Chapter 30:  Religious War

With the passage of time—

The prosperous Apennine Peninsula brought immense wealth to the Universal Church. While wealth was a blessing in most places, it posed a problem for a faith that upheld poverty as a virtue. In this context, wealth became a symbol of corruption—corruption that had reached the highest echelons of the Church.

In response, a group of conservative clerics broke away. They opposed the Church’s decadence and sought a return to austerity and traditional values, founding what would become known as the Orthodox Church.

Yes.

Contrary to what instinct might suggest, the Orthodox Church was the more conservative of the two, whereas the Universal Church had grown increasingly worldly.

Ning Luo had no personal sentiment toward either faction. However, from his standpoint, the Orthodox Church better served his needs. As someone with an academic background in economics, he found the Orthodox Church imposed no restrictions on economic activities. In contrast, the Universal Church adhered to strict doctrines that curtailed lending and monetary practices.

And yet, Ning Luo had once been a beneficiary of the Universal Church's financial aid—a reflection of the power struggle between Church and Crown. The Church maintained universities across the world, supporting outstanding students. For impoverished yet exceptional law scholars like Ning Luo, the Church's support aimed to cultivate interpreters and defenders of ecclesiastical law.

No one had anticipated that Ning Luo would one day turn his criticism directly against the Church itself.

...

Religious affairs within the Empire of Castilia were relatively straightforward.

Whereas other nations experienced internal doctrinal disputes, Castilia had waged a millennium-long war against a truly foreign faith—Sahariism. For the Castilians, the Universal Church was not just a religion, but a spiritual emblem of their empire. No matter the circumstances, Castilia remained an unwavering supporter of the Universal Church.

The Holy Federation, on the other hand, presented a far more complex picture.

As its name suggested, it was a fragmented empire. At its core was the House of Austria, whose weakening grip on the surrounding regions had led to a gradual decline in imperial authority. Religious discord had begun as internal strife within the Federation, but over time, these conflicts expanded to engulf the entire continent.

Swallowing everyone in its path.

The Holy Federation.

Austria.

Vienna.

After a long journey, Ning Luo and Cinderella sat inside a carriage on their way to Schönbrunn Palace for an audience with Emperor Ferdinand II of the Holy Federation.

Ning Luo had finally traded his military uniform for a black robe, specially prepared by Priscilla for formal occasions like this one.

Cinderella, too, had changed into a black evening gown. For Ning Luo, financial concerns were no longer an issue.

Well...

They were, but only when dealing with sums in the millions of silver florins.

Providing Cinderella with a gown was hardly a challenge now. She reached out her slender fingers to cling to Ning Luo’s arm. Even given their close relationship, the gesture was unusually intimate. Yet for Cinderella, it was the only source of security she had.

The Holy Federation was one of the most vast empires on the continent.

Her identity.

Her beauty.

Both could easily bring disaster upon her.

It was no exaggeration to say this was her first time leaving Albion—even though she was born in the Holy Federation.

“I brought you out here,” Ning Luo said. “So I’ll make sure to bring you back to Brittany—safe and sound.”

“Okay...”

...

After a moment of silence, Cinderella finally spoke.

“Are you hoping for an alliance between Albion and the Holy Federation?”

“You could say that. Emperor Ferdinand II of the Federation wants to end the war. If easing tensions with Albion helps achieve that, he’s willing to make it happen.”

“Then why not make peace directly with the Empire of Castilia?”

“Because that’s not something anyone can accept—nor is it something anyone can simply decide.”

The Empire of Castilia and the Empire of Albion had been at war for thirty-four years.

It wasn’t just rooted in the initial religious conflict. There was also fierce competition over maritime interests—and, after thirty-four years, the blood feud between them ran unimaginably deep.

So many layers of animosity and tangled interests couldn’t simply be undone by whichever option promised greater benefit. Just like how, for both the Empire of Albion and the Kingdom of Fontaine, an immediate ceasefire might be the most rational choice—but it wasn’t something anyone could just make happen.

Cinderella pressed on with her questioning.

“Then why are you still helping the Holy Federation?”

“Because the Holy Federation and Albion share a common enemy: the Kingdom of Fontaine. Only if the Holy Federation wins can we force Fontaine to surrender.”

The Holy Federation and the Empire of Albion did not share a land border.

Nor did the Empire of Castilia and the Empire of Albion.

But both the Empire of Castilia and the Holy Federation *did* share land borders with the Kingdom of Fontaine. That geographical reality created a critical situation: if Fontaine won this war, it still wouldn’t be able to threaten the Holy Federation. After such a prolonged conflict, every nation would be drained dry—too exhausted to take further action.

But the future was another matter entirely.

As things stood now, it was actually in Albion’s best interest for the Holy Federation to win. And yet, an open alliance between the two powers was off the table.

“What if the Holy Federation wins, and Castilia still refuses to end the war with Albion?”

“I’ve already said—this war is not something that can be changed by anyone’s personal will.”

Ning Luo emphasized his words.

The Kingdom of Fontaine *could not* accept a Holy Federation victory. Just as the Empire of Albion couldn’t withstand even the smallest internal disruption, neither could Fontaine. If the Holy Federation emerged victorious, Fontaine would unravel almost immediately.

And once Fontaine collapsed, whether or not Castilia *wanted* to continue its war with Albion would no longer matter.

Thirty-four years of war was far too long.

Long enough that a single misstep in any part of the machinery could set off catastrophic consequences.

Cinderella asked another question.

“Will the Emperor of the Holy Federation trust you? He should be the one making the decisions, right?”

“At the very least, I’m more trustworthy than Carlwitz.”

Carlwitz referred to the Chief of the General Staff of the Holy Federation’s army.

The Albion Imperial Army had gone rogue—seizing control of the empire instead of serving it. The Holy Federation was no different. General Carlwitz had held the position of Chief of the General Staff for eight years now, and eight years was more than enough time for him to gain full control over the army.

If one were to ask whether the Holy Federation’s army answered to Emperor Ferdinand II or to General Carlwitz, the answer would *probably* still be the Emperor.

But if you asked whether Emperor Ferdinand II dared to gamble on the army’s loyalty—

He didn’t.

General Carlwitz had already become a threat to Emperor Ferdinand II’s authority. But Ning Luo, as an Albionian, could never pose such a threat to the Emperor’s power.