Chapter 34:Mitia Also Wanted Catgirls!
“Then what about me? Why had I advanced so fast? What about my grandfather? Why had he been so strong?”
Mitia felt that her understanding of this world was not as deep as she had imagined.
“You grandfather was also suppressed, but his rank was high so it was lighter, and you... do you know why witches were called the favorites of magic? Because other magicians commanded the elements.”
“Witches were innately attuned to the elements; they would instinctively gather around you, so you were not constrained.
It was because this world loved you, because the Magic Goddess favored you all.”
Eliza touched her smooth face, her expression full of pride.
Mitia was completely unaware of her mother’s gesture; she was pondering what her mother had said — that the world loved her — but was what she was doing now right or wrong?
No, no! She should not think like that.
What she was doing was not wrong, nor was magic; the fault lay with this society!
If there truly was a god in this world, would she wish to see the vast majority of people living lifelessly, while only a small number indulged in decadent excess,
or would she wish to see a whole new era where magic was used to benefit the entire society instead of serving a single group?
It had to be the latter!
Because if it was love, then it should be passed on.
One flower blooming alone was not spring; a hundred flowers blooming together was spring!
Royal Capital of Ovinia, Church Headquarters, Saint Wal Cathedral
The cathedral’s magnificent spires soared into the clouds, as if connecting to the heavens, heavy and solemn.
The central arches and vaulted ceilings bore patterns and carvings of exquisite detail.
The Holy Maiden Spel entered the cathedral’s interior surrounded by a throng of worshippers; the vast nave and altar inside were breathtaking.
Everywhere there were splendid stained-glass windows, stone sculptures, and vaulted details that displayed peerless artistic achievement.
On the central marble high altar, Pontiff Oligovich led a group of nuns in prayer before the statue of the Goddess with closed eyes; moonlight streamed through the stained glass, casting colorful rays around the statue and dressing her in a veiled haze.
The uniform, rhythmic voices of prayer echoed through the cathedral, making everything feel more magnificent and mysterious.
The marble high altar was the heart of the cathedral; its ornate carvings and fine patterns depicted various myths and sacred stories about the Goddess, each stone imbued with artistic beauty.
This cathedral was the culmination of artistic peaks from the Seven Great Nations and the lifelong pride of the craftsmen who had built it.
The Holy Maiden and her retinue walked to the high altar, knelt reverently, and joined the Pontiff in closing their eyes to pray.
After a long while the voices gradually subsided, and Pontiff Oligovich opened his eyes and looked at the Holy Maiden kneeling before him on the floor.
“How?” he asked.
Spel replied respectfully, “The bishops of the branch offices in each country have all agreed. We will rally the faithful, under your guidance, to uproot and eliminate all heresy!”
Oligovich nodded with satisfaction at her words.
“I shall, in the name of the Goddess, redeem the Astal Family and restore to them the Goddess’s glory!”
“......”
After breakfast — lovingly prepared by Eliza — Mitia sat in her office planning how to use the enormous gold reserves she had amassed to establish a bank and issue credit currency regulations.
But she could not get very far; after writing a little she could no longer continue.
She felt uneasy, as if something bad was about to happen.
She sat there for a long time, then tossed the half-written notebook into a drawer, changed into ordinary clothes in the small bedroom, and headed for the door.
She told herself perhaps she had been too tired recently and needed to go out for some fresh air to change her mood.
When Mitia stood at the gate of the Commandant’s Mansion she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, feeling much more refreshed.
She put on a lady’s hat and veil and walked out into the street.
Over the years Uruk City had begun to resemble the cities from her previous life’s memories, though it still bore traces of being a heavily militarized town.
There were broad, straight cement main roads, occasional two-man patrol units, and the occasional ranks of soldiers marching by in orderly steps.
Of course, heavy weapons were positioned on the city walls: immobile heavy cannons, smaller howitzers light enough to be pulled by two horses, and an abundant stockpile of machine guns.
With Uruk City’s current defenses, traditional kingdom armies would be doomed to failure; even mage brigades could not easily evade the long-barreled heavy cannons’ long-range bombardment.
She turned off the main road and headed for the commercial street; caravans laden with goods trundled past her in dusty lines.
Sometimes she looked curiously at the caravans, because the caravan races were not limited to humans.
Especially in Paria’s caravans there were many slaves, a dizzying variety from all corners of the world.
Besides the dwarves she had seen before, there were various beast-people; for example, Mitia now saw a group of catgirls inside an iron cage.
They wore simple linen clothes and huddled together, their distinct cat ears and tails of various colors visible; their pale faces and dull skin showed they had suffered much.
She was no longer surprised — slave labor from Paria could be sold to the Astal Family because they also accepted slaves as payment to offset debts; this was a source of new population.
Bought to work for two years and they could regain normal civilian status — the Astal Family did not lose out; the value they created in factories allowed the territory to easily recoup costs.
On the small continent beneath Mitia’s feet, beast-races did not have their own kingdoms; they mostly lived in tribes within other nations.
They did exist within Ovinia too, but simply not within Mitia’s sphere of influence.
So she did not find it strange that these beast-people had been captured and sold as slaves.
A race without its own nation had little chance of dignity.
In some sense, being sold to the Astal Family meant their lives were not completely hopeless; only here were there many factories in desperate need of workers.
In other countries they mostly still relied on the weather for a living; if sold elsewhere they would be used as breeding machines with no other purpose, their status equal to livestock.
Watching those little curled tails, Mitia felt a tickle of desire — when would she be able to have two secretaries like that?
Perhaps she should issue policies to accelerate the integration of other races into the Astal collective.
Previously she had not realized there would be other races under her command; she had been somewhat negligent in this regard.
She wandered about casually and, without realizing it, returned to the special-grade factory she had established.
After the guard announced her arrival, the factory director hurried anxiously to the gate to greet her.
She did not bother with much small talk and had him lead her to the engine research and development department.
Before they entered the workshop a familiar low, buzzing roar reached Mitia’s ears.
Stopping the director from calling out, Mitia hurried to the group of artisans and watched the big machine being tested on the rack.
As the staff increased the injection of powder, a powerful roar rang through the whole workshop and joy lit up Mitia’s eyes.
But the good scene did not last long.
The cylinder body began to emit a series of clattering odd sounds, the entire engine vibrated and trembled, and then black smoke began to pour out.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!!!”
“It’s ruined! It’s broken again.”
“Something’s wrong — every time we increase the injection a little it fails; once we add it, it breaks.”
A group of people stood before the smoking engine discussing the problem; Mitia listened quietly, and an idea popped into her mind:
“Do you think dissolving magic crystal powder in water would work?”
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