Chapter 297: Knowledge is Power
Five days later, Hode and Cooper directly left York City.
They did not go to see Puniel again, but only asked someone to pass on a message to the bartender of the Half Horseshoe Tavern.
…
Inside the Senate, Puniel placed the letter carrying Hode’s message on the table, let out a laugh, and said, “Ha, this fellow has finally calmed down.”
Bevan glanced at the letter and said, “He wants to exchange those gold coins for weapons—all of them for ballistae.”
Puniel said, “Since Priest Agamemnon said so, then of course, for him, weapons are more suitable than gold coins.”
Bevan put down the letter and said, “Five thousand gold coins, at market price, can only give him ten ballistae and one hundred bolts.”
After finishing, he looked at Puniel. “That won’t be enough for a war.”
Puniel did not mind and said, “When the time truly comes, isn’t the pricing of the ballistae decided by us?”
Then he turned to Jeffrey. “I hear you’ve been working on matters related to schools lately?”
There were only the three of them in the Senate.
Piero was running around, and Julian was still leading men to exterminate the remaining fishmen.
Jeffrey said, “It’s only about creating a place similar to a monastery. But those scholars are unwilling to go to other territories. This has resulted in too many scholars gathering in the monastery, and many families want to send their children there as well. You also know, even after two expansions, the monastery is still the headquarters of the Church, and space is limited. So, I’m considering establishing an academy here in York City, just like the Academy of Magic and the Knight Academy.”
“Let the apprentices who graduated in recent years do the teaching. I think those who once failed in the Diocese of Rod would probably agree. Besides them, we could occasionally invite scholars to help.”
“But arranging this in other territories would be difficult. After all, scholars are still far too few.”
Puniel chuckled and said, “Don’t their territories need the same as us? It’s just about following the will of the Church and creating a place where knowledge can be taught. As for what knowledge to teach, that depends on each territory’s needs. Scholars aren’t necessarily required.”
Jeffrey’s expression turned into one of sudden realization, and he said, “So it can be done this way. Thank you for your guidance, Puniel. You truly are a man of wisdom. If this succeeds, I will certainly give you credit.”
“Hahaha…” Puniel’s laughter rang out three times before it froze. His expression suddenly darkened, and he said, “You’re tricking me!”
Jeffrey only smiled faintly, then picked up a book from the table and flipped through it.
Puniel’s face flushed red. Just as he was about to use force to press the matter, Bevan interrupted him. “We came here at your invitation to help, not to waste time chatting with you.”
Puniel took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and said, “I asked Dean Oscar for help in writing a story about the Hall of Heroes—that’s the book Jeffrey is holding. And Bishop Marl vouched for me that the contents of this book would not offend the Church.”
Jeffrey said, “A story about a northern hero who fought bravely to the death in order to enter the Hall of Heroes and enjoy eternal glory. Written by Dean Oscar, as illogical as ever, purely inciting. If it had been six years ago, perhaps it could have been my bedtime reading. But now, at best, it can serve as a book to prop up a table leg.”
Puniel said, “You mean writing this was meaningless?”
Jeffrey shook his head, put down the book, and said, “No, not meaningless. As long as someone reads it, it naturally has meaning. But it’s too fantastical. People will only read it, not aspire to it.”
Puniel looked at Jeffrey in surprise.
Jeffrey smiled faintly and said, “You’re all busy outside, while I have fewer matters, so I often go to the monastery to read.”
Puniel curled his lips. For nobles, especially political nobles, any words longer than two syllables could not be trusted.
Jeffrey was certainly not just reading. He had also been observing excellent individuals in the monastery, drawing them in or forging friendships.
Perhaps it was not yet visible now, but in the future?
As for how Puniel knew, naturally, it was because he had done the same.
Puniel asked, “So, what do you think should be done?”
Jeffrey looked at him and said, “Those northern barbarians only think of fighting and killing. They’re crude. So I think they’d be very interested in stories involving killing and fornication.”
Puniel pondered for a moment and said, “But Priest Agamemnon meant to tame them, not let them continue their current traditions. Wouldn’t what you propose make them even more barbaric?”
Jeffrey said, “Barbarism is exactly what we want. It would be even better if they imitated stories, driven mad by desire. Only when they are thrown into chaos can the rigid classes be shaken. And with just a little shaking, the stagnant North can come alive. Just like how one must be alive to eat, only by reviving the North can they adapt to new reins.”
Jeffrey opened one palm, then clenched it tightly. The skin around his knuckles whitened slightly. “No matter how much they talk of bravery, the North is still a gathering of people. And where there are people, there are ranks, politics, and suppressed desires. These desires are the strongest power.”
“So we must release this power. That will expose the weakest points of the North right before us.”
He spread his palm again, revealing the soft flesh of his hand to Puniel.
Puniel frowned and said, “Isn’t this the same as my earlier plan? Stirring up the lower ranks to revolt, throwing the lord’s lands into chaos, forcing him to pacify them? But Hode already said clearly—that those lords would choose to slaughter them all and replace them with slaves.”
Jeffrey wagged a finger and said, “Too small. Your vision is too small.”
Puniel’s eyes grew sharp.
Jeffrey chuckled. “How much strength can you really stir up by rebellion? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? And how many nobles would be among them? You know yourself—it would still only be a riot. If that count wished, he could slaughter everyone in the territory.”
“Incitement is always just incitement. It’s controlled power. But uncontrolled power will always be stronger.”
“So, we must guide them. Guide them to discover their own strength, their own desires.”
“Just like the people of Greenwood who are so meek that the North calls them cowards, the North continually shapes its people. Its harsh, freezing climate forces them to burn with passion, or else they’ll die as frozen corpses. Thus, they worship strength, believing the strong should possess all. Every Northlander longs to be strong. But there can only be one King of the North. Now there are only four marquises, two counts. Yet the North is a kingdom, with a population of 1.2 million.”
“When those who once only praised strength realize that power is not just fists, but also wit—or when they see that survival to the end means devouring all—then what?”
Puniel narrowed his eyes.
Jeffrey, suppressing excitement, slapped the table with both hands, stood up, lowered his gaze, and swept his eyes across them.
“Every man accustomed to thinking will believe himself wise. Wisdom is easier to hide than strength. When the long-suppressed Northmen suddenly learn to wield wisdom as power, we need not intervene. They will destroy the North themselves, ushering in a new order.”
“And this only requires us to spend a few gold coins, spread a few stories into the North. Just that, and we can destroy a kingdom without moving a single warrior.”
“This is a grand undertaking. But I must stress, Agamemnon’s intent is not to destroy a kingdom,” Bevan interrupted coldly, cutting through Jeffrey’s fervor. “He wants to tame it.”
Bevan’s words calmed Jeffrey. Adjusting his clothes, he sat back down, lowered his head apologetically, and said, “Forgive me. I was too absorbed in that story just now, and momentarily lost control of my emotions.”
Jeffrey was exceedingly polite, almost to the standard of the noble etiquette manuals once written for monastery apprentices.
But Puniel thought Jeffrey’s mind was dangerous.
Perhaps it was because his lands had been assigned to the Land of Anathema.
Still, what did that matter to Puniel? So he asked, “What you described is just destroying a kingdom. To reach that stage, it’s not as simple as spending a few gold coins.”
Jeffrey said, “Yes, not just gold coins. Manpower as well. But with gold, there will always be manpower. And once a kingdom is destroyed, of course, a new one must be built.”
Then he corrected himself. “No, not a kingdom. It would be the destruction of the North’s rigid order. That makes it easier to build a new one. And since the North reveres strength, naturally there must be a mighty hero. Didn’t you promise to sing praises for this former Church knight?”
Puniel gave him a deep look and said, “It seems Sir Jeffrey is quite interested in this matter.”
Jeffrey smiled. “Only because, after reading too much, I sigh at how ignorant those without knowledge are. And because of that, I find the Northland nobles—despised even by scholars unwilling to serve them—even more pitiful. They have strength, but no mind to wield it.”
Puniel asked, “And so?”
Jeffrey said, “So they should learn what the power of knowledge truly is.”