Chapitre 16: Taking Control
"Oh… What an honor it is for the church to send us one of their beloved nuns to our cherished kingdom." Uther remarked sarcastically, his tone dripping with disdain.
As he surveyed the nun before him, he couldn't help but notice the conspicuous absence of any significant church figure.
Instead, they had sent a mere nun, despite the gravity of the situation.
He had already informed them of his resurrection and the critical nature of the matter at hand, yet they had still only sent this nun!
Had they truly taken him seriously, surely they would have sent the Pope long ago.
But no, this slight revealed their true sentiments—they had never intended to invest in him or his cause.
The church looked down on him, belittling his kingdom because, in their eyes, it was insignificant.
How could it compare to the vast Roman Empire, which spanned both west and east?
His kingdom, occupying only a modest portion of a small island, seemed trivial by comparison.
"And it's truly honorable of you to make us wait for four long hours, King Uther," Francesca Prelati responded with equal sarcasm.
"Make that five, considering we arrived an hour early." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Perhaps I should consider uprooting the church from our kingdom entirely," King Uther growled menacingly.
"That way, you might finally learn proper respect, nun. I don't see why the church should exist here at all if they consider themselves above our nation rather than in service to it." His words were laced with a palpable threat as his knights, sensing their king's anger, began to prepare for action.
They unsheathed their swords, glaring at Francesca Prelati with deadly intent.
Uther did not stop them as they approached the nun, step by step, until the cold steel of their blades pressed against her neck.
The tip of a sword even grazed her skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
Since the church had shown no respect for him as king, it became his obligation to obliterate anyone who dared to disrespect him, anyone who thought they could overstep his authority simply because they held some misguided sense of superiority deserve to die.
Francesca Prelati found herself momentarily speechless, taken aback by the king's unpredictable nature. She had expected sharp words, perhaps even veiled threats, but this? This man had completely disregarded the usual decorum of diplomacy.
With just a few sarcastic words from her, he had already crossed the line, abandoning all pretense of civility and aiming to arrest her.
Was this truly the wise and calm ruler of legend—the one who had resurrected a fallen kingdom and secured victory over the Saxons with only 5,000 cavalry troops?
Even Merlin himself seemed uncertain when it came to Uther these days. Since waking from his coma, the king had become an enigma, his personality shifting unpredictably.
Most of times, he was calm, ruthless, and wise. Yet there are other times when he was acting indulgent and unrestrained, engaging in erratic behaviors that stood in stark contrast to the calm and serious image he had once projected.
Even Merlin, with all his wisdom, found himself speechless at these constant switch of temperaments.
Merlin was fully aware of the consequences that would follow if Uther killed the nun, yet he did nothing to intervene.
However, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He had seen potential in this girl, and it seemed a waste for her to remain a nun when she could have been so much more.
Yet, despite this, Merlin remained silent, wanted to see the unfolding events with an indifference.
Seeing everyone approve of King Uther's actions against the church and even become his accomplices, Francesca Prelati could only swallow her pride.
"I apologize if we came across as disrespectful, King Uther. As long as you say the word, we are willing to pay compensation if it will mend the relationship between Camelot and the Church."
"No, it's not a matter of coming across as disrespectful. You are outright disrespecting us, nun," King Uther declared sternly. "You should know exactly why I said that. I don't appreciate how you're pretending to be ignorant."
"We are not pretending, King Uther. You have misunderstood. I am not merely a nun in this scenario. No, I am from the Church's Secret Agency, the Burial Agency—the very organization that hunts Dead Apostle Ancestors and has even fought True Ancestors in the past," she said, hoping to remind him of her significance.
Uther, however, was unmoved by her words.
"Then why are you so weak that even a knight could take you hostage, mighty one?" he replied with biting sarcasm.
Even the knights picked up on King Uther's signal, pressing the tip of the blade deeper into her wound, causing more of blood to drip from it.
She gritted her teeth in anger and humiliation, forcing herself to respond. "I am not particularly skilled in combat, King Uther. My specialty is alchemy. Are you satisfied with this explanation?"
Despite her heart boiling with rage, she could only endure. She knew she needed to accelerate her research on the puppets. As long as she had enough bodies in reserve and used a puppet in situations like this, she would never be threatened again, as the puppet bodies were merely tools to her.
After all, to her, the puppet bodies were merely tools—disposable vessels that she could manipulate from afar.
King Uther's lips curled into a thin smile.
"Since you are so proficient in alchemy, then it is your duty to contribute to Camelot's safety. You will build golems for us, to serve our kingdom's defense. Men, seize her and escort her to the guest room," Uther commanded.
The knights obeyed immediately, dragging Francesca Prelati against her will to the guest room that had been designated by King Uther, which was little more than a gilded prison.
"I have a task for you, my friend," Uther whispered to Merlin, his voice low but firm. "Keep a close watch on her, and ensure that she fulfills her obligations."
Merlin nodded, happy to take on such an easy task. Compared to being restlessly exploited for his clairvoyance, monitoring the girl was far simpler. Just making sure she created the golems made everything easy to manage.
Inwardly, he felt smug about the simplicity of the task, but he maintained a serious expression as he accompanied the king to the court meeting.
They walked calmly, as if the incident with the church had never occurred in the first place.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone