The operation against Frank proceeded smoothly, just as Dantalion had planned.
The Bretagne army, despite being hired for the job, half-heartedly suppressed the rebellion. As a result, the great southern lords of Frank had accumulated nothing but stress. Above all, the great lords were being criticized from all directions.
— And they call themselves Franks, yet they borrow the hand of their old enemy Bretagne to quell a rebellion!
— Now of all times, they seek to break free from Frank's embrace and gain autonomy and independence. The nerve of them.
— This was a golden opportunity to liberate the subjects who had been unjustly enslaved, yet certain lords, driven by selfish greed, abandoned their noblesse oblige.
This was the criticism of ordinary Frankish people. In other words, it was the opinion held by the majority of Frank's nobility and common folk.
But the southern great lords held firm. They had confidence, after all. Frank's southern regions had not been ravaged by civil war, and they had even gained new territory in the Chrysanthemum War. In short, their stance was: "Let the weaklings yap all they want—we'll go our own way."
Then, an incident occurred.
Over two hundred Sardinian rebels, engaged in guerrilla warfare, surrendered to the Bretagne army. The exact reason for their surrender was not widely known to the public. However, this too had been planned in advance—among those leading the two hundred rebels was a member of Dantalion's Liberation Alliance.
These captured Sardinians were, officially, subjects of the great lords. Naturally, the Bretagne army had an obligation to hand the prisoners over to the great lords. However...
"We cannot hand over a single Sardinian prisoner!"
It was Saint Longwy who stepped forward.
A woman with beautiful auburn curls—Jacqueline Longwy had completely shed her girlish charm and matured into an elegant woman. The most renowned and most praised saint on the continent now, quite abruptly, refused to hand over the prisoners.
"What? What do you mean? Why won't you hand over the prisoners?"
"You treat the common people far too barbarically. Last time, didn't you execute every single prisoner I handed over by hanging? I can no longer tolerate such atrocities—in the name of the Goddess Athena."
For the great lords, this was absurd.
"A degree of harsh punishment in suppressing a rebellion should be encouraged, if anything. The Saint is blinded by mercy and is jeopardizing the greater cause."
The common people who had risen in rebellion were not subjects. They were a plague that needed to be crushed and eradicated. Yet Saint Longwy was being completely unreasonable.
"From the start, you are not legitimate rulers but merely oppressors who have intruded from abroad. That the people of Sardinia raise their hands against you is only natural."
"What—what are you saying—!"
"A saint is merely an individual and cannot overturn what Her Majesty the Queen has decided."
Saint Longwy spoke firmly.
"However, even if I help suppress the rebellion, I will not stand by while innocent lives are taken. The Bretagne army will abide by the laws of Bretagne."
This was illogical to the extreme.
They were already furious that the Bretagne army, hired at exorbitant mercenary fees, wasn't working hard enough, and Saint Longwy's statement was like pouring oil on the fire. If Saint Longwy had not interfered with the suppression at every turn, the rebellion itself would have been ended in the initial engagement.
In short, Saint Longwy was an annoying busybody who did nothing but spout righteous nonsense. There could be no more irritating person than this.
The great lords immediately filed a public protest against Saint Longwy's "childishly innocent rebellion, notably lacking in rational consideration."
— Did Bretagne bring mercenaries, or did they bring a philanthropist?
— Either immediately refund our payment and withdraw your troops, or deliver fitting punishment to the saint who has indiscriminately interfered in matters of state—choose one!
The tension between the two sides escalated instantly.
Saint Longwy's reputation was not something to be handled lightly. She was like the very symbol of Bretagne. However, Queen Henrietta surprisingly took the side of the great lords, not the saint.
"Humanity knows no borders. No single person can own another's humanity. However, beyond the innate humanity born in every person, humans also establish a second form of humanity—social bonds—under their tacit or explicit consent."
Queen Henrietta spoke in a makeshift courtroom. Saint Longwy knelt respectfully on the ground. It was bitter winter, and the ground was unbearably cold.
"It is within this social humanity that the relationship between ruler and ruled is established. The Sardinians of Piedmont are, without question, socially subservient to the eight great lords including Duke Massalia. Jacqueline Longwy, though she may not be immortal, has failed to honor a contract that deserves respect. Therefore, I sentence her to imprisonment."
People were shocked by the sentence of imprisonment.
Though Queen Henrietta and Saint Longwy had clashed fiercely during this rebellion, their friendship was not so shallow as to be damaged by minor friction. People had been certain it would end with an apology at most. But imprisonment?
"However, should she acknowledge her wrongdoing, I may reduce the sentence."
People's expressions relaxed at the Queen's final addition. Just as expected—it was a bluff. By announcing imprisonment, she saved face for the great lords, and by inducing an apology, she also avoided actual punishment. It was a skillful judgment.
But the saint held her chin high with perfect composure.
"I have done nothing wrong."
The unexpected statement set everyone buzzing.
Queen Henrietta and Saint Longwy locked eyes.
"So you refuse to acknowledge your error even in the end?"
"The Sardinians of Piedmont never voluntarily accepted the eight great lords as their rulers. Frank—or rather, the great lords who once belonged to Frank—seized this region through coercive means."
At this, the great lords observing the trial stood up and began pointing fingers.
"Our right to rule was recognized through the Treaty of Florence!"
"How dare you disregard rights established in the presence of ten nations!"
The atmosphere grew increasingly hostile. Even the great lords, who had initially intended to simply accept an apology and move on, changed their minds. They loudly demanded that Saint Longwy be punished.
Queen Henrietta's expression twisted as if in pain.
"...Do you truly have no intention of apologizing?"
"My resolve is firm."
The saint was brazen to the end.
"If anyone should apologize, it is not I but them. They have oppressed the Sardinians unjustly and shamelessly walk under the heavens. The goddesses will curse them."
"To—such impudence!"
The great lords shouted noisily.
In the midst of this, the Queen urged an apology several times over thirty minutes. But the saint showed not the slightest hint of compromise. In the end, Queen Henrietta spoke with a voice notably different from when the trial began—that is, a voice infinitely more somber.
"I shall deliver my judgment. Saint Jacqueline Longwy shall continue to serve in military duty."
"Your Majesty!"
The great lords flushed red.
Jacqueline Longwy served as vice commander of the Bretagne army. Since Queen Henrietta wielded absolute authority, she was merely a puppet vice commander, but a vice commander nonetheless. To keep her in that position meant, in effect, that no punishment would be meted out.
As the great lords, incensed, were about to raise their voices, Queen Henrietta spoke.
"But there must be some punishment. Saint Jacqueline Longwy, you unlawfully seized over two hundred prisoners. Calculating ten prisoners per lash, I sentence you to twenty lashes."
People's expressions froze.
The saint was half-sacrosanct. To flog a saint was unprecedented. While the great lords were stunned, the Bretagne army commanders made their move first.
The generals rushed forward to Saint Longwy and pressed their foreheads to the ground.
"Your Majesty! The Saint has contributed enormously to our nation!"
"Indeed, Your Majesty. Lashes? That is unthinkable!"
"Please reconsider, Your Majesty!"
Queen Henrietta was visibly suffering. She clenched her teeth as if she had drunk bitter poison.
"Firing her from the position of vice commander would not be enough, yet I have shown great mercy by limiting it to lashes. Officers—do not harbor even the slightest resentment."
"Your Majesty! During the Puppet War, the Saint remained in Parisisium in Your Majesty's stead!"
"Every soul breathing here today owes their life to the Saint. It is right for Your Majesty to enforce the law strictly, but how can we officers turn a blind eye to this!"
"Silence!"
The trial had gone strange.
It had certainly begun as a confrontation between Queen Henrietta and Saint Longwy. But somewhere along the way, the Queen had taken on the role of "the one suffering for the sake of justice." The great lords had suddenly become bystanders, watching the trial in a daze...
"I shall also sentence all officers who protest to five lashes each!"
"Your Majesty!"
"And!"
Queen Henrietta bit her lip with her teeth.
"This situation is entirely my responsibility for failing to properly manage my subordinates. I too shall receive twenty lashes, the same as Saint Jacqueline Longwy!"
"Your Majestyyy!"
Huh?
The great lords began to feel genuinely alarmed.
What was this? Why were the officers suddenly rallying to defend Saint Longwy? Why were even the officers being sentenced to five lashes? No—setting that aside—why was Queen Henrietta de Bretagne herself volunteering to receive twenty lashes?
At this rate...
"There has never been a precedent in all of history for a ruler to inflict corporal punishment upon themselves!"
"Please reconsider, Your Majesty! Please reconsider!"
"Enough! You fools! A subordinate's fault is the ruler's fault!"
At this rate, it was as if...
"If any one of you dares object to my judgment from now on, I shall add five lashes to my own punishment for each objection!"
—as if they, the great lords, had become irredeemable villains.
"Your Majesty... Your Majesty, please..."
"We were too ignorant to have allowed such a spectacle..."
Generals in their thirties, forties, and even fifties shed tears. Saint Longwy also wept quietly. Tears gathered in Queen Henrietta's eyes as well. The Bretagne officers and soldiers watching this knelt on the ground, chanting "Your Majesty!"
The great lords had absolutely no idea what was going on.
However, they could vividly sense, with the instinct of a lifetime of nobility, that if the Queen actually received the lashes, something momentous would occur. From the outside, it looked as though the great lords' demand for punishment had resulted in the queen of an entire nation being flogged!
The great lords screamed internally in unison.
'This—we have to stop this!'