Silent Crown

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

As they entered into summer, the weather got hotter. Steam rose off of the sea, and the heat made even those were on the ocean feel thirsty. Under the scorching sun, they felt like even their souls would dry up. Everyone was dazed and in pain. When viewed through a distance through the hazy air the whole city looked like it had been thrown into a steamer.

Every year at this time there was a holiday in Avalon. Most people would not go out. Instead, they would just lie around their house and spend the long vacation scooping up crushed ice from the cellar. The noble families would spend their Summer taking boats to various places.

But this year the expected heat did not come.

Across the boundary into Avalon, the huge crystal cube hung above the city, slowly rotating. It was completely transparent, but it was a greedy black hole as it sucked in all the brutal heat shed by the sun. Thus, the heat was much less than in previous years. The crystal made the whole city quite cool.

This coolness reminded the people of Avalon of the existence of miracles.

After becoming used to this behemoth hanging above their heads, everyone looked up to the sky with reverence in their eyes after the storm. The storm did not stop because of this but grew bigger and bigger as it gestated for a few months.

At this moment the headquarters of the Foreign Affairs Department in the upper city had become a pot ready to boil over. From when the meeting had begun three days ago up until now the debate had not been resolved but had rather intensified. One could hear the shouting of the dignified ambassadors through the thick doors.

Spittle flew onto the Anglo Foreign Minister's face. His eye twitched as he wiped the saliva away from his eye. He raised his teacup without expression and took a sip. The interrogation and screaming rang in his ears until his eardrums hurt. Under the assault of dozens of loud-voiced gentlemen, his ears had begun to sizzle.

Did one have to take a test of loudness and lung capacity before becoming a diplomat nowadays?

As he inwardly criticized them he scooted back a bit; his ears hurt too much.

"The Anglo Kingdom's actions have violated our territorial rights! We insist that the Anglos comply with the Catastrophe Management Accord and limit the Net of Aether under the joint management of the nations!"

"We strongly denounce the Anglos' irresponsible actions!"

"We hereby call for bilateral communication to make correct decisions and avoid the outbreak of war."

"The Anglos' deployment on the high seas has seriously hindered our naval transportation routes. According to our bilateral treaty, we request that the Anglos remove their blockade or else our country will take the necessary actions!"

"Does Her Majesty have any response to the documents we sent her?"

No matter how the ambassadors quarreled and shouted, the minister kept his expression blank as if he was having an out of body experience. He pretended to not have heard them.

Keep yelling, keep yelling, keep shouting, keep shouting.

Shouting was of no use.

The documents you sent? If those documents were useful, what else would the Fifth Division do?

This crowd of fools still didn't get it. Her Majesty was not the one handling things anymore, but the difficult to track, and subtle to the point of being almost non-existent Prince of Avalon!

A jointly managed Net of Aether?

Lifting the naval blockade?

Open the trade routes?

Haha.

Keep dreaming. They could have all that in their dreams.

The minister rolled his eyes imperceptibly as he looked at the ceiling.

…

"It's so hot." Similarly, in an office in Westminster Abbey, an old man in pajamas leaned back in his chair, then reached down to scratch his feet. He looked at the man sitting across from him with eyes full of cataracts.

"Can't you make that giant thing cool things down again? I've had to stay up late every night for several months now, this damn weather is making it so I can't enjoy my afternoon nap."

"You've already retired, why bother to try and be a model sage?" Ye Qingxuan shook his head. "I'm willing to invest in the renovations for Westminster Abbey to ensure your comfort and coolness."

Mephistopheles rolled his eyes. "Do you think that I don't even have that much money?"

"Then what do you seek?"

"Are there really that many things that people pursue in this life?" Mephistopheles sighed. "I don't lack money, I've kept to my vows so I can't find a lover, so I've been a virgin these 70 years. What can I seek other than a good reputation?" As he said this his expression became more and more helpless.

His whole life he had pursued something so small, but now he had to let Ye Qingxuan destroy it.

"I kept guessing when you'd visit. I never expected that you'd be so restless." Mephistopheles glanced at the newspaper on the table with a smile. "Is it because of this?"

"That's part of the reason." Ye Qingxuan shrugged.

It was an announcement from the Church.

They came out once a week.

He used to copy them back when he was in the town of Lute. He could recite them down to the periods. This one was about the revisions to the Holy Bible. After a few more entries consisting of hundreds of words of nonsense, the only issue it had not touched upon was the most important one.

Content about the Inquisition had begun to be deleted from the Bible, and the Church's evaluations of the Inquisition throughout history had been changed.

Many scholars had begun to re-examine the witch hunts, and put forward the cases of many innocents to prove the Inquisition's mistakes and loss of control.

To most people, this was not a big deal, but it was still interesting to read about.

According to speculation, this was only the beginning. Next, there would be more subtle means to gradually subvert the Inquisition's legitimacy. At that time, after losing all its justice and righteousness, the Inquisition would no longer be considered dependable, and even Ye Qingxuan, the Hand of God, would be tainted and not be considered to be as legitimate as in the past.

As the two of them discussed it, Ye Qingxuan suddenly sneezed. He pulled out a handkerchief and awkwardly wiped his nose. He suppressed a cough.

"Do you have a cold?"

"I've been up high for the last two days and didn't pay attention to the temperature." Ye Qingxuan shrugged. "It's extremely cold in those high places."

"You're only now just realizing this?" Mephistopheles gloated. "Are you worried?"

"A little." Ye Qingxuan nodded calmly.

"Serves you right, thanks to your thing the whole West is in chaos." Mephistopheles pointed at him. "But is it really worth it? Ye Qingxuan, you can become one of the most powerful people in the world, but now you are gambling everything on a flight of fancy."

"I think it'll pay off." Ye Qingxuan laughed and repeated Mephistopheles's words back to him. "After all, are there really that many things that people pursue in this life?"

In the silence, Mephistopheles shook his head. After slowly swirling around the black tea that had cooled in his cup around, he stood up, revealing the underpants he wore under his pajamas and his hairy legs. He slipped on his slippers and walked over to the bedside table, picked up a stack of manuscripts, walked back and threw them in front of Ye Qingxuan.

"This is what you wanted." Mephistopheles sighed softly. "All the manuscripts that we wasted months to write, exhausting my knowledge and the knowledge of all 16 clerks of Westminster Abbey, the lifetime of the credibility of the name Mephistopheles, and the support of six schools, are here."

He placed the manuscripts one by one in front of Ye Qingxuan. "This is the new Book of Common Prayer, the different 41 Articles of Faith that the Church made and finally," he hesitated for a moment, then placed the thickest one in front of Ye Qingxuan, "we reorganized and edited the creed according to the fragments of books that the libraries of the schools and the Royal Academy of Music had collected about the Ultimate. This is what you truly desired. A weapon to use to fight against the Holy Bible."

In the silence, Mephistopheles returned to his seat. "Congratulations, Your Majesty."

Ye Qingxuan smiled bitterly as he looked at the documents on the table. He looked up and asked, "Does it have a name, Bishop?"

After a moment of contemplation, Mephistopheles said, "If what he had in the past was the Old Testament, then what we've created now should be the "New Testament."

"The New Testament?" Ye Qingxuan nodded. "It's a good name. Thank you for everything you've done, Bishop. I promise that you will be immortalized for this."

"Immortalized?" Mephistopheles and laughed to himself. "Will I be leaving a good name that will resound throughout the ages or a name that will stink to eternity?"

"That's up to future generations to decide. We can't even figure out tomorrow, why should we worry about what will happen in hundreds of years?"

Ye Qingxuan gathered up the manuscript and got up to leave, but Mephistopheles called for him to stay.

The old man sat still in his chair and looked over him like he could actually see him.

"Ye Qingxuan, even with the New Testament, what's the difference between you and the Church?"

"Of course we're different, Bishop. That which is in the Bible is laws and decrees, but laws and decrees can't solve everything." Ye Qingxuan held up the manuscript in his hands.

"But what the New Testament brings will be gospel."

"Gospel?" asked Mephistopheles. "Who's gospel?"

Ye Qingxuan thought for a second, then smiled.

"A gospel for those who need it most."