Chapter 56: A Monument
966 Words
The Holy Announcement…
This newspaper, jointly written and published by the Papacy and the government, is arguably the most widely distributed, authoritative, and prestigious publication of this century.
Even in the Demon Gate, a land of bloodshed and c*****e, reporters and editors of the Holy Announcement follow the Crusader army around all day, risking their lives to relay the frontline situation back to headquarters as quickly and directly as possible.
Even more shocking is that this newspaper can even publish negative information about the Papacy, such as a clergyman violating the law and being dismissed or punished.
This level of reporting suggests that the government is using this method to suppress public opinion regarding the Papacy, but the citizens of the Empire are the ultimate beneficiaries—in short, they are… delighted.
This has resulted in the Holy Announcement's circulation reaching nearly 1 billion print runs per day!
It's important to understand that the entire empire's population is less than a billion…
Some believe that the front-page information in the Holy Gazette has a higher reach than the Pope's holy words!
Of course… this isn't all there is to the Holy Gazette.
A newspaper covering the entire empire naturally can't treat everyone equally. Among the high-ranking officials of the Papacy, the parishes, or certain government officials, there's a separate Holy Gazette for them, containing information only their circle is entitled to know.
This newspaper is published in the form of 'audio film,' delivered every Monday by special delivery personnel to those eligible to read it in various districts. In case of urgent matters, it will be expedited.
Furthermore, the film undergoes a one-time softening process, meaning that after being played once, the entire film is flattened, becoming a silent record that retains no information.
…11:30 AM, a small town near the edge of Vernis City.
This small town has no name, nor any station for a steam train. The only way to get there is by horse-drawn carriage. To describe its location, simply tell the driver, "20 kilometers west of Vernis."
Vernis is close to the coast, a geographical advantage that served as a unique protective barrier during the Second Demon Invasion.
When the Void Rift opened, the demons had no idea where they would end up, so many fell into the sea and sank to the bottom.
While it sounds foolish, coastal cities were indeed much less damaged than inland cities.
Furthermore, industry here is less developed, and the ocean provides a significant portion of the steam power. The skies are clear, the air is fresh, and compared to London, it feels more like a habitable place.
In a roadside teahouse in that nameless town, several old men were chatting as usual.
Young people yearn for big city life. When they leave, they take the town's vibrancy and hope with them, leaving behind only the elderly who fish, drink, chat, sleep, enjoy the sea breeze, and watch the sunset.
This is practically the entirety of life in this small town: slow, pleasant, and quiet…
The sunlight bathed the streets, warming the cool sea breeze.
The door to the teahouse suddenly opened, and a man dressed like a postman walked in.
"Today's newspaper!" he said with a beaming smile.
An old fisherman, who had just dozed off, slowly opened his eyes upon hearing the voice: "Isn't the newspaper usually delivered in the morning? Why is it only here at noon today?"
Another old man with a bulbous nose, clearly someone who had been drinking for decades, yawned: "Why do you care? You can't read anyway."
"That's true~" The old fisherman casually shifted his position and quickly fell asleep again in his chair.
In the teahouse, one of the few literate elderly men slowly rose to his feet. He was somewhat hunched over, with a kind face, dressed in the simplest of clothes. Judging from his over-the-knee rubber boots, he too made his living by fishing. The only thing that might stand out was his full head of white hair, each strand standing upright like countless pale pine needles.
"Any interesting things in today's newspaper?" the old man asked leisurely, walking towards the door to take the newspapers.
"I'm not quite sure," the postman replied with a smile, then, as if suddenly remembering something, added, "Oh, but it seems your subscription has a new issue."
"Is that so?" The old man smiled, took the newspaper back to the table in the teahouse, and gently placed it down.
The midday sun was incredibly warm, and the surrounding fishermen were enjoying the most pleasant moment of the day. No one paid attention to today's newspaper, nor did anyone notice the old man slowly pushing open the door and walking out.
The town's long street was spotless, clean from the sea breeze. The old man strolled home, while the postman delivered the day's newspapers along the way. Though seemingly unrelated, the young postman subtly remained near the old man, never getting any closer, never taking the lead.
Twenty minutes later, the old man returned home to a simple brick house by the sea, looking no different from other fishermen's dwellings, except that the first rays of sunlight streamed through his window each day.
Coincidentally, the postman was also delivering newspapers nearby. He naturally approached the old fisherman's room and knocked on the door.
"Come in." Hearing the voice, the postman opened the door and entered, then gently closed it again, as if afraid to disturb the sunlight streaming in.
Then, with utmost reverence, he knelt on one knee, back straight, and forcefully struck his left chest with his fist; simultaneously, he produced a portable record.
“Today’s Holy Gazette has some articles that might interest you.” His voice held a barely suppressed surge of emotion:
“Lord Dante…”
- Writer
