Chapter 219: How Many Issues Did You Handle? (1)

The followers of the Archbishop could not hold back, rising from their seats to point fingers at Forisco and shouting.

"Men cannot receive revelations! The scripture clearly states that only a saintess can! How can you, as a bishop, not know this?"

"Besides, you've never spread the Goddess's will or preached the gospel to the world! All you've done is take bribes!"

"Honestly, given your track record, it doesn't even make sense that you became a bishop in the first place! Have some conscience! There's no need for verification!"

To be recognized as a saint, several conditions needed to be met. Among them, Forisco didn't fulfill a single one.

Of all the clergy gathered in the chamber, Forisco had undoubtedly taken the most bribes and committed the most misdeeds.

The only reason he had gotten away with it was that others had committed some degree of wrongdoing themselves, turning a blind eye for mutual benefit.

But rotten as they were, they were still clergy. Recognizing someone like Forisco as a saint was utterly unacceptable. To them, it was nothing short of a harbinger of the world's end.

Of course, the bishops who supported Forisco argued vehemently in his favor.

"What? If someone who has received a revelation isn't a saint, then who is?"

"This is what everyone is hoping for!"

"Blasphemous fools defying the will of the Goddess! Haven't you taken bribes yourselves?"

The priests bickered like politicians, slandering one another for days. The arguments became so heated that the church itself seemed on the verge of splitting in two.

In the end, Forisco clicked his tongue and took a step back. Greedy as he was, even he knew when to yield.

'Hmm, I guess it's still too early for this. I'll need more time. The church's recognition is necessary before the royal family will lend their support.'

For this plan to work, he needed the approval of both the church and the kingdom. Achieving near-unanimous influence would be essential.

Becoming a saint was not a trivial task. It required overwhelming support, which often took years to build. Most saints were only elevated posthumously.

'Tch, if only I could display divine power as overwhelming as that of a saintess…'

While it was frustrating, Forisco wasn't overly discouraged.

The faithful of the capital were already praising and following him. The Archbishop could no longer touch him; his popularity had grown too vast.

'Phew, it's like the Goddess herself saved me at the brink of death. Or… maybe that brat saved me. Damn it! I really need to retrieve that contract to feel at ease.'

Thanks to that brat, he had escaped death but had lost his wealth to Baron Fenris and had even given him leverage. He had effectively been forced into a life of false piety.

Still, if he kept up this newfound 'virtuous' life, he might eventually earn the title of saint.

For a moment, Forisco felt a strange sense of unease.

'Live virtuously? Me? Am I out of my mind?'

It seemed like he had changed ever since meeting that brat.

***

"Well, I figured becoming a saint would be tough," Ghislain said with a smirk after hearing the news.

If becoming a saint were that easy, everyone would be walking around with the title.

Human envy and jealousy were far more terrifying than one might expect. Especially for priests—people of prestige but without the same level of power as nobles—they were even more so.

There was no way they would readily agree to Forisco's appointment as a saint. Even priests from other denominations spread malicious gossip about Forisco, not wanting a saint to appear.

"Still, give it a few years, and becoming Archbishop shouldn't be too hard."

The current Archbishop had rapidly lost influence, while Forisco's had grown to unparalleled levels.

Barring any major mistakes, the church's operations would soon be entirely under Forisco's faction's control.

"Once he becomes Archbishop… I'll have him designate a parish, send more priests, and assign temple knights too."

If Forisco heard Ghislain's plans, he would probably have an aneurysm, but Ghislain was determined to milk him dry.

"Well, that settles things on this front…"

While in the capital, there was someone Ghislain needed to meet.

He would have had to visit eventually once the war ended, but since he was already here for Piote's matter, it was better to handle it now and save time.

"Shall I go see the Marquis? He must've heard plenty about me by now."

The chaos wasn't limited to the church. The nobles residing in the capital were abuzz with chatter about Ghislain's antics.

"A divine revelation? He predicted a drought with that? Another baseless rumor involving that damn duck? That guy must be a dark mage!"

Marquis Maurice Macquarie, commander-in-chief of the royal army, shouted in shock upon hearing the news. As superstitious as he was, even he found it hard to believe.

The capital had already been shaken once by wild stories about how Fenris won the war.

"A flying machine? Knights dropping from the skies? That duck is a Swordmaster now? What kind of nonsense is this? Why is every rumor about him so absurd? Can't we get one straightforward story?"

There were vivid accounts from Cabaldi soldiers who had fought Fenris, but nobles from other regions, hearing the tales secondhand, refused to believe them.

Each story defied all sense of logic and reason.

Naturally, the intelligence officers collecting the information were constantly berated.

"He's spreading misinformation! To confuse us further, he's planting outlandish rumors! Go bribe their officials if you have to—just bring me reliable information!"

While the truth about the war remained murky, rumors of divine revelations and sainthood were now spreading, leaving Maurice venting his frustration on his subordinates.

It wasn't just Maurice. Nobles across the capital wasted their time in meaningless debates amid the chaos.

"He's neither a priest nor a saintess. How could Baron Fenris receive a revelation? It must be another baseless rumor!"

"Oh? Then how do you explain his preparation for the drought? Doesn't it make perfect sense if it was through a revelation?"

"Are you going to claim the flying machines and Swordmaster nonsense were also divine blessings? Think rationally, for heaven's sake!"

"Why doesn't it make sense? The Goddess could make him fly, give him strength, and even tell him to stockpile food!"

"Haven't our intelligence officers already analyzed this? It was sheer luck, aligning with a resettlement plan. It's all nonsense!"

"Climate change is real!"

Thus, unverified rumors spread like wildfire. Every noble gathering was filled with chatter about Ghislain.

At an investment success gathering, Mariel asked Rozalin, "Recently, there were rumors about him flying and being a Master, and now they're saying it's a divine revelation? It must be a lie, right?"

"Yes, he must be up to some crazy scheme again."

"Honestly, it's impossible to keep up with his antics. 'Saint Baron Fenris'? That's hilarious."

"A saint obsessed with money? Where does that exist?"

Recalling her previous experiences, Rozalin pouted. She was certain the food distribution had cost a fortune.

However, knowing Ghislain's personality, she was confident he hadn't incurred any losses.

'He must have had something to gain. He probably got back everything he spent, and then some. Likely by squeezing Bishop Forisco dry.'

One thing was clear: Ghislain's popularity had skyrocketed beyond comparison to before.

With everyone in the capital gossiping about Forisco and Ghislain, Marquis Branford was left with a pounding headache.

"Ghislain, Ghislain. That bastard has even the intelligence officers wasting their efforts. First, he spread bizarre rumors about the war, and now he's propping up a greedy idiot like Forisco? What on earth is he trying to achieve?"

As intelligence agents scrambled to verify the rumors, the paperwork continued piling up.

Naturally, those reporting and verifying the information were equally exasperated.

In the midst of this chaos, the subject of the rumors himself suddenly visited Marquis Branford.

He hadn't bothered to pay respects upon arriving in the capital and only came leisurely after finishing his own business. He was as audacious as ever.

"Marquis! It's been a while! I'm here!" Ghislain greeted cheerfully, like a friend visiting for tea. Marquis Branford, wearing a stern expression, asked.

"You're quite popular these days. What are you up to? You're not one to act without reason."

"I've been doing some charity work. Times are tough, after all."

"Charity work? You? Without expecting anything in return? And with Forisco of all people? Does that make any sense?"

"My current nickname is Saint, you know. Haven't you heard?"

"…"

Marquis Branford unconsciously rubbed his temples. This troublemaker had now gained popularity, making him even harder to handle.

'He's becoming increasingly uncontrollable.'

Then again, had he ever been controllable?

With a sigh, Marquis Branford feigned anger as he asked, "Fine. Let's set the charity work aside. I told you not to cause trouble, and yet you've stirred up a massive one. The Duke's faction won't sit idly by."

"You expected that, didn't you? That's why you sent the 2nd Corps. Honestly, weren't you pleased?"

He wasn't wrong. The victory had indeed lifted the royalist faction's morale, which had been overshadowed by the Duke's faction.

Branford chuckled at Ghislain's boldness. "Yes, I can't deny that. But your antics have all the intelligence officers in the capital running in circles."

"For what reason?"

"Both the revelations and the war-related issues. It's better to ask you directly: how did you take that castle so quickly?"

In response, Ghislain answered boldly, with nothing to hide. "Since it's you, Marquis, I'll be honest. I built a flying machine, entered the enemy castle with 100 knights, eliminated the guards at the gate, broke down the gate myself, and then allowed our forces to sweep in and finish them off."

"…"

It matched the bizarre reports from the intelligence officers. Those absurd rumors.

When Marquis Branford remained silent, Ghislain asked cautiously, "Is there… anything else you'd like to know?"

"…You flew into the castle? With knights? A hundred knights?"

"Yes!"

"And you broke down the gate?"

"I did it alone."

"Alone…?"

"Indeed!"

"…"

Everyone knew Fenris had no knights. Yet now he claimed to have had 100—a number only great lords could muster.

Flying was too preposterous to even discuss.

And breaking a thick castle gate single-handedly? In the kingdom, only two individuals, Count Balzac and the Royal Knight Commander, bore the title of Master and might be capable of such a feat.

'And even that isn't confirmed. No one has seen it firsthand.'

Those two had only reached such heights of skill after decades of experience. For someone of Ghislain's age, it was unthinkable.

"Pfft!"

Toleo, the commander of the Marquis's knights, couldn't help but burst into laughter.

When Branford glared at him, Toleo quickly straightened up and apologized. "…My apologies."

Marquis Branford had rarely been caught off guard in his life, but ever since meeting Ghislain, he'd been frequently flustered.

Rubbing his temples once more, he shook his head and said, "Fine. It must be a military secret, and you don't want to disclose the truth. I won't press further, as the Duke's faction could use it to devise countermeasures. I'll instruct the agents to stop investigating."

'…So you don't trust me as much as I thought.'

Ghislain clicked his tongue inwardly.

The truth would come out eventually. The airship was soon to be used for transportation and reconnaissance within his territory. The knights' activities would only spread their fame further.

Since it would all become known, he had never intended to keep it a secret.

But given how absurd it sounded by current standards, even when he told the truth, no one believed him.

'They'll figure it out when they see it themselves. And as for my strength… no, they might keep doubting that too.'

Since he was only a half-fledged Master, even Ghislain couldn't use his abilities freely. Nor did he intend to advertise them openly.

Who cared whether others believed him or not? He wasn't doing this to win anyone's approval.

Unaware of Ghislain's thoughts, Marquis Branford sighed and cut to the chase. "You're not here just for pleasantries. So, what do you need this time?"

"As expected, Marquis, you're straightforward. I like that. I'd like you to grant me a position."

Marquis Branford tilted his head in confusion.

This was someone who hated being tied down, suddenly asking for a position. Moreover, he technically already had a title—the nominal role of Northern Military Support Manager.

"What position are you asking for?"

"Appoint me as the Commander of the Northern Army."

"…"

Marquis Branford was speechless.

As always, Ghislain had come to ask for something monumental.

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