I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 413 The Iron Fist Falls
Crawford left the cold palace, a symbol of the pinnacle of power, in a daze.

The appointment letter in his hand felt like a red-hot iron, burning his palms and so heavy that he could barely lift his arm.

The document clearly bore Prince Chris's personal seal, cold and authoritative, proclaiming that he, a fat priest from a remote village, had instantly become the new High Priest of the Church of the Earth Mother, while also announcing the complete downfall and exile of High Priest Byron.

When this earth-shattering news reached the Church of the Earth Mother, at its headquarters in the suburbs of Wotradnoy, it instantly triggered a storm even more violent than the royal palace's reception room.

"What... Crawford as the High Priest? That fat country bumpkin who only knows how to treat peasants?"

"High Priest Byron was accused of treason and had to go to that godforsaken place, Suvano, to atone for his sins."

This is utter slander, a frame-up!

“Prince Chris, how could he do this?! This is blasphemy against divine authority and an insult to Mother Goddess Gaia!”

"Surrender? Are we just going to surrender like this? Let an incompetent puppet ride on our heads and send Lord Byron to his death?"

Anger, shock, fear, resentment... all sorts of emotions surged and collided in the solemn yet somewhat outdated church headquarters hall.

The high priests, who were usually dignified and composed, had lost all their dignity and were now buzzing and arguing like a hornet's nest that had been disturbed.

"Enough, everyone calm down!"

An old priest with white hair and beard slammed his cane down hard, his voice filled with weariness and fear.

“Byron…Byron was indeed reckless, meddling in military affairs and having unclear dealings with enemy spies. The evidence is conclusive. His Highness Chris…no, His Majesty Chris has already shown great mercy by not immediately eradicating us.”

"Yes."

Another priest who managed the church's treasury was pale and his voice trembled.

“Think back to the civil war before. We also consulted the Goddess and you know what the result was. Although Crawford came from humble origins, he is at least one of our church members. With him stepping forward, we can preserve the foundation of our church and protect our scarce land, church schools, and almshouses.”

“Think of the Church as it was before, and the late High Priest Alan Dolan. We can’t defeat His Majesty Chris. Accepting Crawford is accepting reality. This is a necessary compromise for the survival of the Church…”

"Existence? Exist like a dog wagging its tail and begging for mercy?"

A young priest, his eyes bloodshot, suddenly stood up.

"Crawford is a knife that Chris planted, a knife that wants to completely castrate our church and turn us into echo chambers who only sing hymns. Lord Byron is innocent. That so-called evidence of treason must be fabricated. This is political persecution!"

"We can't sit still and wait for death!"

Another Byron confidant gritted his teeth.

"Chris wants to use Crawford, this docile sheepdog, to manage us?"
I don't think about it!

We can secretly contact the priests in various parishes of Bagnia and mobilize the rural believers. The foundation of the Earth Mother Goddess lies in the fields and in the hearts of millions of farmers. Can Chris really kill all the believers?

“Yes, we can also go to High Priestess Lydia. The Church of the Goddess of Agriculture has suffered the same fate. If our two families join forces and put pressure on Chris, exposing his cruelty and blasphemy, perhaps…”

"Join forces! Apply pressure!"

Just as the voices of the resistance were growing more fervent, and some were even beginning to plan concrete actions, such as holding secret meetings, contacting bishops in other dioceses, and attempting to reach the senior members of the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture...

boom!
The heavy doors of the headquarters were suddenly flung open, and a sweaty, terrified trainee priest scrambled in.

His clothes were disheveled, and he wasn't even wearing a shoe on his left foot. He looked as disheveled as if he had just escaped from the edge of hell.

"Something terrible has happened! The sky is falling!"

The young novice priest's voice was shrill and distorted, filled with panic.

The hall was deathly silent; all eyes were on him.

"Speak slowly! What happened?"

An old priest tried to remain calm.

The monk pointed out the window toward the new city of the capital, where the headquarters of the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture was located, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"The courtroom, with judges dressed in black and a large number of fully armed soldiers, completely surrounded the Temple of Demeter. I personally witnessed them knock down the rebellious High Priestess Lydia on the spot, and several other priests, who were dragged out of the temple in chains by the prince's guards!"

"What!?"

A collective gasp filled the hall, and the faces of the resistance priests instantly drained of color.

"Why? What happened?"

Someone asked, trembling.

"Treason!"

The novice priest cried out.

"The judge said that some members of the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture were colluding with foreign powers and wanted to launch a rebellion during the Harvest Festival and the coronation ceremony. Prince Chris has now ordered all churches of the Goddess of Agriculture in the capital to close immediately, and all clergy must be subject to the judge's investigation."

Anyone who disobeys this order will be executed without exception!

The words "kill without mercy" struck like a heavy hammer into the hearts of every priest of the Church of Mother Earth.

The tiny flame of resistance that the resistance had just ignited was extinguished with a "hiss" as if a bucket of ice water mixed with scalding blood had been poured over its head in the face of this cruel and cold reality, leaving only a bone-chilling cold and boundless fear.

The young priest, who had just been clamoring for a united resistance, was now ashen-faced, his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the cold stone ground.

Byron's confidants were as if their spines had been removed; their eyes were unfocused, their lips trembled, and they could no longer utter a word.

The Church of the Goddess of Agriculture is finished.

And it was crushed in the most thorough, cruel, and unquestionable way... treason!

This was a more fatal and irreparable crime than Byron's usurpation and treason. Prince Chris... no, His Majesty Chris, gave them no room for rebuttal or negotiation, directly mobilizing the most violent state machinery to uproot the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture in the capital with overwhelming force.

High Priestess Lydia has been arrested, the church has been ordered to close, and there's a strict order to kill her...

This is not only a devastating blow to the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture, but also the clearest and bloodiest warning to all traditional religious forces that still harbor illusions and attempt to resist.

Those who obey me prosper, those who defy me perish. Under royal power, divine authority must grovel.

Anyone who attempts to challenge or disobey reform will be mercilessly crushed and nailed to the pillar of shame for treason!

The hall was deathly silent, save for heavy breathing and the sound of teeth chattering.

Outside the window, one could faintly hear the distant clamor of celebrations, as well as the chilling sounds of military mobilization orders and the clanging of metal coming from the direction of the new city.

Those elderly priests who still harbored thoughts of compromise were now left with only a deep sense of powerlessness and lingering fear.

They were incredibly grateful for their earlier cowardice and hesitation stemming from the argument; otherwise, it wouldn't just be the members of the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture who would be chained by the black-clad judge and dragged away by the soldiers.

Crawford's name and that appointment letter, which felt both light and incredibly heavy, suddenly seemed less unacceptable to everyone, even carrying a hint of a lifeline.

At the very least, it represents the possibility of survival.

The novice priest who brought the news was now sprawled on the ground, muttering to himself.

"It's over...it's all over. Will we be next...?"

No one answered him; all the high priests present turned their gaze to the appointment letter that had been casually placed on the high altar.

The thought of rebellion?
The fear had long since dissipated, leaving only a deep-seated dread and a bewildered submission to the impending new era of complete subjugation to the monarchy under the puppet leadership of Crawford.

In the heart of the capital, amidst the mournful cries of the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture, the Church of the Earth Mother ceased its pulsating resistance, leaving only a deathly silence, a cold stillness awaiting taming.

Before the iron fist landed, they felt that Chris's order was humiliating, but after it actually landed, they were left with only fear and relief... relieved that someone had reminded them of the past.

In the distance, the joyous music of the harvest festival drifted faintly, like an ironic death knell tolling for old beliefs.

The tactic of "killing the chicken to scare the monkey" has been useful and effective from ancient times to the present.

(End of this chapter)