"Bogomils?" Alexius's expression turned much more serious upon hearing Manuel mention that word.
The Bogomils were an orthodox Christian heretical sect that emerged around the mid-10th century. Their founder called himself "Bogomil," which in Old Slavic means "friend of God" / "lover of God." The sect was established by a priest in the Bulgaria region to resist the rampant church exploitation of the time. Its doctrine opposed feudal obligations, defied state authority, rejected the divine creation theory, and upheld a dualistic creation theory, deeply influenced by Manichaean doctrines of the era. It could be said that, whether for the Catholic Church, the orthodox Church, or monarchs, it was a doctrine of an extremely vile nature, like a noxious weed that had to be eradicated.
Since its inception, due to its anti-church and anti-monarchist views, the Bogomils quickly spread within a few centuries to every place where orthodox Church power existed. Because of the heavy burdens borne by the peasants at the time, more and more Bogomil followers emerged like mushrooms after rain. These heretical weeds not only influenced the faith of the Eastern Roman Empire but also directly or indirectly contributed to the peasants' resistance against orthodox lords and the Church, even laying the groundwork for Bulgaria's later secession from the Empire. Faced with such an unstable element, all powers engaged in extensive burnings to purify and eradicate the ideological foundation of lower-class revolts.
Fortunately, after centuries of suppression by the orthodox Church and secular powers, by the 15th century, the Bogomils were no longer prevalent. However, as an ancient heretical sect that had existed for 500 years, these Bogomil believers still had some distribution in the former Eastern Roman Empire and the territories ruled by the Bulgarian Empire. During the Kaffa period, some Bogomil followers fled here, surviving by leveraging the diversity of this commercial city.
If such a heretical group with a long record were to spread in the Principality, then they could forget about collecting taxes. These heretics might even instigate some kind of civil war operation when facing a great enemy—this was a Roman tradition, after all.
"These heretics absolutely cannot be tolerated." Thinking this, Alexius clenched his hands tightly, his eyes fixed on Manuel. "Manuel, since you've raised this issue, I presume you must have a solution. Let me hear your thoughts, my child."
Seeing this, Manuel carefully selected some of the materials he had brought with him and earnestly said to his father, "Father, traditionally, the power of heresy trials rests with the Church. However, while the Church's interrogations comply with theology, they do not actually meet some secular requirements. This is because the Church stubbornly insists on either executing those who do not obey them or pardoning those who feign conversion. While such actions can eliminate heresy, the effect is neither thorough nor swift, as the Church's heresy trials and executions are more theological. But we, as lords, must also consider secular issues. In my humble opinion, we can transfer a portion of the power to try heretics into our own hands by establishing relevant institutions."
"I am thinking, can we establish a special department for heresy trials, with the main interrogators being clerics and trusted individuals under our command? The clerics would be responsible for providing theological theories and standards, while we would decide who is to be tried, how they are to be tried, and the final verdict. This would allow the trials of heretics to develop in the direction we desire, rather than old scripture-quoting clerics causing us to let go of those who should not be released or execute those who should be freed."
"And in terms of administrative structure, my idea is to place it under the Church's name, operating under its shell, bypassing the various cumbersome procedures from the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, so that it can be quickly put into operation. Of course, as this is only a preliminary stage, my proposal is to use Theodosia as a testing ground to evaluate the practicality of this department."
"This department, in my draft proposal, is tentatively named the Inquisition."
After speaking, Manuel looked into his father's eyes, worried that he might see hesitation or fear. But there was none; on the contrary, Alexius's eyes were filled with admiration, approval, and joy.
"Manuel, it seems you came with the determination to convince me this time, didn't you?" Alexius chuckled.
Manuel decided to be honest. "Yes, Father. My idea for this department was indeed not a sudden inspiration from recent days."
"My child, do you know? If I agree to establish this department, won't the standard for heresy then be in our own hands? At that point, any opponent, if needed, could be branded a heretic. Are you aware of this consequence?"
"I have thought about it, Father."
"Very good. Then I hereby approve your establishment of the Inquisition in Theodosia. Of course, for now, it is only experimental."
"Alright, Fa… huh?!"
Manuel looked at his father with an incredulous expression, because based on his father's previous line of questioning, he had thought this request would not be granted.
Alexius looked at his surprised son and smiled, "Manuel, you thought I would object, didn't you? But what you proposed is exactly what I wanted."
Manuel immediately understood Alexius's meaning. Father and son exchanged a knowing smile, then both showed a cunning grin.
Thus, the establishment of the Inquisition was decided. Afterward, as it was too late, Manuel stayed overnight in Mangup, residing in the mansion where he had previously lived in Mangup.
Returning to his old residence made Manuel a bit nostalgic. In the blink of an eye, he had moved from Mangup to Theodosia nearly a year ago. In this past year, he had only seen his mother and sister a few times, but he hadn't seen Isaac at all.
"I'll find time to see them again this time," Manuel thought to himself as he lay in bed.
Thinking about how, had he been even slightly careless today, he would have been stripped of his authority over Theodosia, he suddenly felt a pang of fear, but immediately felt relieved, followed by exhaustion. A sense of weariness enveloped his mind, and he quickly drifted off to sleep.
At the same time, in the Mangup Palace, the elderly Orophin, Patriarch of the Cherson diocese, was clutching the Inquisition document Alexius had personally handed him, his fingers white and his eyes filled with indignation.
"Your Highness, please allow me to object." After a long while, having finally made up his mind, he spoke, attempting to persuade His Highness the Prince to abandon this measure.
"Speak, Mr. Orophin, there's nothing that can't be discussed," Alexius said with a smile, though his eyes were full of menace, showing no hint of willingness to negotiate.
Orophin initially wanted to struggle, but seeing the determination in His Highness the Prince's eyes, and recalling the rumors of several generations of diocese patriarchs mysteriously disappearing, he clenched his right hand, unwilling yet fearful. After a long pause, under the oppressive gazes of Alexius and his guards, he finally signed his name and symbol on the document, officially, from a religious standpoint, permitting the establishment of the Theodosia Inquisition. And it was precisely the precursor to one of the future Goth Dynasty's most notorious institutions—the Religious Tribunal.