The Holy Church Begins with Bestowal of Blessings

Chapter 189: They Are Already Heroes in My Eyes

Not long after the New Year’s bell rang, the Senate passed the resolution to establish a New City. Those nearing graduation became excited, each believing they could make a name for themselves in this New City.

However, when they graduated, the Dean directly sent them here to assist Baron Puniel.

This statement left them all stunned. Someone couldn’t help but raise a hand to say that building the New City was more important, that it would be the heartland of the Church, a Holy City under the protection of the Lord.

That person was immediately expelled by the Dean on the spot, and all of his memories from the past year were erased by magic.

From then on, no one dared to refute the increasingly unhinged Dean after the New Year’s bell. They could only obediently be “escorted” here by the Senate’s warriors.

Upon arriving, they felt as if they had descended into the hell described in the Holy Scriptures.

They had to obey the orders of the warriors, had to be used like laborers to move timber and stone.

Even so, they were still scolded by the stonemasons and carpenters for being too slow.

Once, when they truly couldn’t bear it anymore, they raised the Holy Scriptures and the Commandments and beat up the captain leading them, who didn’t dare to fight back.

In the following days, whenever one of them was alone, they would be mysteriously thrown into a burlap sack, given a thorough beating, and tossed into the mud.

These people controlled their strength well—just enough to cause pain, but not injury. After resting in the mud for a while, they could continue working.

They reported this matter to Baron Puniel, who expressed that he would see justice done for them.

Then, in the next few days, things got even worse. It went from beating the ones who were alone, to several being beaten together, and finally to people wearing only a cloth over their face storming their residence and beating them up indiscriminately.

Thus, they became obedient and told Puniel the injuries on their bodies were from tripping, that there were no bandits who had attacked them.

But Puniel expressed concern and said the attackers had already been caught, then brought out some prisoners so starved they could barely stand, and their number matched theirs exactly.

Then Puniel handed them a sharp sword and, holding the Commandments, declared that for these men to have dared assault the graduating Apprentices of the Monastery was a grave crime—for which they deserved death.

Although they had participated in the drafting of the Commandments, none of them remembered such a clause, but they thought perhaps they had misremembered.

So under Puniel’s very kind gaze, they could only take up the swords, and one by one, in an orderly line, execute these prisoners who didn’t even have the strength to wail or beg for mercy.

Cliff was the last. By the time he picked up the sword, the blade edge had already dulled from use.

The person collecting the swords “accidentally” dropped a facecloth, then apologetically picked it up and handed it to him, asking with a kind smile if he wanted to wipe the blood off his face.

Cliff simply shook his head with a blank expression.

From that day on, they, the Apprentices, became obedient. Basically, whatever their captain told them to do, they would do. After a few days of this, they were scattered to various places to rebuild villages with the assigned villagers.

Cliff was “fortunate” enough to be chosen as Puniel’s squire, tasked with drafting documents and delivering messages for him.

His classmates all looked at him with pity, and Cliff felt that perhaps it was because he had proposed the idea of building the New City—displaying his own “cleverness”—that Baron Puniel “valued” him and kept him by his side for “nurturing”.

Of course, that was what he told himself in order to survive.

Now, upon seeing Marl, this priest of the Church, all the rationalizations he had forced into his mind were instantly corrected. He looked at Marl with an aggrieved expression. If Puniel hadn’t still been beside him, he might have knelt and wept, denouncing all of Puniel’s crimes.

However, upon seeing Cliff’s pleading expression, Marl only frowned and said, “Why is an Apprentice of the Monastery so weak? Just a short run and he's panting like this, even about to cry.”

Upon hearing Marl’s words, Puniel laughed heartily and said, “Hahaha, perhaps it’s because the Monastery has too much knowledge. One year was just enough for them to study and thus they neglected physical training.”

“That won’t do. Knowledge is important, yes, but without stamina, how can they help those in need?” Marl said, “Once this war is over, I’ll propose to Teacher Oscar that we add physical training courses for them.”

“Yes, they’ve received the most professional training. Even if they can’t match knights in physical strength after graduation, they should at least reach the level of Upper Warriors.” Puniel nodded, his kind gaze scrutinizing Cliff’s trembling body.

“Of course, I actually suggest they spend half a year training in the army. Priest Marl, don’t judge by how out of breath he is after this short run—he was even weaker when he first arrived. In the barracks, just thirteen days made him much stronger. At least, in terms of stamina alone, I think he now qualifies as a Lower Warrior.” Puniel offered his suggestion based on “practical experience”.

Cliff felt his legs weaken.

“I’ll bring this up with Teacher. But the Dean of the Monastery is still Teacher—what happens specifically will depend on his decision,” Marl said.

“Yes, of course.” Puniel nodded, then patted Cliff on the back.

That one pat shattered all the rationalizations Cliff had rebuilt in his mind.

He adjusted his breathing, the trembling of his body gradually stopped, and he looked at Puniel with a clear gaze.

Only then did Puniel nod in satisfaction and say, “Then, Cliff, take these warriors to the prepared location. As for these women, settle them down as well.”

“Yes, Sir Puniel,” Cliff nodded and replied.

“I’ve promised those women—they’re free to choose whether they want to go to York Town or stay here,” Marl reminded him.

“Understood, Priest Marl. Rest assured, I know what to do and will make sure you’re satisfied,” Cliff nodded again.

Seeing that neither of the two had anything further to say, he went to speak with the Temple Warriors and the warriors.

“Don’t break them. They may be fools, but the Bishop still values them,” Marl said quietly after Cliff had gone far enough.

“Of course, please rest assured. I only told them that the outside world wouldn’t be as peaceful as York Territory, under the protection of the Church.” Puniel also responded quietly.

Of course, Marl’s words caused cold sweat to break out on his back.

He hadn’t expected that these Apprentices casually thrown his way were still somewhat watched by the Bishop.

Although Marl was not like Oscar, who was cursed to be unable to lie, the authority of Priest Marl still made his words naturally convincing to anyone from York Territory.

“Besides, these are elites cultivated by the Monastery for nearly a year. Of course, I wouldn’t let the Monastery’s efforts go to waste,” Puniel couldn’t help but add.

“That’s for the best,” Marl nodded. “You’re a noble. I trust you know what should and should not be done.”

“Of course,” Puniel nodded. He felt he now resembled the earlier Cliff a little.

Then Marl waved his hand, and only then did Alice, who had been protected by the Temple Warriors, run over.

“She was sent by the Theocracy to study in the Church,” Marl said. “So I need you to dispatch a knight to escort her to the Church—she is to meet the Bishop.”

Alice shrank behind Marl, looking at Puniel with fear and hostility.

In the Theocracy, the nobles had all been executed. Even the Local Gentry had been mostly wiped out. She was just the daughter of a Theocracy merchant.

In the propaganda of the Theocracy, nobles were evil beings like the Aberrants and must be purified.

And yet now, watching this priest—who might even be a friend of the Patriarch—casually conversing with such an evil noble seemed utterly natural.

Alice’s gaze made Puniel frown. But upon hearing from Marl that she came from the Theocracy, he understood.

Being stared at by a mad dog was indeed uncomfortable.

However, letting a knight escort her made Puniel show a trace of difficulty.

"Right now, every knight is a critical combat force, and they all have important duties. So mobilizing knights at this moment would be somewhat difficult," he said.

This was not an excuse—it was indeed as he said.

Among the nine knights under his command, five had already taken their squires north to support Knight Julian.

The north was the main region of the werewolves. From the information sent by Knight Julian, there were nearly twenty Upper-Ranked Werewolves, over a thousand Lower Werewolves, and an unknown number of Transformed Werewolves.

Including the warriors Puniel had assigned to Knight Julian, along with Knight Bedi whom Julian had absorbed and the warriors there, plus five knights and their squires, the nearly one thousand personnel could only hold the northern line. Offensive operations were somewhat lacking.

The remaining four knights were engaged in recruitment and training within this relatively stable heartland.

Although it followed a conscripted militia model instead of the hired model used in York Territory, they were not foolish enough to compete with werewolves by sheer number of cannon fodder.

Puniel roughly explained the situation to Marl.

"Besides, with the territory I currently control, which is nearly the size of a viscount’s domain, even four knights feel insufficient," Puniel said.

Marl also felt a bit troubled.

Having knights as escorts would naturally be ideal, but at least for now, Alice’s value in his eyes did not yet surpass the matters the knights were handling.

Furthermore, the route from here to York Territory was relatively safe, so Marl was already considering whether to let a few Temple Warriors escort her.

At that moment, Marl's heart stirred, and he looked up to the sky. A white dove was flying toward them, circling above.

Marl was slightly surprised and quickly extended his finger.

The white dove descended and landed on Marl’s finger.

After feeding it some grain and placing it on his shoulder, Marl opened the message retrieved from the dove.

Puniel, watching from the side, looked somewhat envious.

Since leading his troops out, his contact with the Senate had almost been severed. All information had to be relayed by messengers, with delays of at least seven days. In contrast, these doves of the Church could reduce that delay to one or two days.

Such a time difference was a leap forward in warfare.

Although the Rat Path was faster, those gold-eyed fellows along the Rat Path were too unreliable. No one could be sure if the enemy would bribe them to deliver false messages.

So in Puniel’s eyes, these white doves were more refined than catapults.

However, these doves could only be used by Church personnel, so Puniel deeply regretted that he couldn’t enjoy such a pinnacle of refinement.

After reading the message, Marl let out a sigh of relief and said, "It’s a message from the Bishop."

"Looks like you won’t need to dispatch knights. In a few days, Warrior Vito and Warrior Leo will arrive here. At that time, Alice can return with them."

There was some joy in his voice. These were the two warriors who had saved him. He hadn’t heard from them in a long time, and Marl had thought something unfortunate had happened to them.

But now, it seemed they were still alive.

Then what about Captain Hode? Could he also still be alive over there?

"Two warriors? Were they transporting supplies from the territory?" Puniel asked.

These two Temple Warriors’ names were somewhat unfamiliar to him.

"No, the two of them have spent the past six months deep within the Nation of Werewolves and sheltered nearly two thousand people there," Marl’s tone was filled with astonishment.

“Hiss!” Puniel’s brow twitched.

Two Temple Warriors sheltered nearly two thousand people deep within werewolf territory—was this even humanly possible?

Even though Puniel considered those werewolves nothing more than dumb dogs, he didn’t believe he could protect two thousand people in their territory with just two knights and fully staffed knight’s squires—he wouldn’t even be confident in breaking out with them.

Yet the Church of the Sanctuary managed to do it with just two Temple Warriors.

Having witnessed the refinement of the Church’s catapults and white doves, Puniel’s previously buried cautious thoughts were pushed even further down.

In fact, although he was not accustomed to the "rules" of York Territory, after coming here, he had to admit that purely in terms of living standards, York Territory truly deserved to be called the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.

However, here, the familiar noble power made him somewhat intoxicated.

"They should be called heroes," Puniel offered a small flattery.

"In my eyes, they already are heroes," Marl said with a smile. "When the werewolves attacked the villages of York Territory, they were the ones who saved me."

"But I wonder if they’ll be made knights upon their return."

Speaking of knights, Puniel recalled the matter of George.

George hadn’t used Baron Jeffrey Sacker’s knightly title slot. Of course, by now, Puniel knew that George had been conferred as an Honorary Knight by Baron Belair.

But later, a scholar who had defected to Puniel and originally served under Belair told him that long ago, the earth vein enhancement on Knight George had already disappeared.

Honorary Knight enhancements were weak—but that didn’t mean they were non-existent.

In other words, George had not taken up Baron Belair’s knightly slot. Newest update provıded by NoveIＦire.net

Naturally, the scholar also said he hadn’t told Baron Belair.

Comparing the timing, it seemed to match the moment when George had been conferred as a Guardian Knight by the Bishop.

Puniel suspected the Church had mastered a method of conferring knighthood without relying on the Earth Vein.

He never suspected that George’s knighthood was just a nominal title. He was a baron, a hereditary baron at that, so he naturally understood the significance of a knight.

That was the highest power a human could attain—not merely a title.