren’t used to hard labor; she was probably a clerical worker.
Her frail body showed no combat capability.
Marianne was confident she could kill her within three seconds.
If this nun wasn’t an enemy, she was definitely bait set by the real enemy.
Marianne stealthily glanced around. The side hall seemed to contain only the two of them, but……
She closed her eyes, using her assassin instincts to sense.
…Sure enough! There were other presences! More than one!
Marianne warily sensed the faint but persistent aura of spying in the side hall. She realized she was under surveillance by the Church’s true core force.
So they really exist!
Marianne instantly recalled the knowledge Allen had emphasized last night—a spy agency grows more powerful and secretive, the greater the risk it will eventually turn against its creators!
Allen had explained: “The ‘Dawn’s Children’ are now a modest secret society, but they will eventually grow and come into the open as a legitimate faction.”
“During that process, the Intelligence Division will face severe trials.
It will expand from an intelligence-gathering and protective tool for the Brotherhood into a double-edged sword hanging over the organization’s head. There are three main reasons—
First, monopolizing information is monopolizing power.
The head of Intelligence becomes the only person with a complete overview. They can filter, distort, or fabricate information, manipulating the Torchbearers like puppets.
When Torchbearers see only the ‘truth’ that Intelligence wants them to see, they are essentially hollowed out, becoming puppets.
Second, the privatization of force and uncontrollable operations.
The Special Action Team under Intelligence will become a blade answering only to the head of Intelligence, beyond any supervision.
Their operations are covert, swift, and lethal, beyond Torchbearers’ real-time control.
Who that blade strikes and when depends entirely on Intelligence’s head, who may even act unilaterally to ‘manufacture threats’ or ‘consolidate power.’
Third, blurred boundaries of power and self-expansion.
‘For security’s sake’ is the perfect excuse for Intelligence to infiltrate and surveil anyone and anything.
The inherent ambiguity of this power, combined with its proximity to the highest authority, makes it prone to corruption.
It will evolve from a tool serving core goals into a monstrous entity focused solely on self-preservation and expansion.
Eventually, it will consume the light and become the deepest darkness within the organization.”
Allen’s worries were far from baseless.
In history, the revolutionary regime he had been part of had a spy organization that turned on the highest authority, indirectly causing the state’s collapse.
Allen’s choice to make Marianne head of Intelligence was both a vote of trust and the handing over of the most dangerous weapon, hoping she could tame the beast.
This train of thought naturally led to another leviathan—the Heretic Inquisition Squad.
Marianne instantly understood why Allen was so desperate to gain the Church’s protection.
The Inquisition was, after all, another, larger, bloodier version of the Intelligence Division within the Church.
“Eradicate all enemies of humanity”—a seemingly noble goal, yet twisted by centuries of bloody conquest.
The apocalypse is near; the Inquisition’s sword will soon strike beyond mere “heresy.”
Any dissent, any deviation from its extreme path, risks being branded an “enemy of humanity.”
They could form a self-justifying, self-reinforcing logic loop: the Inquisition exists to eliminate enemies, and the existence of enemies proves the Inquisition’s necessity.
More frighteningly, the Inquisition’s doctrine is heading toward an irreconcilable conflict with the Church’s fundamental goal of “preserving human civilization.”
As humanity faces an existential threat, compromise, alliance, even leveraging some “gray forces” may be necessary.
But the Inquisition’s lexicon contains no “compromise,” only “Purification.”
They are like fanatics wielding fire, willing to burn down the entire granary to kill a few rats.
Judge Victor’s secret collaboration with Allen is clear evidence of the Inquisition’s faction going rogue!
An organization wielding the kingdom’s strongest and most secret violent apparatus bypassing its nominal supreme leader, Archbishop Lucien—what does that mean?
It means the fangs have been bared, the chains are about to break!
Archbishop Lucien, the former Grand Inquisitor, understood this monster’s terror better than anyone.
Could he not perceive this threat? Could he not prepare?
Allen’s guess was precise: Lucien must command a special force directly under his control, independent of the Inquisition.
This force was both the last bastion guarding the Church’s core secrets and the Sword of Damocles hanging over the Inquisition, preventing total anarchy.
Now, in the shadow of the sacred Saint Elliott Cathedral, Marianne could clearly feel the presence of that force.
They lurked like ghosts, silently watching everything.
This was both a deterrent and proof of Allen’s insight—
The Church’s upper echelons had long lost full control over the Inquisition; a potential power storm was brewing within.
And Allen and she were trying to carefully carve out a path for survival on the storm’s edge.