Felix was just as newly appointed as Father Matthew—he had only been the Count for a single year—but to the commoners, he was a completely different figure. Even if he'd only taken office for a single day, no one would dare talk back to him, much less challenge him openly.
That wasn't fighting for their rights—that was courting death.
So, the moment Felix appeared, the crowd of villagers who had been surrounding Father Matthew and shouting all fell silent. When Felix's sharp gaze swept over them and he questioned their intentions with suppressed fury, no one even dared look him in the eye.
After a long pause, someone finally mustered enough courage to speak in a stammering voice from within the crowd:
"We just wanted to ask the Father to teach our children... they can study at the church, can't they?"
They were, of course, referring to the little serfs who lived in the church.
Many had already long been discontent about this arrangement. But since it was a direct order from the castle, and the children's routines were so strictly managed that they rarely interacted with others, people had so far kept their grievances to themselves. Otherwise, trouble would've broken out long ago.
The speaker only dared to speak up because they thought blending into the crowd would protect them. And indeed, their words found silent agreement among the others—though no one else spoke, their expressions mirrored the sentiment.
But when Felix turned toward the voice, the speaker immediately shrank back and avoided his eyes, trying to hide behind the people around him.
To incur the Count's wrath was simply unimaginable.
Felix didn't bother identifying who exactly had spoken. After all, there was nothing inherently wrong in what they said—but that didn't mean his authority could be challenged.
"They are here because I placed them here. If you have any questions, bring them to me directly. Surrounding and badgering an old man is not the way."
The villagers wanted to insist that they had no intention of confronting or threatening the Father, but under Felix's glare, not a single person dared to argue.
Felix was angry. Though he didn't have much affection for the church in general, Father Matthew was a rare exception—an elder both virtuous and learned, whose every word and action reflected the dignity of a true clergyman. He had never interfered in the affairs of the domain and, more importantly, he had been the godfather of Felix's elder brother. Even if they weren't close, Felix still regarded him with a sense of familial respect.
So, seeing Father Matthew pale and nearly faint from the commotion, of course, Felix was furious.
And someone had to pay for that.
He realized now that he had been too lenient before. His kindness had only emboldened these people.
"As punishment for your behavior today," he said coldly, "you will not be provided food during your corvée labor this month."
A veiled deduction of their wages.
No food for a whole month? The villagers' faces immediately changed.
This wasn't like the old days when they had to provide their rations during labor. Now they were accustomed to eating meals prepared by the Count's kitchen, which saved them a significant amount of grain. Suddenly having to bring their food again? Their first reaction was heartache for the precious stores they would now have to tap into.
But none of them dared protest. If they angered the Count further, the punishment might extend beyond just one month without food.
Once the Count gave an order, it was absolute. As soon as he finished speaking, his attendants began registering the names of everyone present. A few villagers were tempted to sneak away, but the soldiers standing by, watching them like hawks, quickly quashed any such thoughts.
So they could only stand there with mournful faces, grieving the loss of their food—and the fading hope of getting their children into school.
They had already given up on the idea when suddenly, a gentle feminine voice rang out.
"The matter of education will be arranged separately."
They turned toward the voice and saw the Countess stepping out from the church.
Wei Wei had just finished giving Father Matthew an injection, prescribed medicine for Karma to prepare, and made sure the priest was stable before leaving Penny to tend to him. She had come outside to check on the situation—just in time to hear Felix laying down the punishment.
She didn't approve of the villagers' behavior either, so as she spoke, her brows were furrowed. The normally gentle Countess now carried a dignified sternness that made everyone nervous.
"We've already begun preparations for this," she said, scanning the crowd, her tone calm but firm. "Even if you hadn't come, arrangements were underway. But you should never have come to trouble the Father."
She looked around pointedly. "He is elderly. Your actions nearly caused him to collapse. I trust you all understand the consequences when an old man faints due to emotional agitation."
Even in modern times, an elderly person collapsing could easily become fatal. In this era, their actions were tantamount to endangering a clergyman's life.
And this wasn't just any clergyman. Father Matthew was a former cardinal and the current bishop of Sardinson County—the highest-ranking church official in the region. Kind and approachable as he may appear, he was a senior church figure, potentially even eligible to run for pope.
If something happened to him, even Felix would be condemned by the Church—let alone these commoners. Branded heretics, no one would be able to save them.
As that realization sank in, the villagers were filled with dread. All their previous discontent vanished, replaced by deep regret for coming here.
Not only had they failed in their goal, they were now punished with a month's wage cut, and had narrowly avoided charges of assaulting a clergyman.
"How is Father Matthew?" Felix asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
"He's stable for now, but he needs a period of rest," Wei Wei replied, frowning slightly. Father Matthew was elderly even by the standards of the time, and medical knowledge was limited. Much of what people believed about health back then was simply wrong. He had never properly cared for his health, and though he didn't have any major ailments, he suffered from numerous small chronic conditions. If he didn't start recuperating, he might not live many more years.
Which only made her more disgusted with what had happened.
The villagers knew that letting the little serfs study at the church had been an arrangement from the castle. They hadn't come to discuss it with her or Felix—they'd come to trouble the one person they thought was soft-hearted.
As her sharp gaze swept over them, the villagers didn't dare lift their heads. They stood like quails, staring at the ground in silence.
Wei Wei had no intention of continuing to argue with them. Father Matthew still needed her care. Since Felix had already announced his judgment, she left the rest to him.
But as she glanced at the children who had been brought along by their parents—some older, some younger, all wide-eyed and bewildered—it tugged at her heartstrings.
In the end, she relented a little.
"Once they've finished registering your names, go home," she said. "Tomorrow, I'll send someone to handle the schooling arrangements for your children."
Though the punishment remained, her words were like a balm on their hearts. At least now they knew the Count and Countess were not against educating their children.
Regretful and subdued, the villagers obediently queued for registration.
Afterward, before leaving, they left behind the offerings they had brought with them—piling some at the church entrance as an apology and compensation to the Father.
The soldiers stationed at the church didn't stop them but did report it to their superiors. Since it was for the Father, neither Felix nor Wei Wei interfered, allowing him to do as he wished with it.
Father Matthew, thankfully, had only nearly fainted from emotional distress. After a short rest and a dose of the herbal tonic Wei Wei had prepared, he began to recover.
Felix returned to the castle while Wei Wei remained to care for the Father.
After ensuring the medicine had taken effect, she checked his pulse and said gently, "You need rest. Don't take on any more duties for now, including teaching."
She had no objections to him teaching the children—so long as she was sure he wouldn't indoctrinate them with religious dogma.
And Father Matthew was indeed an exceptional educator. His knowledge and teaching ability would be worthy of a university professor. Asking someone like him to teach basic literacy was a massive underutilization of talent.
Though still pale, the Father heard the concern in her tone and smiled as he nodded. He knew his own body. He wanted to live a few more years.
But after agreeing, his brow furrowed again. "What about the children? What are your plans for them?"
He had always wanted to teach willing students. As a priest, he believed that spreading knowledge was part of his duty. Back when he held a lower position in the Church, he had taught both nobles and commoners—many of whom had become excellent missionaries. He never believed education should be exclusive to nobility.
Unfortunately, Sardinson County was not a region of strong church influence. He was the only priest in this church, and the other three towns in the county each had a single small church, each run by a lone cleric. The facilities were even smaller than this one, and teaching students was even harder there.
Teaching the two hundred-plus children he had now was already pushing his limits. He couldn't handle it anymore, no matter how willing he was.
"Don't worry," Wei Wei said. "I've already made arrangements. They'll have opportunities to learn."
That reassured him. His furrowed brows smoothed out, and, comforted by the sleep-inducing herbs in the tonic, he soon fell into a peaceful slumber.
Wei Wei left his room quietly, already thinking about whether she should assign more staff to the church. Though she didn't particularly like the Church, if the staff were trained by Father Matthew and hailed from Sardinson County, then so long as they remained upright, they wouldn't hinder the domain's development.
After all, Father Matthew wouldn't remain in his post forever. They would need a successor—one who was loyal to his faith, but not blindly loyal to the Church.
If the successor was trained by Father Matthew and instilled with love for the county, she figured it could work. Even Church personnel needed noble backing to thrive.
Just as she was turning the corner, lost in thought, she ran into a group of children who had been trying to avoid her.
They were the little serfs living at the church. She recognized most of them—many had appeared on her talent list.
The boy in front was probably Hank.
Startled to see her, the children quickly composed themselves and bowed. The boys bent at the waist while the girls curtsied.
"Good afternoon, Countess," they greeted.
"Good afternoon," Wei Wei nodded, then asked with mild curiosity, "What are you doing here?"
"We came to see the Father," one of the bolder children replied. "Is he sick? Is it serious?"
Wei Wei was a little surprised, but the children's concern was genuine, and it warmed her heart.
The processing of sugar beets at the castle had already been handed off to newly purchased slaves, so these children weren't idle either. They had been reassigned to assist with census management, helping stewards cross-reference new and old records, calculate this year's head tax for the domain, and check household registries. The work wasn't too difficult but required a certain level of literacy, arithmetic, and above all, patience. Although they were still inexperienced, they approached it diligently. According to the stewards, they were doing quite well and proving genuinely helpful.
Because their work had been recognized, the children grew even more motivated. Although the classes at the church continued, due to the urgent nature of the census, their study time had been cut to just two-afternoon lessons each day—one for reading and one for math. Every morning, they also trained in swordsmanship for an hour under the guidance of a castle-assigned squire. Between work at the castle and studies in the afternoon, their days were quite full. That's why they hadn't known about the incident with the villagers until they returned for class and heard about it.
To these children, Father Matthew wasn't just a teacher—he was a caregiver, someone whose presence gave them safety and purpose. In their hearts, he ranked just below the Count and Countess, and perhaps alongside the two trusted maids. When they heard that this kind, of elderly man had collapsed, they were immediately worried. Though told not to disturb him, their worry couldn't be held back. After a quick vote, Hank and a few of the more outstanding children were chosen to represent the group and check on the Father's condition.
"It's not too serious," Wei Wei reassured them, "but he does need to rest properly, so he won't be able to teach you for some time."
"That's okay! His health is more important!" the children quickly said in unison, their eyes wide with sincere concern.
Their honest reactions made Wei Wei's heart soften again. She said gently, "He's already had his medicine and gone to sleep. He won't be able to see you today. Visit him another time."
The children, though visibly disappointed, still nodded obediently and prepared to leave.
"Wait."
Wei Wei called them back.
"Gather all the other children in the church hall. I have something to say to all of you."
"Yes, Countess!"
The children exchanged curious glances and hurried off to summon the others.
They were quick. By the time Wei Wei finished giving orders to her maid to stay at the church overnight and care for the Father, the church's hall was already filled with children.
The transformation in these children was astonishing.
When they had first been bought, most were malnourished to the point of looking skeletal, their hair a tangled mess like straw, clothes barely covering their bodies, and they moved hunched over, avoiding people's gazes like stray kittens no one wanted.
Now, though they still didn't wear luxurious clothing, they were clean, their hair neatly combed, and some of the girls had even started tucking wildflowers behind their ears for decoration. With regular meals and physical training (thanks to sword practice), they had gained healthy weight and height. The posture lessons had taught them to stand tall and straight, and each of them radiated a bright, energetic air that made them pleasing to the eye.
Still, as they waited for the Countess to speak, their faces were uneasy, whispering nervously among themselves.
It was obvious this meeting had to do with the incident earlier today. Even though they hadn't been involved directly, they had heard the complaints of the villagers—how they believed only the children living in the church got the chance to study.
"Do you think... the Countess will stop us from studying?" someone whispered.
That was the fear burning in every heart.
Some of them weren't naturally gifted, but they tried hard. They knew very clearly that the only reason they had this opportunity—the only reason they didn't have to toil under the sun and break their backs for food—was because they had been lucky enough to be chosen and given the chance to learn.
This life, sitting at a desk, doing numbers and reading books... It was the kind of future they never dared imagine. In their minds, only nobles or respectable wealthy folk could live like this. Yet now, they were among them.
Some children had started to get arrogant, feeling like they were "special." But such feelings were quickly shut down—either by the study system Wei Wei had established or by Qin's stern warnings during class.
"You're not here because you're better than others," Qin had once told them all. "You're here because you were a little luckier. But that luck won't last forever. If you don't work hard, someone else will take your place."
"Our masters are not raising you out of kindness. They expect results. If you can't meet their expectations, you'll be eliminated."
She didn't need to explain what "eliminated" meant. The children only had to think of the farmers breaking their backs in the fields. Compared to their old lives—scavenging, starving, laboring without hope—even being a serf here in the Sardinson domain was a massive improvement. But now that they had tasted something even better—a clean, dignified life—they didn't want to go back.
Most of them were girls, and in this era where women had low status, they were particularly aware of how rare and fragile their chances were. If not for their highly controlled schedules and lack of contact with outsiders, there might've already been... incidents.
That's why, when Wei Wei finally stepped into the hall, the children all straightened and fell silent, gazes fixed nervously on their mistress.
"I've called you here because I have something to announce," Wei Wei said, her tone even and composed. "Originally, I planned to wait a little longer before discussing this. But due to recent events, plans have changed."
Some of the more anxious children were already on the verge of tears. Were they going to be kicked out of the program?
Others began wondering: with their current knowledge, would they even be able to pass the recruitment exams the Count sometimes held for castle staff?
But Wei Wei's next words silenced all such thoughts:
"I need to select a few of you to teach the other children."
A stunned silence fell across the hall.
Wei Wei had always planned to implement universal education. However, Sardinson County had a scarcity of educated people. They didn't even have proper schools yet. And they hadn't found any suitable teachers in their recent hires either. That's why the matter had been delayed.
The plan had been to first fully educate this batch of children, then select the best among them to become future teachers. But now, after the chaos caused by the villagers, Wei Wei had to move the timeline forward.
Fortunately, to teach basic literacy and arithmetic, one didn't need to be a master scholar. As things stood now, some of the better students were already capable of handling such tasks.
Of course, not all of them would be chosen. The census and tax audit still needed manpower, and not everyone was suited to teaching. Children with poor grades would not be sent out.
"Qin will draft the candidate list based on your performance and behavior," Wei Wei continued. "Those selected will go to nearby villages to teach other children. Further instructions will be given in due time."
Their priority was, of course, their territory—the fields directly worked by the castle's serfs. There was still a distinction between these and the freer peasants scattered in outer villages. Without the ability to implement universal education all at once, priorities had to be made.
The children didn't object. They were serfs, and their mistress's word was law.
Still, someone couldn't help but ask, "Will we still get to study?"
Wei Wei smiled. "Of course. There's still much for you to learn. Your studies will continue as usual. But since the Father needs time to recover, I'll make arrangements for a different teacher."
This group of children would someday become tutors, stewards, female guards—even future leaders of Sardinson. Having invested so much into them already, Wei Wei wasn't about to stop now. Halting their education would be a waste of all that effort.
And the moment she confirmed that they would still be allowed to learn, the entire hall erupted in joyful cheers—even with her standing right in front of them, the children couldn't contain their happiness.