Chapter 477 — The True Priest and the False Priest

Yet it was a quiet steeped in panic, a quiet laced with tension, a quiet that kept people awake at night.

After such quiet had been maintained for a long stretch, a dark undercurrent finally began to stir—but this undercurrent could not break the tense, oppressive atmosphere within the city; instead it spread an even greater unease through the whole of it.

No one paid any mind to the feelings of ordinary commoners, and neither did Farron Belland—yet this interim bishop could notice the change in atmosphere within the cathedral district: in this enclosed district, which occupied half the area of Frostgate City and consisted of one great cathedral and several dozen small churches, a negative sentiment distinct from the earlier tension was spreading, a sentiment that shook the low-ranking clergy, and even shook some of the priests and deacons who managed the affairs of the small churches.

After the morning prayers had ended, Interim Bishop Farron Belland again noticed low-ranking clergy whispering in the shadows between the cathedral pillars, and priests hurrying past in the corridors. He sensed that the omnipresent Holy Light was conveying vague warnings to him, and as a devout believer in the God of Holy Light, he did not let such revelations—akin to "divine inspiration"—pass him by, so he at once summoned a high-ranking priest in charge of the district's daily affairs.

"The atmosphere in the cathedral district has been off these past two days," Farron Belland said in the corridor of the Church of the Holy Frost, addressing the high-ranking priest who had come at his summons. "Go and investigate—what exactly is going on."

The high-ranking priest had clearly noticed the subtle shift in atmosphere as well. He asked nothing further, but at once accepted the order and departed.

Farron Belland did not have to wait long; before that day's evening prayers, he saw what the high-ranking priest had collected.

"Bishop, some leaflets of unknown origin... entered the city at some point," the high-ranking priest said, handing a stack of rather cheap-looking paper to the "Bishop Luan" before him, his expression somewhat grim. "They're covered in... unspeakable slander."

A bad premonition rose in Farron Belland's heart. In silence he took the papers, and what met his eyes were characters so neat they hardly looked handwritten, yet phrased so plainly and crudely that one could not help frowning.

And the high-ranking priest continued explaining the situation from the side: "...They first appeared in the outer city, scattered everywhere after being thrown over the walls and fences. The commoners picked them up and took them home, and later some of the low-ranking clergy's family members brought them into the inner city, where they began circulating among the small churches."

Farron Belland stared at the contents of the leaflets with a livid face—the identical handwriting on every one made him think of printed matter, yet the quality of the printing plainly exceeded his understanding—there was nothing profound on the leaflets; on the contrary, what was written there was so simple and straightforward that even someone who had only just learned a few basic words could read it fluently, and yet this simple, straightforward content was profoundly unsettling.

This was the first time he had ever seen anything like it: the way the Church operated, the true nature of indulgences, the reasons and vested interests behind the high-ranking clerics' monopoly on the right to interpret scripture, the Church's growth and corruption... Things that ought to have been taboo were written out in such crude, blunt fashion, and printed so brazenly on cheap paper, distributed everywhere!

Where had these come from? How had they gotten in?

The first question was easy enough to answer—they must have come from the Cecil folk. As for the second...

Fran? Belland suddenly began to regret having stationed most of the Holy Crusaders and exiled knights in the cathedral district of the inner city...

A full dozen seconds or more passed before the interim bishop, his face dark, broke the silence: "How long have these things been circulating in the cathedral district?"

"The earliest may have been four days ago."

Fran? Belland's face turned ashen: "Why did no one report this immediately?! These things... this is nothing but blasphemy and slander!"

The high-ranking cleric hesitated a moment, but in the end he spoke: "All the leaflets that made their way into the inner city's cathedral district went to the small chapels in the fringe areas..."

Fran? Belland blinked, and suddenly understood.

The small chapels in the fringe areas were where the low-ranking clergy gathered; those who managed them were likewise clerics of lower status or those who had been pushed to the margins.

They themselves lacked zeal for the Church, and some of them might even harbor heretical leanings.

During the long blockade, the faith of those low-ranking clerics and priests had already begun to waver; they could not remotely compare with the devout in the great cathedral... They were the vulnerable breach, easy to storm.

Moreover, the low-ranking priests and clerics were the group with no right to interpret scripture, and likewise they had almost no power to share in the indulgences or to organize heresy trials on their own...

Those leaflets mentioned the right to interpret scripture and the dark side of the Church's present interests—and not only mentioned them, but mentioned them in the most merciless way possible.

That duke who had thrown in his lot with the devil had finally made his move, but the manner of it was utterly beyond expectation.