Chapter 1110: Chapter 1047: Empire on the Dining Table
"Absurd..."
This time, Cambert didn’t even finish his sentence before Charles VIII interrupted him.
"For example?" Charles VIII also leaned forward, craning his neck.
"For example, this state religion is deeply tied to the Falan Kingdom, stipulating that the Falan Church shall regard the King as the supreme head, not the Pope.
Therefore, all bishops within the Falan Church no longer need papal appointment; they can be appointed by the King.
I can promise that after such actions in Falan, the Holy Alliance will not deny your actions."
Charles VIII sat up straight, his expression indecisive as he looked at Horn — this was episcopal appointment authority.
Was it really equivalent to Horn giving up his episcopal appointment rights in the Falan region? This was a substantial piece of pie; could he bear to give it up?
For Horn, there was nothing about being able or unable to give it up.
The position drives decisions. Even if Horn became Pope, would the clerics of the Falan Church honestly pay tribute?
Of course not. They might even disobey orders when the time comes.
Besides, the Falan people are quite affluent, social mobility isn’t stagnant, and there is a mature welfare system.
They even have frontier lands to divert domestic vagrants and conflicts.
Introducing Horn’s Holy Sect theory wouldn’t instill in them a desire to resist the nobility.
After all, with food on the table, who would risk losing their head to rebel?
With much to give and little to gain, the Falan Church was a burden for Horn.
On the contrary, the Norn Church and the Leia Church were fertile grounds; the former was untamed and easy to reform, while the latter was full of potential and willingness.
Cambert, hearing this, was trembling with rage: "Heresy! This is blatant heretical thinking!"
"Authority should be in the hands of those who can accomplish things." Ignoring Cambert entirely, Horn looked directly at Charles, "The Divine Ael Empire is already an empty shell; this isn’t a century ago.
Do you truly think that as Imperial Emperor, the Norn lords or the Leia nobles would listen to you?
You’d end up using Falan’s money to fill the Empire’s holes and Falan’s soldiers to fight their wars — why bother?"
He paused, casting out a more alluring bait: "Why not first tighten the reins of power within Falan, reclaim religious estates, balance taxes, so both citizens and nobility support you?
When Falan is strong enough, you wouldn’t need anyone to crown you — you’d crown yourself, and who would dare to say otherwise?
Just like me; I didn’t become Pope because of a papal will, but because I was a Pope first; the will was merely the icing on the cake."
Charles’s breathing noticeably deepened.
Given the current situation, either he waged war against the Holy Alliance for the emperor’s title, but as Horn pointed out.
Recent wars had shown him reality: the Empire had long become a fragmented mess fought over by various powers. Was the Emperor’s title truly worth anything?
Essentially, his pursuit of the Imperial Emperor’s title was to use its name to suppress domestic corruption and issues.
Especially with the emergence of the Holy Alliance, he needed to rapidly develop rune artisans.
If establishing a new state religion could fulfill his vision, did he truly need the emperor’s empty title?
The glory of being Emperor vs. tangible benefits waged a fierce battle in Charles’s mind.
Horn drank his tea for a full five minutes before Charles slowly spoke: "Your offer isn’t enough, unless you’re willing to sell me the Holy Favor Seed."
"That’s too heavy a price; how about this, you endorse the legitimacy of the Holy Favor Seed as the head of the Falan Church." Horn raised two fingers, "While also opening up the importation of magical beasts and lowering tariffs."
"Agreed, but we need to exchange it for the profits of the Griffin Horn; perhaps use the Griffin Horn Musk River as the boundary..."
"No, that’s too much..."
"Then how about the Mo’en River?"
"In that case, I request that the Holy Alliance’s fleet rent a port in the Xilan Islands for ninety-nine years."
"That’s impossible. If you insist, you must promise that the Holy Alliance’s influence won’t extend beyond the Immortal Stone Field..."
Cambert repeatedly tried to interject, but Charles’s cold stare forced him into silence.
The old bishop suddenly felt a chill down his spine, realizing that perhaps he wasn’t here to help the King negotiate today.
But rather to witness how the Empire’s first de facto King and first de facto Pope would join forces to weaken the church and divide the Empire.
"Influence is negotiable." Horn gave no time for Cambert to recover, "The Holy Alliance won’t meddle in the autonomy of Falan’s faith communities, even if they follow the Holy Sect, we won’t support their independence from Falan.
Correspondingly, Your Highness Charles, the exiled nobles of the Thousand River Valley and the merchants colluding with the Black Snake Bay rebels, please restrain them."
"I can’t control spontaneous civilian actions." Charles stood his ground, "For instance, if Falan merchants want to trade with the Black Snake Bay rebels, I can’t possibly close all the ports.
But the royal family will never openly support them and will strictly scrutinize their attitudes — that’s the bottom line."
"Agreed." Horn nodded, "Civil actions remain uninfluenced, as long as no official banners are flown."
The light spots on the ground gradually moved from transparent, to bright gold, and then to red.
As the smoke drifted in through the cracks of the council hall doors, the two men, poring over the Empire map, divided the Empire to their satisfaction.
As Horn said, the Empire’s legacy was vast enough for two.
Finally, a Document Monk unfurled a more voluminous scroll, its title embossed in golden letters: "Non-Aggression Treaty between the Holy Axis Alliance of the Saint Father’s Association, Holy Sect, and the Falan Kingdom."
The clauses were numerous, with three core points only.
Both parties within the next ten years will not declare war on each other for any reason.
Border disputes are to be resolved through embassy negotiations, and military units must not be deployed across the border line without authorization.
Both parties acknowledge each other’s interests within Leia’s territory, including Horn’s trade treaty and the regent supported by Charles.
After reading, Charles picked up the quill pen and wrote his name at the bottom.
Horn followed closely behind, and just as the tip of his pen descended, sunlight moved away from the Holy Tree pattern on the glass, illuminating their overlapping signatures.
As the negotiations ended, the sky outside was approaching evening, the sunset painting the spires and the domed houses on both sides of the embassy in gold and crimson.
Horn stood up with a smile: "Your Highness Charles, dinner is ready in the back hall. We got along so well today, how about a drink?"
Charles glanced at Campertel.
The old bishop’s face was ashen, clearly without an appetite.
But the King laughed: "Since the Pope invited me, I cannot refuse."
"Your Highness..." Campertel called out anxiously.
Charles stood up and stretched lazily: "Bishop Campertel, if you’re not feeling well, you can go back and rest.
Old Bishop, you’ve watched me grow up, and we’ve always treated you as a dear elder; you are a Falan man."
Leaving behind these words filled with meaning, Campertel stood at the door drenched in cold sweat, watching the two men walk side by side towards the back hall.
The sound of boots on stone ground resonated steadily, and Campertel suddenly understood Grandiva’s state of mind.
For this small banquet, Charles VIII only called Thierry to accompany him, while Horn called Mitney to serve as translator.
If all goes well, these two will become the first diplomatic envoys.
Who knows what kind of interests the two bigwigs will divide and what kind of deals they will make at this private banquet?
Campertel couldn’t help but let his thoughts run wild.
......
"I envy you having a mother; my mother passed away before I was sensible." Horn, quite inebriated, raised his glass amid the chaos of the dining table.
"I certainly love my mother, but it would be even better if she firmly stood by my side." Charles loosened his collar, his face flushed from drinking.
He tapped his temple with his fingers: "She’s too old, still thinks it’s decades ago.
She believes she’s safeguarding my throne, uniting the nobility for me, but... alas."
Horn laughed bitterly: "In fact, my cardinals also live in the past kingdom era, always forcing me to marry.
I’m still young; if I have children too early, will he be a prince for fifty years?"
"Aren’t I just the same?" Charles, interested, started complaining, "Lorenzo keeps urging me, is he my father?
What’s worse is my mother often cooperates with him to urge me; I even suspect the two have a thing."
"Brother Charles, just stop.
My Jeanne has a bunch of die-hard supporters in the army, and Jia Li is widely supported by the military and conservative forces.
Catherine has businessmen and artisans behind her, while Hilov is backed by scholars and bureaucrats.
Marriage, marriage, who the heck do I marry? I must first get these four to get along before anything else, right?
These old geezers, especially Madlan and Chervis, talk so big without considering the reality."
Charles, with an expression of finding a kindred spirit: "Absolutely, Horn buddy, absolutely.
With so many nobles and factions at home, I need to choose a capable beauty worthy of me, Charles.
Do you know my mother? Her priests approach me every few days.
Praising the loveliness of women, disparaging men, even claiming homosexuality is a disease.
As if I could just casually grab a woman on the street and marry her!"
After a moment of stupefaction, Horn broke into a cold sweat: "Are you?"
"Of course I’m not. I love beauties and capable people; it’s called universal love, unrelated to gender."
Horn coughed and shifted his seat: "I just hope they bother me less so I can have more time for my own affairs."
"Well said, I toast to you."
They clinked their goblets of fruit wine and drank the green liquid in one go, laughing heartily.
But while these two indulged in merry eating, drinking, and mockery, Thierry and Mitney, huddled in the corner, wished they were deaf.
What kind of topics are they discussing? Are these subjects fit for us to hear?
No, didn’t these two notice that the two of us are still here?!
In this conversation, the terms "brother Charles" and "buddy Horn" were already far from ordinary.
King Charles spoke of his mother and Lorenzo having an affair and nearly openly admitted to being bisexual.
Pope Horn furiously dubbed Chief Cardinal Madlan and Saint Scythe Monastery’s Cardinal Chervis as old geezers, further declaring he wants to marry all four Saintesses!
The future two envoys were almost about to faint.
At this moment, Thierry and Mitney envied deeply those who left early, Campertel and Armand.
Who can come to their rescue!
