Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 328 Oath
"The vast majority of people in Tiefeng County consider you one of my people, whether that's true or not, am I right?"

"So your actions not only represent you, but also my attitude. Do you understand?"

“We have just gone through a very tough battle, and what Iron Peak County needs least right now is internal strife. I cannot engage in direct combat with the Catholic Church, and you should know that too.”

Aside from his aggressive entrance, Winters did not engage in any further aggressive behavior.

He calmly presented the facts and reasoned with Kaman, without a hint of blame in his tone.

“Father Edmund just gave me an ultimatum.” Winters sighed heavily. “You should have consulted with me first about this. Otherwise, it’s turned out like this—putting me in a very passive position.”

Kaman's cheeks flushed crimson. He stood up stiffly, bent over reluctantly, and whispered as softly as a butterfly's flutter: "I'm sorry."

Winters was actually a little mischievous towards Kaman, since Kaman usually ignored him.

But when Winters saw Kaman bowing and apologizing out of guilt, he didn't feel smug at all; instead, he felt very uncomfortable.

"Hmph, such a nice attitude, I'm actually a little unaccustomed to it!" Winters quickly pressed Kaman back into his seat and joked, "You didn't really get into some big trouble, did you?"

Upon hearing this, Kaman was about to stand up again.

Winters sensed a dangerous atmosphere.

“Mr. Kaman,” Winters said, putting his hand on Kaman’s shoulder, “are we friends?”

Kaman was taken aback at first, then glared angrily at Winters.

“We’ve been through so much together, we’re close even if we’re not friends. I would never betray you, and I believe you won’t betray me,” Winters said earnestly. “But I don’t know what I’m involved in yet, and I think you should give me some explanation.”

Kaman hesitated, struggling for a long time before finally giving up: "I swore an oath of secrecy before the true symbol of holiness..."

It would have been better if Kaman hadn't brought it up, because the mention of the "oath of secrecy" piqued Winters' interest—because the last time Kaman mentioned the oath of secrecy was when discussing divine magic.

Winters immediately left the room and ordered Charles to stand guard outside the door and not allow anyone to approach.

After closing the door, Winters poured Kaman a glass of water: "Oath of secrecy? Can an oath be spoken? Is it rigorous? I can look for loopholes."

Kaman scoffed dismissively and didn't reply.

"How about this? I'll ask the questions, and you just answer 'yes' or 'no'."

Kaman shook his head: "No."

Winters proposed several more solutions, all of which were rejected by Kaman.

“Hmm, I understand. Any response you give will break your oath.” Winters became increasingly interested: “Quite meticulous.”

“This won’t take you long,” Kaman said with difficulty. “I just need to buy some time.”

“Suppose there is another country in the East, suppose that country has another pagan church, suppose that pagan church in that country also has another oath of secrecy…” Winters interrupted Kaman, pacing around the room: “We’re discussing fictional things, can’t we bypass the oath?”

“You can fool others, but you can’t fool yourself.” Kaman shook his head. “Even if you can fool yourself, you can’t fool God.”

Winters seemed not to hear Kaman's words. He stopped and presented his final solution: "There's no other way, so let's do it this way—I'll explain, you don't need to answer or express your opinion, just listen to me."

Kaman was somewhat annoyed: "How can you still not understand? Just by tolerating you talking about this topic, I may have already broken my oath."

“Maybe?” Winters seized on the loophole in Kaman’s words: “You said ‘maybe,’ right? Since there is a possibility, it means that the oath still has some flexibility.”

Kaman angrily shut his mouth.

“I’m a little curious, how do you people who have sworn an oath of secrecy communicate? Does the oath restrict you to ‘only speaking to another person who has sworn an oath of secrecy’?” Winters pressed forward like he had found a weakness in his opponent’s sword fight: “Then I’ll swear an oath too, and then you can talk to me, right?”

Kaman's shoulders and hands were trembling.

“Alright, let’s not talk about that today.” Winters rationally decided not to provoke Kaman any further. He poured himself a glass of water and, regardless of whether Kaman wanted to listen or not, continued, “Major Ronald mentioned in a letter that he rescued an old slave from the Heds. The slave claimed to be Father Saul, but no other information is available…”

Kaman sat there expressionless.

Winters carefully observed Kaman's expression. To him, Kaman's continued presence meant victory.

Oath? No matter how rigorous the oath is, it is ultimately people who carry it out—and people are the biggest loophole.

"...After the old slave who called himself Father Saul came to Central Iron Peak County, you were the first to see him..." Winters paused for a moment, then said, word by word, "and you hid him away."

Kaman stared at the water glass without responding, but his emotions betrayed him.

Winters spoke casually, as if in conversation: “You wanted to operate in secret, but nothing stays hidden forever. The monks at the Ghevodan Monastery reacted more fiercely than you anticipated. Left with no other choice, you used my name—or rather, you wanted to use my reputation to intimidate them and buy yourself time…”

Kaman stared at the water in the glass, as if the Virgin Mary were appearing in it.

Winters sat back in his chair, his tone tinged with reproach: "How can you be so naive?"

Kaman suddenly raised his head, his gaze piercing Winters.

“Since you’re using my name, you can’t hide it from me! Look, Edmond came straight to me, didn’t he?”

Ignoring Kaman's angry glare, Winters calmly commented:
"I used to think you enjoyed a special status in the church. But look what happened! You can't even control a few rural priests! Is this how the church treats users of divine magic? I really don't understand. How does the church balance power and divine magic? Aren't you going to rebel?"

"Enough! Do you think we're like you?" Kaman was absolutely furious. "The status of clergy is equal, and there is no distinction of rank or status based on divine bestowal!"

"Equality? What is the Holy Order?" Winters retorted. "Why are some bishops, some priests, and some so poor they starve to death?"

"Sacred order is a sacred event, a mission and a responsibility! When reaching out to knock on the gates of heaven, everyone is equal!"

"Mission? Responsibility? Do you even believe those things yourself?" Winters propped his chin up.

Kaman rolled up his sleeves: "[A vulgar statement, though full of rage, has little offensive power]!"

"Alright, alright." Seeing that he was about to personally experience a lethal divine spell, Winters quickly stopped him: "I'm not here to debate with you. Didn't the Great Debate end thirty years ago?"

"I only have one question for you." In an instant, Winters' expression turned cold, and the speed of his emotional shift caught Kaman off guard.

Winters asked coldly, "Where is the prisoner?"

……

Fifteen minutes later, at the officer's residence in Zhevodan.

After wandering around, Winters somehow ended up back at his place.

Winters finally understood—why Father Edmund had shamefully bribed him? Why didn't the Gevordan Monastery simply kill him first and then report him?

Kaman hid people in the Blood Wolves' den; who would dare to lay a hand on them?

"You hid people here?" Winters asked Kaman in surprise.

Kaman was a little embarrassed, but still kept a cold face: "Just staying temporarily."

“What I mean is,” Winters said, pointing to the kitchen door, somewhat incredulously, “that he’s a clergyman, and you’re putting him in the kitchen.”

Kaman was even more ashamed: "This was what Brother Saul himself requested."

Pushing open the door, the kitchen was warm and cozy. The stove was burning brightly, and something was bubbling away in the pot.

An old man with gray hair and beard was hunched over in front of the stove, peeling beets.

Winters could never have imagined that the "heretic" that the Iron Peak Church was determined to eradicate was such a frail old man.

The old man was not surprised by Winters and Carman's arrival, as if he had expected this moment.

He squinted to see who it was, nodded as a greeting, and then continued peeling the beetroot in his hand.

Winters walked over to the pot and looked at the thick soup that was simmering.

"So the soup this morning was yours." Winters smiled somewhat helplessly. "No wonder it had a bit of a grassland flavor—I thought I was overthinking it."

“Just haphazardly cooked.” Winters couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t that what the Hed people do when they make soup?”

The old man also showed a knowing smile, while Kaman stood there awkwardly.

“Sir, I have some questions I want to ask you, but he won’t tell me.” Winters pointed at Kaman: “Then I have no choice but to ask you.”

“Please ask,” the old man said, picking up another beetroot and continuing to peel it, “if you’d like to hear it.”

Winters sat on the ground, and because he was taller than the old man, their eyes met: "Didn't you take any oath of secrecy?"

"It has been established."

"Can I say that I took an oath of secrecy?"

"can."

“Brother Saul!” Kaman exclaimed anxiously.

“Brother Kaman,” the old man known as Saul said, slowly peeling a beetroot, “I have been excommunicated.”

Kaman was speechless, and he angrily pushed open the door and left.

“He didn’t want to listen and left.” Winters got up, poured two cups of hot soup, and sat back down. “That’s fine, we can talk about it slowly.”

The old man neither agreed nor disagreed.

Interrogations usually begin with name, age, and background, but Winters didn't care about those. So he went straight to the point: "Why must the Church of Gervodan kill you?"

The old man paused for a moment: “Because I belong to the [Reformist Order].

Once you find the end of the thread, the rest is simple.

"The Reformed Order." Winters followed up with the keyword, asking, "And what is it?"

"The Reformed Order is..." The old man's hand stopped, and a complex emotion that Winters could not understand surfaced in his dry, pool-like eyes, but only for a moment.

The old man continued peeling beets: "A group of people who have already died out."

“It’s alright.” Winters took a small sip of hot soup. “I have time.”

……

……

What is human nature?
A pursuit of rationality? Or an uncontrollable impulse?

The dualistic form is obviously ineffective in explaining this, but even the most pessimistic philosophers about human nature have to admit that sometimes the pursuit of reason prevails.

Because exploring the laws governing all things is a human instinct, even when faced with "gods," humans will still want an explanation.

Therefore, we can see the following strange phenomenon: the foundation of orthodox scholastic theology is rigorous logic, and given its premises, scholastic theology can be logically self-consistent.

The same applies to divine magic.

In the early days of the Catholic faith—not the church—divine magic was regarded as a miracle, the grace of God, and the gospel spread by God through the hands of clergy.

Ancient empires originally revered polytheistic religions and were extremely hostile to "heretics" who believed in Catholicism, with massacres and persecutions being commonplace.

Originally, Catholicism was a religion for the poor, as "it is harder for the rich to go to heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle," and therefore they were powerless to resist the sword of the ruling class.

If the Catholic Church wants to continue to survive, there is only one way: eliminate its rivals and take their place.

As a result, Catholicism, which originally spread among the poor, began to actively approach the powerful and wealthy, and even transformed itself to cater to the ruling class.

The Catholic Church—a tightly organized, centralized group—also gradually took shape during this period.

Ultimately, Catholicism was officially accepted as the state religion by Emperor Constantine the Great.

From then on, the Catholic Church, with the help of the government, systematically eliminated the old religious system and contemptuously referred to it as "heretical religion".

In the battle between the Catholic Church and the Old Church for the upper echelons, the unique divine magic played a crucial role.

As the Catholic Church's position became increasingly secure, so secure that it could not be shaken, the clergy finally had the capacity to consider a question:
What is divine magic?
Divine magic is certainly a gift from God, but how is it accomplished? And is it logically provable?

Is divine magic a complete miracle? Or does the caster also participate to some extent?
If it's the former, it means that divine magic can be stripped away; if it's the latter, then what is the ratio between the two?

Once the flames of doubt are ignited, they can quickly spread out of control.

As discussions increased, opposing viewpoints began to emerge, leading to a serious conflict between the Eastern and Western churches of the empire, a conflict known as the "First Debate."

For the church, this was a debate about truth. But for the ruling class, it was an internal bleeding of the empire.

The emperor at the time was Derrick II, who had no interest in theology and no desire to watch theological debates.

What the emperor wanted was peace and quiet, and for things to proceed smoothly.

Therefore, Dalic II eventually issued the Edict of Mea, forcibly quelling the first debate by saying, "You are all right, but no further discussion is allowed."

If the apostles, who fought against pagan beliefs a century ago and laid the foundation for Catholicism, had heard the content of their first argument, they would probably have slammed their fists on the table and shouted, "I think you're all just bored and have nothing better to do!"

But there's no way around it; once people escape the crisis of existence, they begin to ponder the meaning of existence.

The Edict of Mia temporarily quelled the controversy, but did not resolve the fundamental issue.

The clergy, forced to remain silent, turned to searching through ancient texts, hoping to find arguments in historical archives to support their side.

However, the earliest record of divine magic cannot be found in the scrolls—it is a complete blank.

Instead, someone found something else—a description of heretical magic.

Although most texts about pagan beliefs have been erased by the victors, there are still fragments that prove that paganism also possesses the ability to "achieve things beyond reason," but its value to the powerful is far less than that of Catholic magic.

This discovery caused a huge uproar. If paganism also has "divine magic," then... it means that Catholic faith has become a castle in the air.

The Catholic Church immediately split into two factions.

One group shouted hoarsely, "Stop investigating! Divine magic is God's grace, a miracle. Heretical magic is the devil's black magic, an unclean force."

The other side firmly believes that "it must be thoroughly investigated, otherwise the doctrines of Catholicism will always have logical flaws and will never be perfect."

In the end, it was the emperor who intervened to quell the controversy.

This time, Dalic II did not compromise; he fully supported the "miracleists" and launched a brutal purge against the "inquiryists."

The Inquiryists were branded as heretics, and most of their clergy were arrested, tried, and burned at the stake.

Those clergy who remained went underground, fleeing to the edge of the world—to the wild lands beyond the reach of the emperor and the Catholic Church.

This is historically known as the "First Great Rupture".

The exploration of divine magic became a taboo within the Catholic Church; related content was forbidden from being consulted, discussed, or even mentioned.

……

“Delic II, and the clergy of that time, probably thought that was the end of it.” Old Saul, with his back to Winters, reached his hand closer to the hearth to warm himself. “But do you know what the most terrifying thing is? The echoes of the First Rupture still linger to this day.”

Winters listened intently, sipping his hot soup without realizing his cup was empty.

"Just as Daleike II had foreseen, the controversy subsided, and remained so for a very long time. The old empire was destroyed, and a new empire was built upon his corpse. The Catholic Church sometimes declined, sometimes prospered, but generally flourished. The warm lands had all been converted, and the Catholic Church began to systematically send missionaries to the North." Old Saul pondered for a moment: "That was probably five centuries ago."

Winters was momentarily dazed.

“Then, those monks who went to the North to preach discovered,” Saul’s shadow flickered in the firelight, “that the ‘demigods’ of the northern barbarians possessed divine arts unique to the Catholic Church… and were even capable of performing more astonishing miracles.”

[orZ]
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(End of this chapter)