Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 1071, page 09.1070: 'Theological Debate'

“I think these throne coins should… no, they should definitely be enough.” The young bishop’s expression was calm, but his tightly pursed lips revealed that he was suppressing his indignation at the act of tainting the faith with the stench of money.

He waved his hand, and the monks behind him immediately stepped forward and carried over several extremely heavy boxes.

bang-

The box was slammed heavily onto the stone slab in front of the nobles, making a solid, dull sound.

The latch was opened, the metal screeching as it rubbed together, revealing a mountain of throne coins inside, gleaming with a dull, oily sheen.

Surprisingly, Bishop Jan Hus agreed to the greedy demands of these Sintira nobles, who insisted on paying exorbitant sums of money in exchange for entry into the church to administer the Sacraments of Holy Orders.

After their servants carefully examined the authenticity of the gold coins, the greedy nobles exchanged glances.

A hint of undisguised contempt and greed flashed in their eyes, as if they were watching their prey take its final step into the trap.

They nodded in satisfaction, indicating that the bishop was permitted to enter the church.

But then, what happened next completely ignited the already tense atmosphere in front of the church—a truly shameful scene.

As Bishop Jan Huss took the golden chalice from the reliquary and respectfully prepared to step onto the first step of the church, a commotion arose behind him.

"Stop right there!"

He turned around abruptly and saw the group of nobles' private soldiers, their armor clanging, stepping forward in unison.

The bayonets gleaming in their hands crossed instantly, forming a cold wall of steel that ruthlessly blocked the thousands of ragged but devout pilgrims behind him.

A private captain loudly announced his master's order—each and every pilgrim must pay per person to enter!

Furthermore, depending on the location, the better the view and the closer to the Divine Emperor's Altar, the more gold coins are required!

"What do you mean?"

The bishop was finally enraged.

He turned around abruptly, the bishop's robes flapping violently with a thud.

His voice, suppressing his anger, boomed like thunder before a clap of thunder, aimed directly at the Sintira nobles hiding behind their private soldiers, their faces full of mockery:

“They are followers of the God-Emperor! Wasn’t the gold coins I just gave you meant to rent the entire church?! Why can’t they enter?!”

"Ha ha……"

A burst of harsh, undisguised mockery rang out.

A nobleman—dressed in extravagant silks and with a pale face thickly powdered—slowly picked at his ear with his little finger, which was covered in a lace glove.

“Your Excellency,” he said lazily, “you have only contracted the ‘temporary right to use’ the sacred grounds of this church.”

But you didn't pay for these 'fixed assets' on the ground... like chairs and pulpits.

Upon hearing this, the other nobles behind him immediately erupted in unrestrained agreement and laughter. From the bottom of their hearts, they utterly despised these "opportunists" who, merely because of their "oaths," had risen from the lowest ranks of clergy to high positions, replacing those "anti-oath" priests.

In their eyes, these fanatics were nothing but charlatans in the gutter, utterly unworthy to stand on the same paving stones as those of them who flowed with noble blood.

"This is the sacred temple where one can communicate with the God Emperor!"

Jan Shu trembled with rage. “Every human being has the right to use all the facilities in this temple! They were built for the devout to communicate with the God-Emperor and are placed here for the sacred rites! How can you say that we have to pay separately for the seats and pulpit?!”

“We paid a hefty price to lease this church from the Governor, Your Excellency the Bishop,” a nobleman with a pale face, a tall white curly wig, and an intricately lace collar stepped forward with a cold snort.

"The ownership and title of this church now belong to our colonial nobles, not your St. Drusus Order. We are the ones who call the shots here. If you have any objections, you may apply to the Governor to convene a 'Three-Party Conference'."

He straightened his ridiculous lace bow tie and, in an extremely arrogant tone, said, word by word:

"Furthermore, I need to correct one small mistake you made. This money isn't called a 'venue fee,' it's called an 'indulgence.'"

“This is because the Polaberia people…” He glanced disgustedly at the peasant pilgrims who had been stopped, “failed to defend against the Greenskins’ invasion in the war thirty-five years ago, and it was ultimately our selfless and generous Sintira army that drove the Greenskins away for them. Therefore, they must pay this ‘military compensation’!”
Our valiant nobles paid the price of countless noble blood and immeasurable wealth to drive the aliens from the people of Polyberia. This money is an atonement for the sins of their cowardly ancestors, a debt that has yet to be repaid!

He took a data tablet from the attendant, tapped the screen with a jeweled finger, and read out the astronomical figure, word by word:
"This money also includes the enormous compensation they owe the God-Emperor for their incompetence! In total, 3,867,485,788 Throne Gold Coins... The Wadsław royal family cannot afford these expenses, so we have confiscated their land and buildings to pay off the debt! This is perfectly reasonable! This is their atonement to the God-Emperor!"

The nobleman patted his chest, which was embroidered with gold thread, and a twisted smile appeared on his face. "And we are the God Emperor's debt collectors."

"This is utter nonsense! It's the logic of a robber!! This isn't just extortion, it's blasphemy in the name of the Emperor! This is the first time in my life I've seen a governor dare to confiscate the Imperial Cathedral to pay off debts!" ​​Jan Hus said angrily.

His eyes widened, and he snatched the quill pen from the tray of the attendant beside him.

His movements were as swift as a hawk's, as he scribbled furiously on the parchment presented by another acolyte, who was trembling with fear. The quill pen made a harsh scraping sound as it scratched across the parchment, like a sharp blade slicing through the silence.

When he finished writing the last word, he held the parchment high—"The People's Right to Education."

(PS: Jan Hus did indeed write "The People's Parliament" in Earth's history.)
Facing the sea of ​​those barred from entering, that ocean of the deprived who dared not speak out, he raised the parchment high above his head in a voice that pierced through the crowd, and proclaimed:

"Seek the truth! Hear the truth! Learn the truth! Act according to the truth! Uphold the truth! Defend the truth to the death! The truth of the God-King belongs to all mankind—!!!!"

Below the granite steps of the church, the dense crowd—some were pilgrims who had followed the pilgrimage, but most were farmers from Polaberia who had traveled from the countryside into the city and from the suburbs to this heart of power—was initially deathly silent.

Immediately afterwards, this deathly silence erupted into a deafening roar!
"Truth belongs to all humankind!!"

Down with the blasphemers!!

An angry crowd began to surge and press up the steps.

The private soldiers in the front row paled. They hadn't expected these "peasants" to dare to resist, and their hands, holding bayonets, began to tremble. Their usual tyrannical behavior of bullying men and women didn't mean they dared to rely solely on this single squad of guards to stop this surging, angry sea of ​​people.

Just then, creak—

The church's heavy oak doors groaned as they opened inward.

(End of this chapter)