RLQ - Chapter 25
Chapter 25: Faith is For You
“Rhodri.” The Queen looked at him, her eyes holding a hint of mockery and pity. “Why would the most outstanding theological genius ask a heretic what faith is?”
“Deliver me; incline your ear to me, and save me. Be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.” [1]
Archbishop Rhodri said in despair.
He grabbed the Queen's hand.
The Queen noticed that the hand which had just been capable of fighting Heinrich with a sleeve dagger was now trembling uncontrollably, pale and cold.
What else could he do?
His world had collapsed in that thunderclap. Since returning from St. Mary's Cathedral, he had pored over every scripture he knew, sleeplessly.
All the scriptures once held as truth repeatedly told him that the world was created by God, and all who were disrespectful or faithless would not be protected... Not a single word mentioned why God would answer the prayers of someone who did not believe in Him. If the Queen was the true believer and they were the heretics, yet the Queen didn't care what people believed! She didn't care at all what deity people worshipped... Shouldn't people believe in God?
He had also gone to see old Father Balde, his mentor, the one who had guided him onto the path of the Old God Sect.
When he was six, his mentor had led the brothers of the monastery to distribute bread and cloth to the poor, then raised the cross and firmly preached "God loves the world" to everyone. That scene left a deep impression on his mind, causing him to abandon his family inheritance without hesitation and embark on the path of seeking holiness.
In his memory, his mentor had countless times resolved his doubts before the divine statue, paving the way for him to communicate with God.
However, this time his mentor could no longer answer any of his questions.
In the cold, damp dungeon of Whitehall Prison, old Father Balde was curled up like a rat in the sewage. The Heinrich family's poison couldn't even stop the screams emanating from his soul: "God wouldn't do that!" "This is wrong! Wrong!"... His mentor had gone mad, no longer even recognizing him.
The person he had once considered the most solemn, most devout, and most loyal, why had he become like this?
Rhodri could no longer obtain any answers from his mentor.
Furthermore, he was horrified to find that the image of his mentor saving the souls of the world before the divine statue, guided by scripture, was rapidly being replaced in his heart by that hunched, filthy shadow huddled in the corner.
He practically fled Whitehall Prison.
The world was shrouded in rain. He stumbled through the streets and alleys, from day to night, finally arriving at a trembling question, a question he had never considered before—
“Save me, tell me.”
He murmured, trembling all over, asking that terrifying question.
“In this world, what is it that people truly believe in... what is it?”
“No.”
Adele answered calmly and cruelly, her voice soft, but to Archbishop Rhodri's ears, it was like a clap of thunder.
“No one can tell you, and you cannot know if another's answer is right or wrong. Rhodri, no one can.”
“Then tell me, Your Majesty's answer.”
Adele wanted to pull her hand back, but Archbishop Rhodri held her tightly. He looked at her intently, afraid of missing a single syllable from her lips.
“Why do you believe in God?” Adele asked. “Do you believe in Him Himself, or do you believe in something else?”
Why did he believe in God?
Archbishop Rhodri had pondered this question himself countless times and answered it for believers countless times. Each time, he could cite innumerable scriptures and doctrines to explain it, yet tonight those doctrines and scriptures had completely lost their glorious magic.
In the sound of the rain, the first image that surfaced was old Father Balde distributing food to the poor.
The grateful and happy expressions on people's faces were vivid.
“Because...” he answered blankly, his voice floating on the surface of the water. “Because I thought... He was capable of saving the world. Isn't it He who makes us kind, just, loyal, and protective?”
“Are kindness, justice, loyalty, and protection meant to exist only for God?” Adele countered. “If a heretic saves a city, is he not kind and just simply because he is a heretic? Should the people he saved forget his bravery because of that? If a priest faithfully guards a spring, solely because it is a spring where God performed a miracle, and for this allows hundreds of people to die of thirst outside the spring, has he then saved the world?”
“Rhodri, where is God, truly?”
Adele asked softly.
Yes, where was God, truly?
In heaven? In the church? In the scriptures? Or somewhere else?
“I don't believe in God.” She said coldly. “At least, I don't believe in the God you speak of.”
Archbishop Rhodri urgently pressed, “Then what do you believe in? Your own God? Or perhaps the devil?”
“I believe in nothing.”
The Queen said that people's God had given her a bad name, and fate had left her without a burial place.
“I only believe in myself.”
The rain intensified, cold rain pouring into the stone corridor. The Queen withdrew her hand and turned to leave. Behind her was a dead silence; Archbishop Rhodri seemed frozen there.
The Queen had only taken two steps when Archbishop Rhodri stumbled forward, grabbing the Queen's hand again. Unlike before, this time his hand no longer trembled. The Queen turned to look at him, only to see him kneel without hesitation in the rain-soaked corridor, then lower his head.
...
Incline your ear to me, and save me: be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.
You are my rock, my fortress; for your name's sake, you lead me and guide me.
You rescue me from the net they have secretly laid for me, for you are my refuge.
Into your hand I commit my spirit... [2]
...
He deeply kissed the back of the Queen's hand.
Like a believer kissing their Lord.
The capriciousness of fate always makes one wonder if God is toying with the world.
Heinrich stood at the unnoticed blind spot at the corner of the corridor, letting the heavy rain soak him through. He watched for a long time, observing Archbishop Rhodri holding the Queen's hand, listening to their conversation in the rain, watching Archbishop Rhodri kneel and kiss the back of her hand.
He stayed in the rain for as long as they stayed in the corridor.
The chill of the rain penetrated through his heavy clothes, seeping into his bones, causing the wound on his left rib to ache faintly.
Yes, that wound...
That wound which had once earned him the trust of the Queen—or rather, Princess Adele—it should have healed many years ago.
But now it ached again, aching even more intensely.
It was when Princess Adele was expelled from the palace and exiled to Reef Castle. Although the young princess seemed to have lost everything, her mother held high prestige in Kailailey. The Roland people detested the red-eyed princess, but the commoners of Kailailey held her in great respect.
Adele remained a dangerous thorn in the side of some people, especially since this thorn was now associated with the lurking two-headed snake.
The carriage had barely traveled a day's distance from the imperial capital when the assassins arrived.
Amidst the sound of torches and swords, the two sides clashed... Heinrich could no longer clearly remember the situation then, only that in the darkness a figure lunged towards the princess at the center of the guards, a dagger about to plunge into her chest... Madam Kelly was separated on the other side, letting out a piercing scream.
He lunged forward.
The dagger scraped coldly against his bone.
When he woke up, they had already left that dangerous place. The Heinrich family's reinforcements had arrived in time. They safely reached the town controlled by the Heinrich family.
“Sir.”
When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was Adele. She sat in the candlelight, having clearly snuck in to avoid others. In the candlelight, she stood barefoot by his bed, her face serious.
“Where are your guards?”
He wanted to ring the bell for someone to come in.
The princess's hand pressed down on him. Perhaps because of his severe injury, he actually felt that slender hand was so firm and strong.
“Thank you for saving me.” She said softly. “I have nothing now, I can only give you this—”
There was nothing to thank him for, he thought, finding it somewhat amusing.
They had invested so much in her. The person who died in the assassination could be him, could be anyone, but it absolutely could not be her—that's what his father would definitely say. If the family heir died, they could replace him, but the bargaining chip that could help the family out of its predicament was unique.
But he couldn't say it, and even out of a state of mind he didn't understand, he waited for what the princess was about to give him.
A hairpin? Or a pearl?
Nothing, nothing at all.
The princess put down the candle and looked into his eyes: “I give you my trust. It is one of the few things I have left.”
She offered him her hand, like a vow.
—Better to make a pact with the devil than to believe in oaths; trust is worthless.
His father's teachings echoed in his ears, but under the candlelight, those rose-colored eyes seemed to possess a witch's magic. As if possessed, he still reached out his hand.
“Does your wound still hurt?”
A familiar voice came from behind him. Heinrich suddenly looked up and saw the Queen standing not far away. Her eyes were fixed on his hand.
Heinrich lowered his head and realized that his hand was tightly pressed against his left rib, as if trying to alleviate the suddenly sharp pain through this method.
He released his hand. “If Your Majesty stays in the cold rain any longer, I'm afraid Madam Kelly will be angry tomorrow.”
“You didn't leave after all.” The Queen sighed. “What did you come to see me for today? Let me guess—the Port Agreement? Dalton's change, and the failure of the Old God Church, have made you and your family uneasy, haven't they?”
Yes, and no.
Heinrich wanted to say something, but didn't know what.
The Old God Church was powerless to resist the Queen's strength. The monks of the St. Lorrain monastery were trembling, scrambling to pledge allegiance to the Queen's throne, fearing that if they were a moment too late, they would be torn apart by the people who had been angry for too long since the drought.
The Queen's unprecedented authority made the family tremble with fear and apprehension. She felt unfamiliar to many. Out of fear and worry, they wanted to know her attitude, wanting to test it through the Port Agreement about to be reached with the Rute Empire. And what was he himself here for?
What did he want to know?
“Sir.”
She finally called him "Sir" again, their unique form of address, not the distant "Mr. Heinrich."
“You still remember that wound, why can't you remember other things?” The Queen asked softly. “What did I say when I entrusted you with my trust back then?”
The distance between them was so close, yet so far. More than ten years of time rushed past, drizzling in the sound of the rain. Heinrich suddenly didn't want to listen, didn't want to know. The wound on his rib ached in the rain, making it impossible to think.
“You forgot.”
The Queen's face became even colder and paler in the dim light.
“That little girl's trust was precious, because she had so little left.”
“No... don't say any more.”
Heinrich took a step back, his back hitting the cold, hard stone pillar. His voice was exceptionally weak, as if pleading for something.
“The Port Agreement will be handled after the Old God Sect matter is concluded. The Heinrich family will still have a seat in the council,” the Queen said. “But please, you and your family, always remember—”
“Do not be my enemy.”
[1]: Psalm 31:2, English Standard Version (ESV).
[2]: Psalm 31:2–5, Masoretic Text.
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