When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1044 Campbell's Visit
In late September, each rain was colder than the last.

The rain had just stopped at Spring Spring Castle, and the faint light filtering through the clouds slanted across the Gothic spire of the Yingjing Hall.

This stone building was originally an attached monastery of Bologna Cathedral, and it was named after the archbishops who often "responded to the scriptures" here.

This was designed for that era of great expansion, when savages and newly converted barbarians were everywhere.

New converts or those intending to convert can come here to ask questions if they have any doubts.

All questions will be answered and explained publicly by the priest standing at the door, within one to three days.

Over time, the name "Yingjingguan" replaced the original name of St. Margaret's Abbey.

At this moment, moisture seeped from the damp stone walls and arched roof of the Yingjing Hall, dripping onto the bright whale oil lamps and causing a foul odor to rise.

Under the flickering light, hundreds of monks sat on tiered benches.

As the weather turned cooler, they put on an extra layer of clothing under their gray robes.

The rustling of robes mingled with the autumn cicadas chirping outside the window, sounding more vibrant than the hymns and chanting from the church next door.

The monks in the front row held the Joan of Arc paper scrolls for shorthand, while those in the back row craned their necks to look.

Their gazes were fixed on the young man standing on the podium.

Horn Galar, Pope of the Holy Alliance, founder of the Holy Path, and grandson of the Father.

The chalk made of lime made a clattering sound on the blackboard. Horn put down the chalk and turned around: "The other day someone asked, since the Holy Alliance is not a church, how can there be a Pope?"

Today I want to make things clear to everyone.

I need to clarify that the Holy Alliance is not the church, but an autonomous body of believers. The Pope of the Holy Alliance is not the Pope of the church, but the Pope of the believers…”

After explaining the definition of a believer's self-governing body, he tapped the blackboard with his knuckles: "Ladies and gentlemen, the church wants to monopolize the right to interpret scripture, but the Holy Alliance does not."

Believers can understand the Father's way through reason and experience, and thus can independently form a self-governing body for believers.

Once they establish a faithful assembly and government that conforms to religious doctrine, clarify taxation, and establish a fundamental constitutional system of freedom and equality, they will be eligible to apply for membership in the Holy League and become a member state.

A low murmur arose from the audience, and a monk raised his hand: "Your Majesty, what is the difference between a member state and the Holy Alliance's homeland?"

"Unified tariffs, self-management of finances, coordinated military affairs, and shared adherence to doctrines." Horn's voice echoed through the vaulted ceiling. "The Holy Alliance will not send bishops to oversee the country, but only top-tier lecturers to assist in compiling the scriptures."

Like the autonomous city-states of the El Empire, yet even freer, because we have no hereditary nobility.

"Then Your Majesty, if that's the case, what need is there for a Pope as the supreme leader?" Suddenly, a young priest raised his hand and asked.

"Are you crazy?"

"Who are you? What's your purpose in asking this? Who instructed you to ask?"

Before Horn could answer, a group of monks immediately stood up to defend and berate him, scaring the young monk so much that he almost collapsed to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Horn, who was still smiling when asked the question, turned grim when he saw the attitude of the other monks. "Let people talk, the 'six-character structure' won't collapse."

Several monks sat down, blushing, and Horn explained gently to the crowd:
"I'm glad you asked this question, and the reason is quite simple."

Because the devil is still alive, we still need judgment and holy war.

We all know that war requires a unified command center…

At the bottom of the stairs, Lemington listened to Horn's off-topic explanation of holy war and military affairs, but he lowered his head.

He covered half his face with his robe sleeve and said to Mattis beside him, "Your Majesty's intention is clearly to establish a new Holy Alliance Empire to replace the Holy El Empire."

Mattis paused his quill on the paper, the ink spreading into a black dot: "Clerk Lemingston, you can't just say things like that."

"What nonsense are you talking about? This is the truth."

Mattis hesitated and said, "Even if it's the Holy Alliance Empire, everyone can accept it, right?"
Moreover, the Holy Alliance claims to be the Third El, compared to the current Holy El Empire, which is structured as a barbarian kingdom.

The El and Salin scholars, representing scholars and merchants, likely prefer the Holy Alliance.

"The interests of the upper-class and lower-class Elians are not aligned, as are those of the merchant Elians and the scholar Elians."

Father Lemingston sighed, "I estimate that a large number of Windmill Land Els will migrate to Thousand Rivers Valley after this."

As if he had just thought of something, he suddenly nudged Mattis's arm: "Little Mattis, I have a question for you. How did your brother Gilles manage to become the Pope's secretary?"

Mattis scratched his head: "I'm wondering the same thing. He said he was going to Red Leaf Hill for training a while ago, and then he went and followed Lord Armand."

Lemingston pursed his lips and subtly gritted his teeth.

This kid is usually quiet, but he's good at scheming; he must have already hooked up with Armand.

If he had known Horn had these methods, he should have followed Svensson and Gilles' example and aligned himself closely with the Holy Alliance.

Even so, he couldn't help but look up at the podium.

Horn was explaining how the laws of the Holy Alliance protected artisans and scholars, and he also proposed establishing a unified civil service examination and opening up a portion of monk positions to the general public. Many monks in the audience nodded frequently, especially those with backgrounds as artisans, merchants, and scholars.

Some lower-ranking monks, who were confident in their abilities but unable to advance due to their low status, were even more excited.

Because there is no ceiling on status in the Holy Alliance, even the son of a commoner can become a clergyman at the archbishop level.

The talent-attracting effect of the Holy Alliance is already showing signs.

“But there’s no use talking about this now,” Lemington said in a low voice. “The war in the south isn’t over yet, and Horn’s papacy isn’t secure.”

Just as Mattis was about to reply, he noticed a slight commotion at the back of the crowd.

A man in a black robe was walking briskly along the shadows of the side corridor, half of his face with a thick stubble peeking out from under his hood—it was Armand.

Without alerting anyone, he walked straight to the side of the podium, bent down, and whispered a few words to Horn.

Horn's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, then he straightened up and said to the crowd below, "That's all for today's lesson. Due to some urgent business, I will rest tomorrow and continue the lecture on the 'Outline of the Holy Way Sect's Laws' the day after tomorrow."

"Get up."

"Farewell, Your Majesty."

Hundreds of monks spoke in unison, as if Horn was already a pope and they no longer knew who Grandiva was.

Horn's figure disappeared behind the side door, and the silence in the Yingjing Hall lasted only a moment before it exploded like a lake surface where a stone had been thrown in.

"The people govern themselves...this is the true intention of the Holy Lord!"

In the back row of Lemington, a middle-aged monk in a coarse robe slammed his hand on the bench.

He came from a small monastery on the border of Leia and had just converted to the Holy Path sect last year. At this moment, his eyes were red and his fists were clenched.

"Where was the church when those nobles treated us like livestock?"

The Holy Alliance says we can govern ourselves, and that's the true doctrine!

Someone nearby immediately chimed in: "The member states don't have to pay tribute to the Pope, they're united solely by doctrine... isn't that better than an empire?"

“His Holiness Horn said that the Holy Alliance is the third El, and I think he is absolutely right. It is more like El than the current Holy El Empire!” A scholar-monk wearing copper-rimmed glasses pushed up his glasses and spoke with great anticipation.

The discussions rose like a tidal wave.

The monks paced back and forth excitedly, huddled together arguing about the details of the articles, and some even took out their dry rations to eat while reviewing the lecture they had just received.

Lemingston stood up and silently led Mattis out of the classroom, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his cuffs.

He listened to the clamor behind him and a complicated smile appeared on his lips.

Saint Sun's move was brilliant; he packaged "vassalage" as "franchise," and franchising is a sophisticated form of vassalage.

This avoided the pretext of territorial expansion while giving regions that had suffered enough from aristocratic oppression a legitimate reason to revolt and surrender.

Calling it the third El is less accurate than saying it's using El's shell to create a completely new empire.

Lemington really felt he needed to rethink and adjust his doctrines and his relationship with the Holy Alliance.

“Priest, look over there.” Mattis suddenly tugged at his sleeve, his voice very low.

Lemingston looked in the direction he indicated.

The back gate of the Yingjing Hall faces a narrow alley, and at this moment a horse-drawn carriage covered with a black cloth has stopped at the entrance of the alley.

The carriage curtain was lifted, and an elderly man in a dark purple robe stepped off the carriage, stepping on the back of his servant.

The hood covered most of his face, revealing only a section of his pale chin.

He lifted the hem of his overly long robe and hurriedly turned into the side door of the Scripture Hall. The small wooden door, which was usually only used by servants, closed silently behind him.

"Who is that?" Lemingston frowned. To be able to ride in a carriage covered with black cloth and wear purple robes at Springspring Castle, one could not be an ordinary monk.

Mattis's voice trembled slightly: "I think I saw the silver embroidery on his collar; it's the emblem of the Archbishop of Flowerhill City."

And that build...it's so similar to Archbishop Campbell's."

“Cambert?” Lemingston turned his head sharply as if burned, his eyes wide. “What’s he doing here?”

Campbell was a key figure in the French Church, King Charles's right-hand man, and his status was sometimes even higher than that of Grandiva.

Just a few days ago he was arguing with Horn inside the Bologna Cathedral, so how did he end up sneaking out at the back door of the Bible House?
The monks were still talking, and apart from Lemington and his companion, no one noticed the tightly closed side door.

Lemingston suddenly felt a chill on the back of his neck.

He had a premonition that the papal crown was already firmly placed on Horn's head.

(End of this chapter)