Chapter 117: Rosa's Letter

Manigault, as it happens, was among the first group of orphans adopted by the Church of the Father God. He had been the leader of a gang of urchin thieves in the town of Qin-Ke. Link had encountered them back when he was still providing medical care in the slums; the boy had brought two other children to see him. Those two were deathly ill, and he himself was suffering from a severe sickness. The townspeople, having been victims of their petty thefts, despised them and tried to drive them away, fearing they would soil Link’s noble hands. At that time, many who had benefited from Link’s kindness viewed him as a living saint.

When the children were at their most desperate, Link stepped forward, soothing the crowd with a gentle smile and curing the children of their ailments. This left a profound impression on them; the kindness Link displayed during their treatment stirred a deep sense of familial longing in these parentless orphans, who came to view him almost as a second father.

Though Link never asked for anything in return, the children were determined to repay him. When the Church of the Father God began recruiting, Manigault led them to enlist. Initially, the congregation was reluctant to accept them, citing their criminal past. However, upon hearing this, Link smiled and said, "The Father God has said that anyone may find redemption if they are truly willing to repent. Furthermore, these children did not err by choice, but were forced by the circumstances of their lives. If we turn them away, we risk harming their spirits and driving them back onto the wrong path. Let them stay."

With those words, the former gang of urchin thieves became members of the Church. They were dispersed into various departments, starting as apprentices. Manigault, possessing a sturdy constitution, joined the reserve Saint Seiya legion after hearing about the order, and he had been working diligently ever since.

Reflecting on this, Manigault’s journey was a quintessential tale of a prodigal son finding redemption—an inspiring story in its own right. Link immediately considered documenting such accounts. The Church of the Father God had existed for less than a year, yet countless stories had already emerged. Beyond the major events, many small anecdotes regarding the congregation were worth recording and sharing. Some could bolster the reputations of the individuals involved, while others would benefit the Church, making it more approachable and attracting young talent. Link never refused to cultivate potential.

With this in mind, Link prepared to collect and record these classic tales, intending to compile them into an uplifting, inspirational series to promote the Church. However, realizing the project would require extensive preparation, he set the matter aside for the time being.

Shortly after the routine lottery day, another major milestone for the Church occurred: the completion of the first batch of schools, orphanages, and nursing homes. Registration for the schools opened immediately, and the orphanages and nursing homes began accepting their first residents.

Thanks to the Church’s development, there was no shortage of teaching staff for basic education, and the textbooks had already been prepared. These first institutions were of great significance, and the Church held a grand ribbon-cutting ceremony. While it felt somewhat extravagant, such displays were necessary for the Church’s image and the dignity of the Father God; it had to be handled with perfection.

The ceremony lasted the entire morning. The institutions were officially named the First Academy of Divine Favor, the First Orphanage of Divine Favor, and the First Nursing Home of Divine Favor. Though the names seemed simple, they were highly effective for promoting the Church and the City of Divine Favor. They served as a constant reminder to those within: "You are cherished by the Father God; be grateful and maintain your faith."

In short, it was a classic example of brainwashing.

Regardless of the intent, ninety-nine percent of the people were satisfied, even overjoyed, with the names of these institutions. They felt more secure knowing they were under divine favor. People believed that under the protection and watchful eye of the gods, nothing sordid could ever occur within these walls; they were the purest places in the world.

This belief was somewhat naive, but it held a grain of truth. The Church of the Father God was already powerful, and under the influence of steadfast faith, there had been no signs of corruption or moral decay. Everyone instinctively regulated their own conduct, maintaining an upright and virtuous posture. Link’s initial plan to establish an anti-corruption department became redundant—there was simply no corruption to fight.

While desire leads to degradation, faith acts as a powerful tool to suppress it. Faced with such strong belief, any unchecked desire was restrained, for fear that the gods might witness every secret thought. This forced the believers to suppress their evil impulses. Consequently, while the followers still possessed desires, they remained strictly self-disciplined, never indulging themselves. Without indulgence, there was neither decay nor corruption.

Under these circumstances, Link reconsidered his plans for the Inquisition, contemplating whether to transform it into an agency specifically focused on external threats and the eradication of heresy, much like the Inquisition of the Catholic Church.

Link had previously been averse to such institutions, but after so many events, he understood that their emergence was an inevitable trend. For a religion to grow, it required a "dark" counterpart—the Assassin’s Creed was one, and the Inquisition was another. Often, there were matters that the protectors of the faith could not—or would not—handle, which required such an agency.

Link did not fear that such an organization would cause internal unrest or resentment. He had long ago clarified in the doctrine that everything in the world was created by the Father God—both darkness and light. The Father God held no bias against either. Thus, even when the profession of Paladin emerged, their motto was simply to spread light and glory, not to banish darkness. The doctrine explicitly stated that darkness was not evil, but merely a natural part of existence; to banish it would be contrary to the faith.

After some thought, Link temporarily shelved the idea. The Assassin’s Creed department was sufficient for now. Even if he were to establish an Inquisition, he would need to wait for the coming chaos to unfold; only when the congregation saw the havoc wreaked by heretical cults would they accept the necessity of such a department. To establish it now would only invite resentment from the softer-hearted members of the faith.

"Let these dark departments remain hidden in the shadows for now," Link told himself, shifting his focus to other matters.

In the blink of an eye, the date reached November 21st. That morning, a messenger from the Count’s estate arrived and delivered a personal letter from Count Lothar to Link.

The letter briefly summarized the war situation over the past month and a half. It stated that while the suppression of space-time rifts had gone smoothly, the outlook remained bleak. Even as some rifts were destroyed, new ones appeared elsewhere, making it impossible to fully resolve the crisis. At this rate, the onset of great chaos was all but certain.

However, the letter also brought good news: Sagara and the others had performed exceptionally well, taking center stage in the suppression of the rifts. People in many regions were filled with gratitude toward them, and by extension, held great goodwill toward the Church of the Father God. This had significantly neutralized the rumors spread by other churches in the Red Moon Province, rendering their efforts ineffective. It was certain that the Church would face little resistance—and perhaps even gain assistance—in developing new followers in these regions.

At the end of the letter, Lothar wrote in a rather peculiar tone, expressing that Princess Sylvanas Star-Shards of the Star Kingdom had fallen ill with a mysterious sickness, and he hoped Link would come to treat her.

The tone was peculiar because Lothar used a persuasive, suggestive style. After reflecting on it, Link understood Lothar’s intent: this princess was extraordinary, and if he could heal her, it would be of great benefit to the future development of the Church, potentially even securing the support of the royal family.

This was a significant temptation. Gaining royal support was entirely different from the support of a single lord. Link knew of Sylvanas; this princess, who shared the name of a certain undead queen from a world-famous game, was no mere delicate flower. She was a royal heir whose reputation and talent were unrivaled.

Unlike the countries of the Cloud Mountain Continent, nations on the Orie Continent allowed female succession to the throne, though they lacked the inherent advantages of men. However, when a princess with succession rights far surpassed the princes, the situation changed entirely.

Twenty-year-old Sylvanas Star-Shards was vastly superior to her eighteen-year-old brother, Lor'themar Star-Shards, in every regard—be it military talent, civil administration, or leadership. They were simply not on the same level. In Sylvanas’s shadow, Lor'themar was like a mere bystander, often forgotten in any setting.

Given this disparity, no one believed Lor'themar could inherit the throne; even his descendants might not have a claim, as the throne would pass to Sylvanas’s children, provided they bore the Star-Shards name. The requirement for a male heir simply did not apply here.

Under these circumstances, almost everyone believed that upon the old King’s death or abdication, Sylvanas would seize the throne.

However, the situation had begun to change a month ago. Rumors from the capital suggested that Princess Sylvanas had fallen ill with a strange disease. The kingdom’s top physicians and mages were unable to cure her. They had recruited doctors from across the nation, but to no avail.

Now, Princess Sylvanas seemed to be on the verge of death. Those who had assumed her accession was inevitable began to have second thoughts, turning their eyes toward Lor'themar, the "bystander prince" who had spent over a decade in the shadows. Undercurrents began to stir throughout the capital.