Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 896 - 14 Divine Arts_2

Chapter 896: Chapter 14 Divine Arts_2 Chapter 896: Chapter 14 Divine Arts_2 “Divine Arts are the definitive miracles, the direct expression of the Lord’s will,” the old man Saul spoke plainly. “If the heretic Divine Arts of the northern regions originated from [the First Great Schism], it would mean that heretics could also use the orthodox Divine Arts, which would lead to a paradox in the definition of Divine Arts.”

“Hmm,” Winters pondered and asked, “Like the paradox of [benevolence and omnipotence]?”

“Yes.”

Winters glanced at the silent Father Kaman: “But there has been an explanation given during sermons—that the Lord bestows suffering in hopes of humanity’s love for Him.”

“If you are willing to accept that explanation, then it’s possible,” Saul sighed. “Theology and religion are always two different things, just like politics and political science.”

Winters couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and the corners of Kaman’s eyes twitched slightly.

“So what? What do all these have to do with you and the Reformist Order? You still haven’t told me,” Winters collected himself, assuming a more formal posture, “Why does the Revodan Church want to kill you? Why is the Revodan Church so eager to kill you?”

...

“After [the First Great Schism], the inquiry into Divine Arts has always been taboo within the church,” Saul seemed to acknowledge Winters’s understanding and no longer beat around the bush. “But the pursuit of the unknown is human nature, something that cannot be completely eradicated. After coming into contact with the ‘witchcraft’ of the north, the majority of the clergy were alarmed, yet a small number of them were exhilarated…”

As if a thin fog was dispersed by a tempest, Winters had an epiphany: “What you want is the heretic Divine Arts!”

The old man lowered his eyelids, tacitly agreeing with Winters’s words.

“Because inquiring into orthodox Divine Arts is taboo, so you study heretic Divine Arts to circumvent the restrictions? So that’s what the Reformist Order is doing?” Winters smiled wryly with realization. “Such a conspicuous name for the Order, isn’t it? Flaunting reform is equivalent to setting up a target for others to strike at. Perhaps… it would’ve been better to operate under the banner of the Inquisition.”

Kaman, standing where Winters couldn’t see, had his fingertips trembling slightly, and his pupils dilated unconsciously.

“Mr. Montaigne,” Saul put down the peeler and the beet he was holding, straightened his back and looked earnestly at Winters. “The name ‘Reformist Order’ comes from the monk Sefir who founded it, so please don’t joke about this matter.”

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Winters realized he had been somewhat impolite: “I apologize… What happened next? After the Reformist Order was established?”

The old man picked up the peeler again: “After that, it was about applying to the Pope for a decree.”

“And then?” Winters raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Getting that decree,” the old man slowly peeled the beet, “Took two hundred and eleven years.”

Rather than marvel at the church’s impressive efficiency, Winters reflected on the timelines Saul provided in comparison with the Empire’s northern expansion.

“Two hundred and eleven years?” Winters frowned involuntarily, “Roughly… around the middle of the third century of the Imperial calendar? When the Emperor sought the Veya Crown in vain and the Great Northern War broke out? The northern regions had converted by then, hadn’t they?”

“The northern regions had converted to the orthodox faith, but what about the Demigods? Where did they go?”

“They all died.”

“Died?”

“Yes, died,” Saul focused on peeling the beet. “Killed by the Reformist Order, by us.”

It took a moment for Winters to grasp the significance of the information, but when he did, he stood up abruptly: “Are you also a priest? Are you a Divine Arts practitioner?”

The old man slightly lifted his eyelids to meet Winters’s gaze: “Every member of the Reformist Order is a Divine Arts practitioner.”

…

“Madam,” Mrs. Madeleine, with her hair bound in a black veil, walked into the living room. “Mr. Montaigne is home.”

Although she had heard it countless times, each time someone called her “Madam,” Anna’s cheeks still heated up.

Anna sat up straight: “He’s home?”

The single officers’ quarters were small; the corridor entering the front door was only separated by a thin wooden wall from the living room. Winters’s footsteps were also quite distinctive, Anna could always easily discern them.

Mrs. Madeleine said that Winters was home, but Anna was certain she hadn’t heard him enter.

“Where is Mr. Montaigne?” Anna picked up her coat: “The stable?”

“The kitchen,” Mrs. Madeleine replied.

To prevent fire hazards, the single officers’ quarters did not have separate kitchens; rather, one shared a large one within a courtyard.

As Anna approached the kitchen door, Winters just happened to come out.

Anna had wanted to ask why Winters went to the kitchen first upon coming home, but noticing his mood wasn’t great, she changed her question upon speaking: “What’s wrong?”

Facing Anna’s concerned gaze, Winters mustered a smile: “Nothing, are you cold?”

Anna held her cheeks, dragging out her tone and softly pouted: “Cold…”

It wasn’t entirely pretense; the Navarre sisters grew up in Sea Blue and had never experienced a Paratu winter.

Facing the skin-cracking cold winds, Anna would occasionally venture outside, whereas Catherine had become a complete homebody. Lady Navarre even turned down all ball invitations, leaving the young gentlemen of Revodan repeatedly disappointed.

Coincidentally, Father Kaman walked out of the kitchen.

Anna was mortified, but Father Kaman had his own burdens. Kaman gave Anna a distracted nod and left quickly.

“What were you doing in the kitchen?” Anna asked curiously: “And why was Father Kaman there too?”