When A Mage Revolts

At the same time.

Somewhere far away from Regina, in the capital city of Helius, Havenwright.

A gentle breeze blew through the corridors of Saint Peter’s cathedral, the flowers and grass bent in the direction of the wind. The warm sunlight shone on the rooftop and passed through the stained glass. The light refracted into beams that shone on a small room in the depths of the cathedral, forming all sorts of patterns on the floor.

In this room filled with light stood three men.

The bishop wore a pure maroon robe and stood on the podium. Beside him was a priest in black whispering something to him. At the corner of the room, there was a young man in white shirt leaning against the wall, his mind having wandered somewhere else.

After a while, the priest seemed to be done reporting to the bishop, nodded, bowed at the young man, and left the small room.

The sound of the door shutting was clear in this quiet room.

"Benjamin." Suddenly, the bishop opened his mouth and called the young man.

The young man was still unfocused and did not reply the bishop.

"Benjamin, what are you thinking about?" The bishop did not show any signs of frustration, but continued to talk with a calm and peaceful voice, "It’s already been so long, you should be used to this name by now."

The young man came back to his senses, looked at the bishop and said: "When will I be able to use my old name again?"

The bishop showed a calculative smile and replied: "All of this is your mother’s hard-thought plan to prevent you from being disturbed when growing up. In the future, when you have enough power and are not be afraid of the nobles’ criticisms anymore, you can use whatever name you like."

The young man seemed to be unsatisfied: "I already have a lot of power. I can use the divine arts to destroy any of the noblemen in the city, why should I care about what they think?"

"Because you can’t just kill everyone." The bishop’s voice was as calm as ever," You need them and their services to spread your good name amongst the people; you need them to give instructions to the citizens, to give you offerings; you need their money even more to maintain the army and the holy knights, which are high expenditures. Great power does not translate to how many people you can kill, but rather, how many you can make to do your bidding.

Hearing this, the young man’s eyes shone and was ready to argue, but then he swallowed back his words.

"...Teacher, I’ve already heard these words many times." After all that, he could only force these words out as he could not think of any way to argue, but it was done so with a manner where he was not willing to be taught.

The bishop stared at him silently, his hands clutching a thick Bible, as if someone else was looking through his eyes at that moment.

Seeing this, the young man averted his gaze and did not speak.

After some silence.

"Grant." Suddenly, the bishop spoke and his voice was like a violin slowly being strung, "Do you want to know what they told me just now?"

Hearing this, Grant hesitated for a while but still nodded.

In his heart, there was confusion.

From the day when Benjamin took his place on the stakes, no one has ever called him "Grant" anymore. The bishop was adamant to make him feel used to it and not let the nobles feel that something was not right.

He did not know why the bishop would address him with his real name now.

"They were messengers from the Crusader Gateway." The bishop explained," The Queen of Icor and her troops have retreated. So we have reclaimed the gate, and would not let the gate be captured again."

Hearing this, Grant nodded blankly and said: "A peaceful country means good news."

"Only this?" The bishop seemed to have some disappointment in his voice, "Why did the enemy retreat, and how did we easily manage to take back the gates, what do you think about these?"

Not again...

Grant was annoyed.

"They retreated because we staged a coup in the capital of Icor, and they had no choice." But, he still took a deep breath and answered.

"This is what people see on the surface." The Bishop shook his head, saying, "I’ve taught you for so long, but are you only able to see these things?"

Grant lowered his head like a teenager in his rebellious phase, not saying anything.

Thus the room was dead silent again.

After some silence, finally, the bishop broke the silence and spoke.

"Icor retreated because they were not charging towards the gates in the first place." He was like a patient teacher, slowing saying," For fifty years, we have infiltrated their kingdom in the darkness and placed pawns to prepare for the future, after Icor was built, it was even more so. The Queen of Icor noticed this and purposefully led her troops to leave the capital as if they wanted to attack the Crusader Gateway. But from the beginning, all she wanted to do was draw our chess pieces out, making it easier for her to get rid of them without worry."

Hearing this, Grant raised his head.

After some thought, he asked: "If it was so, why did we still stage a coup in Icor?"

"Because we wanted to retrieve the Crusader Gateway." The bishop continued, "This was a trade planned from the start, if we wanted to take back the gate, there will be sacrifices. On the other hand, Icor can get rid of our chess pieces, but they will lose the opportunity to take the gates."

Hearing this, Grant was silent for a while, then suddenly said: "From the looks of it, we lost more."

The bishop nodded.

"Because the accident happened to us, this was all to reduce losses, " he looked at Grant, his eyes full of anticipation," But we do not have to use all of our power to stage a coup. If it is done right, after the purging, we would lose only some of our chess pieces, they would probably not find half of the spies."

After stopping a while, he continued: "The main point is not about the coup or the attack on the gates, but on how to get small victories in this trade. It is hard to achieve total victory in a short time, it is only through many trades that our power will accumulate and we can show much stronger we’ve become."

Even though the bishop still spoke calmly, under the calm gaze, Grant felt pressured.

At that moment, he could feel that it was getting harder to breathe.

"Teacher…..why are you telling me all this?" Under pressure and wanting to escape the situation, he felt like he just asked a stupid question.

"Because before you become a chess player, you have to understand the rules of the game." The bishop did not notice him, but turned around and looked at a mural of the Holy Spirit, "One day, you will become the new Pope. But sadly, you are trying to escape your destiny and your natural talent. Your divine arts are already stronger than mine, but you still do not know how to utilize it properly."

Hearing this, Grant was silent for a long while. Like the bishop, he raised his head and looked at the vibrant murals, but his face was full of confusion and frustration.

It was like a holy aura that descended on the room and enveloped both of them, making them enter a prayer-like silence.

After a long while…..

Suddenly, it was like a water dripped on Grant’s forehead and his vision was suddenly clear. He walked to the bishop and said quietly: "So, this was the reason why Bishop White who was at the gates escaped when surrounded by the mages, but because of his wounds, he "regretfully" died?"

Now knowing why, his tone was firm, and bore hints of challenging the bishop, as if...

The bishop has lost the pressure he put on him before.

But the bishop turned around, not angered, and showed a smile.

"You learn fast." He said, "Bishop White was a good man, but was rather conservative in ways. He started suspecting news of the Pope’s seclusion, so, to maintain the stability of the Church, we had to use that as an excuse to get rid of him."

Hearing this, Grant kept quiet, but showed a sly smile.

The two looked at each other through the rays that were refracted by the glass. In the middle of the room, they were like father and son staring at each other for the first time when the son was about to leave home.

After a long while.

Grant seemed to have thought of something, looked away, and suddenly asked: "Well…...if it was a chess piece that was out of control and wanted to join this game, what would he do?"

Hearing this, the bishop narrowed his eyes, his calm gaze suddenly turning sharp.

"He would create all sorts of accidents, then end up being the victim of his own orchestrations one day." He coldly answered," Or…...by chance, if he was in that one percent, and would achieve total victory."