When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1045 Punish but Don't Injure

Night fell like an ink-soaked velvet cloth, pressing heavily on the spire of Spring Spring Fort.

In the small courtyard behind the Yingjing Hall, a whale oil lamp with a glass cover was placed on the table.

It illuminated Horn and Armand's faces, as well as the green beans and fried fish on the table.

Whale oil is a specialty of Storm Point, and it has become a relatively new industry that has emerged in Storm Point over the past decade.

Using the Zealand Islands as a transit point, Franco's specially made whaling ships set sail one after another to hunt whales on a large scale to produce ambergris and whale oil.

Every year, at least 200 French whaling ships hunt whales near Zealand Sea, but every year many of them are capsized by all sorts of strange sea monsters.

Especially after capturing Windmill Land, Fran ships were able to go to the icy sea to hunt whales.

Whale fishing is actually a shady business according to religious doctrine, because Myrcella first traveled to the Eastern Continent by whale.

However, the French have a somewhat utilitarian belief system, and they see through things but don't say it.

If you ask, it's about "this isn't a whale, it's a gluttonous marsupial, and it's about liposuction and weight loss."

The Franco people dared to do this because whale oil lamps were bright and odorless, and were considered quite expensive lamp oil.

Within Franco, numerous churches, monasteries, city dwellers, and nobles switched to whale oil lamps.

Every year, the import and export trade of whale oil and its domestic sales bring a large amount of income to the French royal family.

Regarding marine resources...

Horn stuffed a piece of crispy fried river fish into his mouth, feeling somewhat annoyed.

Why isn't this Thousand River Valley near the sea?

Not only is it not by the sea, but it is also so far from the sea, relying entirely on the Musk River for an outlet to the sea at Griffin Point.

Currently, Busak is in good talks with Lord Norn, but Lord Norn doesn't want money; he wants Holy Alliance officers, Holy Seeds, and Clockwork Guns.

Horn was still hesitant at first, but now he thought, since they already have breech-loading guns, they might as well give them a batch of muzzle-loading guns.

As for Ago Harbour, it's a local dialect word and doesn't sound good. I heard that the area is famous for pearls, so let's just call it Pearl Harbour.

Horn sat on a wooden stool, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, poking at the fish with a silver fork, but his thoughts were wandering off somewhere else.

"Your Majesty?"

"Huh?" Horn looked up abruptly at Armand, who had a long beard. "Where were you?"

"Mormont has now occupied Starfire Town, and the Divine Punishment Army has arrived to support them, repelling Montel's attack on Stonehold."

"Current results: Our side has suffered over 300 serious wounds, captured over 2,000 prisoners, and seized 19 clockwork cannons..."

"Hmm, not bad." Horn couldn't help but chuckle, remembering that the vulture family was the one doing the whale oil business.

Despite their envy of whale oil, the new generation of heroes from the Vulture Clan still suffered a great loss against the Holy Alliance.

He wanted to show off in front of Charles VIII, but ended up showing his backside instead.

Now that our rear is cut off and we can't advance forward, we're stuck in a rut, unable to go up or down.

More importantly, Mormont did a good job, saving face for Fran while inflicting real pain on them.

It's like slapping Franz in the face; the skin wasn't broken, but the bone was cracked.

Even if it hurts a lot right now, you have to smile and say it doesn't hurt and you're okay, but you can't really say you're okay.

Sure enough, after receiving the intelligence, Campbell hurriedly came to Horn to negotiate peace.

First, to prevent Horn from going too far, we need to quickly clear the road and bring out the Stormcap Legion.

Secondly, we should try our best to reconcile the conflicts between the two sides and avoid a complete breakdown in relations.

If the two sides actually start fighting then, the Norn Kingdom will only benefit from the situation.

“Your Majesty.” Armand picked up the schedule and went back to his usual routine. “The monks at the Sutra Hall have all dispersed, and as for Campbell…”

“It’s settled.” Horn didn’t even look up, forking a piece of green bean and stuffing it into his mouth. “He brought a message from Charles VIII. Charles VIII will come to the Bible House in person tomorrow afternoon.”

He put down his knife and fork, tapping the location of Starfire Town on the map with his fingertips: "Charles VIII needs a stepping stone."

His army lost its fighting spirit but was not seriously injured; we were in the right but did not go too far.

He's more receptive to conversations at times like these.

Armand nodded, but couldn't help asking, "What are your plans...?"

“Standing stick,” Horn continued, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Just like the strategy games he played in his previous life, Leia, who was at a disadvantage, had already been defeated.

However, within the real human community, the Holy Alliance has only obtained an admission ticket; they haven't truly entered the fray yet.

"...And what we need to do is make them admit that the Holy Alliance is the third player."

Horn got up and walked to the window, pushed open the wooden window, and the evening breeze blew in with a damp and cold air.

"The battle in Xinghuo Town proved that the Holy Alliance is capable of fighting, and it didn't force the Fran dogs to take desperate measures."

Only then was Charles VIII willing to sit down and discuss the rules and the division of spheres of influence.

"The rules you mentioned, you mean..."

“The diplomatic system.” Horn turned around, the light of the oil lamp dancing in his eyes. “It’s no longer about sending a temporary envoy to run errands, but about setting up permanent embassies in the capitals of various countries.”

The Holy Alliance sent not only priests to France, but also civil servants to record trade and mediate disputes. Those from France who came to the Holy Alliance could also be stationed permanently in Joan of Arc, eliminating the need to investigate from the beginning for every negotiation.

Seeing Armand's thoughtful expression, Horn walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a roll of paper, and unfolded it. It contained a simple diagram of a mechanism.

"Our core group of scholars, businessmen, and capital... what these people fear most is a surprise attack today and a ban tomorrow."

Established diplomacy allows conflicts to be discussed openly, even if it leads to a heated argument and an unpleasant scene, it's still better than a climate of fear and suspicion.

Armand looked at the blueprints and suddenly realized: "You want to use this meeting to get Fran to recognize the Holy League's international status?"

“Yes.” Horn rolled up the paper. “We fought them, and they admitted it, which proves that the Holy Alliance not only has the ability to stabilize the country, but also the power to interfere abroad.”

Only then would Salin scholars dare to bring their books over with confidence, and merchants dare to invest their gold pounds in our glass workshop.

Only those El scholars who are ostracized in the Empire would consider the Holy Alliance a respectable place.

Otherwise, we will forever be seen as a barbaric sect by others.

He sat back down at the table, finished the rest of the soup in one gulp, and the porcelain bowl clinked softly on the table: "To put it bluntly, the Holy El Empire has long been an empty shell, with noble bishops fighting for positions inside."

What we need to do is not to smash this shell, but to let the people inside see that this new shell of the Holy Alliance is more suitable for smart people who want to get things done.

Armand lowered his head to take notes, his pen gliding across the page: "The meeting place tomorrow shall be at the Yingjing Hall?"

“Hmm.” Horn wiped his mouth. “That’s where the scriptures are answered, and now it’s perfect for answering the King of Fran’s questions.”

Please arrange for the three streets surrounding the Yingjing Hall to be sealed off starting tomorrow morning, leaving only the side entrance open.

Replace all guards with veteran Imperial Guards; keep unauthorized personnel away.

…………

By noon, the three streets in front of the Yingjing Hall had been thoroughly cleaned.

On the dusty road, last night's rainwater had pooled into a mirror, reflecting the solemn faces of the Saint Union veterans standing on both sides.

They wore dark blue uniforms, with wind-up pistols slung across their shoulders.

Opposite them was the Royal Family's newly established wind-up musket company.

They wore sky-blue, tightly woven robes and wide-brimmed feathered hats, staring at the Holy Alliance veterans opposite them like bulls.

Horn stood in front of the oak door of the Bible House, not wearing the Pope's heavy robes, but only a black monk's robe.

He was followed by Armand and three scribe monks, including Guillermo del Toro.

No one dared to make a sound on the street; the only sound was the rustling of robes in the wind, like the soft sound of the tide receding.

"They're here," Armand suddenly whispered.

Horn looked up and saw the sound of horses' hooves splashing in the water coming from the street corner. A procession of carriages was slowly approaching along the street.

At the very front were four pure white Andamanian horses, pulling a gilded carriage.

The carriage was adorned with white iris emblems on both sides, signifying that it was the royal carriage of Charles VIII.

Twenty cavalrymen of Wang Xian followed behind the carriage, their silver ornaments jingling, but none of them dared to ride fast, as if afraid of disturbing the silence in front of the Yingjing Hall.

The carriage came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, and a eunuch lifted the curtain and jumped down to stand on his feet.

Charles VIII bent down as he stepped out of the carriage, wearing a dark blue velvet coat with a weasel skin trim on the collar.

His young but pockmarked face was adorned with no crown, only a ruby ​​headband tied in his hair.

His gaze swept over the Holy Alliance veterans on both sides of the street, then landed on Horn, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Your Majesty Horn,” Charles VIII spoke first, his voice more composed than rumored, “I have long wanted to visit you, and today I finally have the opportunity.”

“It is my honor that the King has come.” Horn gestured with his hand. “We have prepared coffee, a specialty of the Holy Alliance, and this year’s new pearl rice from Black Snake Bay.”

Their eyes met briefly in the air before calmly looking away.

Grandiva, who was "recovering from a serious illness" beside Charlie, looked rather unwell. He followed behind Charlie, the hem of his purple robe stained with mud.

His gaze toward Horn was like ice, yet he could only grit his teeth and nod in acknowledgment.

"I heard that His Majesty has been talking about 'self-governance by believers' these past few days?" Charlie climbed the steps, his boots treading on the damp stone. "My monks all said that the principles taught by the Holy Path Sect are clearer than an account book."

"The principles of the Holy Alliance come from the accounts," Horn said, stepping aside to lead the way. "Believers need to eat, they need to work, and they need to know where their taxes are being spent..."

Once these things are understood, the doctrine will naturally become clear.

The two walked side by side into the Bible House, followed closely by Armand and Charles's servants.

Grandiva was left behind. Just as he was about to take a step, he was stopped by a veteran of the Holy Alliance.

“Archbishop, please wait.” The veteran of the Holy Alliance said without any politeness, “His Majesty said that today we will only discuss secular matters, and it is not appropriate for church personnel to listen in.”

"Aren't you blind? I..."

Grandiva was so angry that his sleeves trembled. Just as he was about to explode, he saw Charlie turn around from inside the door: "Cambert, just come in with me. You wait outside."

Before the words were finished, the heavy oak door creaked shut, the click of the latch echoing in the empty hall.

Although the sound was soft, to Grandiva it sounded like a muffled thunderclap in his ear.

Is he waiting outside?

(End of this chapter)