### Chapter 42: The Trap (Part 1)
“So, what are the next plans of old Mr. St. George?”
He directed this question toward the Queen of Ethanbel.
In the corner of the room, the Pope Knight, Tarlasya, who had been silent until now, fixed his calm gaze on the blonde beauty seated across from him, a woman who was about to become the Emperor of the Empire.
The Royal War was over.
For the first time, they were openly and honestly discussing matters, no longer dancing around the issues with subtle hints and vague insinuations, but laying everything on the table.
It was all thanks to the trust among the three parties, which had grown solid enough.
Prior to this, both kings and the Pope Knight had clearly laid out their roles and stances in this affair.
A deep misunderstanding had been resolved.
That is to say, neither Tarlasya nor Queen Elizabeth was a true supporter of St. George’s side; none of them completely trusted the old man and his current actions.
In fact, they harbored skepticism about certain things.
And that skepticism was the very reason Tarlasya was present. He wasn’t here to represent anyone in negotiations with Skarlij, the new Emperor of Valen. He had no obligation or need to play the part of a bodyguard for Queen Elizabeth. His mission on this side was over; he was merely trying to make sense of the complex reasons behind everything before he left—there was a nagging question that had been bothering him these past few days, and Tarlasya had to admit that the words of the Fourth Knights Commander Selamus on that one particular night had influenced him, whether he liked it or not.
As for the rare beauty, who had caused countless nobles in Ethanbel to yearn for her while simultaneously entangled with his own daughter, Queen Elizabeth could confidently reserve her deepest trust for Skarlij regarding most matters, except for the things she had heard during the dinner.
With this attitude established, it was time for open and honest talk.
After a moment of silence, Her Majesty did not answer the man’s straightforward question. Instead, she began to tap her fingers on the table, softly responding, “Your Majesty Skarlij, how much do you truly understand about the current situation?”
She used “understand” instead of “know,” which clearly indicated that the two had already exchanged sentiments about many things behind the scenes, yet they had kept most of it under wraps from Lady Catherine.
The girl who had just returned home knew nothing about it either.
“The Church is currently unable to spare any resources to deal with the turmoil in the Valen Empire,” Skarlij said after a brief pause. “Even the Currency Exchange or those in the Temple Church are outraged by the defeat over here.”
“I did the math. Last year, Silgaya’s food supply to the Holy City barely matched the city’s consumption, and this year, the output has gone negative. The entire southern part of the Western Continent is facing food shortages, and many regions in the Valen Empire are already suffering from famine due to the war.”
“With the new currency exchange’s tax policies being overly harsh, it has become nearly impossible to enforce them. The public’s trust in the Church has been declining year by year. Not only are there rampant rumors, but the Knowledge Association’s mischief has only added fuel to the fire. Certain local parishes, desperate for survival, have even colluded with local aristocrats to forcibly annex farmers’ lands. This situation is particularly severe in the southern boundary of Silgaya and has grown nearly brazen.”
“And the Holy City’s poor oversight will only worsen these situations. Indulgence sales have plummeted, more and more people no longer believe in the gospel. The parishes are starting to experience deficits, and the Currency Exchange will have to bear the consequences. Regardless of whether the Rossius family is willing to step into this fire pit, the Church’s finances are set to face a severe deficit, leading to a vicious cycle where they will have to increase taxes even more, causing public grievances to swell and further eroding the trust between the Church and the populace, resulting in stagnated parish growth, or even regression…”
Skarlij paused and looked into Queen Elizabeth’s eyes. “This is the greatest dilemma currently facing those high-ups in the Temple Church, and it’s the most serious crisis the Church has faced in nearly a thousand years.”
“I suspect that the Fourth Knights have become a desperate gamble for some powerful figure in the council. With the Imperial actions having failed, this will only worsen the already dire conditions for the entire Holy City—they cannot afford to provoke any conflict any longer.”
“At least not in the short term.”
“The Second and Fifth Knights are practically in a state of neglect now; they’re not just disjointed, but short on supplies. They’re hardly able to make it to the Empire, and the Third Knights, famed for their battlefield prowess, have long since been obliterated. The remnants of the Fourth Knights haven’t even fled too far from the Royal City. The only forces available for potential deployment are the two-thousand-strong ‘Sailor Knights’ stationed on the Northern coast of the Empire…”
At this point, the man let out a chuckle. “Haha, I bet they’re busy plotting how to safely retreat from the Empire’s waters. Since Your Majesty asked about the situation, let me summarize it in two phrases—”
Skarlij shifted his position, leaning back in his chair, gaze piercing, sweeping over both faces before distinctly stating, “When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter; when the wall collapses, everyone pushes.”
His smile faded a bit, then he continued, “Your Majesty has also started to consider how to clean up the ‘vampires’ in the Royal City, hasn’t she? Otherwise, why the rush to return?”
Despite the subtlety of his words, there was no longer any hesitation. The man even went so far as to ask, “Need any help?” Queen Elizabeth gently shook her head, indicating it wasn’t needed for now.
“The war in the Valen Empire has started off terribly for the Church. Soon, more and more external forces will be itching to act because they see the Church as nothing more than a toothless tiger, far from being as strong as once imagined.”
Skarlij added, “Not just external forces, I’m afraid there are plenty internally who are waiting to see when the great tree of the Temple Church will finally topple. The Holy City has been in chaos for a while now. You two may not have directly said it to me, but I can guess that many high-ranking clergymen were invited to the conference in Ethanbel a few months back by St. George, right? Even considering only the objective factors I mentioned, this is already a prime opportunity for action.”
“Furthermore—”
He paused for effect.
His words were then picked up by Pope Knight Tarlasya: “Furthermore, these issues are not even the most pressing ones at the moment. The deities imprisoned in the underground prison and the unknown dangers soon to be birthed from the Holy Wall are the real threats.”
“Exactly.”
Skarlij nodded slightly, his expression grave.
“What Mr. Tarlasya has revealed to me is something I’ve never heard before, and I truly don’t want to believe it. None of us want to believe, and it’ll be difficult to verify in a short time.”
“I’ve sent people to investigate, but the results will take a long time to gather. The Church has now sealed off the area around the Holy Wall. It seems the First Knights have moved out in full force, which, while unreliable news, offers a reasonable explanation for why the Temple Church has become so frantic. In just two years, the situation has worsened to this extent.”
“And if the circumstances turn out to be true, then what the Church is facing isn’t just external turmoil and internal schisms. They… no, maybe all of us will, in the near future, have to confront an unprecedented enemy of unimaginable strength.”
“I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to call it an ‘enemy’; it seems like a disaster that even the Church would struggle to prevent. If that’s the case, and the Temple Church is already taking action, gathering forces beneath the Holy Wall, then the Holy City would essentially be empty. For old Mr. St. George, that would truly represent the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“So—”
Skarlij continued, suddenly shifting gears.
“When I previously asked Your Majesty about St. George’s next plans, I had a lingering suspicion. Mr. Tarlasya has provided extraordinary intelligence, indicating that various forces are approaching the Holy City, openly and covertly. I believe, Your Majesty, that you might know these things better than we do.”
The man stared directly into her eyes. “What we truly need to clarify tonight is the more complicated reasons behind the events—the real reasons. Let’s be candid, I’d like to hear Your Majesty’s perspective first on something, like whether this seemingly absurd ‘enemy’ really exists, and whether Mr. St. George has truly revealed all these circumstances to you.”
…………
In the dim prison cell, water dripped monotonously down through the cracks of the stone ceiling.
The man, shackled with heavy iron ball shackles on his legs and his hands bound, slowly woke up from a solitary cell, his n*ked body trembling from cold.
Outside the cell door stood two diminutive figures—one seated, hands delicately resting on her legs, and the other leaning against the wall, cradling a broken sword in her arms. In the interplay of darkness and flickering light, she gazed blankly at the man.
As he groggily awoke, weakly struggling, he lifted his head and met the gaze of the girl sitting in a filthy chair, her black hair and black eyes glimmering.
“Awake?”
The girl inquired, her voice sweet enough to clash with the grim surroundings, tinged with sarcasm. “Why not try to struggle a bit? You might just escape.”
It sounded like she was merely mocking him.
“Cough, cough…”
La’miel trembled, coughing, not saying a word or attempting to invoke any divine miracles—he simply couldn’t, being restrained in every way. Weak and barely able to breathe, pain seared through his lungs, frostbite covering his body.
“The d*ath of your companion was an accident; I didn’t mean to k*ll her. Two mouths speaking are far more credible.”
The dark-haired girl continued with her melodic yet emotionless tone.
“The two Northern Soldiers you captured are still alive, so I guess you’re not a murderous psychopath. Though the Church has its share of lunatics, you’re clearly more rational than your late companion. So, relax; I won’t do much to you. Just a simple chat, hmm… I have something to ask you, but first, you might prefer to ask me something,” she added with a faint smirk.
