The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 109

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 109
What I was doing in this moment was precisely crafting a pretext.
I slowly surveyed those gathered in the assembly hall before speaking again.
“You’re all aware of what happened at the Norwald estate, I trust.”
The murmuring that had filled the air moments before died away. It was an incident that had shaken even the Holy Sanctuary itself—none of them could feign ignorance.
Count Norwald had extended his hand toward the Ecclesia Church, and everyone in this chamber knew far better than most what the consequences had been.
“Count Norwald purchased Indulgences when his illness would not heal. Yet he believed that the divine punishment came anyway—that Caritas refused to forgive his sins—and so he began to doubt faith itself.”
I tapped the table lightly with one finger.
“But was that truly the delusion of Count Norwald alone?”
No one answered.
“The Indulgence system has degenerated into something where money absolves all sins in this life. Yet we cannot control whether a man, like Count Norwald, comes to question whether his own suffering is the karma of his guilt. He was assured his sins were forgiven, so why does he still suffer? That doubt festers into distrust of the divine itself, and who can promise that another will not reach for heresy as the Norwald household did? Who can guarantee it?”
The expressions of the Cardinals stiffened subtly.
“And you all know what the Ecclesia Church was attempting to accomplish using those who have apostatized. If they exploit the resentment and distrust of those who have turned their backs on the order, broadening their influence through such wounds, then the ones who suffer are the innocent faithful who understand nothing of these machinations.”
I placed a book I had prepared beforehand onto the table with a decisive thud.
“Therefore, we must set this corrupted system right.”
Sacred Temple Operations Manual That Our Descendants Must Protect — Written by the Third Saint of the Caritas Church, Sierra.
My own work, which every wretch in this room had dismissed, and a required text of the Temple nonetheless.
I opened to the section on Indulgences and cleared my throat softly.
“The Third Saint left explicit ordinances when establishing the Indulgence system.”
And I began reading through them, reciting passage after passage across several pages before closing the book.
“The Third Saint already foresaw such dangers when creating this system. Yet what of the order today? They insist that because it was she who brought the order to such prosperity, the Indulgence business must be preserved—while simultaneously ignoring the very regulations she explicitly commanded be upheld. Is that not Blasphemy?”
They paid no attention to my words and began whispering among themselves. I had known all along that the Cardinal Council would not be swayed.
Indulgences were the Temple’s greatest source of revenue.
In the presence of such funds, there was no “your side” or “my side”—only gold.
The Archbishop’s faction and the opposition, who ordinarily could not devour each other fast enough, became remarkably unified in their convictions whenever a proposal threatened their own purses.
So I had not gathered them here to persuade the opposing Cardinals.
Let them tear into the Archbishop as much as they wished, using the pretext that he had even absolved the assassination attempt on the Saint herself through Indulgences. That was their purpose today.
But then why had I bothered to assemble these doddering old men and prolong words that would fall on deaf ears?
It was simple. They would carry my words beyond these walls.
They would spread rumors that this young Saint lacks worldly wisdom, that she preaches idealism without understanding how Temple finances actually flow, that she dares tamper with institutions centuries in the making based on a handful of passages from the Third Saint’s writings.
Whatever it took to diminish me and mock me, they would broadcast every word I had spoken today to their subordinate Priests, throughout the Temple itself.
That was precisely what I was counting on.
There had always existed those who chafed against these rigid old conventions, those dissatisfied with corrupt leadership, and those who hungered for power themselves—regardless of which.
People like Kalianna, for instance.
Their motivations mattered not. What I required were those who believed the current order had gone astray, and those who possessed the will to change it.
A third option, neither the Archbishop’s faction nor its opposition.
Once my principle of upholding the rules spread throughout the entire order, those who heard it would inevitably gravitate toward me. Reformist forces had always emerged in every age.
And was it not a tiresome refrain of history that whenever two powers clash, a third rises in their midst?
I reclined in my chair and regarded the Cardinals’ faces with unhurried ease.
Talk away. Go out and spread my words even further.
Your tongues will serve me far more efficiently than if I traveled the Temple myself gathering supporters.
Finally, Archbishop Marius rose from his seat.
“Your Holiness, the matters you have raised today would seem to require further deliberation. The Indulgence system is interwoven with the entire order’s operations, and we must not rush to conclusions.”
The words were polished, but their meaning was clear: the assembly was adjourned. Having achieved what I came for, I nodded gracefully.
“Quite right.”
Thus the Cardinal Council convened directly by the Saint for the first time in centuries concluded without reaching any resolution.
Or at least, that is what they believed.
As people filed out one by one, I rose as well. It was then that Archbishop Marius approached me.
“Your Holiness.”
I stopped at the low, measured tone of his voice. The Archbishop glanced about to confirm we were alone before speaking quietly.
“I pray you will only touch what you are able to bear.”
It was a chill warning indeed.
I did not answer, merely regarding him with a soft smile.
Handle only what you can bear. How absurd that sounded.
I was the one who had first established the very institutions they had cherished as sacred and inviolable. If I do not shoulder this burden, who possibly could?
Of course, I hadn’t foreseen that five hundred years of rolling and accumulating would transform the karma into such a vast, crushing snowball.
Back in my chamber, I closed the door and approached Wilson Junior, which leaned against the wall, and caressed its grip with deliberate tenderness.
There, there, Wilson Junior. I’ll hurry to overhaul the Temple so I can return to relying on you far more than my mind.
Come to think of it, even in my former life, I had not always wielded only the sword from the beginning.
As the order grew, I had endured enough political intrigue, and had exercised my mind considerably dealing with people entangled in competing interests.
Only after the Temple had established itself to a certain degree and my authority had become unshakeable did the frequency with which I resolved complex matters through direct force increase dramatically.
So in a sense, this present moment was a preparation period to return to those days.
Just wait a little longer, Wilson Junior. One day, the time will come again when I raise God’s majesty through physical means.
I stroked Wilson Junior a few more times before settling into my chair at the desk.
Then I drew out fresh paper.
On that very day when I spoke of reform proposals that the Cardinal Council wouldn’t listen to, my next task wasn’t to eliminate the Indulgences—quite the opposite, in fact.
I picked up my pen and wrote a name at the head of the letter.
Count Lebon.
Now it was time to use the Indulgences to create my own grand and precious source of funds.
***
As Arden stepped into the Temple Library, the librarian, now familiar with his face, greeted him warmly of her own accord.
“You’re looking for works written by the Third Saint again today, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
At Arden’s brief reply, the librarian, as if she’d been waiting, slid several books across the desk that she’d already set out.
“This is the last of them. There are no more records directly written by the Third Saint.”
Arden examined the spine of each book.
Over the past several days, he’d visited the library whenever he had a spare moment. The historical records concerning the Third Saint were quite extensive, but when he filtered them down to only those she’d written with her own hand, the volume was manageable enough to read through over several days of focused study.
And that was precisely what Arden was doing—searching through that record from beginning to end. To verify something.
The librarian watched Arden with interest, and then, as if remembering something, spoke up.
“Ah, now that I think of it, the Saint did the same thing back then.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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