When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1119 Deadlock
The dim candlelight flickered, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

This was the third day of the National Conference, and apart from passing the resolution to ban the Common Piety Committee on the first day, the National Conference had not been able to make any further decisions.

The air in Parliament Hill was thick and still; almost no one spoke.

The only sounds were the occasional pacing and hushed conversations of the members of parliament, which, mixed with the crackling of candlelight, sounded particularly jarring.

In this atmosphere, Bradak had just pushed open the door when he heard a roar.

Valeris was no longer the elegant man he once was; his hair was disheveled and hung down in front of his forehead, and his face was filled with barely suppressed anger.

With the sleeves of his navy blue suit rolled up to his elbows, he pointed at the Holy Alliance's seats and roared, "You bunch of Holy Alliance lackeys, are you really going to drag Dawn Island into a civil war?"

The members of the Holy Alliance remained seated, but sat upright with their eyes narrowed, like holy statues, without uttering a word.

“Lord Valeris,” Bradak stepped forward, his voice utterly calm, “this is not a civil war, but the Dawn Islanders fighting for their rightful rights.”

"A right they deserve?" Gatz stood up from his armchair and sneered. "Blocking roads and beating tax collectors—what is this if not a mob?"

"They are not a mob!" Tora suddenly stood up. "If it weren't for you, would things have come to this? This is the voice of Dawn Island!"

"fart!"

It was as if a bomb had been lit, and the once quiet Parliament Hill was once again in an uproar.

The Francoid oligarchs slammed their fists on the table, denouncing the farmers and laborers for their insubordination, while the Saint-Union members of parliament roared that they should listen to the voices of the lower classes.

The neutral lawmakers huddled in the middle, either pretending to be asleep or secretly glancing at the figures outside the window.

Ignoring the noise, Bradak slowly walked to the window and lifted a corner of the heavy curtains.

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained a leaden gray.

At the gates of Longbow Fortress in the distance, one can see a dense, surging crowd.

They displayed several flags, including the orthodox Holy Union flag, the Dawn Island flag, and even a flag with a picture of Joan of Arc.

“More and more…”

Bradak's heart began to race. Nearly ten thousand farmers had gathered outside the city, and their numbers were still growing.

Besides those from the vicinity of Longbow Fortress, even refugees and farmers from further afield came to join in the festivities.

The farmers who arrived controlled the four gates of Longbow Fortress, preventing caravans from entering or leaving.

The dock was also guarded by veterans, so the cargo on the ships could not be unloaded, and the cargo that needed to be transported could not be loaded onto the ships.

Even grain shouldn't be allowed into the city!

Strangely, these people were remarkably orderly.

There was no burning, killing, or looting; not even the shops along the street were destroyed. Only a few refugees extorted a few silver coins.

Bradak knew in his heart that it was the monks and veterans of the Church of Jesus Christ who were maintaining order.

What they want is not chaos, but pressure.

This tactic is clearly effective, as more and more Francoist members of parliament are showing signs of hesitation and fear.

It's important to know that this situation isn't limited to Longbow Keep, but occurs in most of the cities and towns on Dawn Island.

What if they get blocked here, and their hometown is raided by rioters?
It's not impossible.

Nowadays, when farmers cause trouble, even in the past, the conflict would have to be resolved first.

Otherwise, putting aside everything else, just cutting off food supplies would be enough to cause serious problems for urban areas.

Should we compromise?

These local lawmakers are still hesitating, but those who are funded by Franco have no chance to hesitate at all.

Even Valeris, with all his calculations, never anticipated that the Guardians of the Faith could actually mobilize the farmers.

This group of loosely organized, ignorant, short-sighted, and infighting farmers was surprisingly united in besieging the city.

How did they manage to bring so many farmers out of their homes, many of whom had never left their villages in their entire lives?

What Valeris didn't know was that the Holy Alliance's promotion of the Hundred Households District, though seemingly laborious and thankless, was actually a fundamental change.

The Christian Guard would often conscript soldiers from each village's hundred-household district, then send the veterans back to their hometowns, distribute more land to them, and appoint militia captains.

These militia captains quickly filled the power vacuum left by the knight's escape.

With the reputation that the traveling monks usually build up, mobilizing enough farmers, though at a limit, is not impossible.

In the past, oligarchs would either compromise or hire mercenaries or the church to suppress them.

Now that the church is gone, the only options are to wait for mercenaries or compromise.

But is it really too late?

Valeris gritted his teeth: "Gentlemen, stop arguing! The mob outside the city is about to surround us; we need to find a way to drive them out!"

“Expel them? How?” a neutral councilor asked in a low voice. “There are no troops in the city, only guards…”

Gatz immediately retorted, "We can't use the army, but don't we have guards? At most, it'll just be a brawl."

The oligarchs nodded in agreement, while the members of the Holy Alliance stirred, but this was suppressed by Bradak and others.

With his arms crossed over his chest, Bradak smiled at Gatz and the others, completely understanding the situation, making them feel uneasy.

The congressmen quickly reached a consensus. "Assemble the guards and proceed to the south gate to suppress the rebellion!"

Less than an hour later, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard on the street.

More than two hundred oligarch guards, dressed in various styles of leather armor and carrying spears and greatswords, gathered in the square.

Leading the group was Gatz's steward, who brandished his riding crop and shouted, "Keep it up! Chase those farmers away, and the master will reward you handsomely!"

The guards responded and stormed out of the side door.

But as soon as they turned the corner and came to the main road at the city gate, they slammed on the brakes and stopped in their tracks.

Right before their eyes, less than a mile away, was the city gate.

Nearly a hundred burly hooded men dressed as farmers stood in a neat line, silent, their cold eyes fixed on the guards.

Look at that imposing presence, that orderly formation, and then look at the long, slender object faintly visible beneath the cloaks…

Is this a farmer?
"What are you afraid of?" The steward coughed and brandished his whip at the formation. "Charge up and scatter them! Whoever charges first will be rewarded with 10 gold pounds."

Amid the commotion, a few hot-headed guards couldn't resist the temptation and charged forward with their clubs in hand.

But after taking only a few steps, a clear gunshot suddenly rang out.

"boom!"

The guard at the front screamed as a burst of blood suddenly gushed from his calf.

He staggered a few steps, then rolled to the ground, the club flying away, and he clutched his leg, howling in pain.

"Wow, the farmer has a gun!"

One of the guards shouted, and the oligarch's guards immediately retreated.

Even the butler shrank back, no longer daring to order a charge.

In the formation, an old soldier wearing a gray cloth strip slowly raised his hand and said in a loud voice: "We don't want to hurt anyone, we just want the right to vote. If you take another step forward, next time, it won't just be legs!"

The guards looked at each other, and in the end, no one dared to move.

The butler gritted his teeth, but finally waved his hand: "Retreat! Retreat first!"

The private soldiers, feeling as if they had been granted a pardon, helped their wounded comrades and fled back to Parliament Hill in a sorry state.

On Parliament Hill, the oligarchs were eagerly awaiting good news, only to find their guards returning dejectedly.

Not only that, they were also carrying a companion whose leg was bleeding!
"What's going on?!" Valeris's expression immediately changed.

"Your Excellency, they have guns! Real clockwork guns!" The butler trembled with fear, pointing outside, "We can't break through!"

Valeris whirled around, staring at the Holy Alliance councilors with suspicion and fury: "You dare give them guns?"

Bradak sneered: "Lord Valeris, many of these farmers are veterans of the Dawn Island War."

As a member of the clergy, it's perfectly reasonable for him to carry a wind-up pistol, isn't it?

The oligarchs' expressions changed completely.

They have combat experience, weapons, and an organization.

Calling them a mob is too lenient; this is an army, and an army specifically tasked with seizing power by force!
The council chamber fell silent instantly.

Armed seizure of power is a last resort, and its legitimacy is certainly not as high as that of a national conference.

This means that if a suitable solution is not chosen, the Holy Alliance has the power to overturn the table at any time.

The candle flame crackled and popped, and the sound of wax dripping onto the ground was exceptionally clear.

The oligarchs looked at each other, but no one spoke.

The members of the Holy Alliance remained silent, while Tora and Valeris exchanged a glance and both smiled.

The flow has changed.

The stalemate lasted from morning to afternoon, and then dragged on into the evening.

More and more members of parliament started approaching Bradak for casual conversation, probably realizing something.

Many staunch French-backed members of parliament remained seated, none of them in the mood to eat.

Only occasionally did the servants bring some dry bread and water, but few people touched it.

Valeris leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps feigning composure.

Gatz kept rubbing the armrest of the chair, his knuckles turning white from the force.

This is a contest of wills, a test of who backs down first, or what unexpected event can break the deadlock.

Valeris and his companion seemed to have victory in their grasp, but in reality, they were out of options and could only silently pray to the Father.

As for Bradak and the others, they were also praying, except that they were praying to the saint's grandson and the Cheka.

As the moon rose high in the sky, a cool breeze carried a commotion straight into Parliament Hill, startling many members of parliament who stood up and rushed to the windows.

Without even looking, Bradak smiled and said, "You've finally arrived."

(End of this chapter)