Chapter 551: The Revelers’ Field and the Weepers’ Ground
About whether Sibis was truly wronged or not, the scepter priests of the various palaces had their own suspicions.
The allocation of resources being uneven, as mentioned by some of the priests, meant that some were forced to stay in certain places for decades. This situation was indeed true, and Sibis, due to his extensive network, saw the most benefits from his faction, making him a natural target for hatred among the lower-level priests.
It wasn’t that the church’s upper echelons were mostly unscrupulous; on the contrary, most were decent individuals. However, limited by the era and technology, it was impossible to remember everyone during work. In the selection and promotion processes, people naturally favored those they were close to, which inevitably led to unfairness.
In this world, there were no imperial examinations, college entrance exams, or public service exams. A priest was chosen for a region based on their qualifications and experience, decisions often made by the archbishop of the area.
When two candidates stood before you, both newly certified and equally powerful, and you didn’t know either, choosing one wouldn’t be questioned. But if an acquaintance recommended someone, you might choose based on trust and liking.
However, the other candidate could be just as good, or even better. You might not know them, preferring safety over risk, thus making such a choice understandable.
But repeated such biases would accumulate, forming an unfair power group, eventually disrupting the organization’s order and fairness.
Such organizations typically decay and fade away.
But in this world with extraordinary powers, traditional strength became more potent. High-ranking extraordinary beings from established groups would gain stronger forces to resist historical corrections.
The disappointed and helpless would blame fate, birth, or lineage, accepting reality and praying for a hero to change everything.
This was where heroes reveled, and the weak wept.
The long-suppressed discontent within the church erupted due to this incident. Perhaps the two major figures who initiated it hadn’t anticipated the escalating chaos.
And at this point, they still believed it was their opponents stirring things up behind the scenes.
—
Before the Ten-Sword Palace, the crowd surged, torches held high, illuminating the night like day.
“Get out, Sibis!”
“Scum!”
“Parasite of the Church!”
The enraged and violent crowd shouted, pushing forward. In front of the palace, three rows of golden-armored guards tightly lined up, forming a dense human wall to resist the impact. These guards were all extraordinary beings, with the lowest at Sequence 2, and some captains reaching Sequence 5.
As the shouts grew louder and the pressure increased, the guards had to deploy barriers attached to their armor, transparent crystal-like magic covering their bodies, deflecting thrown stones and punches.
Curses, orders to stop, shouts, conversations, and cries echoed in the chaotic scene. Nearby, high-ranking officials from other palaces silently observed.
They understood the source of the anger but couldn’t resolve it.
The overwhelming public opinion, like a flood, relentlessly battered the golden line. Finally,
An angry priest raised his right hand, and a small white flame appeared in his palm, turning into a tiny meteor heading towards the palace.
Due to the distance and unstable surroundings, the fireball didn’t reach the palace but ignited a nearby tree.
The flames exploded, rising through the canopy, particularly noticeable in the darkness.
This seemed like a signal. Priests in the crowd began casting spells. Most were extraordinary beings, though not high-ranking, they had attack methods.
Fireballs and light spears rose into the night sky, initially sporadic but increasing in number. Occasionally, high-level spells mixed in, raining down like a storm, striking the transparent barrier, causing intense vibrations.
Guarding the palace, the soldiers started getting injured but were quickly dragged back, replaced by reserves.
A priest rushed into the central courtyard of the palace and approached the archbishop, who was meditating.
“Sire Sibis, the crowd outside is attacking. Should we respond now?”
Sibis, pale and plump, reclined in his seat, answering slowly after a while, “Wait a bit longer.”
“Yes.” The priest from the Ten-Sword Palace left the palace and continued organizing defenses and rescue efforts.
On a mountain peak several miles from the Ten-Sword Palace, it remained quiet, with a few fire pots burning softly, crackling quietly, contrasting sharply with the distant chaotic scene.
“Lord Odysseus, should we set out now?” A thousand-rider commander emerged from the darkness, asking the grand marshal watching the distance from the fire pots.
The Holy Lance Knight Order, as the church’s military force, had the critical duty of protecting the sacred mountain and maintaining order. Generally, minor conflicts and law enforcement were handled by the Ten-Sword Palace. But when matters escalated this far, the Holy Lance Knight Order’s absence would be negligent.
The Ten-Sword Palace acted like a legislative and enforcement body combined, while the knight order maintained organizational order and security through force. Minor injustices fell under the Ten-Sword Palace’s responsibility, but allowing the situation to spiral out of control also implicated Odysseus, hindering his campaign for pope.
“Sibis aims for mutual destruction,” Odysseus said, watching the distant flames, placing his hand on the cold parapet, rubbing it slowly, stirring dust with his steel gauntlet.
After a moment of silence, he turned to the knight commander, “Let’s go, it’s time.”
“Yes, sir!”
The knight commander saluted and bellowed to the rear,
“Light the fires, mount your horses!”
With this call, torches ignited in the night, orange flames illuminating armored knights. They mounted their horses, following the leading grand marshal, descending the mountain path, horse hooves echoing from slow to fast, finally roaring like a tidal wave down the mountain.
Lances reflected in the firelight, cold steel tips forming a forest, rapidly spreading, solemn yet not sacred.
(End of Chapter)
