Tea and Troubles: A Bishop’s Reflection

“These days have been rather pleasant.”

At this very moment, within the quiet confines of the church office, Rhys was indulging in a rare moment of leisure, finally finding the time to steep himself a pot of tea.

In the preceding days, he had flitted about like a busy fly, constantly besieged by an endless array of problems.

Yet, ever since a certain fated presence arrived, everything had miraculously taken a turn for the better; it was truly astonishing.

When an institution finds itself in decline, no matter how much effort is exerted, problems relentlessly accumulate until a breaking point is reached.

Witnessing its near-demise, others naturally withhold aid, plunging the institution deeper into despair—a vicious cycle indeed.

Conversely, when a resurgence finally emerges, particularly with the arrival of a ‘heaven-sent strongman’ capable of turning the tide, solving the most intractable issues paves the way for all other problems to resolve themselves with ease.

After all, when people observe that even the kingdom failed to subjugate the Church, and in some respects even yielded to it, they are naturally compelled to re-evaluate their perception of the institution.

A minor victory can reverse an entire situation; such is the intriguing nature of politics.

“Your schedule has been packed lately. And yet, here you are, calmly sipping tea.”

Anto, seated nearby, observed Rhys’s overflowing schedule.

The Bishop took a sip of his tea, responding with a placid air:

“It’s no longer like before, where I had to rush around, practically begging people. Now, they’re the ones arranging meetings to consult with me.

Why bother cramming the schedule? Come, come, this is tea imported from the Eastern Kingdoms—I rarely bring it out.

Would you care for a cup, Anto-daren?”

“Please don’t add ‘daren’ to my name… I truly find it unsettling.

You’re starting to sound just like Ilivy.”

Anto shook her head, yet still accepted the cup Rhys offered.

Rhys, now settled on a sofa opposite, continued:

“After all, Sister Anto’s accomplishments are plain for all to see; the Church’s reputation has significantly improved in recent days.

As our standing rises, societal resources naturally begin to gravitate towards us.

Numerous merchants are now eager to re-establish partnerships.

I’ve even found the time to repurchase the crosses and church decorations I once had to sell.

Following the banquet, nobles have once again started visiting the Church—mostly spirited young men, I might add.

After I guided them through our premises, they spontaneously dropped a good number of gold coins into the donation box.

Ah, and what’s truly fascinating is what we found in today’s offering box… Besides the usual contributions, there were also these letters:

[For God’s sake, please use this money to properly renovate our dear angel’s living quarters! Do not let her be shrouded in dust!]

[We hope our light is not mistreated! Miss Antolia is our light!]

[We eagerly await Sister Antolia’s attire at the next banquet. P.S. If funds are insufficient, please reply to this address…]”

“That’s enough.”

Anto covered her face, exclaiming:

“Are these people… are these noble scions truly imbeciles?”

“Don’t speak so harshly; they are our esteemed benefactors.”

Rhys adjusted his spectacles, adding:

“Wealthy individuals who possess goodwill are indeed our greatest patrons.”

“A single bag of this ‘goodwill’ they so casually bestow upon me could comfortably sustain a family in the slums for over a month.”

Anto gazed at the coins within the bag, sighing regretfully:

“It’s simply disheartening. Such a sum would be a significant fortune for any family in the Border Kingdom, yet they produce it with such nonchalance.

The disparity between classes… it’s truly immense.”

“This is the inherent problem of our era: the poor grow poorer, and the rich grow richer.

Though reformist ideologies are now widely circulated throughout the human kingdoms, those who determine and control these reforms are invariably the vested interests.

How could they possibly wield the blade against themselves?

Therefore, no matter the reforms enacted, class remains a formidable barrier, not easily overcome.”

Bishop Rhys took another sip of his tea, adding:

“This insight, I might add, is the fruit of a conversation I had with Master Eric.”

“Eric?”

Anto looked at Rhys, surprised.

She had always assumed Eric and the Church’s clergy were fundamentally incompatible, yet it seemed they had genuinely found common ground.

“We were discussing whether the Church and the feudal system of the kingdom ought to be abolished by an assembly.”

Rhys chuckled, explaining:

“I had anticipated a serious rebuke from him, but Master Eric proved surprisingly insightful on the matter.

He articulated that it matters little what system or power is in place.

It’s not as if merely changing the system will govern a nation effectively; regardless of the ruling power, the inherent class structure remains immutable.

The identity of the ruler might shift—it could be a king, an emperor, a bishop, or perhaps an assembly, a dictator, or an elected official—but the fundamental class distinctions will not change.

Will people achieve freedom simply by hanging a king or a bishop? No, for the oppression from the upper echelons of society will not cease.

Royal authority might vanish, ecclesiastical power might fade, but there will always be those who seize that power, perhaps continuing as the tyranny of the majority.

Or perhaps it will be the capitalist rule of merchants.

Thus, the crucial element is never the system itself, but rather the people within it.”

“That certainly sounds like something he would say.”

Anto replied, a slight smile playing on her lips as she met Rhys’s gaze:

“However, I doubt this is what we should be discussing right now, Rhys-daren.

You must be preoccupied with another significant matter concerning our Border Church, aren’t you?”

“…Regarding that matter, do you have any suggestions, Sister Anto?”

Rhys tilted his head, smiling faintly:

“Specifically, concerning the voluntary Holy Light aid team we are dispatching to the border of the Draynes Royal Capital.”

“This was already agreed upon.

The Kingdom of Draynes extended their goodwill by providing us with supplies, and it is imperative that we reciprocate our own goodwill at this juncture.”

Anto continued:

“How many personnel can we actually dispatch?”

“The Draynes Church currently has a total of thirty-six sisters and nine priests, including myself.

To ensure the Draynes Cathedral remains operational, I must retain at least eighteen sisters and four priests.”

Rhys explained.

“This means that, at most, the cathedral can muster just over twenty individuals.”

“Such an aid team seems rather insufficient, doesn’t it?”

Anto frowned, asking:

“And what level of skill do these twenty individuals possess?”

“We are hardly in a position to demand a specific skill level; simply having enough personnel is already a challenge.

Furthermore, I’ve attempted to contact the itinerant monks and nuns within Draynes territory.

They may or may not join, but those who are willing will gather at the border.

After all, the terms I’ve offered are quite generous.

Even so, their numbers are unlikely to exceed twenty.

On your journey to the border, I’ve noted the presence of several border churches.

You might investigate if you can persuade their priests to join the expedition or provide additional hands.

The success of this will depend entirely on you.

Here is my letter of credence; you can use it to contact them.”

“Understood.”

Anto acknowledged, and Rhys then added gravely:

“Finally, once you reach the border, the greatest challenge may not be the Demon Lord’s army, but rather… encountering *them* on the battlefield.

Anto, it would be best if you avoided any interaction with those individuals for now.”

“Which individuals?”

Anto looked at Rhys, who took a deep breath, his gaze drifting towards the northern sky as he spoke:

“The Black Cross—those from the Dark Church.”