Chapter 409: Madam Camilla
Camilla wore a worried expression about her fiancé being chased away.
However, once Gregor's figure disappeared, her worried look faded.
Jeremiah turned his head. The youthful flush on his face instantly gave way to a weary and aged appearance.
He said, "You don’t need to put on such an act with that fool. As long as he believes in you, he’ll believe whatever you say and support whatever you do."
Camilla lowered her head slightly and said, "Perhaps you’re right, but aside from you, who else is worthy of his full trust?"
Jeremiah shook his head and replied, "No, I am not worthy of his trust. His trust in me ultimately led to the massacre of all his blood kin."
Camilla said, "But precisely because he trusted you, he is still alive now, instead of being treated like a prisoner and dragged to the battlefield like those nobles."
Jeremiah replied, "As I just said, those nobles will stay in the Woodlands for three years."
He no longer mentioned anything about Gregor.
He continued, "And during those three years, half the territory of the Kingdom of Lundex will have no nobles. These are the core lands, bordering York Territory and the surrounding marquises and earls."
"This is a test for the officials—to see whether they can make these regions more prosperous and wealthy."
"Of course, just from what I’ve seen these past few days, I can say with certainty that when those nobles return, they likely won’t even recognize their own lands."
Camilla nodded slightly and said, "Indeed, they are quite capable. The newly appointed Governor Marcus increased Doyle City’s internal transport capacity by ten percent just by redesigning the roads."
"When I was resting in Doyle City, I thought it was already a perfect city. But in the governor’s eyes, Doyle City looked like a pile of junk."
Jeremiah said, "Nothing is truly perfect, but there is such a thing as near-perfection. Once you see York City, you’ll understand what a near-perfect city looks like."
"Even when accommodating fifty thousand people at once, York City doesn’t feel crowded. Doyle City, at most, can barely hold twenty thousand."
Camilla sighed and said, "And York City—or rather, York Territory—is ruled by officials."
As she spoke, she forced a smile. "Judging by the main function chain system of the guilds, if officials had their own function chain, then the councilors must have reached the eighth tier."
"Just by sitting in the Senate, they can influence territories thousands of miles away. That degree of power—just a glimpse—is enough to extinguish any thought of resistance in me."
Jeremiah glanced at her, seeing the confusion and fear in Camilla’s eyes.
He understood well.
People can only see certain sights once they reach a certain position.
Like monks, who only see priests waking early and sleeping late, earning a village's respect through daily prayers.
Like priests, who only see bishops in cathedrals, using unknown means to mobilize the entire diocese to shield them from noble oppression.
Only by becoming a bishop does one realize how the pope, who remains in the clock tower year-round, can make the world tremble with a mere nudge.
Only as a bishop does one learn that their gaze can never linger solely on their diocese. Every morning when they open their eyes, everything they see and everything they do is a test of their faith.
Only in sleep, free from worldly affairs, can one reawaken their faith and become intoxicated by it.
Only now, he didn’t even have the right to sleep.
As for Camilla—she had only been an illegitimate daughter not long ago.
From rising in rank at Marquis Shalier’s castle, becoming his most favored daughter, to now—his only hope, and even the only hope for the nobles of the Woodlands who had surrendered.
All of this had taken less than a year.
Camilla's vision had yet to reach the required height.
Jeremiah said, "There’s no need to worry, no need to fear. Those officials aren’t as terrifying as you think. You just need time."
Camilla replied, "But how much time do I have? The nobles will return in three years, and these officials may seize power completely in less than that."
Jeremiah said, "How much time do you need? I consider three years the time you need. If you think that’s not enough, I can keep them there for five, even ten years."
"As for the officials, I can have them rotated out periodically. Aren’t there many noble-less territories now? I think the officials wouldn’t mind a promotion."
Camilla was stunned. She hadn’t expected Jeremiah could make such things happen.
She had assumed the three-year timeframe was granted by the Senate.
Jeremiah looked at the dazed Camilla, smiled slightly, and said, "You see? Those officials and nobles aren’t so frightening, are they?"
He paused, then continued, "Don’t be afraid, Camilla. I will help you. We all will help you."
"But I don’t know how much time I have left. You need to grow quickly. You are the one I recommended, the one I value, the one I acknowledge."
Camilla stared blankly at Jeremiah, and tears suddenly welled up in her eyes.
Was she moved because she was so valued?
Or was she afraid of facing those terrifying nobles and officials?
Camilla knelt down, took Jeremiah’s right hand in hers, and pressed her forehead against the back of his hand.
The next day, newly engaged Camilla hosted a banquet in Saron City.
She invited the once-woodland nobles who had recently been regranted territories. They were still staying in Saron City, not eager to leave.
When a minor official attempted to sneak into the event, Camilla had him thrown in jail on charges of trespassing a noble’s estate.
That night, the official died in his cell. The warden claimed the knight who had brought him in beat him to death, saying the official had insulted his lord.
According to the warden, by the laws of the Kingdom, trespassing a residence without causing property damage only warranted flogging and short-term imprisonment.
But the knight had killed the official—that was unlawful killing.
So, the warden led a squad of elite warriors in full armor, broke into the residence of a woodland baron, and arrested the baron’s only knight.
Before anyone could react, the knight was executed.
To the nobles, sending a "commoner" who intruded on their gathering to jail instead of killing him on the spot was already an act of mercy.
But now, the commoners had dared to retaliate—and succeeded—against a baron.
Such an insult, such arrogance, such... fear.
The nobles, scattered and fragmented since arriving in York City, quickly banded together in silent agreement.
Even if their wealth had all been offered to York City, even if the baron was the weakest among them, even if he had only one knight, and even if the event was sudden—
He was still a baron.
Yet, they didn’t turn to Marquis Shalier, their former lord.
Instead, they sided with Madam Camilla, the one who had ordered Gregor’s knights to storm the prison and slaughter everyone inside—warden, guards, and prisoners alike.
Yes, even though Camilla was not yet fourteen, even though she hadn’t formally married, this act alone earned her the title of "Madam" from the nobles.
This incident also sobered some of the officials, who had grown arrogant after usurping noble power.
They realized that even if they held power, its true foundation still lay with the nobles—
The knights and the military.
Though they had departments responsible for building military forces, time had been too short, and their strength too shallow. Killing a single knight required ambush tactics.
The truly powerful knights still stood with the nobles.
They dared not use the same frame-job tactics against nobles that they had used on that baron.
They couldn’t replicate the incident.
Officials weren’t expendable commodities. Even the official they sacrificed had been promised many benefits.
And not to mention the knights protecting Camilla—even just the fact that she lived in the Great Cathedral was enough to deter them from storming the church.
Still, they sensed from this church action that the bishops were displeased with their behavior.
Thus, they calmed down and brought the matter to Governor Marcus of Doyle City.
"They’re getting far too arrogant," Marcus shook his head and sighed.
"Just seeing the nobles taken away by the Red Dragon Knight Order made them think they could fully replace noble power and do as they pleased."
Cliff, standing to the side and flipping through the report, said, "But you can’t just ignore them either."
Marcus looked at Cliff, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Compared to those fools, Cliff was at least intelligent.
Having perceived the Senate’s need, Marcus had left the monastery and declared his willingness to serve as a tool for the Senate—or rather, as a governor.
And his statement had been rewarded.
He now held the highest administrative post across this entire great diocese, responsible for the construction of the entire political system.
It may not have been as absolute as the nobles’ past power in their fiefs, but the breadth of his authority now nearly covered half a principality.
Moreover, the nobles' power was no longer what it once was.
After all, this was now the New Testament Era—and this meager remnant of power was all that nobles of the New Testament Era could possess.
Marcus yearned for power.
Back before unification was complete, when the York Territory’s Senate had only four members—
It was during Councilor Puniel’s military campaign, under the banner of a knight, to support Baron Belair, that Baron Belair’s territory was directly annexed.
And during that process, Marcus had been placed under semi-forced confinement.
That experience had sparked his interest in the study of power.