Chapter 216: Did You Like the Donation? (2)
The man approaching with a broad smile was none other than Ghislain.
Porisco instinctively averted his gaze and quickly began calculating.
‘What... what on earth is this lunatic thinking?’
He had just turned an ordinary person into a saint out of nowhere. And not just any saint, but a fake one who supposedly received a revelation from a goddess—despite being male.
It would likely go down in history as the first of its kind. No exaggeration; this would genuinely be recorded in the annals of history.
He wanted to shout out and berate Ghislain for this madness on the spot, but...
‘T-there are too many eyes on us!’
It was a tricky situation. He needed to reveal the truth, but his mouth wouldn’t open.
The gazes of the impoverished masses and the temple knights fixed on him were sparkling, full of admiration. It was as if their adoration was dripping with sweetness.
‘Is... is this... the power of a saint?’
A part of him wanted to bask in that reverent gaze even more. Had he never tasted it before, he might have been able to ignore it. But now that he had, he didn’t want to return to a dreary life of dissatisfaction.
‘But is this really okay? Won’t this cause trouble later? It feels like the entire capital already knows about me...’
His rational mind warned him against this, but his greedy, selfish desire kept urging him to embrace it.
Then, suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind.
In his excitement, he had momentarily forgotten his own circumstances. But now, seeing the situation clearly, he realized this was a golden opportunity.
‘If I can just maintain this public sentiment... the Archbishop won’t be able to touch me! It’ll guarantee me as the next Archbishop!’
If the rumors of him being a saint spread even further, the Archbishop wouldn’t dare to excommunicate him. In fact, they wouldn’t even be able to lay a finger on him.
However, since he didn’t fully understand how this situation had come to be, it would be dangerous to simply assume everything would go well. Porisco’s mind began racing with calculations.
“Saint? You don’t look too well,” Ghislain said, his tone laced with concern as he drew closer.
When Ghislain approached, the temple knights stepped in front of Porisco to block his path.
Seeing this, Ghislain spoke in a slightly troubled tone.
“Hmm, I was going to discuss future donations... but should I just leave?”
“N-not at all! Baron, you’ve helped me accomplish something great; I wouldn’t dare ignore you. What are you all doing? This is Baron Fenris! Escort him to the temple immediately!” Porisco commanded.
At his words, the temple knights gave Ghislain a slight bow and stepped aside.
Before long, the two of them were riding in a luxurious carriage drawn by six white horses, heading toward the temple.
As they traveled, Ghislain, wearing a sly smile, asked mischievously,
“So... did you enjoy the donation? I spent quite a lot on my provisions, you know?”
Ghislain’s words left Porisco silent for a moment. He needed to understand his opponent’s intentions to avoid being led by the nose.
He did like donations, but not on this grandiose scale. The kind of donation he had in mind was far more modest—essentially a thinly veiled bribe.
‘What is this man thinking? I’ve heard he has ample provisions, but to spend so extravagantly in this situation? All for the sake of spreading rumors like this? Why?’
Porisco was inherently suspicious and greedy. He had clawed his way up to the position of bishop through deceit and political maneuvering.
Although his current situation was precarious due to excessive greed and the Archbishop’s constant scrutiny, he wasn’t someone who could be easily fooled.
A man who had once aimed for the position of Archbishop and even formed his own faction within the massive religious order was not one to be underestimated.
Porisco stared at Ghislain silently, his gaze filled with suspicion.
“There’s no need to be so wary,” Ghislain said, breaking the silence. “I only wanted to help you, Bishop.”
“Help... me?”
“Yes. You’ve been in quite a difficult position lately, haven’t you? I hear your relationship with the Archbishop isn’t exactly amicable.”
‘What is this? How does this young pup from the North know about that? Did one of the nobles in the Royal Faction tell him?’
Porisco had been diligently bribing nobles, so it wasn’t implausible that rumors had spread.
He had bribed them to sway public opinion, knowing he couldn’t ignore their influence. However, the Archbishop’s power overshadowed his efforts, rendering them largely ineffective.
“Who told you that...?” Porisco asked cautiously.
“Oh, I just picked it up while spending a few days in the capital.”
Ghislain knew Porisco’s situation well—not due to any memories from a past life, but because he understood the value of information.
Ghislain had stationed numerous spies in the capital. Based on the intelligence they gathered, he had devised a new plan.
Under Ghislain’s direction, his intelligence officer Lowell had fabricated rumors and incited the public, crafting the current situation.
Watching Porisco’s lingering distrust, Ghislain continued, “The rumors will lose their momentum with time. Many people still have their doubts. Missing this opportunity won’t do you any good.”
Porisco’s lips twitched at those words.
‘No, that can’t happen.’
That would truly be the end for him. Beyond losing his life, what if the Archbishop secured the grain and was praised as a saint?
The mere thought of it filled him with envy. Even in death, he wouldn’t find peace.
Cold sweat dripped down Porisco’s face as he deliberated. If he accepted, he’d become this man’s dog. If he refused, he’d die.
But he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live, to claim the Archbishop’s seat for himself.
And more than anything, he wanted to keep being called a saint. That experience had been the pinnacle of his life.
What if he could continue basking in such glory? What if the rumors continued to spread and his fame extended beyond the kingdom?
‘The Archbishop isn’t the problem. If I get rid of the man in front of me, no one will dare touch me. I could be treated as an equal to the Saintess herself!’
Ghislain watched Porisco’s eyes dart back and forth as he wrestled with his thoughts, silently laughing to himself.
‘Greed is practically oozing out of him. He’s dying to have it all, isn’t he? Still, he’s a cautious one, full of doubt. Not the easiest to handle.’
Initially, Ghislain hadn’t intended to go this far. He had merely planned to offer a reasonable reward and secure Piote for now.
To prepare for the upcoming turmoil, the Church’s power was indeed necessary. However, Ghislain had already marked another sinful priest as his candidate.
But upon learning of Porisco’s circumstances, he decided to modify his plans and expedite them.
As Porisco deliberated and stole glances at Ghislain, his mind racing, he finally let out a heavy sigh.
‘If I refuse, there’s no way to resolve the current situation. Even if I save my life, with the Archbishop’s temperament, excommunication is inevitable. But if I let this guy get a hold of my weakness...’
Just as his thoughts wavered back and forth, a monk’s voice was heard from outside.
“Bishop, Count Norton has arrived to see you.”
“What?”
Billow Norton, the eldest son of the Kingdom’s Chancellor and elder brother to the Marchioness of Branford. In other words, he was Rosalyn’s maternal uncle and a key figure among the Royal Faction’s nobles.
“Ah, quickly, show him in!”
Although he had a guest, Billow was not someone Porisco could treat lightly.
Not only was his family renowned, but Billow himself served as the Chief Justice of the capital and was effectively the leader of the royal officials, making his influence formidable.
After a brief formal exchange of greetings, Billow turned his gaze to Ghislain and feigned surprise.
“Oh, isn’t this Baron Fenris? What brings you to the temple?”
“It has been a while, Count. I was discussing with the Bishop how we might assist those in need.”
“Ha, to think someone as young as you harbors such noble intentions. Truly a blessing for the Kingdom. Coincidentally, I came to see the Bishop regarding royal matters.”
Porisco blinked in confusion at the mention of royal matters.
Royal matters? What business could the royal family possibly have with him?
‘Could it be...? Because of the rumors? Has the royal family already sought me out?’
If he were officially recognized as a saint, the Kingdom would undoubtedly support him. A saint’s presence would prevent even other kingdoms from acting recklessly.
And indeed, Billow began to speak bluntly about the benefits Porisco could receive.
“...If the Bishop is acknowledged as a saint by the Church, the royal family will have a reliquary crafted from dragon bone, one of the royal treasures, to house the Bishop’s sacred body and blood. Additionally, the palace will prepare a private chamber exclusively for your use. Furthermore, a grand cathedral named after you will be constructed on new grounds...”
Porisco nearly lost his senses at the overwhelming proposal. Compared to this, every bribe he’d received until now seemed like mere pocket change.
He should have been living with such privileges all along. Half of his life felt wasted.
Glancing briefly at Ghislain, Porisco saw him smiling warmly, bowing his head slightly.
“Congratulations. Your name will now spread across the entire Kingdom. So then... shall we continue the donations according to the ‘Revelation,’ Saint Porisco?”
‘Heh, heh-heh-heh, I was so desperate that I nearly forgot how great an opportunity this is.’
The title of saint was something one might not receive even after a lifetime of healing the poor with divine power.
This was largely due to the prevailing notion that divine power should be used selflessly for others.
But no priest had the patience to spend their entire life toiling among the destitute and living in hardship.
Thus, the path to sainthood was arduous and filled with suffering, and even then, the title was usually granted posthumously.
‘But now I can gain the title of saint this quickly and easily? A title received after death is useless. I need to enjoy it while alive!’
Even if he couldn’t officially receive the title due to opposition from other bishops, it didn’t matter. Just the rumor of being a saint was enough to ensure his survival and secure the position of Archbishop.
‘I’ve been overthinking this out of doubt. If I can firmly claim the Archbishop’s seat and gain the support of the royal family and nobility... I can deal with that guy later.’
There was no need to foolishly hesitate. His life was the most important thing. For now, he needed to overcome the immediate crisis.
Porisco smiled benevolently at Ghislain and spoke.
“I will gladly accept the donations, Baron Fenris.”
For now, he decided to join hands with Ghislain.