Chapter 63

“Chapter 63: Dividing the Cake”

With that, Bishop Mozer cast a glance at his subordinate behind him.

The subordinate immediately stepped back.

Moments later, as the crowd parted, a look of surprise swept over their faces.

A large catering cart was being wheeled to the front by someone.

This was no ordinary cart; it held a giant custom-made cake, boasting four layers adorned with all sorts of colors—it looked pretty tempting.

Given its size, it surely could fill everyone in the room with a generous slice.

Noticing this grand display, a shadow flickered in Duke Tilius’s eyes.

However, he remained silent, directing his gaze at Bishop Mozer.

In response, Bishop Mozer bowed once more: “I heard that your birthday is approaching, Your Grace, but considering your military duties, I hesitated to intrude. Therefore, I thought today’s charity banquet would be a perfect occasion to deliver the Church of Heavenly Justice’s sincere blessings.”

His expression was earnest, clearly giving Duke Tilius due respect.

After all, he was a highly influential figure.

Even though he had stronger backing behind him, it was far better to attract allies through mutual benefit.

Bishop Mozer’s move had two layers of meaning.

Leading the donations was to show that without his approval, these nobles wouldn’t side with him.

And this cake acted like an olive branch thrown by his support system to Duke Tilius.

It was either “Don’t expect a dime; just leave,” or “Join us, and let’s share the cake.”

The power to choose now rested with Duke Tilius.

Seeing him silent, Bishop Mozer felt a surge of satisfaction, thinking he was pondering over the implications of his words.

He then seized the moment: “This cake was crafted at the largest workshop in Orlen City. It’s hefty enough that everyone here could have a slice and still have leftovers.”

“If that’s the case, allow me to take the liberty of serving it to everyone, shall I?”

Saying that, he took the platter and knife handed to him by his subordinate.

“Mr. Tilius, as the most esteemed guest here,” he smiled, looking at the Duke, “it’s only fitting that you take the largest and sweetest piece.”

He was just about to cut into the cake when Duke Tilius finally spoke up after remaining quiet all this time.

Gone was the smile he wore at the beginning of the banquet; now, his face bore a calm intensity, like the calm before a storm.

“You want to serve the cake?” he said coldly, “What right do you have as just a district bishop of the Heavenly Justice Church?”

When he mentioned dividing the cake, he wasn’t just talking about the dessert.

The topic had shifted to the very reason for Duke Tilius’s presence—taxation, the fundamental conflict at hand.

“What on earth are they talking about?”

Watching the tense atmosphere, Greya remarked, puzzled.

Lynn scratched his crow mask: “To put it simply, it’s another power clash between the royal authority and the nobles.”

Duke Tilius was effectively representing Sixth Saint Roland to collect taxes.

Yet such a powerful figure was being obstructed by local forces.

If they didn’t have the backing of those long-established noble families from the Imperial Capital, how could they be so bold?

“Though I don’t quite understand,” Greya glanced at Lynn, “it seems Her Highness the Princess has been hoping you could help. Shouldn’t you do something?”

“Do something? Help the Church of Heavenly Justice spread their risk?”

“Don’t be absurd. In times like this, playing it cool is the best move.” Lynn chuckled, “Only a fool would jump into the fray and become a target.”

Greya shot him a look, struggling to find the right words.

Upon hearing Duke Tilius’s sudden retort, Bishop Mozer froze in his tracks.

He looked up, finding the Duke’s demeanor commanding, his fierce gaze piercing like the eyes of a tiger.

Fortunately, Bishop Mozer had seen his fair share of storms, so he maintained his composure.

“You seem displeased, Your Grace? If that’s the case, then I’ll leave the cake distribution to you.”

With that, he prepared to hand over the knife.

This was quite the concession.

Bishop Mozer assumed that Duke Tilius simply wanted a bigger slice, so he was willing to temporarily grant his greed.

But to his surprise, Duke Tilius shook his head again: “Just because I said you have no right to divide the cake, doesn’t mean I do.”

He once again rejected Bishop Mozer’s goodwill.

Instantly, Bishop Mozer stood there, his face darkening.

Hearing such unreasonable words sent a chill through the atmosphere.

A multitude of serious eyes turned towards Duke Tilius, pondering that he might be gearing up for a confrontation.

Just then, someone in the crowd suddenly asked, “Honorable Duke, if that’s what you say, then who has this right?”

“Are we to elect someone from among us?”

This was a light-hearted joke.

The speaker seemed to hold significant stature in Orlen City, as people around him chuckled softly.

He appeared to be attempting to ease the tense atmosphere with humor.

However, Duke Tilius did not take it as a joke.

“Election? Sounds like a decent idea.” He swirled his wine glass, casually replying, “But it brings two issues.”

“First, it would neglect the wishes of a minority. For instance, among the guests here, perhaps not everyone desires to share this cake, yet they are forced to swallow it down.”

As he spoke, Duke Tilius surveyed everyone.

Indeed, a handful of guests wore hesitant expressions.

“Second, who can guarantee that the elected individual won’t indulge in greater greed after tasting the cake’s deliciousness, claiming portions meant for others, resulting in unfair distribution?”

As he said this, he shot a subtly pointed look at Bishop Mozer.

It was almost an implicit hint.

Bishop Mozer’s face turned an interesting shade of red and white.

At that moment, another voice emerged from the crowd: “What if we send someone else to specifically oversee the one dividing the cake?”

The speaker was a member of the City Council and a local noble himself.

“That idea’s even more ridiculous.” Duke Tilius shook his head, “You’d all be in cahoots.”

Upon hearing this, the man’s complexion turned pale.

Clearly, the corruption in Orlen City was widely acknowledged.