The old man reacted after a moment. He slowly lifted the quilt, moved to the edge of the bed, and stared directly at the Archbishop.
"If you were locked in this godforsaken place, could you eat anything?" he said, his voice hoarse and unclear, as if something was blocking his throat. "It's been half a year, trapped here for half a year, with no news at all... How is my son? What about my daughters?"
Mayne noticed the carvings all over the walls, as if they had been scratched out with fingernails. Was this how he had been counting the days?
He moved a stool and sat down facing the king. "Do you have to ask about things that will displease you?"
"..." The other man was silent for a long while. "I'm useless now. Have you come to send me on my way?"
"Yes."
"Then what does it matter to a dying man whether things are pleasant or not! Before I die, I just want to know how they are!" By the last sentence, Wimbledon's voice was almost a roar.
He finally couldn't hold back, Mayne thought. Regardless, as a king, his courage and demeanor were quite adequate. After being replaced by a pious man and sent to Hermes, he had repeatedly tried to escape. Imprisoned here, he had not gone mad, but had tried to negotiate to gain freedom. No cursing, no hysterical shouting, which was rare in the mechanical prison. If the plan could not be changed, he would not have wanted to waste such a person on internal conspiracies.
Perhaps coming here in person was also to inform him of the current situation, the Archbishop thought. Otherwise, a single order would have been enough for the Judgment Army to end his life.
"Your eldest son, Goron Wimbledon, is dead," Mayne said slowly. "He was sentenced to beheading by your second son, Tifeiko Wimbledon, on the charge of treason and regicide. Your third daughter, Garcia Wimbledon, has declared independence in the Southern Territory, proclaimed herself the Queen of Azure Waters, and war with Tifeiko is inevitable. As for your fourth and fifth children, we have not obtained much news. Perhaps... they are still alive."
"What are you talking about, treason? Independence? What have you done?"
"The Edict of Kings," he said, word by word. "Distributing your children to various places, announcing that whoever governs their territory best will be the next king."
Wimbledon closed his eyes in pain. After a long time, he whispered, "Why? You took advantage of the Prayer Day, brought me into the chamber, stripped me of my clothes... and the God Punishment Stone. You used witches to replace me with someone else. You could have slowly taken over this country, letting churches stand in every town. Why issue such an Edict of Kings! I, I could never... cough, cough," At the point of excitement, Wimbledon hunched over and coughed violently.
「I could never issue such an order that would cause my children to kill each other,」 right? Mayne mentally completed the king's sentence. "Perhaps you wouldn't, but your children may not be as you wish. They have grown up and will have their own ideas. For example, your third daughter, Garcia, obtained Azure Water Port as early as five years ago. Even without the Edict of Kings, or rather, when you die naturally, would she watch Goron ascend the throne without doing anything? Most importantly, we do not have time to do it slowly. You should also have noticed that the witches' abilities are not permanent."
"Damn it, how does it benefit the church if they fight each other? The churches will be engulfed in flames, believers will die in the war, and the kingdom will be in chaos..." At this point, Wimbledon suddenly paused, lifting his head in disbelief. "Could it be that you want to—" A more violent cough interrupted the king's words. After finally recovering, his voice became as thin as a thread, as if that cough had consumed all his energy. "You... want to eliminate the royal family."
"That's right, but more accurately, it's royal power," Mayne couldn't help but praise in his heart. What acute judgment. After being in this dark prison for nearly half a year, not losing his mind was already a testament to his strong will. Those who could still think could be counted on one hand over the years. "Royal power will hinder the development of the church. No matter how weak it is, it will always grow slowly like a seedling. Only by uprooting it can the church 「truly」 obtain this kingdom."
"..." Wimbledon's expression aged a lot.
Perhaps he had only looked old before, but now even his spirit had declined. The light in his eyes had dimmed.
"Graycastle is the largest kingdom on the continent, with a large number of soldiers. A frontal war is unfavorable to the church. We have planned this for a long time. Your kingdom will definitely lose a large number of warriors and mercenaries in the civil war. As long as it lasts for two or three years, our Judgment Army will be able to easily take the entire territory of Graycastle. You don't have to be too sad. You are not the only monarch to lose his country. The other three countries are the same. In the future, there will be no distinction between the four major kingdoms on the continent. Dawn, Wolfheart, Everwinter, and Graycastle will all disappear. On this vast land, there will only be one regime, and that is the church."
Wimbledon fell silent. The man who had seized the throne from his brothers by force now seemed to have lost his vitality. Even Mayne felt a trace of pity, but there was no regret in his heart. The church had also paid a great price for this—a large number of outstanding believers willingly served as pawns, fearlessly throwing themselves into this layout.
The person playing Wimbledon III was a pious Judge in the Judgment Army. He had a firm faith and was absolutely loyal to the church. He was originally going to receive the transformation ceremony of the God's Punishment Army. However, for the mission, he was replaced with the king's appearance by a witch and died without honor in the bedroom of the Graycastle royal capital. He could have had his name engraved on the monument of the Hermes Cathedral, but now, the church could only bury his name forever.
Just when Mayne thought Wimbledon would not speak again, and he took out a small porcelain bottle from his arms, ready to let him drink it, he suddenly opened his mouth and said, "Curse..."
"Hmm?"
"I curse you... I will be waiting for you in the depths of hell." His voice was getting weaker and weaker. Mayne had to concentrate to hear what he was saying clearly.
"Unfortunately, there is no hell in this world. Even if there is, it doesn't belong to us. And everything we do is for continuation. Only by unifying the four countries can the church gather the greatest strength to defeat the real enemy, otherwise..." The Archbishop stopped at this point. He saw Wimbledon's hand had weakly slipped down, his head was tilted to one side, and the rise and fall of his chest had completely stopped.
This is the end of a king, but it is a brand new beginning for us, he thought.
Mayne put the porcelain bottle back into his arms and got up to leave. Pushing open the wooden door, the corridor was quiet, as if those wails had never sounded at all. He gave a few instructions about the aftermath to the Judgment Army warrior guarding the door and walked out of the mechanism without looking back.
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