Chapter 243 : Knight’s Oath
Chapter 243: Knight’s Oath
He could see only the root of Igor’s tongue left in his mouth after it had been cut, and although the vocal cords burned by charcoal fire had been healed by the Monastery’s people, the sound he made was still hoarse and harsh, like fingers scratching across rough glass.
The monk had been recruited by Igor from the village. He did not understand what “Excommunication” meant, but he knew Priest Igor. This merciful priest, even though every word he spoke brought him pain, still guided the lost villagers with his rasping, ear-piercing voice.
So when he saw Igor so enraged, he too rushed into the church and pulled out an oak shield and a spear.
The vagabonds waiting here for Sacrament also stared blankly as they listened to Igor’s voice. If even the monk did not know what Excommunication was, how could they possibly know?
But like the monk, they knew Igor. This priest never despised them for being unwilling to work, living only off the Church’s Sacrament, and whenever he had time he would tell them the teachings of the Holy Scriptures, the stories of the Knights of the Church, and even taught them how to farm, do carpentry, haul, and build. He also took in abandoned orphans like they themselves had once been, doing all he could to create conditions where they might live decently.
And now, such a merciful priest was actually this angry. Then those who had enraged him to such an extent—so much that he took up shield and spear to fight—how great must their sin be?
Thus, these vagabonds scattered, shouting loudly as they picked up sticks or farming tools, spreading Igor’s wrath. Soon, the entire village knew.
The villagers too did not understand what Excommunication meant, but they also knew Igor. This merciful priest solved their doubts, gave them direction, baptized their children, taught them basic letters, argued with tax officials so they would not be exploited of grain and earnings, defended the falsely accused, explained the laws, sought doctors for the sick, mourned the dead, and sent them to the Lord’s Heavenly Kingdom.
It could be said, the good life they now enjoyed had all been brought by this merciful priest.
Like the vagabonds, the common villagers thought: if not for such a merciful priest, could they still have the lives they now had? Could their children still have a future? Could they still enter the Heavenly Kingdom after death?
So, these villagers returned home and fetched the tools or weapons they had bought. The blacksmith even opened his forge, telling everyone that any who followed Priest Igor could take weapons from his shop.
Garcia Village was the fief of Knight Wolf. It had been fortunate these years, suffering no calamities, and it held the most people, nearly seven hundred. Now, a mighty crowd gathered—fully one-third of the village raised farming tools, weapons, even sticks, surging toward the village entrance.
This was almost all of the village’s able-bodied labor.
The guard captain appointed by the Senate was so frightened at this sight his lips trembled. He shrank back, not daring to ask. His men were villagers themselves, and when they heard that Priest Igor needed help, they drew their swords and followed the crowd.
The people of the many manors outside the village, seeing such an angry mob, slammed their gates shut, hiding within, peeking through cracks. The elders of the Newman Family trembled with rage.
“Those lowly commoners were nothing more than wretches kneeling before us and begging back then, now…” His words were cut short by a hand clamping over his mouth.
“Back then was back then, now is now, old uncle. You’d better say less. These people have gone mad!” The one covering his mouth spoke with a trembling voice.
Not only Garcia Village, but several other villages too had people surging out. They rushed south toward Odo Village’s port.
And on the road, they learned what Excommunication meant.
…
“That is the irredeemable. They have disappointed the Lord. They have been abandoned by Him. After death they cannot enter the Lord’s Heavenly Kingdom. They are sinners who prevent us from welcoming the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.”
“You must not speak with them, for that is to be tainted by sin. That will stain you with sin and cause the gates of Heaven—once open to you—to close.”
In the Senate, Jeffrey held the Divine Word Manuscript, reciting its description of Excommunication.
“That’s it?” Bevan said in disbelief. “Just for this reason, they gathered over two thousand able-bodied men with weapons and food in just one day? And people from other villages are still pouring toward the port.”
Puniel’s expression was heavy. “Not only them. Some of my mercenaries also left the underground city for the port. They even spent all their gold to buy weapons and leather armor in taverns to send over.”
Julian glanced at Piero, who sat with his head lowered, like a man reeking of death, then said, “The warriors too have requested Excommunication against Viscount Youn.”
Jeffrey set down the Divine Word Manuscript and said, “What an uproar. If not for some priests hesitating over directly condemning all people of Viscount Youn’s territory, at least ten thousand able-bodied would have risen.”
Bevan rubbed his head. “Ten thousand… Considering smugglers into York Territory and newborns of these two years, York barely has eighty thousand people.”
“So this is the power the Church wants to show?”
Puniel shook his head. “No, not just this. Don’t forget, this is only York proper. There are also York’s northern lands, Adrian Diocese, the churches around Light Port, and most importantly, the Sanctuary Church headquarters and the Monastery.”
“In the end, they are still commoners. However many, they are only numbers. Ten thousand of such men—I would need only ten knights and five hundred elite warriors to slaughter them all.”
Julian said, “Don’t forget Richard. If Bishop Marl follows, he won’t sit idle. He and his companions equal ten knights, and there’s also the Honorary Knights Order.”
Puniel emphasized, “Which is why we need to know the reactions of those who truly affect matters.”
Bevan laughed. “Heh. Do you think Bishop Marl will ignore orders from headquarters? He isn’t Bishop Jeven. Even if Jeven wanted to follow, he has no men.”
Jeffrey tapped the Divine Word Manuscript. “So, what should we do? Follow the Church’s reaction as planned, or move first?”
The Senate fell silent. All eyes turned to Piero, his face lifeless.
Puniel slammed the table, standing, and said to him, “Piero, you’re not dead yet. If you don’t want to die, go kneel outside the Clock Tower and pray for the Bishop’s redemption. Stop sitting here doing nothing.”
Piero lifted his eyes at him and said flatly, “A magician cast a spell on my face. I’ve lost sensation. I feel no pain.”
Then he looked at Julian. “Didn’t we say? In fifteen days, push down the Great Wall. Tell the warriors to prepare. Bring those who requested Excommunication there, and have them prepare materials for catapults. When they finish, it will be time to meet Agamemnon.”
He turned to Jeffrey. “If the Church does this, they mean to kill every soul in Viscount Youn’s land—more ruthless than us. But this defies the Holy Scriptures. You must talk to the priests who’ve stayed silent. Probe the Church’s true purpose.”
Then to Puniel. “You were told to manage mercenary order. But they are not your servants. Let them do as they like. Just extend your Mercenary Tavern in the same direction the people advance.”
Finally to Bevan. “You too, spread your influence further. I think the southern nobles will be eager to know what the Church has done to cause this uproar.”
After finishing, Piero lowered his head and closed his eyes.
Puniel asked, “And you? What will you do?”
Piero replied, “I’m already dead. What else can I do? I should find myself a decent grave.”
…
Adrian Diocese.
The original castle had been taken by fishmen, and this castle was only a temporary build.
The Great Church of Adrian Diocese stood beside the Earl’s castle. From the gatehouse of the Earl’s castle hung both the eagle banner of the Adrian Family and the Church’s cross flag, displaying the Church’s authority there.
Clang, clang, clang—the clash of armor came. That familiar sound made Bishop Marl, thin and dark-eyed with fatigue, ache in the head.
“I’ve heard about Youn being Excommunicated. I don’t know what Excommunication is, but judging from the priests’ reactions, it means war. The Church’s enemy is my enemy. Do you need me to lead knights to punish Youn?” Richard’s voice rang boldly.
Marl closed the manuscript, sighing deeply. “Are you so idle? If you’re free, take Crulud and kill some fishmen.”
Richard answered, “The fishmen have already retreated. Scouts say they’ve pulled beyond Fog Fortress. No one knows what they’re doing. With their rate of reproduction, it can’t be that they suffered huge losses on some front and pulled back from us?”
Marl said, “So you go spreading your knight’s way with your men? Hoping with just your words you can overturn their knightly thoughts?”
Richard laughed twice. “The Theocracy can raise Virtue Knights. Why can’t I raise a batch of Adrian Knights?”
“I think those Virtue Knights are flawed, too extreme. I believe if one holds only three things—courage without fear, protection of the weak, and spread of justice—that is enough to be called a knight.” Richard proudly extolled his knightly theory to Marl.
Marl pressed his temples wearily. “As long as you’re happy.”
Richard strode up, slapping the desk. “I’ve restructured these three vows from the Holy Scriptures and my understanding of Elbert Knight’s Road. As my friend, servant of the Lord, you should support me.”
Marl nodded. “Yes, yes, I support you. I’ll have your three vows carved on a stele at your castle gate, so all may see.”
Richard grinned. “Yes, that’s how it should be.”
Then he lowered his head and said, “I’ve learned what Viscount Youn did to Priest Landon. He oppresses his people. That is wrong. And I, as a knight who upholds the Knight’s Oath, must attack Viscount Youn!”
Marl rubbed his tired face, looked at him, and said, “Three giant catapults will soon arrive from York. You’ve seen their power. Mounted on Fog Fortress, even thirty thousand fishmen won’t be a threat.”
“Now that the fishmen have retreated, you can gather warriors. When ready, reclaim Fog Fortress and retake the front line.”
“As for Viscount Youn, he’s already a dead man. He doesn’t need your help. Just focus on the front and ignore the actions below.”