The solemn sound of the bell echoed in the sanctum, and a low resonance resounded in the Cathedral of the God of War under the steel dome. Mathilda got up from the bench and said to the old pope in front of her, "The bell has rung, I should return to the Obsidian Palace. If you are still interested in my experience in Cecil, I can tell you more the next time I come. "
"I look forward to it." Malcolm Dunnett had a gentle and loving smile on his face. This gentle temperament made him almost not look like a battle priest who served the God of War and had charged into the battlefield. Only his muscular body and the sharpness in his eyes silently proved that this old man still had power and his authority over the church. "Bring my greetings to Rosetta. He hasn't been to the Cathedral of the God of War for a long time."
Mathilda lowered her head slightly. "… I will."
No matter how the Augustus family kept a respectful distance from the gods and the church, it was the responsibility of the royal family to regularly contact the church representatives and set foot in the church. This kind of thing had to be done in front of the nobles and the people.
Bringing along her attendants and guards, Mathilda left the majestic palace.
From the inner sanctum to the exit, there was a long corridor.
The Church of the God of War used "iron" as the symbol of the sacred metal. Black steel frames and classical iron sculptures decorated the corridor leading to the outside of the sanctuary. Countless candles in the alcoves illuminated the place. Between the columns, between the narrow windows, scripture cloth depicting various war scenes or sacred proverbs hung from the roof, decorating the walls on both sides.
As Mathilda walked along the long corridor, the flickering candlelight in the alcove flickered in her line of sight. As she approached the exit of the Sacred Hall, she could not help but slow down her pace. A black-haired, black-eyed, dignified, and beautiful figure in a maid's dress naturally came to her side in the next second.
This figure was one of the maids following behind Mathilda. However, until she stood out, no one noticed her existence. Even when she arrived at the princess' side, no one saw clearly how she passed by the other maids and attendants, quietly appearing at Mathilda's side.
"Miss Diana," Mathilda whispered to the black-haired maid who came to her side. "Do you feel … there is a strange … atmosphere in the Cathedral today?"
"I don't feel it, Your Highness." The black-haired maid maintained the same speed as Mathilda, whispering as she walked forward. "Do you feel anything?"
"… No, it's probably because I haven't been here for a long time. I'm not used to the heavy decorations here." Mathilda shook her head and quickly changed the topic. "It seems that Pope Malcolm has also noticed the recent changes in Aldnan. Fresh air has finally entered the Great Cathedral."
Diana's voice was soft. "Although His Holiness Malcolm does not pay attention to the secular world, he has never been a conservative and stubborn person. When new things appear in his sight, he is also happy to learn about them."
As a 'maid', her tone was still quite indifferent when talking about the Pope.
Mathilda nodded gently as if she agreed with Diana's judgment. Then she slightly quickened her pace and quickly led her entourage through the long corridor.
The candlelight in the alcove shone brightly. There was no wind in the corridor, but all the candlelight swayed gently in different directions, as if an invisible wind was hovering in a dimension that humans could not perceive, disturbing the silence of the sanctuary.
…
Malcolm Dunnett completed another short prayer. He opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He reached for the herbal wine served by the attendant beside him and took a small sip in moderation.
The spicy, sweet and bitter taste of the herbal wine dissipated in his throat, stimulating the old man's spirit. He quietly waited for the feeling of vitality to ferment in his body. At the same time, he asked casually, "Has Her Highness and the others left?"
A deacon in a dark priest's robe bowed beside the Pope and reported respectfully. "They have left the Cathedral, Your Holiness."
"Well." Malcolm nodded. "Then let's continue to discuss the festival later."
"Your Holiness, do you …" The deacon looked at the old Pope with some concern and hesitated. "Do you need to rest today? You have done a lot of reception today. At this time, your energy is easily exhausted. "
"I'm not that weak." Malcolm shook his head. "And the test of the Lord cannot be avoided, especially before and after the annual festival."
As he spoke, the old pope drew an 'X' in front of his chest and softly chanted the name of the God of War.
A power that mortals could not detect was surging in the Cathedral. Some kind of sacred and vast, but indescribable and incomprehensible 'breath' was wandering in the sanctuary. Malcolm could vaguely feel the vague ripples of the breath. He knew that this was the power of the gods fluctuating in the gap between the real world and the divine kingdom.
The God of War was a god who was very 'close' to humans, even closer to them than the Holy Light, who had always been known for its gentleness and righteousness. This may be because humans were a race that was naturally keen on war, or it may be because the God of War was more concerned about the mortal world than other gods. Regardless, this' close 'influence was far-reaching.
It brought more powerful and accessible divine spells to the priests of the God of War, and it also made it easier for the power of the gods to 'interpenetrate' into the real world. And this' penetration 'at the boundary of the real world had periodic fluctuations. Now, a new round of penetration was approaching. In the Cathedral, which was closest to the will of the gods, some signs had begun to appear.
This was normal for the senior priests of the God of War, a natural phenomenon that could not be more normal.
But this year's penetration … seemed to be stronger than previous years.
"Your Holiness," the deacon's voice came from the side, interrupting the pontiff's thoughts. "Recently, more and more priests have been hearing noises during their prayers. This is especially serious when they are in or near the Cathedral."
"The Lord is approaching this world periodically," Malcolm said in a deep voice. "The human mind cannot fully understand the words of the gods, so the knowledge beyond our minds has become something like noise. This is normal. Let the priests remain pious and synchronize their bodies and minds with the teachings of the gods. This will allow us to better understand the will of the gods, and the 'noise' will be reduced."
The deacon bowed his head deeply and replied respectfully, "Yes, Your Holiness."
Then the deacon was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he could not help but say, "Your Holiness, the 'resonance' this time seems to be unusually strong. Is this a sign that the gods are about to give their will?"
Malcolm glanced at the deacon, lowered his eyelids, and crossed his hands in front of him. "Do not speculate about the will of the Lord. Just perform our duties as priests respectfully."
The deacon accepted the instruction and immediately lowered his eyelids, crossed his hands in front of him, and devoutly recited the prayers to the gods in a low voice. His voice was low and steady, and the sacred words flowed from his lips and tongue. But Pope Malcolm suddenly frowned. He suddenly heard a few strange murmurs in the midst of the deacon's words. It was as if there were strange echoes mixed in with the human voice, as if a foreign throat was uttering whispers that humans could not make. But the noise lasted for a very short time. The next second, the deacon's brief prayer ended. The devout priest opened his eyes. His eyes were calm and clear, and there was not the slightest difference.
He seemed to have no idea what had just happened.
Malcolm Dumont withdrew his gaze from the deacon and calmed the extraordinary power that had just been summoned in his body. He said calmly, "Gather the bishops. We will discuss the matters of the festival."
… …
The Guardian's Shield lay quietly on the table. The ancient emblem of Cecil had solidified into a rusty and blurry spot on the shield. Gwen's finger slowly brushed across the weathered and corroded surface of the metal. Amber's voice came from beside him. "Say, you have been staring at the shield in a daze for the past few days. Are you thinking of the past? Deep in the memories? Can't help but sigh about life? This is a sign of old age … "
Gwen looked back at the Shame of the Empire, who was blatantly skipping work. "Running around during working hours just to get a beating from me?"
Amber immediately waved her hand. "I'm not running around. I'm here to report business to you."
Gwen temporarily stopped paying attention to the Guardian's Shield. He frowned slightly and looked at the half-elf in front of him. "What business?"
Amber stepped forward and took out some folded documents from her bosom and placed them on Gwen's desk. "I've sorted them out."
Gwen opened the papers with the internal security department's seal. His eyes quickly scanned the printed text. After reading the content, he raised his eyebrows and smiled. "So, our Phantom Theater is popular among the citizens of Oldenheim?"
"After solving the initial promotion problem, this new thing effortlessly caught the appetite of the citizens. Even a simple plot can make the audience intoxicated. And the Phantom Theater itself happens to cater to the psychology of the citizens of Oldenheim." Amber said casually. "Its ticket price is not expensive, but it does need a little extra money. The decent citizens need to prove that they have the ability to 'enjoy life' in this cheap and trendy entertainment investment. At the same time, the Phantom Theater is a 'theater', which makes it a 'symbol' for the citizens of Typhon to show their improved taste in life.
"Of course, these reasons are secondary. The main attraction of the Phantom Theater is that it is' interesting 'enough. In this invisible battlefield,' interesting 'is definitely the most powerful weapon I have ever seen."
Gwen listened to Amber's logical analysis and could not help but look at the half-elf with a smile. In the past two years, her growth had become more and more obvious.
"This is a good thing. Our first phase is succeeding." Gwen nodded with a smile and put the documents on the desk. "What we need to do next is much simpler.
"Quickly and mass-produce a large number of new Phantom Theater. The production does not have to be sophisticated, but it must be interesting enough to attract more Typhon's attention. There is no need to directly promote Cecil to prevent the Oldenheim's vigilance and resistance, but we must frequently reinforce Cecil's advanced impression in the Phantom Theater …
"Increase investment in foreign newspapers and magazines, recruit some locals, and create some 'academic authorities'. They don't have to be real authorities, but as long as enough newspapers and magazines declare them as authorities, there will naturally be enough Typhon's people to believe it …"
Gwen listed his ideas one by one, his plan to disintegrate Typhon's people's cohesive consciousness and shake the foundation of Typhon's society. Amber listened attentively in front of him. When he finally finished, Amber could not help but sigh. "To be honest, I think this is more terrible than killing on the battlefield …"
Gwen looked at her and asked, "Why do you think so?"
"Killing on the battlefield will only cause soldiers to fall, but the weapon you're building will cause the fall of an entire country." Amber pursed his lips. "And the latter won't even realize it until they fall."
After two seconds of silence, Gwen said, "You wouldn't have thought of such far-reaching things in the past."
"I wouldn't have thought of such far-reaching things in the past either." Amber shrugged. "If I've become cunning, it must be because of you."
Gwen listened to Amber's casual ridicule, but he was not angry at all. He just pondered for a few seconds, and then suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly.
"Sometimes I also feel that my methods are not very good, but we are facing a Typhon that is ready to bite us at any time … I'm really a little afraid of such a malicious old empire, so I can only keep increasing the dosage of the 'poison'." He said, shaking his head and skipping the topic. "Let's not talk about this. I'm going to try something next, and I need you to watch over me."
Amber suddenly smiled. "Hey, I'm good at this, and it's protecting … Wait, isn't the mental network of the Eternal Sleepers already under the control of the country, so there's no need to risk infiltration?"
Gwen knew that she had misunderstood him. He could not help but smile and waved his hand. Then he bent his finger and tapped the Guardian's Shield on the table. "Not infiltrating the network — I'm going to try to 'communicate' with this shield."
When Amber heard this, she suddenly looked at Gwen with a strange look. "… You want to communicate with a shield? Hey, I feel that there's something wrong with you staring at this shield every day, and you always say it's okay. Are you reminiscing about the past too much recently, causing … "
Gwen quietly looked at Amber and tapped the shield on the table again. "I don't mind smashing you against the wall with this."
Amber suddenly shrunk her neck and glanced at the legendary shield. It was obviously much wider than the Sword of the Pioneers. If she smashed herself against the wall, she would be embedded very evenly. Forget about gouging, she might not even be able to brush it off …
"I'm just kidding." She said with her neck shrunk. "Don't be so cruel all the time …"
Gwen ignored the whispers behind the Shame of the Empire. He focused his attention on the Guardian's Shield in front of him.
After a few days of hesitation and consideration, he finally decided … to use the method of contacting the Eternal Slate to try to contact the 'Legacy of the Stars' in front of him.
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