Chapter 316: The One Representing Divine Authority Is a Nonbeliever

Are rulers in ignorant regions and countries as ignorant as their people?

Certainly not. Ignorance, backwardness, and isolation are tools used by rulers to maintain control—much like how the aristocracy once monopolized knowledge. Incompetent rulers don’t want their subjects to think independently.

They want everyone to be fools and idiots, obediently following orders without questioning. The more people think, the less stable their rule becomes.

Take for example when people begin to ask, Why me? That question is quickly followed by, Why not you? and How do we change this?

So, no matter how ignorant a region may appear, its rulers are not. Just like the High Priest standing before Lynch.

He had many children, and several of them were nonbelievers—especially the younger ones.

They were born in a time the High Priest considered prosperous: communication, transportation, and society as a whole had progressed. These children went abroad to study, exposed to cutting-edge global science and culture. They were no longer shackled by ignorance; they began to scrutinize the society they came from.

Despite knowing that sending his children out could introduce instability, why did the High Priest still do it? Why was he now planning to send his youngest and most beloved child away?

Because he wasn’t ignorant—or at least not in the way people imagined. He understood that the people could remain ignorant, but a ruler could not.

If a fanatical believer truly became High Priest, it wouldn’t lead to religious prosperity but destruction. He hoped that one of his children—a nonbeliever—could infiltrate the ranks of the faithful and succeed him as High Priest, continuing his control.

In fact, the High Priest himself could be considered a nonbeliever. Holding such a high position made it clear to him: there were no gods.

Even if they did exist, they were long gone or had abandoned them. Decades of prayers and rituals had never elicited the slightest divine response.

At first, he was terrified. When he had just become High Priest, he was deeply anxious and frightened. He sought out his father, the previous High Priest, and voiced his fears.

His unease stemmed from divine silence. He thought the gods rejected him, and that’s why his prayers went unanswered.

How could someone rejected by the gods ever be a proper High Priest?

Until his father—once the undisputed spiritual leader of an entire province—told him plainly: There are no gods in this world.

In that moment, his faith shattered. But he endured. He became what his father once was—the image of a High Priest in everyone’s eyes.

Mysterious, kind, yet distant—one said to be blessed by the gods, constantly receiving divine guidance.

But this couldn’t last. As international exchange expanded, more foreigners came to Nagaryll, and this was inevitable.

No matter how closed off the country was, it couldn’t stop the zeal of gold seekers. Everyone knew they’d come eventually.

And with them came dangerous things—like ideas. Their thoughts would awaken those deceived by political and religious authority.

Their fears were well-founded. They expelled merchants spreading dangerous ideas, and kept those willing to help them exploit society. But this wouldn’t last forever. Maybe in a few years, maybe decades—but eventually, the dam would break. What would the angry people do then?

They would tear down everything that had once oppressed them and build a new order. The more noble and untouchable these priests and aristocrats seemed today, the more tragic their fate would be when the real Great Collapse arrived.

So when Lynch casually mentioned that even a religion advocating horse dung as medicine could gain followers in the Federation, the High Priest was moved.

It was a way out—and a beautiful one.

The Federation was rich, but its people were also foolish—or at least just as ignorant as the locals. He didn’t expect his faith to rival the dominant religions in the Federation, but even if just ten thousand people believed in his god…

If each donated one sol a month, that would be ten thousand sols—over a million Valier. More than enough to support his entire family in comfort.

Even if they lost everything here, they would have nothing to worry about.

With this thought, the High Priest made up his mind. He had originally planned to send his youngest and most beloved son to Gephra—a globally dominant nation with high status and promising prospects.

But now, he was reconsidering. Maybe the Federation was the better choice.

When he snapped out of his thoughts, he had no idea how much time had passed.

“The gods were calling me just now…” he said, explaining his daze in a way befitting his role. “Where were we?”

“The Federation—and those foolish religions,” Lynch reminded him.

“Ah, yes. The Federation, and religion.” The High Priest nodded vaguely, then quickly changed the subject. “I heard you’re returning soon. Will you come back?”

News of Lynch’s return to the Federation had spread. The High Priest had heard, but wasn’t sure whether Lynch would return.

To be honest, the provincial governor and his allies had given Lynch a hard time. At first, the High Priest didn’t care—he was just enjoying the show. But now, he thought those men were truly shortsighted—only concerned with immediate gain, with no long-term vision.

He worried that Lynch, having been targeted, might not return after leaving. That would be a problem.

Lynch’s response reassured him. “Why not? I like it here. I’ll definitely be back. This trip is just to transport some goods and explore potential partnerships.”

Relieved, the High Priest asked in a somewhat consultative tone, “My youngest son is of school age. He’s even younger than you. For young people, seeing the outside world helps them grow.”

“What do you think about me sending him to the Federation?”

Lynch, of course, didn’t object—it aligned with his own plans. “That would be excellent. The Federation may not have joined this world war, and didn’t showcase its military or technological strength, but we’ve always led in science.”

“We just happened to elect a rather dim-witted president, but we won’t stay foolish forever.”

“In the Federation, your son will receive the best education, enjoy the most open attitudes, and live in the freest environment—things no other country can offer!”

This wasn’t an exaggeration. In semi-feudal countries like Gephra, people couldn’t discuss the royal family or sensitive political topics.

Only in the Federation could someone stand outside the presidential palace holding a sign that said “The President is a Moron,” and as long as he didn’t disrupt operations or cross the marked security line, no one could do anything about it.

Under the Constitution, expressing thoughts was a fundamental right—but in many countries, that right didn’t exist.

The High Priest immediately made up his mind. “He’ll go with you. Any problem with that?” Lynch shook his head. The High Priest slapped his armrest. “Then it’s settled.”

It seemed like he was entrusting his beloved youngest son to Lynch for care on the journey and in the Federation—but that wasn’t the real reason.

The conflict between Lynch and some provincial figures hadn’t been resolved. Some had even said they’d make things difficult for Lynch—he wouldn’t be allowed to leave Nagaryll, or return, unless he picked a side.

Leaving wouldn’t be easy—might not even be possible. The High Priest didn’t know what method Lynch would use to get out, but that didn’t stop him from doing him a favor now. If his youngest son left with Lynch, no one would dare intercept them or their ship.

Doing so would not only escalate the conflict with Lynch but also offend one of the most powerful forces in the Magulana province. Offending so many people at once would make anyone think twice about whether it was worth it.

Of course, the High Priest did genuinely intend for Lynch to look after his son in the Federation. He was trading a favor for one in return.

Both of them understood this without needing to say it out loud, and the matter was settled.

The High Priest had originally planned to use today’s meeting to subtly remind Lynch of the local value of religious faith, but now it was Lynch leading the conversation. He couldn’t be bothered to bring up the supremacy of divine authority anymore.

He casually asked whether Lynch was adapting well to life here, whether anything was bothering him, and then offered a few costless blessings in the name of the gods before allowing Lynch to leave.

After Lynch was gone, the High Priest sat alone in the empty room, his expression strange—part smile, part scorn, part self-mockery.