The Diplomat Nun and the King’s Leverage

“Have you heard the news concerning the Draines Church?” an official remarked within the City Hall at that moment.

“They still haven’t agreed?” a frustrated official on the other side retorted, his tone unyielding. “Seriously, do those damned church brats actually believe things are still as they were twenty years ago? Must we still pander to their whims? Let them stew; I refuse to believe they won’t eventually swallow their pride and seek cooperation.”

“Still, we shouldn’t push them too far,” another cautioned. “The Foreign Minister himself instructed us not to sever ties with them just yet. After all, they are natives, a part of our own.”

“Precisely,” a third chimed in. “We are indeed still navigating by others’ gazes, though it’s no longer the Church we defer to, but those Transmigrators… the Otherworld Travelers!”

“I heard that just recently, they overthrew another royal family in the central kingdoms, placing their loyalists on the throne,” one official remarked. “The Hero King’s oath sounds noble, but in truth, who wouldn’t exploit a loophole when given the chance? Honestly.”

The Hero King’s declaration, made by Rajes, the paramount leader of all heroes and guide to the Otherworld Travelers after the Demon King’s War, called for the establishment of a council system to protect the rights of Transmigrators. Simultaneously, to safeguard the interests of the native inhabitants, it strictly forbade Transmigrators from seizing national thrones. All Transmigrators were also required to obey local laws, while the council was tasked with resisting and protecting their rights if kingdom laws persecuted them. What appeared to be a comprehensive system was, in fact, riddled with loopholes. Those truly seeking power could achieve their aims through alternative means without overtly breaking the rules. The council’s transformation from a regulatory body into a covert ruling institution, tacitly acknowledged by all, took mere years, less than a decade in total.

Every change during this period heralded the birth of a new continental order. The Church had fragmented, and the delicate balance and maintenance of relations between the churches and the council became a pressing new concern for the old kingdoms.

“In short, I will not approve these funds today,” the city official stated directly. “Let him starve for a few more days; Bishop Rhys must concede. Even if these are agreements already settled with the Foreign Minister.”

“But we’ve already dragged this on for two weeks now. They…”

“They won’t starve to death,” the official interjected bluntly. “Whether or not a contract has been signed, one thing is clear: the Kingdom of Draines is greater than this damned diocese. We provide them with grain, and we sign the agreements. If they want something, it won’t be by invoking rules, because the right to enforce those rules rests with us. Things that were ‘agreed upon’? Let them come and take them themselves! Let them force their way in! Who gave them the audacity to expect to earn money standing tall without any real power, daring to slap the very hand that feeds them?” His words, though seemingly absurd, were both candid and natural, revealing a harsh truth about diplomacy.

As a border kingdom, Draines had long benefited from the Church’s border defense policies. In the past, to maintain stability along this frontier, which safeguarded human-controlled territories, the Church annually provided tens of thousands in aid to border nations. However, with the Church’s decline, these funds had ceased. The Kingdom of Draines and the diocese had also had financial agreements, but the disappearance of the Church meant the execution of these agreements now lay entirely at the discretion of the kingdom. Currently, the King of Draines desired the diocese to cultivate Holy Light Warriors (TL Note: A type of warrior imbued with divine power, typically serving a religious order.) who would serve the border. While seemingly reasonable, this was, in fact, a disguised demand for the Draines Church to become a subordinate institution of the kingdom. Bishop Rhys refused, as the Holy Light Envoys of the Church pledged loyalty only to God, not to any king. This greatly angered the King, leading him to directly withhold the promised aid, citing “urgent wartime material allocation difficulties.” The Draines Church was powerless in this situation; the people belonged to the kingdom, and so did the resources. If Rhys did not yield, the supplies would not be released.

The situation, at present, was precisely this straightforward. It was at this juncture that a figure entered the City Hall. Upon noticing her presence, everyone was involuntarily drawn to the silhouette before them. She wore the attire of a novice nun, yet exuded a sanctity and solemnity typically reserved for high-ranking clergy. Her flawless, youthful face, as if carved from a precious gem, became the undeniable focal point for all.

“Sister… may I ask who you are?” An official from the City Hall immediately stepped forward to greet her. Ordinarily, people here would go out of their way to avoid nuns or priests, yet facing this particular nun, an inexplicable power caused their hearts to tremble. To the approaching official, the elegant nun responded with gentle, professional courtesy:

“My Lord above, I am Antolia, a novice nun of the Draines Church.”

“So you are Sister Anto,” the minor official before her said with a smile. “My goodness, I’ve heard of you. You often visit the slums to provide relief, do you not? And offer free treatment to commoners… I never imagined… My wife has spoken of you, but I truly never imagined you would be… quite so beautiful.”

“Thank you for your kind praise, sir,” Sister Anto replied, her smile captivating everyone in the City Hall.

“It is merely a small part of my duties as a sister serving God; I simply strive to do these things to the best of my ability.”

“Then, Sister, you’ve come today concerning… that matter, haven’t you?” The finance official, who had spoken earlier, approached. While he was somewhat surprised to encounter this rumored nun, his professionalism compelled him to prioritize national interests above personal sentiments.

“I regret to say our position has been made quite clear,” he stated. “As we explained yesterday, it is not that we are unwilling to fulfill the first phase of the aid provisions, but rather that we simply have no surplus materials left to allocate. Our army is currently engaged in a bloody battle against the remnants of the demon forces on the front lines, and they require sufficient supplies to counter the enemy. We hope Bishop Rhys can understand our predicament and offer more assistance.”

“We are indeed aware of that,” Sister Antolia replied, neither aggressive nor unyielding. “The kingdom’s failure to provide aid as agreed naturally stems from other pressing needs that must be addressed; we fully understand this. However, my visit today is not concerning that matter, especially since Sister Lu Mei has only just returned.”

“Lu Mei… oh, that mad… *ahem*… that rather… spirited nun,” the finance official interjected, a hint of helplessness in his voice as he recalled the woman who had almost shouted about tearing down the City Hall.

“So, Sister, why exactly have you come here today?”

“To offer an apology, of course,” Sister Anto replied, lifting a fruit basket with a smile that could thaw the deepest winter.

“These are some pastries I baked myself. I hope you will accept them graciously, despite your busy schedules.”

The warmth of her smile, coupled with the fragrant aroma of the pastries, momentarily imbued everyone in the bustling City Hall with an unusual sense of happiness. One person even involuntarily exclaimed:

“By the heavens, Mother, I’ve met an angel.”