Chapter 111 Crumbling Truth
Aric sat alone in his study, candle flickering shadows across the high walls ligting his face in a strange mixture of soft light and deep shade. His hand rested on an open ledger, and a slight, almost contemplative smile traced his lips as he read through the notes he had made.
He had been preparing for this for days.
The Church of the Holy Flame was no simple place of worship; it was an iron fist hidden in the silken robes of righteousness, capable of influencing the masses and manipulating the nobility with a mere word. But now, Aric had found the cracks, and he had every intention of digging until the Church fell.
The door creaked open, and Viscount Kael entered first, followed by Old Man Hitoshi. They walked with purpose, Kael's steps brisk, while Hitoshi moved with the steady pace of a man who'd seen centuries of strategies rise and fall.
They both paused, bowing their heads briefly before Kael spoke.
"Your Highness, the first emissary has returned with promising news. High Inquisitor Levos accepted the 'gift'… quite eagerly, in fact. He barely asked any questions, though I suspect he knows well enough not to."
Aric nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Good. That man's greed is his weakness. And what of High Priest Dorim?"
"Dorim is… cautious," Hitoshi replied, folding his hands. "He's skeptical, but I suspect he's too tempted to refuse entirely. The offer of debt relief is hard to resist for a man with his expensive habits."
The prince chuckled, a low sound. "Good. I don't need him to trust me, only to want what I'm offering."
As he spoke, he gestured for them to take seats at the table, where a simple map of the city lay. He traced his finger over the borders surrounding the imperial city, lingering on symbols that marked prominent estates of families loyal to the Church.
"Kael, I want rumors seeded in every corner of the nobility. Start with the lesser houses—the ones crushed by their debts to the Church. They're desperate and disillusioned, eager to believe that the Council of Saints is more interested in silver than salvation."
Kael's lips twisted into a wry smile. "So, play on their bitterness?"
"Precisely." Aric's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting with a mixture of cunning and satisfaction. "The nobility will believe what they already suspect. Show them glimpses of hidden indulgences, and let their imaginations do the rest."
Hitoshi inclined his head. "It's a wise strategy, Your Highness. Once rumors take root, they'll grow into something the Church can't silence without revealing its true nature."
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Aric pushed a goblet of wine towards Kael, offering a drink as a mark of his trust. "And if the Church tries to retaliate," he said softly, "we'll make sure they stumble on their own sins. It won't take much to show the public how much silver lines their holy robes."
For a moment, the room fell silent. The three men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, until finally Aric spoke again.
"Tell me, what's the next step with Dorim?"
Hitoshi leaned forward. "Dorim values prestige almost as much as wealth. If we can tempt him with promises of greater influence, perhaps even a subtle endorsement from a prince, he may abandon his alliances with the others."
Aric's mouth twitched into a smile. "That would be valuable indeed. Set up a meeting—nothing formal, just… an exchange. Send him an anonymous invitation with a gift. Something ornate and costly, a token of our 'esteem.' He'll come if his vanity is strong enough."
Kael chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "For all their talk of purity, the leaders of the Church are nothing more than men with weak wills and hungry desires."
Aric's eyes darkened. "Their faith is a front," he said, a touch of disdain in his voice. "But it's time that front crumbles."
---
The following evening, under the cover of darkness, two cloaked men made their way through the streets of the city. One was a young servant, newly recruited from one of the lesser noble houses, and the other a quiet, gray-haired emissary hand-picked by Hitoshi for his discretion.
They moved quickly, slipping between alleyways until they reached the rear entrance of the grand cathedral.
A guard spotted them but, recognizing the mark on the letter the emissary held, let them pass with a barely-hidden smirk. News of the Church's dealings with the nobility was an open secret among the commoners, though few dared speak of it openly.
The emissary waited in a small, dark antechamber, his eyes flickering around as he held the sealed letter close to his chest. He could feel the weight of the gold coin purse hidden beneath his cloak, a bribe meant for any inquisitive eyes that wandered too close.
After several tense minutes, High Inquisitor Levos entered, his expression a mix of irritation and anticipation. Levos was a man of moderate height, his build heavy, his eyes small and calculating. His robes were adorned with a delicate embroidery of flames, meant to signify his high rank, though they looked almost gaudy in the dim light.
"You brought this message?" Levos asked, his voice low and dismissive.
The emissary handed over the letter, bowing slightly as he did. "A token of goodwill, Your Grace," he murmured, head still lowered.
Levos broke the seal, his eyes darting across the message with growing interest. After a moment, he looked up, his irritation replaced with a smug satisfaction. "Very well," he muttered, pocketing the coin purse without a second thought. "You may tell your benefactor that I am… open to continued discussions."
The emissary gave another bow, murmuring, "I shall convey your words faithfully." With that, he disappeared back into the night, his job complete.
---
Days passed, and subtle changes rippled through the city's noble circles. Murmurs of the Church's indulgent practices spread from estate to estate, whispered over private dinners and discussed behind closed doors.
It was not long before the lower nobility began to mutter about the hypocrisy of the Holy Flame, resentful whispers that spread like smoke through the city.
Aric observed these changes with cold satisfaction. Every time he met with Hitoshi and the Ashen covenant, the reports grew more promising. High Inquisitor Levos had already begun loosening his ties with House Rothval, avoiding their representatives with carefully crafted excuses.
High Priest Dorim, meanwhile, seemed enthralled by the gifts and promises that arrived almost daily, his alliance with Aric tightening like a well-wound knot.
One afternoon, as the sun began to sink and cast a warm, amber glow over the study, Aric gathered his intelligence unit leaders again. The room was tense with anticipation, each man waiting for his prince's word.
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Hitoshi spoke first, his voice steady. "Your Highness, the rumors have started taking root. The lower nobility speak openly of the Church's avarice, and even the commoners are beginning to see the clergy as wealthy puppets rather than holy men."
Aric's gaze swept over his advisors, his satisfaction clear. "Good. This will unsettle the nobles who owe the Church their loyalty. If they see that faith alone no longer holds sway over the people, they'll question the value of their allegiance."
Kael leaned forward, his voice eager. "What is our next move, Your Highness?"
Aric considered the question, his gaze growing hard. "We double down. Continue to spread whispers. Encourage the people to look upon the Church as corrupt, and ensure Levos and Dorim are rewarded well enough that they feel indebted to us."
With a sharp nod, Hitoshi added, "The lower nobility will soon grow bold enough to question the Church's decrees. They're desperate to lift the burden of their debts."
Aric let out a slow breath, a look of fierce satisfaction in his eyes. "We're close, gentlemen. The Church is already showing its cracks. Now we press harder, until it falls into our hands."
As the men left, Aric lingered by the window, gazing out at the city stretched beneath him. He could almost hear the faint cries of the people, their dissatisfaction growing louder with each passing day.
With one hand pressed against the cold glass, Aric allowed himself a small smile.
The Church had reigned with power and intimidation for too long. Now, he would see it become his greatest tool, its authority turned to serve his ambitions, its strength made into his blade.