After being forced to step down, the once-annoying nun eloped with me.

The young empress's uncle was running rampant in the palace in the capital.

Meanwhile, the saint, dressed in simple clothes and praying in the plain shrine beneath St. Peter's Basilica, also heard the news that her friend was coming to visit her.

"...A visit? A representative of the royal family? What's going on? What exactly has happened in the past few years?"

The saint, who had been kneeling on the kneeling mat to pray all the time except for washing, eating, and sleeping for several years, was greatly puzzled.

But a sense of resentment couldn't help but rise in my heart.

So much time has passed, and he still refuses to come and see me, only sending Priscilla over to discuss trivial matters with me.

When will he finally understand? When will he be willing to embrace my Lord?

snort!

The saint shook her head, only saying that she would keep her vow and would only leave the simple temple if he came in person.

But she can compromise.

Let Priscilla come in four days—I want to hear what conditions this little witch has to relay to me.

Filled with resentment at Yang Hao's continued silence, the saintess, who had resumed her prayers, dismissed her personal nun.

The soft praise to the God of Light rang out again, and this time it lasted for four days.

Priscilla has already arrived on horseback with his entourage at St. Peter, the religious capital of the diocese.

Even though she was used to the extravagance of the royal family, she couldn't help but be shocked by the wealth of the parish.

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Kargard Massacre

Priscilla believed he had witnessed the extravagance of royalty. The golden sculptures and utensils were indeed incredibly beautiful at first glance, but after seeing them many times, the knights were just a bunch of glittering metal.

But when they arrived at the parish...

When Priscilla and the Imperial Knights first looked up at the towering St. Peter's Basilica, surrounded by countless basilica towers inlaid with jewels and gold.

They still felt they had underestimated the parish's wealth, and even more so, their ability to amass and protect that wealth.

The believers you happen to meet on the street all have piety on their faces, and the pastors who preach and lead Mass on the street have hands full of rich jewels.

They all looked overweight and extremely wealthy, and even the nuns who should have been plain-looking beside them were as alluring as prostitutes from the capital's most upscale nightclubs.

No, she's actually a prostitute, isn't she?

As Priscilla happened to pass by a priest and nun who were celebrating Mass, he witnessed the priest's hand, through the nun's robe, wantonly digging into her private parts with his fingers adorned with gold and silver rings. The nun, taking advantage of the worshippers' bowed heads, gave the priest a disgruntled yet enjoyable glare. Priscilla swallowed hard.

Are these really priests and nuns? Or are they really not nobles and their kept socialites?

The Night Witch shook her head and, following the guide's instructions, led the group into the first floor of the hundreds-of-story St. Peter's Basilica for a short rest.

Saint Cecilia and Bishop Peter are contrasting figures. One lives in a simple church forty stories underground, while the other resides atop a tower in the clouds.

Priscilla came on behalf of the royal family to speak with the saints, and because the Pope Peter was praying fervently to God, the nuns of St. Peter's Basilica did not allow Priscilla to proceed to the upper levels.

Therefore, they could only rest briefly on the first floor. They had no choice but to stay there. Considering that there was a dinner with old friends at 10 p.m., Priscilla did not eat much despite the priests' and nuns' urging.

"This is too extravagant," she muttered. Lamb from the western pastoral regions, seawater-packed fish bought directly from the coastal military region, even arriving alive, and various delicacies from the Demon Forest...

All of this made Priscilla doubt whether the drought that our empire was suffering was real.

The fragrant aroma of meat in front of me is real, and so is the drought in the central region.

What's going on here?

The Night Witch ate a little bit of the stewed, tender mutton.

Knight Robert whispered that, according to the prices in the capital, the food in front of them should be priced in gold coins.

......

At 10 p.m., Priscilla was granted permission to take the stone elevator alone into the underground church.

It is said that these are products of ancient human technology—but that empire has disappeared, and now it is the world of new humans, so naturally these facilities were directly modified and used by the parish.

Priscilla watched absentmindedly as the surrounding stone walls changed from a brilliant gold to a light gray covered in moss. When the elevator finally stopped on a floor filled with cracked bricks, she realized she had arrived at her destination.

Stepping out of the elevator, the corridor was lined with clean yet simple hooded stone statues of the God of Light. A faint salty smell wafted from ahead, carrying the scent of fresh grass—did Cecilia even have the leisure to cultivate plants underground to nurture her spirit?

The witch muttered to herself, but then followed the directions of a plain-looking nun and went forward to see what it was—the main hall of the underground chapel.

Apart from the kneeling cushion for the saint, a statue for prayer, candles for lighting, and ventilation openings in the wall, the only things that looked relatively new were the dining table and chairs.

Saint Cecilia, dressed in simple clothes and a cloth cloak, with long pale golden hair and golden eyes, was sitting on one of the chairs, her hands in a prayerful gesture, praying over the black sourdough bread and dried pickles that were meant for the poor that were laid out on the table.

Seeing her old friend arrive with a surprised expression, Cecilia simply raised her head slightly and smiled:

“I’ve been living on simple food for the past few years—I can’t break my vow, so this is all I can offer you.”

"...It's nothing. I came here mainly on business."

Priscilla nodded, then took her staff and sat down opposite Cecilia.

She looked at the food on the table and found it hard to swallow, but as the emergency communication bell rang, Saint Cecilia simply frowned, waved for the nun to hang up, and then, with a very calm expression, stuffed the meager food into her mouth.

While eating, Saint Cecilia frowned as she looked at the underground intercom that had just been disconnected and was now ringing with another emergency call.

"Let them—unless there is something truly urgent—pass the communications to the Patriarch, the White Cardinal, or even Bishop Peter. I have already chosen to keep my oath and pray for God in the underworld, so why must these worldly matters come knocking on my door at a time like this? Is there really no capable person left on earth?"

The nun, naturally, dared not disregard the saint's anger. She quickly went over again and communicated with the person on the other end of the communication line for a while, after which the noisy ringing finally subsided.

Now, the two friends could finally have a normal conversation without being disturbed. Thinking of this, Cecilia's brow relaxed, and she ate a few more bites of the dried vegetables that would be difficult for most people to swallow.

She asked the Night Witch why she had come, while also stating that she had relinquished all worldly rights.

“If you’re here to make a deal with the diocese on behalf of the royal family, I can only relay your message to the bishops’ council in my personal capacity, and then I can at least get Pope Peter to lower his stance for my sake... I can’t guarantee that they will listen to what I say. After all, you know, once the interests of countless people are involved, even I can’t just accept it on their behalf.”

At this point, Saint Cecilia couldn't help but feel a little emotional:

"After all, not everyone is like that late emperor... Even now, I pray for his spirit, hoping that he can watch over the flourishing empire he and Yang Hao built together even after his death. But then again... Priscilla, why did you say... a transaction between the [parish] and the [royal family]? Under normal circumstances, is it necessary to be so distant? Could it be that our empire has already shown obvious factional divisions?"

"..."

The Night Witch opened her mouth, looking at her friend who had locked herself underground for two whole years and who, even after the parish truly gained independence, spent almost every day praying in the church and never concerned herself with worldly affairs.

She really didn't know what words to use to tell the saintess what the Roman Empire on earth had become... Fortunately, the saintess didn't dwell on it too much, and simply nodded to indicate that they should deal with the important matter first.

This serious conversation lasted from 10 p.m. until almost 11:30 p.m.

The royal family has stated its willingness to extend the portal network to St. Petersburg and connect it to the northern network. This would facilitate missionary work in the dioceses, but in return, the dioceses should provide financial support to the royal family.

Cecilia thought there was nothing to say, but she was puzzled—wasn't this something that had been agreed upon a long time ago? Why was it only now being formally discussed?

This thought inevitably led her to think of Yang Hao. While it was true that she had secluded herself from the world in a fit of pique, praying day and night underground, ultimately, it was precisely because she trusted him to guide the Roman Empire under the spirit of the late emperor that she did so.

Why is it that this important matter, which should have been completed while he was in seclusion, is only now being brought to the forefront? And has the portal network now become a royal monopoly?

This gave Cecilia a bit of a headache. After all, it was a portal network.

A convenient product that utilizes ancient human technology and is modified with modern magic—although extremely costly, it offers unparalleled convenience in commerce, military, and religion.

The royal family can send representatives to coastal cities at any time to oversee the army's operations. Merchants, by simply paying taxes in areas connected to the portal network, are no longer bound by the time and distance that could leave them penniless. Similarly, parish priests can conveniently conduct nationwide missionary work through the portal network...

Currently, only the northern portal network is open, meaning that the diocese can only conduct missionary work in the north... The royal restrictions made this reclusive saint realize that the situation on the ground was far more chaotic than she had imagined.

...Didn't he do his job properly? She couldn't help but want to complain a few times, but the saintess eventually calmed down.

She was taking stock of the parish's accounts—although the parish had indeed amassed a great deal of wealth recently, the matter concerning the [Elf Forest] had still caused a considerable loss to this part of the revenue.

Therefore, it's likely that the financial support she can request from the bishops' council will be limited...

"A maximum of 300 million gold coins or items of equivalent value per year. No more than that. In terms of accounts, even the High Priest Peter is having a headache over matters concerning the Elf Forest."

"...300 million?"

"Is that too little? Then, for the sake of our past relationship, let's add another million."

Priscilla opened her mouth, initially surprised that this was too much, considering it was 300 million gold coins of financial support annually...

With this money, it became possible to purchase large quantities of food under the guise of "luxury goods" to weather the drought. But she hadn't expected that her momentary hesitation would lead her to secure another million gold coins...

The parish's wealth is indeed not to be underestimated.

Priscilla nodded with difficulty, looking at the accounts in her old friend's hands, she really wanted to know how much wealth the parish had now.

Just as they had reached an agreement and were about to discuss some trivial matters, another ringtone sounded.

Seeing this, the saint sighed heavily and told the nun to hang up immediately.

“Lately, I’ve been disturbed by people constantly,” she said apologetically. “Every time I answer the phone, it’s about trivial things—even a small town’s festival requires me to go and perform miracles… I couldn’t take it anymore, so I simply stopped sending them all messages, but they still persist.”

"...After all, you hold a high position. No matter how much you want peace and quiet, your subordinates still rely on your leadership."

“But I am just a saint. Priscilla. I am just a saint who leads people to my Lord. I should not have any political power—even if it is necessary. And I hate to be outwardly compliant but inwardly defiant to a group of people.”

"My personal opinion won't affect the overall situation. But you can."

"When will he be willing to come over on his own initiative?"

"..."

He wouldn't be coming back—before Priscilla could reluctantly utter these words and prepare to confront Her Majesty the Saint... another series of piercing clanging sounds rang out.

The saintess frowned, already showing signs of impatience.

"Inel! Hang up on her."

The accompanying nun nodded in agreement, but just two seconds after the communication was ended, another extremely piercing ringtone sounded.

Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling.

Click.

The nun hung up the phone again.

As a result, the other party persisted relentlessly.

As if they wouldn't be satisfied until they heard the saintess's voice, the melodious yet urgent ringing of the bell irritated the two people present. Even the Night Witch, who considered herself capable of tolerating the noise of the palace, had an unusual urge to destroy the summoning bell.

finally--

The saintess accepted it.

She sighed heavily, took a deep breath, walked to the bowing nun, and then directly turned on the call bell on the wall:

"...This is Cecilia. I'll say it again, don't bother me with those trivial matters. I really don't think a small-town celebration warrants my involvement—"