Chương 93: Church Reform, and the Clergy Strike

The Grand Plaza of the capital's Holy Church was completely locked down this morning. At the base of the thirty-meter statue of the Goddess of Light, more than three thousand young clerics, priests, and trainee Holy Knights sat cross-legged in long, orderly rows across the white marble. Hundreds of red silk banners, embroidered with glowing arcane lettering, flew high on silver spears, snapping in the morning wind.

'EVEN GODS SHOULD PAY OVERTIME!'

'WE DEMAND HAZARD INSURANCE FOR EXORCISM DUTY!'

'FOLLOW THE HOLY MAIDEN ASTRA'S EXAMPLE: NO STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM, NO DEMON-SLAYING!' On the honor balcony of the Cathedral, the Pope clutched his head with both hands, his crown tilted crookedly, tears streaming as he looked down at the plaza.

"Merciful heavens... what kind of heretical thinking has that merchant brat from House Vance planted in the minds of the Church's young people?!" On the second floor of a teahouse overlooking the plaza directly. Lucian raised a cup of chrysanthemum tea to his mouth, took a sip, and the moment he read "No strawberry ice cream, no demon-slaying," he choked on it, coughing violently. Astra sat across from him, in her ivory floral dress, a strawberry ice cream bar in hand, taking a small bite.

She watched the thousands of young clerics sitting resolute under the sun, her ash-grey eyes glinting with a clear, bright light. Astra reached over and tugged twice on the hem of Lucian's ash-grey cloak.

"Lucian... could you go be a Union Advisor for my old friends at the Church?" Lucian wiped his mouth with a napkin, brushing her hand away.

"No! Being a union advisor for a bunch of protesting clerics doesn't pay a single copper — it's nothing but taking on other people's problems and inviting disaster onto yourself!" A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Ting! A dim black Unified System v2. 0 notification appeared before him. [CHURCH LABOR SIGNALS LOGGED] Duty refusals pending written terms: rising across several orders.

Contract requests, petitions, and resignation notices: increasing in Church records. Payroll and hazard-pay demands: sharply elevated after public reports of Astra's employment terms. Lucian looked at the social statistics and shook his head slightly. For thousands of years, the fundamental nature of feudal theocracy had always operated by deifying human beings.

They turned children like Astra into "Saviors," stripping them of the right to be tired, the right to eat well, the right to simply live as an ordinary person. But once Astra's employment contract — fifty gold and an ice cream bar — became public, it acted as an employment catalyst. It did not magically change anyone's mind; it gave clerics language for grievances already visible in duty refusals, petitions, and payroll demands. Click. The private room's door slid open.

Three Cardinals from the Church's Reformist Faction, faces hidden beneath black hooded cloaks, crept into the room and quickly sealed the soundproofing wards behind them. The lead Cardinal stepped up to Lucian's table, knelt on one knee, set down a heavy iron chest on the floor, and opened the lid. Inside, the chest was packed with glittering solid gold bars — exactly one hundred thousand clean gold. The Cardinal lifted his deeply wrinkled face to look at Lucian, his voice pleading.

"Young Master Vance! The Church is now on the brink of total paralysis. Every Holy Knight has refused to accept gate duty or beast-purging missions without a clear employment contract!" He clasped his hands together, begging.

"We know you're the only person on this earth who holds the source code for the Sacred Tongue and truly understands labor law. Please, accept this gold and help us draft a New Sacred Labor Code for the Church!" Lucian looked down at the glittering chest of one hundred thousand gold at his feet, then at the three Cardinals kneeling before him. He took a sip of chrysanthemum tea, reached into his spatial ring, pulled out a crisp stack of white parchment and his jeweled quill, and spoke, voice flat.

"My legal consulting and institutional restructuring fee: fifty thousand gold per hour, effective from this moment." He dipped the quill into a jar of purple ink and carefully wrote the first heading.

"Get out your notebooks. We'll start with Article One..." Lucian looked up at the three Cardinals.

"... The right to eight full hours of sleep per day, and a ban on arcane phone calls after ten p. m."