Chapter 359: The Hierarchical Sequence
“If we follow the division of the Eight Tiers, then each rank should have its own title. However, after graduating, scholars may choose to remain in the academy to teach apprentices, or they might pursue the study of knowledge, or even travel across the world, exploring the unknown—or abandon the path of scholarship altogether to become officials.”
“And for these paths, corresponding sequences and titles must be established.” Oscar finished speaking.
However, Jeffrey felt a headache coming on. Right now, all the senators were doing their best to handle the Guild’s affairs—who had the time to deal with such complicated matters?
Priest Agamemnon had only given them one year. Within that time, they had to complete the Guild’s framework and begin implementation. Otherwise, Agamemnon would assign someone else to take over the task.
And at the pace Oscar proposed, who knew how long it would take? Jeffrey couldn’t afford to waste that time.
“Actually, I think the current titles from Tier One to Tier Eight are already clear enough,” Jeffrey said tentatively. “As for the detailed titles and such, we can add them later.”
“No, no, no.” Oscar shook his head, walked out from behind the desk, and clapped both hands on Jeffrey’s shoulders, frightening him so much that his hairs stood on end.
“If it’s only from Tier One to Tier Eight, how would people take it seriously? If there’s no distinction, others might mistake them for warriors. The warrior hierarchy has already become deeply rooted in everyone’s mind.”
“You wouldn’t want the Administrator to accuse you of handling this carelessly, of neglecting your duties and treating this authority perfunctorily, would you? Wouldn’t that become a reason for others in the Senate to attack you?”
Leaning close to Jeffrey’s ear, Oscar whispered, “Besides, you should know that scholars can construct power through rituals, shouldn’t you?”
“Through learning, scholars undergo corresponding tests and earn new rank titles. That process itself is a kind of ritual—and once the ritual is complete, there will naturally be power corresponding to it.”
“Just like the knights. You were once a landed noble and have bestowed knighthood before, so you should know what kind of power noble status once brought you—and the difference between those knights you conferred and ordinary Tier Four knights.”
“But now, this is the New Testament Era. The powers of the Old Testament belong to the past. You, as a senator, should know that among today’s Tier Four knights, there’s a great difference between the Oath Knights and ordinary ones.”
“Take Marquis Richard’s Oath Knights, for example—one of them can fight three knights of the same tier. Or the Virtue Knights of the Diocese of Rod—one of them can fight five of the same tier.”
“The Pope once said, ‘Everything that has ever existed in this world was chosen by the world itself, and the Lord allows their existence. It’s just that now, in the New Testament Era, the powers of the Old Testament must find new vessels within this age.’”
To make Jeffrey agree, Oscar even quoted what Bishop Corleon had told him days before.
“Tell me, do you think the scholars’ sequences and ranks could become vessels for such powers?” he finally said.
They certainly could.
Even though Jeffrey held authority, how could he not yearn for power?
He felt that Oscar at this moment was like a devil tempting the human heart, his reasoning irresistible.
Yet out of the corner of his eye, Jeffrey caught sight of the cross placed in the room by Oscar, and suddenly, he came to his senses.
Struggling free from temptation, he asked, “I’ve heard that when the Monastery was first founded and the warrior hierarchy was established, you insisted on simple rank titles. Why do you now want to complicate them?”
That question made Oscar’s eye twitch—he was quite irritated.
He recalled being surrounded and scolded by a group of apprentices back then, his mouth full of… frustration.
Suppressing his irritation, he lifted his hands from Jeffrey’s shoulders, turned to the side, clasped his hands behind his back, and said, “Because that was the Old Testament Era. Now, it’s the New Testament Era.”
Whenever there was a change, invoking the difference between the Old and the New Eras could serve as justification.
It might be flimsy, but it worked well enough as a reason.
Thus, Jeffrey didn’t dwell on it. He merely needed a moment to think, to stabilize his emotions.
Finally calm, he said, “You are indeed correct. I was foolish.”
“But not because of the pursuit of power—rather, as you said, this is the New Testament Era, where order replaces the chaos of the Old. Therefore, the Scholar Guild we establish must be orderly.”
He did crave power, but compared to the authority he already had, Jeffrey knew what he should choose.
“Only when every part is orderly can the kingdom itself be orderly.”
Turning to Oscar, he said, “Thank you for your help. You truly live up to your title as the wise Dean of the Monastery. I will report your proposal to the Administrator—and I’ll be sure to tell him that it came from you, the wise Dean of the Monastery.”
Oscar’s expression immediately cooled.
Agamemnon did not openly oppose Oscar, but he remained extremely cautious toward him.
After all, Oscar was someone personally “disciplined” by the Pope—and indeed had caused no small amount of trouble before.
The bards only furthered that caution.
Oscar knew Agamemnon would not approve of his idea.
Waving his hand, he said coldly, “Since the final decision rests with the Administrator, why didn’t you just ask him directly instead of wasting your precious time here with me?”
His tone dripped with sarcasm.
“You’re the Dean of the Monastery. Compared to us senators, you understand the scholars better. And the Administrator did say that only those who understand these matters are fit to handle the Guild’s work.” Jeffrey, calm once more, smiled with restrained politeness.
“Then, thank you for your guidance.” He bowed slightly and took his leave.
Oscar couldn’t even be bothered with pleasantries.
So much talking—for nothing.
Yet the next day, Jeffrey returned.
He brought with him news that astonished Oscar.
Agamemnon had approved his proposal.
“You may rarely do anything reliable, but this time, you’ve actually done something commendable,” Jeffrey said.
As the air around them grew tense, he quickly added, “Those are the Administrator’s exact words.”
Of course, the original words used “that fellow” instead of “you.”
But since Jeffrey was the one speaking directly to Oscar, he thought it fine to adjust the phrasing.
And perhaps he added a little personal emotion too…
If it had been Jeffrey saying that on his own, Oscar would not have hesitated to give him a “lesson.”
But since the words came from Agamemnon, Oscar found it… acceptable.
So he smiled warmly and said, “Truly a wise Administrator. Honorable Senator Jeffrey, President of the Scholar Guild, I believe that together, we can make the Guild the greatest of all.”
However, faced with Oscar’s warmth, Jeffrey appeared distant.
He said, “You’re merely a prisoner confined within the Church, unable even to step into the academies outside. How could you possibly serve as the Guild’s Vice President?”
At once, Oscar’s office trembled under his fury, producing creaking sounds.
“That, too, is the Administrator’s original wording,” Jeffrey added apologetically.
Oscar took a deep breath. A red glass orb appeared silently in his hand as he forced a smile.
“It seems,” he said, “that the position of Vice President has already been filled.”
Jeffrey felt relieved. Although he believed that as a senator, Oscar wouldn’t dare truly harm him without cause, the man before him could still kill him with ease.
Only now could he breathe freely.
And as for why he dared to mock Oscar face to face—well, he didn’t believe that such a wise Administrator would casually speak words so insulting to the Dean of the Monastery.
Jeffrey continued, “The Administrator said that since the academy system must be linked with the Guild, the new Dean of Lundex Academy shall serve as Vice President.”
Lundex Academy was the name given to the institution that had separated from the Monastery.
“Cicero, then…” Oscar’s face darkened, though he said nothing more.
Jeffrey bowed slightly. “Then, thank you for your guidance.”
Oscar waved irritably, nearly telling him outright to leave.
Jeffrey didn’t mind. Now that he had Agamemnon’s approval, there was no need to rush. He could take his time building the Guild—and he no longer needed to rely on Oscar’s influence.
Agamemnon’s message was clear enough: Oscar was merely a prisoner, and prisoners were only such because they had sinned.
Jeffrey was a senator; how could he keep company with a prisoner?
He decided that this would be his last visit to the Monastery.
After Jeffrey left, Oscar paced in his office, deep in thought.
Although Agamemnon had left the Church, Oscar did not believe he had lost the Lord’s favor.
Then—what had convinced Agamemnon to approve the plan?
Oscar thought back to the words he had used to tempt Jeffrey: that each rank would gain power corresponding to its tier, just like the Oath Knights.
It felt as though ants were crawling beneath his skin. Even as the noise outside faded, a deeper turbulence echoed in his heart.
He could not help but whisper humbly, “Great Lord, Your devoted believer is in doubt—please, grant Your guidance.”
Silence.
Pope Corleon did not appear, nor did any voice respond. It was as though the words Jeffrey quoted—Agamemnon’s words—were true.
He was just a prisoner locked within the Church.
Oscar’s face calmed once more as he sat back in his chair.
He suddenly realized that, after expelling most of his apprentices, the Monastery had become far too quiet.