NOVPUBPorisco cast a haughty gaze over Ghislain, sizing him up from head to toe.
"So, this whelp is the so-called rising star of the North? The one they’re calling a ‘Divine Figure’? Just some young fool basking in glory thanks to Marquis Branford."
He'd heard the rumors of the recent war victory, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it had been a stroke of luck, perhaps due to the drought.
"If he were truly remarkable, Countess Aylesbur and Lady Branford wouldn't have had to rush to send a priest his way."
Porisco’s narrow view of the world made him prone to judging others by the little he knew. Gossip among the nobles and Ghislain's humble northern origins only served to reinforce his prejudices.
"If it weren't for Marquis Branford and Countess Aylesbur, he wouldn't even have had the nerve to stand before me."
To make matters worse, Porisco bore the weight of the Church’s influence, making him a force to reckon with among the nobility. As a bishop, he wielded enough authority to command respect from the aristocracy, so disregarding a young baron felt like second nature.
However, Porisco's disdain for Ghislain stemmed from another, more personal source.
"A vulgar fellow who peddles cosmetics... those very cosmetics that cut into our profits!"
The Church of Juana, goddess of beauty, had long been profiting from offering beauty rituals through holy powers to many nobles, receiving a steady stream of donations in return. But with new cosmetics on the market that offered superior results at a fraction of the price, the Church's income had taken a hit. Naturally, this meant less lining Porisco’s own pockets, which explained his openly displeased expression during their first meeting.
Despite the contempt in Porisco's face, Ghislain showed no reaction. He merely offered a slight bow and presented a box.
"I am Baron Fenris. Priest Piote, whom you sent, has been a great help to my territory. This gift is a token of my appreciation."
Porisco’s eyes flickered with greed as he peeked into the box to find it brimming with precious jewels. Although accustomed to receiving such offerings, the sight still brought a satisfied smile to his face.
His initial annoyance toward Ghislain began to soften slightly.
"The Countess Aylesbur has already made substantial contributions on your behalf. If you're offering even more, surely you must have something in mind?"
The comment came with the ease of a man well-versed in the art of accepting bribes, understanding the unspoken rule of reciprocity.
Ghislain, catching the hint, responded with a slight smile.
"Indeed. Our lands have faced hardship, and many of my people are struggling. I hope to unite their hearts through faith."
"Ah, so you'd like a new parish established in your territory?"
"Precisely. We don't yet have a formal Church presence."
"The North, as I understand it, has few followers of Juana. Aren’t most there devoted to other deities?"
Juana was the goddess presiding over abundance, productivity, economy, justice, talent, and social order. She also symbolized beauty and luxury, making her highly favored among the nobles, merchants, and officials. In other words, she held little appeal for the struggling populace of the barren North.
Unfazed by Porisco's remark, Ghislain answered calmly.
"They’re merely believers in name. Now that we have Priest Piote, who wields genuine holy power, true followers of Juana will increase quickly."
His words were partially true. Since Piote had arrived, more locals had begun to convert after witnessing his holy powers firsthand.
Porisco responded with a snide smirk.
"Hmph. The country bumpkin gets a taste of divine power and is instantly dazzled."
As a bishop, Porisco had encountered his share of rural lords pulling similar tricks. Just one priest in a territory could significantly improve the quality of life. Of course, priests were so rare that they were primarily the domain of the nobility.
Feigning contemplation, Porisco finally offered a dismissive answer.
"Building a whole parish might be a bit much. However, if a temple to Lady Juana were constructed, I could send a few minor clerics and missionaries."
"As if I’d let some country baron whisk a valuable priest away," he thought smugly.
Since he’d already received a bribe, a small favor wasn’t out of the question. But there was no way he’d leave Piote there permanently.
"Besides, he’s gained experience from being sent abroad. Imagine the wealth he could bring in from place to place."
Each priest was a veritable goose that laid golden eggs, especially one like Piote. Porisco was eager to milk his value to the fullest before he gained any higher rank.
Ghislain’s tone took on a hint of disappointment.
"Would you at least consider allowing Priest Piote to stay in our territory a bit longer?"
"Hmm, well, as long as you’re not trying to plant him there permanently... Ahem, that is to say, if it’s not an official assignment, a small donation could allow him to remain for another three months."
"A donation... very well."
As Ghislain made a move to leave, Porisco, slightly flustered, called out.
"Leaving already? Aren't you going to donate right now? Are you planning to send Piote back immediately?"
"No, when I make a donation, I make it properly. I'll return shortly with everything prepared."
At this, Porisco's smile widened with satisfaction.
"Yes, yes. Lady Juana favors devoted followers. I look forward to seeing your faith and sincerity. Be sure to come prepared."
He had already heard that Baron Fenris was swimming in supplies of food and iron. Porisco couldn't help but look forward to what impressive offerings might be coming his way.
The moment Ghislain left the temple, he turned to Lowell and instructed him.
"Begin the operation. Carry out the plan as discussed. Can you manage?"
"Of course. This is my specialty."
"Excellent. Let’s make sure that greedy fool is too overwhelmed to even think. Let’s show him a taste of paradise."
"Understood. He’ll truly feel like he’s in heaven."
Lowell and his soldiers spread out across the capital with plenty of food supplies in tow. Meanwhile, Ghislain took up residence in a previously acquired mansion known as the Crow Manor, issuing orders to his staff.
A week later, Porisco grew increasingly irritated, cursing Ghislain under his breath.
"That insolent wretch promised a donation but still hasn’t come by. Who does that rude bumpkin think he is? I'll send Piote back immediately."
He could only conclude that Ghislain had given up on the donation, unwilling to part with his money.
"Cheapskate. Does he even understand how hard it is to keep a priest around? And yet here I am, struggling with funds. How will I keep my allies greased with bribes?"
Porisco was currently in a tight spot. Locked in a bitter conflict with the Archbishop, he was losing ground rapidly, even facing the threat of excommunication. Rumors were spreading that the Archbishop planned to call a council to oust him.
Desperately, he’d been bribing other bishops and nobles, trying to sway opinion in his favor, but the situation remained dire.
"Curse it! We all skim, yet they single me out because I skimmed a little more!"
The donations he'd accepted from Baron Fenris were meant to be funneled into such efforts, but with Ghislain not showing up, that plan was as good as dead. Frustrated, Porisco dismissed Ghislain from his mind, forced a strained smile, and proceeded toward the assembly hall for the daily rites.
However, he couldn’t help but notice the temple attendants whispering and casting peculiar glances his way.
"What’s going on? Why are they looking at me like that? Almost as if I’m something... remarkable."
It was odd. Typically, their gazes carried fear and veiled disdain. But today, they seemed... different.
Quickening his pace, he began picking up on fragments of their hushed conversations.
"That’s... him."
"I can’t believe he hid it all this time...."
"It’s all over now... word’s been spreading since this morning...."
He couldn’t catch the entire conversation, but he managed to make out that something hidden had suddenly come to light.
"Is the Archbishop already moving against me? Manipulating the narrative to ruin me? If I’m excommunicated, I’m as good as dead. I need to act fast—either eliminate the Archbishop or... something."
In a daze, Porisco rushed through the ceremony, and then, desperate to understand what was going on, he stepped outside the temple for the first time in days. He'd been holed up inside, stewing in frustration and stress, unaware of recent developments.
Flanked by a few temple guards, Porisco felt an unusual atmosphere as he stepped out.
"It’s Bishop Porisco!"
"Oh, we misunderstood him... he’s truly a saint!"
"The saint of the slums!"
The people around began exclaiming loudly. These were the very people who once avoided him, looking away as if he were an eyesore.
Porisco had always openly prioritized the wealthy, ignoring the poor and sick entirely. His reputation for greed had even earned him the nickname "the covetous priest."
But he’d never cared. To him, these lowly commoners and his divine self were of different breeds entirely.
But now...
"A saint of the slums? Me?"
The title "saint" wasn’t given to just anyone. Only those who dedicated themselves entirely to others could earn such reverence
.
Porisco knew better than anyone how ludicrous it was to associate himself with the term. He hadn’t set foot in the slums except for once, begrudgingly, as a novice priest fulfilling a community service requirement.
How could someone as noble as he be expected to mingle in such filthy, malodorous places?
Still, he couldn’t ignore the shift in attitude.
"Take... take me to the slums."
The change in people's eyes and their deference unsettled him, making his voice waver.
"Prepare the carriage, quickly."
The slums were on the outskirts of the capital, far too distant for him to walk with his substantial frame.
Upon reaching the slums with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, Porisco was greeted by a startling sight.
"O saint! Our savior has come!"
"Bishop Porisco is here!"
"The savior of the poor has finally arrived!"
The crowds of impoverished people chattered loudly and pressed forward. For a moment, he took a step back, startled.
But the temple guards only smiled, making no move to hold back the approaching crowd.
"What... what are you doing? Stop these people..."
Porisco’s voice faltered as the poor suddenly knelt, offering praise.
"Thank you! Thank you, Bishop!"
"Thanks to you, my grandson will live!"
"Forgive me for cursing you before! I didn’t understand your true intentions!"
Some wept, others lifted praises, and one elderly man even crawled forward to kiss Porisco's foot.
The rapture of their reverence sent a shiver of thrill down his spine.
"This... this is it! This is what I’ve craved! This is what I lacked!"
As a priest, he was forbidden from marrying, unlike the other nobles who freely enjoyed power and control.
While he enjoyed fine clothes, lavish meals, and luxurious lodging, something was always missing. No matter how much wealth he amassed, he remained unsatisfied. Even his secret pleasures were indulged in only with caution.
But this... this was different. The people were sincerely worshiping him.
"I feel like a god!"
At last, Porisco felt a void within him fill.
Honor. True respect. A force beyond mere power.
He had awoken to a new, insatiable greed.
Satisfied, though still bewildered, Porisco sought clarity on what had brought about this sudden shift in perception.
"Why... why are they acting this way toward me?"
One of the temple guards responded, smiling with admiration.
"There's no point in hiding it now, my lord. Word has already spread throughout the capital. We all now understand the true depths of your intentions."
The guard’s gaze held a profound respect, and Porisco shook his head vigorously, pressing further.
"What... what rumor is this?"
"It’s said that your tireless hoarding of wealth was for this very purpose. You foresaw the drought in a divine revelation from the goddess, did you not?"
"Me? A revelation?"
Only a saint could receive divine messages. He, a mere priest, could not. He hadn’t even had so much as a fever dream.
But the temple guard continued, looking as though he were in on a well-kept secret.
"Yes. It’s said you foresaw the drought and saved up your wealth to buy food, which you then distributed to the poor. Thanks to your foresight, many have been saved. It was the word of the goddess; we understand why you kept it hidden."
None of it made sense. His accumulated wealth had been channeled into bribes, and he mourned every coin that left his secret coffers each morning.
In this economy, how could he have amassed enough food to supply the entire slums?
"Me... purchasing food?"
"Yes. Didn’t Baron Fenris arrive with an enormous supply of food at your request? Many witnessed it."
"Baron Fenris!"
The mention of Ghislain jolted Porisco from his thoughts.
So, the man who’d promised a substantial donation and then disappeared was behind this. Why had his name come up here?
As Porisco stood, face twisted with confusion, someone approached him from a distance.
"So... did you enjoy the donation, Saint Porisco?"
