"Is the power not centralized enough? Are you suggesting that my uncle failed to grasp the situation in Inbutu?"
Miss Reila was the first to express her discontent at his words. Duke Reani, the family hero, was beyond reproach in her eyes; it was intolerable for anyone, especially from her own household, to speak ill of him.
Lin En regarded her anger with indifference. He was well aware of the temperaments of the young ladies in his family. While Miss Reila could be somewhat petty, she had no taste for conspiracies and relished flattery; even offending her was not a grave matter.
The people taught by the Ban Church had taken the initiative to approach him, and as long as he could articulate his perspective on power, he stood a good chance of earning their favor, and that was what truly mattered.
"The duke certainly wielded influence during his life regarding the political landscape of Inbutu. However, true power is not merely reflected in politics. Take Inbutu as an example: the duke could appoint any official from the kingdoms or even replace disobedient kings, but could he compel all Inbutu citizens to speak Damara?"
Lin En's question rendered Reila speechless, while Miss Gissasha chuckled in disbelief.
"How could that be possible? Whether a king, a prime minister, or any ruler, how could one possibly require an entire nation to speak a single language? Let alone the nation—we can't even manage that within our own household."
Gissasha spoke the truth: the Reani family, being Feren, spoke the common tongue, and as Damara people, they were also fluent in Damara. Additionally, due to their religious beliefs, many family members spoke Abyssal, resulting in a household that communicated in three distinct languages.
As for Inbutu, it was even more complicated.
The Kingdom of Inbutu lay at the northern edge of the Starfall Sea, gazing across the waters at Sesk. For many years, this nation appeared unified, yet it was fundamentally composed of two parts: the prosperous coastal cities along the Starfall Sea in the south and the frigid pastoral lands of sheep herding in the north.
The commercial Jondasians and the shepherding Damara people formed the fabric of this nation; from the very beginning, Inbutu was a confluence of two distinct ethnicities. They had remained united not out of genuine acceptance but from mutual need. The Damara from the north required the thriving cities of the south for sustenance, while the Jondasians needed the northern Damara and Tukani to fend off incessant raids by savage tribes from the mountains.
They forcibly coalesced into one nation; consequently, neither side could truly accept the other: their races, cultures, beliefs, and even languages were starkly different. The kingdom, in essence, bore more resemblance to a federation of various races and factions; throughout history, the lord's council wielded greater decision-making authority than the king. Instances of the duke replacing an unhappy king were far from rare.
Inbutu had its own unique circumstances, which defined its condition.
Lin En was well aware of these dynamics, but currently, he sought merely to make an impression before the Church of the Dark Lord and did not wish to dwell on such issues. Moreover, he had a rather dismissive view of Inbutu's affairs: as someone hailing from a powerful nation on Earth, he found it amusing that a unified country could possess such linguistic diversity.
"Let us consider it an ideal scenario: if a unified language could be implemented, the conflicts between the Jondasians and Damara would cease within Inbutu. A common language would facilitate the issuance of decrees, allowing the ruler's commands to be executed more effectively. If that were the case, why would so many issues arise following each king's demise?"
Lin En did not engage in a quarrel with the young ladies but presented a differing perspective: "Language serves as a unifying standard and a means of establishing order. The enforcement of power requires execution capability, and a well-structured order amplifies that capability. By establishing a stringent hierarchical relationship through order and designing interlocking checks and balances, those in the highest positions could easily wield all power—yet the duke failed to achieve this."
"True power is not merely about controlling subordinates or commanding armies. It encompasses a functioning system—a unique order that ensures the power holder maintains an advantage over their subordinates under any circumstances. This order is law, morality, and deeply rooted culture—it permeates every facet of society, subtly influencing all individuals to the extent that they dare not harbor thoughts of rebellion. Only then can it be regarded as genuine centralization of power. If it were otherwise, we would not have been driven from our homeland."
Lin En's words plunged the two young ladies into silence. Both power and order were concepts that were somewhat beyond their comprehension. Accustomed to the abyssal mindset of Ocas, such notions felt distant and left them momentarily speechless.
They hardly even grasped what order truly entailed, let alone understood these complexities.
However, these thoughts were sufficient to capture Finn's attention.
He interjected with keen interest, taking up the topic, "Then, what kind of system do you believe would more effectively govern Inbutu? Currently, King Tyne IV is regarded as one of Inbutu's most outstanding monarchs; do you believe he possesses the capability to construct a sound system to control Inbutu?"
"Absolutely not—he falls woefully short."
Lin En was not surprised by Finn's response. He had intended to provoke a reaction and had deliberately cast out bait to garner Finn's interest. The Ban clergy were undoubtedly intrigued by such matters; their fervor for power rendered them susceptible to allurements regarding its expansion and mastery.
Moreover, Lin En's assertions were refreshingly novel.
Although Ban had long been perceived as one of the most ruthless deities due to his relentless pursuit of power, tragically, the Ban clergy in this world possessed a rather simplistic and crude understanding of power. Their external conquests and internal machinations were often driven by a straightforward desire to accumulate more power through sheer plunder.
This mindset could not be deemed entirely erroneous, yet Lin En found it quite primitive: they seldom considered how to impose better systems upon their subordinates or how to sustainably extract resources. In their view, vying for power relied solely on strength and divine favoritism, treating their subordinates as nothing more than slaves—an entirely normal occurrence.
One might say their manner of wielding power was grotesquely crude.
Perhaps this stemmed from the fact that in Feren, there existed individuals capable of disregarding all rules due to their overwhelming strength, thus rendering the rules insignificant; yet more importantly, the prevailing ideologies of this world were stifled by religion, lacking sufficient development, and having never known unity, they missed out on critical reflections.
Therefore, Lin En's proposals naturally caught Finn's attention: it was high time for them to realize that genuine centralization of power was far more intricate than mere manipulation and intrigue.