Chapter 215

Chapter 215: Did You Like the Donation? (1)

Porisco displayed a haughty expression as he sized up Ghislain from head to toe.

“Is this brat the so-called ‘Rising Star of the North’ that everyone’s been talking about lately? A young upstart riding on the Marquis of Branford’s coattails and flaunting a hollow reputation.”

He had, of course, heard the news of the war. Yet, no matter how he looked at it, the victory seemed more like a stroke of luck brought on by the drought rather than skill.

“If he were truly remarkable, the Countess of Aylesbur and the young lady of the Branford family wouldn’t have gone out of their way to urgently send a priest for him.”

People only see what they wish to see, and Porisco was no different.

The rumors disparaging Ghislain among the nobility, coupled with his origins from the desolate North, were enough to reinforce Porisco’s prejudice.

“Without the Marquis of Branford and the Countess of Aylesbur backing him, this brat wouldn’t have even dreamed of meeting me.”

On top of that, Porisco carried the weight of the Church’s authority on his shoulders.

As a bishop of the church, he held a status that even most nobles had to show deference to. Naturally, a mere baron seemed trivial in his eyes.

However, there was a deeper reason why Porisco found Ghislain so distasteful.

“A vulgar man selling cosmetics... Those wretched products have eaten into our profits!”

The Juana Church, which worshiped the Goddess of Beauty, had long used divine power to manage the beauty of numerous nobles, raking in generous donations.

But with the introduction of cheaper cosmetics that provided even better results, the Church’s revenue inevitably took a hit.

The resulting loss in income also meant less money lining Porisco’s own pockets. It was no surprise that his first meeting with Ghislain was marked by open hostility.

Yet, despite Porisco’s condescending demeanor, Ghislain remained unperturbed. With a slight bow, he simply handed over a box.

“I am Baron Fenris. Priest Piote, whom you sent to our estate, has been a tremendous help. This is a gift to express our gratitude.”

Porisco casually opened the box and couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the jewels filling it.

He was used to receiving such gifts, but the act of receiving still brought him a certain pleasure every time.

Some of his dissatisfaction with Ghislain began to ease.

“The Countess of Aylesbur has already made quite a generous donation, yet here you are with another gift. I assume there’s something you’re hoping to gain?”

Porisco’s words were delivered with the ease of someone well-versed in the art of bribery. He understood all too well the principle of giving and taking.

Ghislain responded with a faint smile.

“Yes, indeed. Our estate is facing difficult circumstances, and many of our people are struggling. I aim to unify their hearts through the power of faith.”

“Oh? So you’re asking us to establish a new parish there?”

“That’s correct. Currently, there isn’t a proper church established in our estate.”

“As far as I know, there are very few who follow Lady Juana in the North. Aren’t most people there devoted to other goddesses?”

Lady Juana was the goddess presiding over prosperity, production, economy, fairness, talent, and systems.

She also symbolized beauty and luxury, making her especially popular among nobles, merchants, and bureaucrats.

In other words, she was not particularly favored by the impoverished people of the North.

At Porisco’s question, Ghislain replied casually, as if it was of no great concern.

“Most of their faith is superficial at best. With Priest Piote, who can wield genuine divine power, residing in our estate, the number of followers devoted to Lady Juana is already increasing.”

It was only partially true. Conversions among the estate’s residents, who had experienced Piote’s divine power firsthand, were indeed on the rise.

Hearing this, Porisco sneered openly.

“Hah, these backwater Northerners have gotten a taste of divine power and lost their minds over it.”

As a bishop, Porisco had dealt with plenty of rural lords who pulled stunts like this. Having even one priest in an estate drastically improved the quality of life.

Of course, given the extreme scarcity of priests, they ultimately became a privilege reserved for the nobility.

Feigning thoughtfulness, Porisco eventually shrugged and made a dismissive comment.

“Well, establishing a parish might be difficult. But if you build a temple for Lady Juana, I could send a couple of serving priests and evangelists.”

“Does he think he can just snatch away a priest with such cheap tricks?”

Though Porisco had taken the bribe, he had no intention of leaving Piote stationed there indefinitely.

“Piote’s been out in the field now, gaining valuable experience. The longer I rotate him around, the more money I can rake in.”

Given how scarce priests were, each one was a golden goose, and Porisco intended to extract as much value as possible from Piote before his rank rose further.

There was another reason as well—having a large number of priests under his command increased Porisco’s influence within the church.

Ghislain, adopting a slightly disappointed tone, asked, “Then could you at least allow Priest Piote to remain in our estate a little longer?”

“Hm, as long as it doesn’t seem like you’re trying to claim him permanently... Ahem, what am I saying? If it’s not an official reassignment, I could allow him to stay for another three months or so with a modest donation.”

“A donation... I see.”

As Ghislain prepared to bow and leave, Porisco, slightly flustered, called out to him.

“L-let’s head to the slums.”

The change in people’s gazes and attitudes unnerved him. His voice trembled involuntarily.

“Prepare the carriage immediately.”

The slums were located on the outskirts of the capital, a considerable distance away. It wasn’t a place someone of his size and stature could walk to.

Upon arriving at the slums with a nervous heart, he was met with a sight that shocked him once again.

“Oh, the Saint has arrived!”

“Bishop Porisco is here!”

“Our savior has finally come!”

The noisy chatter of the slum residents grew louder as more people gathered, pressing closer. Porisco flinched and took a step back.

Even so, the temple knights merely smiled, making no attempt to block the approaching crowd.

“W-what are you all doing... Stop those ruffians immediately...!”

Porisco couldn’t finish his command. The next moment, all the slum residents fell prostrate on the ground, bowing reverently before him.

“Thank you! Thank you, Your Grace!”

“It’s all thanks to you that my grandson could be saved!”

“Forgive me for cursing you before, Your Grace! I didn’t understand your profound intentions!”

Some wept openly while others shouted praises. One elderly man even shuffled forward on his knees and kissed Porisco’s feet.

As the crowd worshiped him, a jolt of indescribable pleasure surged down Porisco’s spine.

‘This... this is it! This is what I’ve been longing for! This was what I was missing all along!’

Because of his priestly status, he had been forbidden to marry. He couldn’t wield power as freely as other nobles did.

Though he lived in luxury, enjoying fine clothes, exquisite food, and comfortable lodgings, that was the extent of it.

No matter how much bribery filled his coffers, it never satisfied him. Even his indulgences had to be done discreetly, under the watchful eyes of others.

But this—this was different. Look at them! Every single one of them genuinely revering and worshiping him.

‘I feel like a god!’

For the first time, Porisco felt a void within him being filled.

Honor, true respect from the people, and a power that surpassed mere authority.

Porisco had awakened to a new greed.

Although the adulation was gratifying, he still couldn’t understand why they were praising him. He needed to know the reason behind it.

“Why... Why are these people acting this way toward me?”

The temple knight, still smiling, responded warmly.

“It’s no use pretending not to know now, Your Grace. The rumors have already spread throughout the capital. Everyone knows about your profound intentions.”

The knight’s gaze brimmed with respect. Porisco shook his head vigorously and asked again.

“W-what rumors are you talking about?”

“The rumor that all this time, Your Grace diligently amassed wealth for this very moment. Didn’t you foresee the drought through a divine revelation from the Goddess?”

“M-me? A revelation?”

Divine revelations were only granted to Saints—always female.

For a man like him to claim such a thing was absurd. He had never even dreamed of receiving a revelation, let alone experienced one.

But the temple knight, as though encouraging him to drop the act, continued speaking earnestly.

“Yes. Through the revelation, you accumulated wealth to buy food, which you’ve now distributed to the slums. Thanks to Your Grace, the people suffering from the drought were saved. It’s God’s work; we understand why you had to keep it a secret.”

Porisco couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. The fortune he had amassed was spent tirelessly as bribes to secure his own survival.

How many mornings had he cursed under his breath at the dwindling reserves in his secret vault?

And in these times, where could anyone possibly obtain enough food to supply an entire slum?

“W-where would I even get food to buy?”

“Didn’t Baron Fenris bring an enormous shipment of provisions to the capital at your request? Many people saw it happen.”

‘Baron Fenris!’

Hearing that name made him snap to attention.

The man who had promised to make a grand donation and then suddenly disappeared. Why was his name being mentioned here, of all places?

While Porisco’s face grew increasingly troubled and beads of sweat formed on his brow, someone nearby approached, recognizing him with a knowing smile.

“So, how was it? Did you approve of the donation, Saint Porisco?”