NOVPUBThose loyal to the Archbishop couldn’t hold back any longer and pointed accusing fingers at Porisco, shouting at him.
“A man cannot receive divine revelations! The scriptures say that only a holy woman can do so! How could a bishop of your standing not know this?”
“And it’s not as if you’ve done any work to spread the will of the goddess or preach her gospel! You’ve only taken bribes!”
“Honestly, if we look at how you’ve lived, it’s a wonder you even became a bishop! Where’s your conscience? This doesn’t even need further review!”
To be recognized as a saint required fulfilling specific criteria—none of which Porisco met. Out of all the clerics present, he was undoubtedly the most corrupt, known for taking bribes and committing countless misdeeds. Others had turned a blind eye because they were all guilty to some degree, but accepting him as a saint was simply out of the question. Letting someone like him hold that title would be a sign that the end of days was near.
Of course, those who followed Porisco argued vehemently that he deserved sainthood.
“What? If someone who received a revelation isn’t a saint, then who is?”
“This is what everyone wants!”
“How dare you disrespect the divine will? You took bribes too!”
The clerics argued endlessly like noble politicians, hurling insults at each other. The dispute was so intense that it seemed as if the church might split in two.
Ultimately, Porisco begrudgingly stepped back. Despite his greed, he knew when to retreat.
“Hmm, it’s still too soon, it seems. I need a little more time. Once I have the church’s backing, the royal court will support me too.”
Gaining recognition from both the church and the kingdom required overwhelming influence. Becoming a saint was not a task to be achieved quickly. Most saints were canonized posthumously.
“Damn it. If only I could wield divine power like a holy maiden, it would be so much easier....”
It was disappointing, but he didn’t feel defeated. The capital’s followers now praised him, and the Archbishop would no longer dare touch him. His popularity had grown far too vast for anyone to challenge him now.
“Whew, it’s as if the goddess herself saved me in my darkest hour. Or rather... that brat saved me. Damn it! I really need to get that contract back for peace of mind.”
Thanks to that brat, he’d survived, but he’d lost his wealth to Baron Fenris and had given up his pride. Now, he was forced into the role of a "pious" man.
With a slight sense of victory, Porisco found himself thinking strange thoughts.
“Living honestly...? Me? Have I gone mad?”
Ever since meeting Ghislain, something had changed within him.
---
“Well, I figured sainthood was out of reach,” Ghislain chuckled upon hearing the news.
Becoming a saint was hardly a simple matter. If it were easy, every random noble or commoner would hold that title.
Envy and jealousy ran deep, especially among the clergy, who, despite their position and honor, lacked the power that nobles wielded. It was unlikely that they would have agreed to Porisco’s sainthood, even if they had to resort to tarnishing his reputation themselves.
“In a few years, though, he could become Archbishop without much trouble.”
The current Archbishop’s influence had plummeted, while Porisco’s had soared. 𝓷ℴ𝓋𝓅𝓊𝒷.𝒸𝓸𝓶
“Once he’s Archbishop... I’ll have him designate a diocese, dispatch priests and knights...”
Ghislain had plans that would surely drive Porisco to the brink, squeezing every ounce of power from him.
“Well, that’s one thing sorted. Now...”
With his business at the capital almost concluded, there was someone Ghislain wanted to meet.
He would have needed to come to the capital eventually after the war, but since he was here now for Piote’s assignment, he figured he might as well get it over with.
“Time to pay a visit to the Marquis. I’m sure he’s heard plenty about me by now.”
The uproar wasn’t limited to the church; the nobility in the capital was also in an uproar over Ghislain’s actions.
“A divine revelation? Predicting a drought? More ridiculous rumors! That devil bird must be a dark sorcerer!”
The kingdom’s Supreme Commander, Marquis Maurice McQuarrie, had nearly spat out his drink upon hearing the latest rumors. As much as he was a superstitious man, even he found it hard to believe.
Already, a wave of unbelievable tales about the Baron Fenris had hit the capital, fueled by reports on the war.
“Flying machines? Knights dropping from the sky? They’re saying that brat’s a Swordmaster? Are you kidding me? Is there a single story about him that makes sense? There’s not one!”
Despite firsthand accounts from those who had fought against Fenris, nobles from other regions still couldn’t believe it. Each rumor defied common sense.
Naturally, the intelligence agents tasked with gathering information on Ghislain bore the brunt of their masters’ frustrations.
“That brat’s manipulating information! He’s spreading outrageous rumors to confuse everyone! Bribe those officials over there and get some reliable information!”
It wasn’t just Marquis Maurice feeling this way. Nobles across the capital were busy with heated debates that ultimately led nowhere.
“Baron Fenris isn’t even a priest or a holy maiden—how could he have received a revelation? It’s another baseless rumor!”
“Oh, really? Then how do you explain him stockpiling food before the drought? It makes perfect sense if it was a revelation!”
“Oh, so now you’re saying he can fly and is a Swordmaster because the goddess empowered him? Think logically!”
“Why is that impossible? The goddess could certainly grant the power of flight and strength! And she could’ve told him to stockpile food!”
“Our intelligence agents already analyzed this! He was just lucky that his immigration plans coincided with the drought. It’s all nonsense!”
“Climate change is real!”
And so the unchecked rumors spread like wildfire, dominating the discussions at noble gatherings. Ghislain’s name was on everyone’s lips.
At an exclusive noble gathering for successful investors, Mariel turned to Rosalyn.
“A while ago, they said he flew, or that he was a Master. Now they’re claiming he had a divine revelation? Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Yes, he’s probably just pulling another one of his insane stunts.”
“Honestly, it’s impossible to predict what he’ll do next. ‘Saint Baron Fenris’? Isn’t that hilarious?”
“A saint obsessed with money? In what world does that exist?”
Rosalyn pursed her lips in annoyance. She knew well that giving away that much food would cost a fortune, but she doubted Ghislain had done it at a loss.
“He must have had a motive. I’m sure he got something in return. Most likely, he squeezed it out of Bishop Porisco.”
The fact was undeniable: Ghislain’s popularity was reaching new heights.
Everyone in the capital was either gossiping about Porisco and Ghislain or the strange rumors, which was giving Marquis Branford a headache.
“Ghislain, Ghislain... Even the intelligence agents are getting worn out trying to make sense of all this. From manipulating war rumors to boosting Porisco—a greedy opportunist—what is he up to?”
In their relentless attempts to confirm the truth, intelligence agents were exhausting themselves, generating endless stacks of reports. Even those reporting on the situation were at their wits’ end.
Then, in the midst of the chaos, the man himself showed up at Marquis Branford’s residence.
The fact that Ghislain hadn’t stopped by first and only visited once he’d finished all his other business spoke volumes. He was as brazen as ever.
“Marquis, good to see you! Here I am!”
Branford greeted Ghislain with a stern expression, unimpressed by the cheerful, friendly tone.
“Seems like you’re quite the celebrity. What’s your game this time? You’re not one to act without a reason.”
“Oh, just a bit of charity work. People are struggling these days.”
“You? Doing charity? Without asking for anything in return? And with Porisco? Does that make any sense?”
“I’m called ‘Saint’ these days, Marquis. Haven’t you heard?”
“...”
Branford instinctively rubbed his temples. Ghislain had always been troublesome, but now he had popularity too.
“He’s becoming harder and harder to manage.”
Then again, had he ever truly managed him?
With a sigh, Branford feigned a look of anger.
“Fine. Let’s say your charity is genuine. I told you not to cause trouble, but you went ahead and did something huge. The Duke’s faction won’t stand for this.”
“Didn’t you anticipate this? That’s why you sent the Second Corps. Admit it, you were pleased with the outcome.”
It was true; Branford had been pleased with the victory. The news had uplifted the royal faction, which had been overshadowed by the Duke’s faction.
Branford smirked at Ghislain’s audacious words.
“Alright, it wasn’t bad. But thanks to you, all the intelligence agents are struggling.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“With the rumors about a revelation and the strange war tactics, it’s a lot to keep up with. I think it’s best to hear it directly from you. How did you manage to seize the castle so quickly?”
Ghislain, not one to hide things, replied confidently.
“I’ll be honest, Marquis. I used a flying device to infiltrate the enemy’s castle with 100 knights. We took down the gate guards
in a surprise attack, and I broke through the main gate myself. The rest was easy.”
“...”
It was the same account the intelligence agents had gathered, the same outlandish story.
When Branford remained silent, Ghislain continued with a grin.
“Anything else you’re curious about?”
“You flew... with knights? A hundred knights?”
“Yes!”
“And the gate? How did you break it?”
“I broke it myself.”
“On your own...?”
“Indeed!”
“...”
Everyone knew Baron Fenris had no knights, yet Ghislain claimed he had one hundred. The idea of flying was so outlandish it didn’t seem worth debating.
And singlehandedly breaching a thick gate? That was something only two people in the kingdom could do: Count Balzac, a Swordmaster, and the captain of the Royal Knights.
Branford let out a long sigh.
“Alright, that’ll do. Consider it a military secret. I’ll tell everyone to stop investigating.”
“Seems I’m not very trustworthy, then.”
Ghislain smirked.
“Right... Is there anything else you need?”
“Since you ask... yes, I could use a certain title.”
Branford raised an eyebrow.
This rogue, notorious for dodging responsibility, was now asking for an official title? He already had a nominal role as the logistics overseer for the northern forces.
“What position are you asking for?”
“Appoint me as the Commander of the Northern Army.”
“...”
Branford was speechless.
As always, Ghislain had come to ask for something big.
