NOVPUBGhislain clicked his tongue, continuing firmly.
"I only know it’s necessary. So start researching and find a way. Once you understand the concept, you can make it work."
Alfoy’s face twisted with frustration.
‘First, it was all that construction dust, and now he wants me fussing over chickens? The smell alone is awful—and now he wants me to figure out new magic for it!’
He was exasperated. Since when did mages study something as trivial as hatcheries?
Just as Alfoy was about to protest, Claude stepped in.
"It does seem feasible if the research is successful. But... is it really necessary right now?"
"Why?" Ghislain asked.
"Given time, livestock populations will naturally increase, and with that, so will the meat supply. However, taking mages off their current tasks would delay other projects."
"Then gather more laborers for those projects. We’ve addressed the most urgent tasks."
"We have ample food now, so rushing this seems unnecessary. If it fails, it’ll just be a waste of time."
"We need it. Adequate meat strengthens both soldiers and residents alike. Plus, we could stockpile jerky for emergency rations."
"Wouldn’t it be better to just make more weapons?"
"A weapon is only useful if the person wielding it is strong."
Claude sighed, rubbing his temples. In the past, he might have outright opposed the idea. But now, he knew Ghislain wouldn’t pursue something unless he was sure it would work.
‘It may seem like half-baked knowledge, but he seems confident enough that there must be something to it.’
Unlike Claude, the dwarf Galbaric accepted the plan without hesitation.
‘It’s not just the skills; his ideas and concepts are where he truly shines. Hatcheries? I hadn’t thought of that—but it makes sense. Ah, I’d love to eat more meat too. I ate so much back in the old days.’
While other advisors might not consider the meat supply an urgent matter, Ghislain, who was preparing for future conflicts, aligned all priorities with enhancing the territory’s military might.
Dried meat, with its long shelf life and high caloric content, was a practical asset, especially for wartime supplies.
As Claude seemed convinced, Alfoy opened his mouth to object again, but Vanessa spoke up first.
"I’ll do it! Temperature control magic is manageable, so if we focus on developing humidity control, we should be able to do it. Imagine how much people will appreciate an abundance of meat!"
Vanessa’s enthusiasm was clear.
Her eagerness to help the territory stemmed not only from gratitude to Ghislain but also from seeing the people’s lives improve. Having lived through hardship herself, she cared deeply for the residents.
Seeing Vanessa’s conviction, Alfoy reluctantly closed his mouth. If he had to do it, he’d at least keep his pride intact.
"Fine... if it’s really necessary, I’ll handle it. The unyielding Alfoy won’t back down."
He struck a confident pose, brushing his hair back, and everyone gave him a half-hearted clap.
They were relieved, as successful mages meant less work for them.
With the situation somewhat under control, Ghislain turned to Claude with further instructions.
"Try breeding only the largest, strongest chickens. We need to improve the breed."
"Understood."
"And once the mages finish their research, the dwarves can help develop the hatchery."
Galbaric widened his eyes. "Us? But we’re currently focused on new materials!"
"You’ll need to build with precision to match the mages’ magic. Isn’t that why dwarves are the best fit? We only need one fully functioning model. Once built, other craftsmen can replicate it."
Galbaric grimaced, resigned to the task, knowing well that refusal wasn’t an option.
Thus, the mages and dwarves were all but forced into the new project.
"Let’s get moving on this. It will work, so don’t worry and push forward," Ghislain encouraged them as they left, weary from the new workload.
The remaining advisors, spared from added duties, left the room looking relieved.
* * *
Developing a new hatchery system would take time, so Ghislain decided to tackle another pressing matter in the meantime.
Specifically, the individual standing before him now.
"My lord, when are you going to let me go? Have you not made enough money yet? You said you’d let me leave if I helped with the work."
Pionte had come to Ghislain’s office with a glum expression. He had been working tirelessly, his nearly limitless energy drastically speeding up all operations.
Thanks to him, the work was progressing several times faster. That much was undeniable.
But for Pionte, who’d lived a comfortable life, being put through such grueling labor was unbearable.
Ghislain studied Pionte’s pink hair thoughtfully.
‘Hmm... there’s no way this man is just an ordinary priest.’
It wasn’t that he hid some dark secret or concealed his identity, but there was something undeniably different about him.
‘His holy power is growing at an unusual rate.’
Holy power didn’t increase easily, as it was largely innate.
A person could practice and improve control, but it was rare for their actual reserves to increase.
Its origin and workings were a mystery to everyone. Many who were born with holy power naturally became priests, but it wasn’t necessarily linked to faith.
‘It’s not like holy power increases from doing good deeds.’
This fact had been proven time and again.
Priests who lived saintly lives and strictly followed the teachings of their faith didn’t see significant increases in holy power.
As a result, not all priests were truly virtuous. Many simply kept up appearances for the sake of their reputation.
Yet Pionte’s holy power had grown noticeably. He used it daily to the point of exhaustion, so he didn’t seem to realize it himself.
‘He’s becoming an even more potent “infinite potion.” It’d be a waste to let him go.’
Ghislain had originally intended to keep him around a bit longer before letting him leave, but the more he observed, the more he wanted to retain him.
At first, Pionte had pleaded daily to be released, but recently, his requests had become less frequent.
With this in mind, Ghislain decided to test him.
"Alright then, when do you want to leave? Shall I send you now? I’ll even arrange an escort."
"What?"
Pionte’s eyes widened in surprise.
He hadn’t expected Ghislain to agree so readily. He’d merely asked out of habit, expecting another refusal, as he had every other time.
He did want to leave, of course. But strangely, he hesitated.
‘If I leave... it’ll be harder for everyone here...’
Life here was tough. He wanted to escape.
But he knew there were many here who depended on him. Thinking of the people who were sick or struggling made it hard to say he was ready to leave.
The world outside his temple was a harsh place. Now that he understood that, he couldn’t just turn a blind eye.
He was, after all, a priest who had genuinely learned the meaning of the goddess’s compassion.
As he hesitated, Ghislain smiled.
‘Just as I thought—he’s still too innocent.’
Pionte had probably grown up studying religious doctrine in a sheltered environment. His naivety reflected that upbringing.
If Ghislain had met him a few years later, he would likely have become just another conventional priest.
After some contemplation, Pionte mumbled quietly.
"I’ll... stay a little longer and help out."
"Good choice."
Pionte, dejected, turned to leave and returned to his duties.
As soon as he was gone, Ghislain pulled a piece of paper from his desk, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Since he wants to stay, I’ll just have to help him out. I’m a considerate person, after all."
Ghislain carefully began writing a letter.
> Dear Bishop Forisco of the Juana Order,
>
> ...Regrettably, the priest of the goddess Juana, Pionte, who had come to assist me, perished after being struck by enemy fireballs 26 times. Not even a trace of his body could be recovered... On behalf of my territory, I offer my deepest condolences and humble apologies...
Bishop Forisco was Pionte’s direct superior, the one who had sent him here in the first place.
Pausing in his writing, Ghislain tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Twenty-six times—is that too much? Would he not survive that?"
Even a sturdy knight would likely perish if hit by 26 fireballs head-on.
While holy power was good for defense, Ghislain’s standards might have been too high.
"Maybe this isn’t quite right."
He tore the letter in half.
While he typically preferred declaring someone dead and detaining them permanently, he felt uneasy about doing that to Pionte, who was innocent and good-hearted.
But he’d already held onto Pionte for several months. If he waited too long, someone from the Juana Order would inevitably come looking.
In that case, Pionte would be forced to leave.
"Hmm, I can’t rely on the Crown Prince’s faction for this."
Religious orders were notoriously insular and authoritative—so much so that even kingdoms treaded carefully around them.
If he tried to pressure the Order through the nobility of the Crown Prince’s faction, it would only create more problems.
In fact, Marquis Branford, his ally, would likely refuse such a request.
"So there’s only one clean solution."
The best option would be to
have the Order itself willingly send Pionte.
He needed to travel to the capital soon anyway, and this seemed like an opportunity to handle several matters at once.
Without delay, Ghislain summoned Lowell. Like Claude, Lowell was cunning and well-versed in scheming.
When Lowell arrived, Ghislain wasted no time.
"Lowell, we’re going to the capital together."
"Now, sir?"
"Yes. Let’s go with the caravan delivering our cosmetics."
"What for?"
Ghislain gestured for Lowell to come closer and whispered a few details.
With a sly grin, Lowell nodded a few times and replied, "Understood. I’ll prepare immediately."
"Good. Let’s get going soon."
With minimal fuss, Ghislain and Lowell packed and set out for the capital.
Since they were traveling with a cosmetics caravan bound for the Branford Marquisate, they had ample guards and faced no opposition.
When Ghislain personally brought the cosmetics, Rosalyn was visibly shocked.
"Baron, I never expected you to come in person! Just what were you thinking with that war..."
Sensing an incoming lecture, Ghislain cut her off smoothly.
"Thank you for sending those people. They’ve been very helpful."
"So they’re still in Fenris?"
"Yes. They were so thoughtful—they offered to help with the territory’s affairs for a few years before leaving. So you don’t need to worry about them."
Rosalyn tilted her head in confusion.
Offering a bit of help was one thing. But for several years? Who volunteers for unpaid service for years? All ten of them?
"Is the priest here as well? Oh, let’s continue inside; I’ve been meaning to ask you many things, including that drought prediction..."
"No, I’m quite busy. I’ll visit again later. The payment is settled, right?"
‘This guy never talks to me about anything but money.’
Rosalyn felt deflated. While the capital had been in an uproar over the war, Ghislain, the one responsible for it, seemed as if he had just taken a casual stroll.
Sighing, Rosalyn hid her face with her fan.
"Yes, the payment is secure! Do I look like the kind to shortchange you?! How dare you!"
"Why are you so angry? It’s just habit. Ahem, good to see you’re as fiery as ever. I’ll be back next time."
Ghislain quickly made his exit, leaving Rosalyn to fume.
"Am I really that insufferable?"
She knew she’d been overbearing during her treatment. Reflecting on it, she had indeed been unbearable at times.
Yet, Ghislain’s manners still felt lacking. If he had half the manners of the capital’s young nobles and knights, she would’ve been more pleased.
"Then again, it suits him."
Chuckling bitterly, Rosalyn shook her head and returned to her residence.
Meanwhile, Ghislain sought out Meriel. Like Rosalyn, she was happy to see him and eager to ask questions, but at his insistence, they kept the conversation brief.
"You want to meet Bishop Forisco?"
"Yes. They say it’s hard to get a meeting with him, so please help me arrange it as soon as possible."
"Alright, since it’s you, I’ll set it up quickly. Just wait a few days."
Ghislain didn’t have to wait long. Thanks to Meriel, he soon met the bishop of the Juana Order.
Seated in a position of authority, Bishop Forisco looked down at Ghislain with an air of condescension.
The man was large, his body so bloated he could barely move. His image was starkly different from Pionte’s.
"So, what did you want to discuss with me?"
