Chapter 221: How Many Issues Did You Handle? (3)

The royal envoy who arrived at the northern fortress was Baron Andy Share, who had previously overseen the transport of supplies for Perdium.

With a bright smile, he greeted everyone.

"How have you been? I've come to deliver a royal decree."

Zwalter, wearing a somewhat grim expression, nodded and asked cautiously.

"What… What is it this time? Why is the royal family looking for me…"

Every time someone came looking for him, he couldn't help but flinch, fearing it might be news of another mess caused by his son. After hearing about the recent war, his anxiety had only worsened.

Noticing Zwalter's unease, Baron Share maintained his cheerful demeanor as he replied.

"As of today, you have been promoted to the rank of marquis. Congratulations."

Zwalter's face went blank for a moment as he processed the unexpected announcement, then he repeated in disbelief.

"A marquis? Me?"

"Yes, that's correct. Of course, your authority and duties to defend the border remain unchanged."

"But… why… all of a sudden…"

He hadn't accomplished anything particularly noteworthy, so the promotion left him puzzled.

Baron Share briefly explained the events leading up to this moment. Though the official reason was recognition for his years of service, the underlying implication—that he owed his promotion to his son—was clear to Zwalter.

"So… Ghislain… he became a count?"

"Yes, that's right. He is now Count Fenris."

Zwalter felt dizzy. That troublemaker had now become a distinguished high-ranking noble. Since the envoy was here in person, it had to be true, but it was still hard to believe.

Despite Perdium's dire circumstances and their inability to properly support him, Ghislain had achieved everything on his own. As a father, Zwalter felt both proud and overwhelmed.

In a daze, Zwalter completed the simple ennoblement ceremony. Even with royal acknowledgment, it still didn't feel real.

'Am I really… a marquis? Is it our family?'

For decades, he had lived as the poor count of the northern territories, as had his ancestors before him. But now, the world is changing far too quickly.

Even if it was only a title, it was something. Such accolades, accumulated over time, built authority.

Zwalter thought of his late father, who had constantly nagged him in life.

'Father, it seems my son may truly become the pride of our family.'

As Zwalter stood there, still dazed, his knight commander, Randolph, shouted loudly from the side.

"From now on, he is Marquis Perdium!"

"Waaaaah!"

The knights and soldiers let out a deafening cheer that seemed to shake the fortress.

To them, it felt as though their lord, who had long toiled to protect his people, had finally been recognized. They rejoiced as if it were their own achievement.

The fortress had been receiving nothing but good news recently. Their debt had been repaid, and now their lord had been elevated to marquis.

Everyone knew who had made this possible.

One knight raised his sword and shouted.

"Glory to Marquis Perdium!"

The other knights followed suit, raising their swords high. The soldiers lifted their spears and echoed the cheer in unison.

"Glory to Marquis Perdium!"

Thus, the northern fortress fell into a celebratory mood. Soon, word would reach the Perdium territory, and they, too, would hold a festival.

Such a day could not pass quietly. Regaining his composure, Zwalter announced confidently.

"Today, we'll leave only the minimum number of guards on duty and enjoy a banquet! We'll bring out the meat and wine we've been saving so everyone can eat and drink their fill!"

"Waaaaah!"

The soldiers cheered once more, the knights even louder.

After a relentless cycle of training and combat, their bodies were worn out. Eating and drinking their fill would be just what they needed to regain their strength.

Amidst the cheers, an administrative officer hurriedly approached Zwalter and whispered.

"My lord, we don't have any meat."

"What? Why? Why don't we have any?"

"We ran out a while ago. You know how scarce meat has become due to the recent drought."

"…Oh, really? I thought there was some left."

"The knight commander secretly ate what was left during his breaks. He said he couldn't stand eating just bread all the time. He also drank most of the remaining wine by himself."

"That bastard?"

Zwalter glared at Randolph, who was obliviously waving and smiling at him.

Suppressing the urge to pummel him, Zwalter spoke apologetically to everyone.

"It seems we're out of meat! Someone ate it all secretly… no, anyway, for today, we'll make do with bread and soup. I promise to secure more next time!"

"Aww…"

The knights and soldiers looked visibly disappointed.

Of course, they wouldn't have meat.

Even with our debts paid, even with plenty of food, and even as a marquis house… there's still something lacking in this territory.

***

As soon as Ghislain returned to his territory, he summoned Piote.

Piote arrived nervously and asked cautiously.

"The church… they haven't come looking for me, have they?"

"Well, they did, but the situation's a bit different now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"First, take this."

Without further explanation, Ghislain handed Piote a holy relic.

As Piote accepted the ring, he tilted his head and asked.

"What is this?"

"A ring. Its name is Juana's Blessing."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a holy relic of the Juana Church. I got it as a gift from Bishop Forisco."

"What?!"

Piote almost dropped the ring in shock. As a low-ranking priest, he wasn't even allowed to touch a holy relic.

During his training, he had only been allowed to see the relic storage once.

"W-why are you giving this to me? I can't keep something like this!"

"It's fine. I got permission, so don't worry. Just don't tell anyone else it's a holy relic. Only Bishop Forisco knows."

Piote, unable to understand the full situation, refused several times, but Ghislain insisted.

"Don't give it away, and don't lose it. Always wear it. Never let it leave your body. Got it?"

"Yes…"

If Ghislain had called it just a gift, Piote might have given it to someone in need. By revealing it as a relic and emphasizing its importance, Ghislain made sure Piote wouldn't lose it.

Still holding the ring carefully, Piote asked again, stealing glances at Ghislain.

"What do you mean by 'the situation is different now'? What's the church saying?"

"Well…"

Ghislain pulled out a permanent assignment letter and handed it to him.

Reading the letter, Piote's expression went blank, and he lowered his head. The contents made it seem like the church had abandoned him.

The gift of a holy relic felt like an unspoken order to stay here forever.

Watching him silently, Ghislain spoke slowly.

"If you want to leave, you can. I'll even assign an escort to ensure your safety."

"What?"

Piote looked up, startled.

The demon-like lord who had coerced him into staying and even secured a permanent assignment was now saying he could leave if he wanted—and would even provide protection?

"You're joking… right?"

"No, I'm serious. I went out of my way to get the assignment so you could choose freely. True choices require freedom."

"A choice?"

"Yes. What kind of life you want to live is up to you."

Ghislain meant it. When he recruited Gillian, he had done the same. He had also given Claude the chance to leave.

He hadn't forced Kaor and the mercenaries to become knights. He had promised the dwarves and elves freedom after ten years.

As a former mercenary, Ghislain valued freedom above all else and wanted Piote to have the same.

While he had initially forced Piote to stay under the guise of debt, Piote had more than repaid that debt.

His closest aides couldn't be held against their will. The battles ahead would be too difficult to face without firm resolve.

'If Piote decides to leave, I'll just ask Forisco for a few more priests.'

Though he'd miss him, Piote had his own life. If he wanted to leave, now was the time to let him go.

The holy relic was a reward for his hard work. A simple letter to Forisco would ensure silence on the matter.

Piote stared at the assignment letter for a long time, questioning his own heart.

'Really? Can I really leave just like this?'

Every day, he wished to return. Each day here had been so overwhelming it felt unbearable.

Now, the opportunity he had long awaited was finally here. He could leave without hesitation and with a smile.

So why did he feel so unsettled?

'If I leave… others will have a harder time.'

This thought had stopped him before. He knew how crucial his role was in this territory.

'But how much longer can I do this? I've already done enough.'

No priest would live this hard a life, he thought. He had grown up in the church and knew this better than anyone.

He had done his part. He couldn't live this way forever. He had his own life to live.

Staying out of pity or guilt would lead to endless suffering.

His discomfort grew. Before he became too attached or hurt, it was better to end it here.

In a trembling voice, Piote began to speak.

"Thank you… for everything…"

His throat tightened, and he couldn't finish. Holding back tears, he tried to continue, but the scriptures he had read since childhood came to mind.

[Helping those in pain and need is akin to serving the Goddess.]

[You shall become the least among them, a servant to all.]

[Thus, you will follow mercy, truth, and the righteous path forever.]

'Ah…'

Faces of the people he had met here flashed through his mind.

The starving, the sick, the despairing. When he first arrived, this was the state of everyone in the Cabaldi territory.

But what about now?

There were no longer starving people. The sick were fewer. The despairing now smiled.

The lord before him, the vassals serving the lord—they were all working together to transform the territory.

'Even if his actions weren't solely for the people…'

The Ghislain Piote had observed was someone who didn't hesitate to use any means to achieve his goals.

A person who couldn't be categorized simply as good or evil—closer to chaos.

Yet his actions ultimately helped people. And to continue that, Piote's abilities were essential.

'Ah… I didn't even understand my own heart.'

It was only then that Piote realized the source of his discomfort. He understood why he had felt uneasy about leaving.

Taking a deep breath, Piote suddenly smiled and said.

"I feel at peace now."

"Huh?"

"I finally understand why I was so unsettled."

Ghislain tilted his head, confused. Wasn't it because he couldn't return home?

Still smiling softly, Piote continued.

"I was worried about when the church might summon me or call me back. I didn't realize that was the cause of my discomfort. I thought it was just because life was hard here. But after seeing this, I finally understand my true feelings."

"Your true… feelings?"

Piote nodded firmly.

"Yes, I want to stay here. I want to remain here and help those who are struggling. And in the future, I want to help even more people. That's the true will of the Goddess, and the reason she granted me holy power."

"…"

Ghislain looked slightly surprised.

He had thought Piote was staying out of guilt or a sense of obligation. But now, it seemed Piote genuinely wanted to stay for the people.

Such a priest was rare, even in his past life. Ghislain, half-doubting, asked again.

"Are you sure? You've seen how hard life is here. You've collapsed several times, even coughing up blood. Helping people isn't easy."

"At the temple, I lived in ignorance. I had no idea how much pain and hardship people endured outside. I want to ease their suffering, even just a little."

"If you go back, you can live in comfort like other priests, in clean surroundings, eating good food."

Piote gave a bitter smile and shook his head.

"I don't want to live solely for a privileged few anymore. That's not the Goddess's will."

"So you'd rather struggle than live comfortably?"

Such words were hard to believe coming from a priest in this era. If Claude had heard, he might have kicked Piote, calling him crazy.

But Piote clasped his hands together as if in prayer, closed his eyes, and spoke with genuine sincerity.

"Yes, because though I serve the highest, I am meant to be with the lowest."

As if experiencing a moment of enlightenment, a faint divine radiance began to emanate from Piote's body.

Strands of his pink hair started to gradually turn silver.

Ghislain was left speechless. The difference between Piote and the likes of Forisco, or any other priest he had encountered, was stark. They seemed like entirely different beings.

A true saint was being born here.

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