Returning to Frezeya Manor.
Aililan took out paper and pen, and recorded some insights she’d gained from today’s Listening to Politics.
Humility and eagerness to learn were, after all, among the beautiful virtues of a Saintess.
She pondered the urgent issues she had witnessed during the session:
“Taxation and the burdens on the people.”
“The threat from northern beastmen.”
“The struggling Fourth Feather Legion.”
“The strained internal finances.”
Aililan wondered, if it were her in charge, how would she resolve these problems?
It was different from establishing a garment workshop.
To participate in political decision-making was not about dozens or hundreds of positions, but rather about every aspect of life for hundreds of thousands.
As she considered this question, she continued to observe and learn during Listening to Politics, speculating about what kind of solutions Atester City’s officials would present.
However.
The Rinzheng Tribunal spent three days bickering.
In the end, their resolution was: grant one-third of the Fourth Feather Legion’s original budget request, while internal finances would provide an extra fund as goodwill for the Westwood Elves.
The cost:
Raising taxes, increasing the people’s burdens.
On top of that, Emile Cathedral would print and sell more Indulgence Certificates to help cover the budget shortfall.
Aililan’s brow was so tightly furrowed it nearly became a knot—she was extremely dissatisfied with such decrees.
I actually waited three days for this? What on earth was I expecting?
Did I really hope you’d demonstrate political skill and solve this issue perfectly?
But in the end, you’re nothing more than a ramshackle troupe, serving me this mess?
After the tribunal, Aililan fumed, “Vermin, all of them, vermin. It looks like they’ve solved the problem, but really, they’re just creating more.”
“Sending money and resources to the elves, then hoping to form an alliance? Don’t these politicians know exactly what kind of trash those elves are?”
“When things look bad, the elves declare themselves a peace-loving race and refuse to join the war. When things look good, they jump out ‘fighting for peace’ and demand even more wealth and resources from their allies.”
Sharing the carriage, Wilma broke out in cold sweat, worried about the future when the Saintess ruled—especially if disagreements arose with the many internal ministers.
She also knew compromise was no good.
But politics was often just that: compromise.
Wilma couldn’t help but advise, “Your Holiness, forging good relations with the elves isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
Aililan, not yet cooled from her anger, retorted, “Bishop Wilma, I know what you mean, but the elves are not to be trusted. Making friends with them is one thing, but giving them money and resources only fattens certain people’s pockets.”
“Then, Saintess Aililan, how about we have the cathedral print more Indulgence Certificates to sell, to supplement the internal finances and increase military spending? What do you think?”
“Not suitable—I don’t agree either. The Indulgence Certificate may be a source of church revenue, but every additional one we print is a further overdraft on our church’s credit.”
“How could the church’s credit be overdrawn? That just means some people’s faith isn’t strong enough.”
“Bishop Wilma, I must remind you. In the beginning, Indulgence Certificates could truly absolve sins. But now? Some people probably think they’re not even good enough to wipe their backsides with.”
Wilma couldn’t help but give a wry smile.
Only the Saintess would dare say such things.
But if this doesn’t work and that doesn’t work…she didn’t dare ask Aililan what exactly would.
She also realized that Aililan might not be suited for more Listening to Politics just now. She was afraid Aililan might flip the table in front of Atester City’s officials, which wouldn’t bode well for her future rule.
At least for now, it wasn’t suitable.
At least until Aililan’s anger had cooled.
After a while, Wilma thought perhaps they could move forward with the plan for the Saint Manifestation in public, which was already being prepared—it might just serve to divert Aililan’s attention.
She thought, once the Rinzheng Tribunal’s decrees were carried out, things would settle as they always did.
Thinking so, Wilma brought up the matter.
Aililan asked in puzzlement, “When does it start?”
Wilma gave an awkward chuckle, “Tomorrow?”
“So soon?”
“For the sake of your important affairs, Your Holiness, the entire clergy of Emile Cathedral has been waiting with swords at their pillows.”
Aililan gave a meaningful smile, “Heh.”
She could tell what Wilma was up to, but saw no need to point it out.
Displaying anger in public and letting emotions run rampant—these were immature behaviors, and she did indeed need to calm herself.
So she nodded.
And agreed.
The two arrived at Emile Cathedral, where Wilma introduced some of the arrangements for the event.
Inner City—for the nobles, the wealthy households.
Outer City—for the commoners.
When it came to the Slums of Atester City—
Wilma paused, then continued, “We have prepared three hundred wagonloads of grain for your charitable distribution. But knowing you have always paid close attention to the Slums, the clergy have each contributed, and we’ve managed to gather five hundred wagons.”
Aililan offered her praise.
“From the rich, to the commoners, to the poor—every aspect has been well arranged. Bishop Wilma, you have done very well.”
“To serve you, Your Holiness, is my honor and my duty. Your recognition of my work is the highest praise I could hope for.”
They discussed further details, covering everything from Aililan’s bearing and gestures to the words she should say, and the etiquette and demeanor she ought to present.
Everything was arranged down to the smallest detail; it was so fussy that Aililan’s head felt stuffed just from hearing and memorizing it all.
And.
Some things must not be done.
Such as acting on impulse.
Or displaying naïve innocence.
Wilma reminded her again and again—those things were strictly forbidden in public.
Because this was the Saint Manifestation—a time to establish authority, to proclaim to the world that you exist.
Naivety and innocence? People might praise your kindness on the surface, but inwardly question whether letting such a person govern them was really wise.
Like a nagging mother, Wilma said earnestly, “Solemnity and dignity—these are the two best demeanors that generations of clergy have found to present in public. It may lack some warmth, but it is enough to convince most people.”
Aililan, fiddling with her hair, complained with a headache, “I get it—do more, make more mistakes; do less, make fewer mistakes, right?”
After bidding farewell to her nagging mother Wilma—
Aililan returned to Frezeya Manor, and with the Head Maid’s assistance, began trying on the ceremonial gown prepared for her by the nagging mother…no, Bishop Wilma.
She wondered if it was just her imagination, but as the Head Maid dressed her—
Were those little hearts sparkling in her eyes?