When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 688 - 646: Charles VIII of Fanglu Palace
In November of 1446, in the northern regions marked by the Nao'an River, the first snow had already fallen in some places, while the vast Golden Great Plains where Huaqiu City is located remained cool.
Even in the Royal Garden's Fanglu Palace outside the Huaqiu City District, vibrant roses were still blooming in the greenhouse, and fresh grapes still hung on the grapevines.
Servants carried copper kettles, pouring steaming hot spring water into the flowerbeds. In the early morning, the dew on the flowers shimmered in the sunlight like pearls.
The window lattice, inlaid with rose-patterned stained glass, was lit by the cold sun at the end of autumn, casting a wavy kaleidoscope of colors on the floor.
Sitting in this colorful ripple, Lorenzo gracefully picked up a gold-leaf white porcelain cup, took a sip of the tea, then resumed browsing the intelligence and letters in his hand.
On the wide grassy plaza in front of the flowerbeds and hedges, several noblewomen holding decorative paper umbrellas laughed and teased the handsome young man playing with the big dog on the lawn.
The young man remained oblivious, merely chasing and frolicking with the massive Snow Mountain Wine Dog, much to the noblewomen's foot-stomping coquettish displeasure.
Eventually, one noblewoman could no longer endure it, thinking of the huge sum spent by her family to bring them into the palace to meet His Majesty the King.
"His Majesty." She made a feigned attempt to run forward, twisting her ankle and crying out like an oriole, pitifully falling to the ground, "Your Majesty, I've fallen~"
"Good boy, good boy!" Rubbing the dog's head, the young man pulled the cloth ball from its mouth and threw it into the distance, "Fetch it back, fetch it back!"
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty... I've fallen, my leg hurts so much." The noblewoman, dumbfounded, sat on the ground, and had to continue calling out.
The other noblewomen, while secretly cursing, also joined in with smiles and calls: "Your Majesty, Your Majesty..."
"Oh dear, I've got a heatstroke, Your Majesty."
"My arms are numb, it might be palpitations."
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty..."
"Shut up, so noisy, you darn hags!" The young man's shout scattered the dewdrops on the rose petals, and the noblewomen fell silent at once.
The whole grassland became eerily quiet, with only the Snow Mountain Wine Dog wagging its tail, happily carrying the ball back to the young man's knees, rubbing against his thigh.
Sweeping his eyes over the shocked, teary-eyed noblewomen, and then at Lorenzo at the edge of the lawn with an inexplicable look, the young man took a deep breath, suppressing his annoyance:
"Apologies, it was my rudeness, the sun outside is too bright, why not head back to the palace to change and bathe, and let me have the privilege of inviting you all to brunch?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your understanding." The noblewomen forced a smile, their voices tinged with a bit of grievance and unease.
"Your Majesty is truly elegant and considerate." Someone quietly echoed, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere.
Despite being so rudely scolded by His Majesty, the noblewomen were still reluctant to leave, supporting each other, grumbling softly but not daring to let the young man hear.
"You should appropriately maintain closeness with the noblewomen, or else rumors will spread again." Although complaining, Lorenzo looked at the young man with full appreciation and satisfaction.
The young man before him was the new King of the Falan Kingdom, Charles VIII, who was twenty-five years old, about five feet eleven.
His wavy blonde hair was tied at the back with a ribbon, his thick eyebrows almost connecting, yet still flying with his expressions.
As he approached, even his face was pitted with acne scars, maliciously rumored by some to be a symptom of leprosy.
Lorenzo had tried to persuade the young king to use Divine Art to repair it, but the newly crowned Charles VIII had refused with a reason Lorenzo still found memorable.
"I'm king not because I wear a crown."
As he said, during the subsequent political battles over the crown, Charles VIII faced down almost all dissenters with that scarred face.
This open-minded, clever, yet ambitious young man, although somewhat frivolous in manner and speech, in Lorenzo's view, held the faint shadow of a mighty ruler.
May the Saint Master bless Falan, for He had bestowed upon the Falan Kingdom three wise and brave sovereigns in a row.
The only dissatisfaction Lorenzo had was that these three rulers over four generations (including Charles VIII's prematurely deceased father) showed little interest in the opposite sex but had a peculiar liking for handsome young men.
In marriage and women, they were often mundane and appeared exceptionally "monogamous," yet surrounded themselves with many handsome young men with rosy lips and white teeth.
This really left Lorenzo puzzled; can this thing be hereditary? It's making the Falan Royal Family almost three generations single-handedly transmitted.
"They actually have the audacity to stay for dinner." Charles VIII joked, "I thought at least someone would leave or give me a slap."
"The longer they stay here, the more it's an honor, Your Majesty." Lorenzo categorized the letters into books, smiling as he said, "Meeting noble ladies is a cost-effective way to win over aristocrats. Why not do it?"
"I don't understand."
"Your Majesty has never heard of a widely circulated saying in Huaqiu City?" asked the Black-robed Prime Minister with a mischievous smile, "Meeting with you equals 2000 gold pounds dowry, having dinner with you equals 5000 gold pounds dowry, having a fleeting romance with you equals 10000 gold pounds dowry."
This is not nonsense; many nobles have risen to power thanks to their wives' close relationships with the King. In the centralized Falan, aristocratic power no longer comes from territory but from the King's favor.
Sitting heavily on the cushioned chair, Charles VIII sipped red tea: "At times like this, I always miss the past era, when the King could have equal lovers and friends."
"Oh, listen to yourself, you have the Queen as your lover." Lorenzo spread his arms, "With 3000 kingdom officials as your most supportive friends."
"Your words are quite humorous." Wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel, the young King casually flipped through the intelligence Lorenzo had just sorted, "Has the new issue of 'The Truth Newspaper' arrived?"
"Your Majesty, my intelligence is not your entertainment tool."
Saying this, yet Lorenzo obediently handed over the new issue of 'The Truth Newspaper'.
After all, since the "debate over freedom rights" began, Charles VIII had been paying attention to this small country in the Dragon Sleep Mountain Range region.
There are many factions and monks dissatisfied with the Church, yet Thousand River Valley is the first to openly oppose.
Not only can they oppose, but even use a logically coherent new system to support their views.
The theological grand debate in Thousand River Valley has now evolved to the version of theodicy while Lorenzo remained at the version of freedom rights.
But just this version of freedom rights is enough to make Charles VIII lean closer to the newspaper, reading word by word.
Only after repeatedly reading it twice did Charles VIII exhale a turbid breath: "What a bold claim of being naturally free, they dare to say that."
For Charles VIII, the theological debate content in this newspaper was both fresh and not fresh.
Calling it not fresh, because his theological teachers, the El Scholars, have long openly and secretly explained these topics to him. Calling it fresh, it was the first time someone straightforwardly resolved it.
"This claim that people are born free will surely attract the citizen class as followers." Lorenzo flicked the newspaper in his hand, "That Holy Grandson indeed lives up to his reputation, being a demon trickster, is indeed masterful in deceiving the world."
Despite realizing the content on 'The Truth Newspaper', Lorenzo immediately imposed control on related contents, but the aftermath of this theological storm had already begun to spread along rivers and roads.
Any citizens who encounter it naturally will slowly shift to the Holy Path faction when allowed to pursue the doctrine of realistic happiness. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶
Fortunately, the scale is not large for now; even if this thought movement wants to ferment, it will take at least one or two years.
But what about one or two years later? Both fell into silence for a moment.
"Nowadays, the Northern and Southern Popes are split and can't spare the hand, otherwise if they organize all the great scholars to focus and attack, they would suffer a lot." Standing up, Charles VIII walked back and forth in the sunlight with the newspaper, "Can we control these things from entering the Kingdom?"
"There's no stopping it." Looking at the densely packed words on the newspaper, Lorenzo shook his head, "The mouths of low-ranking monks and priests have been covered for too long, now that such a platform emerges for venting, letters will fly toward Thousand River Valley like rain.
Blocking is worse than channeling, there's no reason for them to do where we cannot.
We should select some suitable topics from it, find a few great scholars to endorse, then make it ours."
"Let's do this, send a letter to Joan of Arc Castle, ordering that farmer to control this religious fervor and prevent its spread."
"There's no need for me to send a letter, they will soon have no energy to advocate those novel theological views anymore." Lorenzo revealed a mysterious smile, "My little bird tells me that the nobles in Clove Corridor are preparing to start an early sweep of Black Snake Bay."
The so-called grand sweep is actually the surrounding nobles uniting with demon hunters to initiate an invasion and siege on the wizards in Black Snake Bay.
"Doing an early execution on Black Snake Bay, why?"
Elegantly sipping some red tea, Lorenzo picked up a cube of sugar: "What do you think?"
