When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1012 Father Sherri, wake up!

Meilin Town Wharf is not a magnificent stone-built port, but just a few rough wooden boardwalks extending into the river.

The heavy cedar planks creaked and swayed in the water, covered with slippery green moss.

The supporting wooden stakes were driven deep into the river mud, encasing barnacles and the sludge trails left by the rise and fall of the water level.

This small dock is usually deserted, with only wild birds landing here.

If you need help unloading and loading goods, you have to hire people from nearby villages on a temporary basis.

However, when the shouts of "The boat is coming!" were heard, not only refugees but also townspeople dressed in haphazard linen shirts and thin woolen fabrics rushed forward.

The refugees, crowded together, shouted, "It's not your ship, why are you crowding us?"

The crowd still surged toward the dock, even accidentally pushing a dozen or so people into the river.

It wasn't until several night watchmen arrived at the courthouse that order was restored.

Swept along by the crowd toward the port, Sani lowered his head and asked Worin, "Do you think we should still go through with the original plan?"

Worin was initially confused, his expression shifting between light and shadow, before he gritted his teeth and said, "Let's go to Fran. The Holy Alliance is just a transit point..."

Before Worin could finish speaking, the crowd erupted in a huge cheer, silencing the rest of Worin's words.

He looked up and asked, "What's all this commotion about?"

At that moment, a man wearing a white shirt, a thin woolen vest, and a half-shoulder swordsman's cloak draped over his shoulders nimbly jumped off the deck.

Behind him stood a thin boy with swollen eyes from crying.

The man put his arm around the boy's shoulder, walked up to the crowd, and waved enthusiastically, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have some good news to share with you. You will soon be able to read it in the gazette of the Council of State."

After two years and seven months of reasoned arguments, the case of Gerry's patricide has been adjudicated.

Thanks to the efforts of myself, Falkoval, and many other elected representatives in the Council of States, we have proven that this good young man is innocent!

As for the truth of the matter, I think it must be related to a certain prominent family in the area, but I won't say who it is..."

“The Winterhal family!” a townsman shouted indignantly.

"No, no, don't make wild guesses." Falkovar nodded in the direction of the voice while loudly clarifying for the Winterharl family.

As Falcoval announced the case, Hugh Lund laughed gleefully, "The Night Watchmen's Hall in the next village is going to be in big trouble now."

"Why?" Anselm couldn't resist his curiosity, even though she didn't really want to see him showing off.

"Actually, we all know about this. How could someone like Gerry, who wouldn't even kill a rat, kill his father?"

Actually, it was someone from the Winterhal family who accidentally killed his father and then tried to cover it up, so they framed Little Gerry.

Gerry had already provided alibis with more than a dozen people, but the Night's Watch still filed charges.

What does this prove?
Look, the military police coming off the ship, they must be going to have a long talk with that night watchman.”

In reality, this case is far more complex than Hugh Allen described, involving a complex interplay between old and new local forces.

Priests in various places fought against water conservancy, then finance, then the judiciary, and finally local families against each other and the law.

This case arose from a power struggle between the priestly order and the local family.

It almost escalated to the Supreme Court of the Holy Armory, where Horn would have to make the final decision.

Fortunately, the case was ultimately concluded by a joint hearing in the Supreme Court, conducted by the Trial Division, the Judgment Division, and the Purification Division.

"A nobleman killed a commoner, and they actually have to go to court? Isn't it enough to just bury him on the roadside? And the nobleman even lost the case?"

What kind of upside-down Heavenly Gang is this? Worin felt that he had seen more new things in the three days he had been in Thousand River Valley than in the past three years.

“They are not nobles,” Hugh Allen corrected. “They were nobles in the past, but they are commoners now.”

“What’s the point of stripping him of his noble title?” Worin gestured anxiously. “He’s still a nobleman.”

"What are you babbling about?" Hugh Lun scratched his head.

Actually, Walin could understand some of what Sheri was saying, but the rope maker was clumsy with words and couldn't express himself well in this regard.

What he was essentially saying was that stripping the nobles of their titles and fiefdoms was pointless, as they held immense prestige in their local communities.

The nobility had long controlled knowledge, military, and administrative resources, and this long-established hierarchical relationship could not be dissolved in just a few years.

If the Holy Alliance government can't do what it wants without their consent, then aren't they still just nobles? After Sherley's "translation," Hueyren finally understood, but he still looked disbelieving and disdainful.
"That's true, but they're not as exaggerated as you say, are they?"

In the Holy Union, a great deal of real estate was divided up as many agricultural privileges and feudal powers were dismantled.

Today's "aristocrats" are at most wealthy men who have a wide influence among the people.

Originally reserved for barons and knights, the title "Sir" has been reclassified by the Holy Union Dictionary as a respectful term for ordinary adults.

As for "Your Excellency," it is a title for elders, while "Your Highness" and "Your Majesty" are only used by saints and popes.

Under the subtle influence of Pravda, various plays, and bards, the hierarchical etiquette system maintained by the nobility through force was gradually undermined.

Even ordinary farmers like Hugh Allen no longer found nobles to be so terrifying.

This, however, made Sheri feel a little terrified—a nation formed by a group of people who were not afraid of nobles or gods.

But upon closer reflection on Horn's methods, he couldn't help but applaud.

Horne appears to have tolerated the existence of these old nobles, allowing their influence to spread throughout the region.

But in reality, it was constantly weakening the influence of aristocratic families through the triple court system.

Without much targeting, simply having this judicial system function properly is enough to gradually strip away the influence of the nobility.

If this continues, once the older generation dies out, the foundation of the local nobility will be quickly eroded.

No wonder many local aristocratic families are racking their brains to transform their businesses.

As for emigrating to other countries, forget about it. In 1449, Horn took advantage of the chaos to promote the Act of Transfer of Property.

Assets exceeding 5000 gold pounds transferred abroad are subject to a 75% tax.

While watching Falkovar surrounded by flowers and being applauded and cheered by a group of people, Sani's gaze was completely drawn away.

"Who is that? A local master craftsman? Or a member of the town government?"

"No, that's a local representative, his main job is selling furniture, and he's also a member of the fencing club."

"Can we be elected representatives?" As soon as Warlin asked the question, he felt stupid. How could immigrants have such a right?

"sure."

Suddenly, Halifax appeared behind them and spoke gently to Sani: "You can run for office in the future too."

“There are definitely conditions,” Sani said in a deep and precise voice.

“Of course there are conditions, but it’s not as difficult as you think.” Halifax held up three fingers.

"First, you yourself must be a voter, that is, literate, an adult, registered in the household, and have a three-year record of paying taxes."

Secondly, you need to pass the religious order's review and the villagers' joint guarantee to prove that you have no criminal record and are not a spy.

Finally, you need to save up some money and have enough free time to handle the daily work of being a public representative.

These conditions don't seem difficult to meet, do they? And these elected representatives also seem to have the responsibility to correct the judiciary.

That way, they won't have to worry about encountering the same thing they did in Eagle's Foot Bay again... Even if the person they're suing is a nobleman, they'll still have a representative of the people to back them up.

But if we go to France, will we still have such an environment?
Sani gave Worin a look, and the two brothers understood each other perfectly.

"Or should I work in Little Pond City, save up money for two years, and then run away?"

Ignoring the two brothers' quiet discussion in hiding, Halifax spoke apologetically to the group: "I have some bad news for you all."

Everyone looked over, and only then did Halifax speak apologetically and sorrowfully.

"Because the sugar and grain ships were competing for space, the two ships collided. The other ships were intact, but your ship sank."

Your luggage is being salvaged, but it's uncertain whether it will be recovered due to the strong current. However, regardless, the Ludwick Relief Society will provide for all losses…”

"Boom-"

"Hey, Father Sherri? Father Sherri, what's wrong? Father Sherri, wake up! Father—"

"Quick, call a doctor! The priest has no heartbeat!"

(End of this chapter)