A bloody, pitch-black example is right before our eyes. If any of you were also hit by an 'errant flare,' could you confidently withstand it?
As the old saying goes, it's best to mend the roof before it starts to rain.
Perhaps you should all consider getting one of these."
Then, the nun reached into her pocket and pulled out an assortment of... Indulgence Certificates.
They read: Indulgence Certificate for Theft and Robbery, Indulgence Certificate for Suicide and Irreverence, Indulgence Certificate for Killing Living Beings, Indulgence Certificate for Dying Without a Complete Corpse...
There was also the phrase: "Specific certificates for specific sins, not to be mixed and used."
Upon seeing this, everyone on board—including the leading Sun Crown Priest and her two teammates—froze.
Indeed, one couldn't hold high expectations for this fellow believer; all her previous compassion for the world was merely a prelude to this.
"Although you have the authorization from His Holiness the Pope, it's not right to keep doing this. How can good deeds and vulgar money be equated?"
But while they criticized her verbally, their bodies were quite honest, generously contributing their share to support the nun's act of universal salvation.
At least these Church insiders could confirm the certificates were genuine.
The Church's ability to grant remission for sins stemmed from its control over the 'Merit Repository.'
Stored within were the creator's infinite grace and the good deeds of martyred Saints. These could be allocated to believers to offset the punishment they deserved for their sins.
And the direct administrator of the 'Merit Repository' was none other than The Great Cathedral of the Holy Mother's Mercy, where the nun originated.
Beginning in 1313 of the Silver Era, this centuries-old cathedral began selling Indulgence Certificates. With a hundred years of operation, its credibility was guaranteed, and all who used them spoke highly of the results.
Bulk purchases even came with discounts.
Teresa dared to guarantee on her faith that not a single person who failed to reach Heaven after death had ever returned to complain—a one hundred percent satisfaction rate!
As for the deceased Tax Officers, after being used as a cautionary tale, they were quickly forgotten.
What happened after death was God's domain and had nothing to do with these servants of God, not by a single copper coin.
Meanwhile, Miss Willette, also observing the explosion with keen interest, meticulously noted all the parameters of this 'Blood and Fire Sing As One.'
She was preparing for improvements to the next 'errant flare' incident.
She strove to surpass herself, to create an even greater work of art.
Jamestown Royal Harbor. Above the Governor's Mansion, at the very instant the explosion occurred.
From the Sword of Damocles hanging high above, two icy, blade-like gazes suddenly fell upon the Newman brothers.
The sword in the sky pulsed with light, seemingly ready to unleash a thunderous strike at any moment.
Cold sweat instantly drenched both their backs.
It was important to remember that the Tax Officer team wasn't like Vincent, the Royal Hound, who had forsaken everything for a single opportunity.
They had come to the new trade route to carry out their mission and had undoubtedly left their Life Gems with Earl Warwick, The Kingmaker.
The instant the massive explosion occurred, their Life Gems shattered simultaneously. How could Warwick not realize his subordinates had met with disaster?
However, the crucial link for retribution had vanished.
Procedure violated, judgment invalid!
Even if the Sword of Damocles was powerful, it couldn't act without just cause and forcibly execute a high-ranking noble of the Kingdom.
Maintaining the port blockade had also become pointless.
The longsword flickered in place for a moment, then suddenly vanished without a trace.
Drenched to the bone, the immense pressure on the Newman brothers lifted. They collapsed into the chairs beside Byron, their bodies limp as if they had just survived a terrible calamity.
After taking a couple of ragged breaths, the conch at Major General Newman's waist chimed. Extending a still-trembling right hand, he laboriously brought the conch to his ear.
Then, his eyes widened bit by bit, his breathing becoming rapid, as if he were suffocating.
Seeing his brother's pathetic state, Governor Newman beside him impatiently snatched the conch and listened to the report from their informant within the Long-Range Fleet:
"Due to an errant flare, the audit team was completely annihilated; even an entire three-masted galleon was blown to smithereens. It was horrific; everyone was obliterated, leaving no remains. The Religious Tribunal within the fleet investigated. They found no trace of external intervention. However inconceivable, it had to be ruled an accident."
Instantaneously, the brothers' hearts surged with wild joy.
"Hahaha... So it was an errant flare! What utter fools, to let a mere flare... Hmm? Wait, what did you say misfired?"
They immediately sensed something was wrong and abruptly fell silent.
Then, they turned in unison to look at Byron, who remained perfectly calm and composed, his expression betraying nothing unusual.
Especially the glass of chilled wine in his hand; from the moment he had declared, "An artistic feast miles away is about to begin," until now, the fine white mist of condensation had not even begun to dissipate.
After slightly warming it with his body heat to release the fruity aroma, he drained the glass.
Byron then nodded in satisfaction and smiled amicably at the two powerful figures of the Newman Family:
"Debt collection, tax collection, revenge, protection, escorting shipments, arranging 'suicides'... Pioneer Navigation Military Dispatch Company offers you a comprehensive, worry-free, one-stop service. Might I trouble you both for a five-star review?"
Yet, within his amiable smile, the brothers seemed to see a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. They spoke hoarsely:
"Worry-free, indeed worry-free."
"An excellent review, unexpectedly so."
Never mind others; even the Newman brothers, the 'masterminds' who had issued the orders, couldn't fathom who Byron had enlisted or how he had managed to accomplish all this.
And the unknown, as always, bred fear.
Byron refilled three glasses with wine. He raised his, clinked it against theirs, and then his smile suddenly vanished:
"That was all in jest. What does the audit team's demise have to do with us? We've been right here, drinking wine, the entire time. Those who walk a righteous path receive much aid. We stand firmly united with you, the Newman gentlemen, as the core of Jamestown Royal Harbor's interest group, and are thus naturally blessed by the creator. All of this is the Lord's will."
The brothers quickly caught on and chimed in:
"Yes, indeed, indeed! It is all the Lord's will!"
Yet, in their hearts, they no longer dared to underestimate Byron, a Pirate of merely the Second Order Supernatural Rank.
They now considered him their equal.
In their eyes, he was no longer a mere 'Black Gloves' but an inscrutable collaborator and a formidable ally.
Even with minimal political acumen, they knew this was the time to consolidate all available power.
Compared to survival, the minor reservations they harbored were utterly insignificant.
Of course, Byron left one thing unsaid. Updates are released by NoveI-Fire.ɴet
Judges require evidence, but the Great Nobles never do.
They simply fixate on who benefits most, letting their intuition be their guide.
Whoever profits the most is the culprit!
With the overt threat thwarted, The Kingmaker, Earl Warwick, would likely resort to underhanded tactics against the Newman brothers, who were now prime suspects.
Byron gave a sharp, sudden laugh. "And who really cares?" he said.