The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 215: Did You Like the Donation? (1)

Porisco displayed a haughty expression as he sized up Ghislain from head to toe.

“Is this brat the so-called ‘Rising Star of the North’ that everyone’s been talking about lately? A young upstart riding on the Marquis of Branford’s coattails and flaunting a hollow reputation.”

He had, of course, heard the news of the war. Yet, no matter how he looked at it, the victory seemed more like a stroke of luck brought on by the drought rather than skill.

“If he were truly remarkable, the Countess of Aylesbur and the young lady of the Branford family wouldn’t have gone out of their way to urgently send a priest for him.”

People only see what they wish to see, and Porisco was no different.

The rumors disparaging Ghislain among the nobility, coupled with his origins from the desolate North, were enough to reinforce Porisco’s prejudice.

“Without the Marquis of Branford and the Countess of Aylesbur backing him, this brat wouldn’t have even dreamed of meeting me.”

On top of that, Porisco carried the weight of the Church’s authority on his shoulders.

As a bishop of the church, he held a status that even most nobles had to show deference to. Naturally, a mere baron seemed trivial in his eyes.

However, there was a deeper reason why Porisco found Ghislain so distasteful.

“A vulgar man selling cosmetics… Those wretched products have eaten into our profits!”

The Juana Church, which worshiped the Goddess of Beauty, had long used divine power to manage the beauty of numerous nobles, raking in generous donations.

But with the introduction of cheaper cosmetics that provided even better results, the Church’s revenue inevitably took a hit.

The resulting loss in income also meant less money lining Porisco’s own pockets. It was no surprise that his first meeting with Ghislain was marked by open hostility.

Yet, despite Porisco’s condescending demeanor, Ghislain remained unperturbed. With a slight bow, he simply handed over a box.

“I am Baron Fenris. Priest Piote, whom you sent to our estate, has been a tremendous help. This is a gift to express our gratitude.”

Porisco casually opened the box and couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the jewels filling it.

He was used to receiving such gifts, but the act of receiving still brought him a certain pleasure every time.

Some of his dissatisfaction with Ghislain began to ease.

“The Countess of Aylesbur has already made quite a generous donation, yet here you are with another gift. I assume there’s something you’re hoping to gain?”

Porisco’s words were delivered with the ease of someone well-versed in the art of bribery. He understood all too well the principle of giving and taking.

Ghislain responded with a faint smile.

“Yes, indeed. Our estate is facing difficult circumstances, and many of our people are struggling. I aim to unify their hearts through the power of faith.”

“Oh? So you’re asking us to establish a new parish there?”

“That’s correct. Currently, there isn’t a proper church established in our estate.”

“As far as I know, there are very few who follow Lady Juana in the North. Aren’t most people there devoted to other goddesses?”

Lady Juana was the goddess presiding over prosperity, production, economy, fairness, talent, and systems.

She also symbolized beauty and luxury, making her especially popular among nobles, merchants, and bureaucrats.

In other words, she was not particularly favored by the impoverished people of the North.

At Porisco’s question, Ghislain replied casually, as if it was of no great concern.

“Most of their faith is superficial at best. With Priest Piote, who can wield genuine divine power, residing in our estate, the number of followers devoted to Lady Juana is already increasing.”

It was only partially true. Conversions among the estate’s residents, who had experienced Piote’s divine power firsthand, were indeed on the rise.

Hearing this, Porisco sneered openly.

“Hah, these backwater Northerners have gotten a taste of divine power and lost their minds over it.”

As a bishop, Porisco had dealt with plenty of rural lords who pulled stunts like this. Having even one priest in an estate drastically improved the quality of life.

Of course, given the extreme scarcity of priests, they ultimately became a privilege reserved for the nobility.

Feigning thoughtfulness, Porisco eventually shrugged and made a dismissive comment.

“Well, establishing a parish might be difficult. But if you build a temple for Lady Juana, I could send a couple of serving priests and evangelists.”

“Does he think he can just snatch away a priest with such cheap tricks?”

Though Porisco had taken the bribe, he had no intention of leaving Piote stationed there indefinitely.

“Piote’s been out in the field now, gaining valuable experience. The longer I rotate him around, the more money I can rake in.”

Given how scarce priests were, each one was a golden goose, and Porisco intended to extract as much value as possible from Piote before his rank rose further.

There was another reason as well—having a large number of priests under his command increased Porisco’s influence within the church.

Ghislain, adopting a slightly disappointed tone, asked, “Then could you at least allow Priest Piote to remain in our estate a little longer?”

“Hm, as long as it doesn’t seem like you’re trying to claim him permanently… Ahem, what am I saying? If it’s not an official reassignment, I could allow him to stay for another three months or so with a modest donation.”

“A donation… I see.”

As Ghislain prepared to bow and leave, Porisco, slightly flustered, called out to him.

“Leaving already? Without making a donation? Or are you planning to send Piote back right away?”

“No, I will donate. If I’m going to do it, I should do it properly. I’ll prepare everything and come back soon.”

At those words, Porisco finally broke into a pleased smile.

“Good. The goddess favors sincere devotees. I’ll look forward to seeing your faith and devotion, Baron. Make sure to come well-prepared.”

Porisco had already heard rumors that Baron Fenris was sitting on large reserves of food and iron ore. Internally, he began to anticipate what kind of grand gift might be coming his way.

The moment Ghislain left the temple, he spoke to Lowell.

“Let’s get started. Proceed as planned. You’re confident, right?”

“Of course. This is my specialty.”

“Good. Let’s make sure that greedy bastard loses his mind completely. Send him to heaven.”

“Understood. He’ll feel like he’s in heaven, for sure.”

Lowell and the soldiers scattered across the capital, laden with food supplies, moving in various directions.

Meanwhile, Ghislain stayed at the Crow Mansion he had purchased earlier, issuing additional orders to the staff.

About a week later, Porisco, increasingly frustrated, began cursing Ghislain.

“That arrogant country bumpkin! Why hasn’t he come back yet after promising to donate? I should recall Piote immediately.”

Porisco could only assume that Ghislain had decided not to follow through with the donation because he was too stingy to spend the money.

“Petty fool. Doesn’t he know how hard it is to keep a priest stationed for long? I need more funds—there are so many palms to grease.”

Porisco has been in a particularly difficult situation lately. He had been at odds with the archbishop, and his influence was waning to the point where he faced the threat of excommunication.

Rumors swirled that the archbishop would soon convene a council to formally remove him from his position.

Porisco had been trying to sway the tide by bribing other bishops and nobles to turn public opinion in his favor, but progress had been slow.

“Damn it! They all stuff their faces just the same, so why am I the only one being targeted? It’s only because I ate a little more!”

Everyone at the table had indulged in excess, but now that his power was slipping, those indulgences had turned into vulnerabilities.

Porisco had intended to use the bribe from Baron Fenris for the same purpose, but with Ghislain not showing up, it seemed like a lost cause.

Clicking his tongue several times in frustration, Porisco erased Ghislain from his thoughts. Putting on a strained smile to mask his worries, he headed toward the auditorium where a ritual was about to take place.

As he walked through the halls, however, he couldn’t help but notice the temple attendants whispering among themselves as they glanced at him.

“What’s this? Why are they looking at me like that? Their gazes… they’re not the same as usual.”

It was strange. Normally, the way they looked at him carried an undertone of fear mixed with subtle contempt. But today, their expressions felt different—almost as if they were looking at something curious or extraordinary.

The uneasy feeling spurred my steps, and as I quickened my pace, faint whispers from the crowd began to reach my ears.

“That person… it’s him, apparently.”

“They’ve been hiding it all this time… on purpose…”

“The rumor has already spread… suddenly, starting this morning…”

I couldn’t hear everything clearly. But the phrases about hiding something deliberately and rumors spreading suddenly were unmistakable.

‘What’s going on? Has the Archbishop already made a move? Is he manipulating public opinion now? Is he trying to kill me for sure? What should I do? If I get excommunicated, I’m dead. Whether I kill the Archbishop first or he gets to me, I need to find a solution fast.’

In a state of confusion, Porisco barely completed the sacrament and decided to go outside to figure out what was happening.

For the past few days, he had felt heavy and sluggish, lazing around inside the temple, eating and sleeping without much care. This meant he had no grasp of the current situation.

Accompanied by a few temple knights, Porisco stepped outside and immediately sensed that something had changed.

“It’s Bishop Porisco!”

“Oh, how wrong we were about him all this time.”

“He’s the Saint of the Slums!”

The crowd buzzed with loud exclamations. These were the same people who, not too long ago, would have scurried away as if avoiding something unpleasant the moment they saw him.

It wasn’t surprising, considering how blatantly he had favored wealthy nobles with his divine power while completely ignoring the sick and the poor.

His brazen discrimination and fondness for bribes had earned him the nickname “Priest of Greed.”

But Porisco had never cared. He considered himself fundamentally different from such insignificant beings, chosen by the Goddess herself.

And yet…

‘What? The Saint of the Slums? Me?’

The title of “Saint” was not handed out lightly. It was reserved only for those who sacrificed everything for others and devoted themselves entirely to their cause.

Porisco knew better than anyone that he was worlds apart from deserving such a title.

In fact, aside from the one time he was forced to visit the slums during his early days as a lowly priest to fulfill service hours, he had never set foot there.

Why would someone as noble as him ever visit such a filthy, stinking place?

Still, he couldn’t just let these words pass unverified.

“L-let’s head to the slums.”

The change in people’s gazes and attitudes unnerved him. His voice trembled involuntarily.

“Prepare the carriage immediately.”

The slums were located on the outskirts of the capital, a considerable distance away. It wasn’t a place someone of his size and stature could walk to.

Upon arriving at the slums with a nervous heart, he was met with a sight that shocked him once again.

“Oh, the Saint has arrived!”

“Bishop Porisco is here!”

“Our savior has finally come!”

The noisy chatter of the slum residents grew louder as more people gathered, pressing closer. Porisco flinched and took a step back.

Even so, the temple knights merely smiled, making no attempt to block the approaching crowd.

“W-what are you all doing… Stop those ruffians immediately…!”

Porisco couldn’t finish his command. The next moment, all the slum residents fell prostrate on the ground, bowing reverently before him.

“Thank you! Thank you, Your Grace!”

“It’s all thanks to you that my grandson could be saved!”

“Forgive me for cursing you before, Your Grace! I didn’t understand your profound intentions!”

Some wept openly while others shouted praises. One elderly man even shuffled forward on his knees and kissed Porisco’s feet.

As the crowd worshiped him, a jolt of indescribable pleasure surged down Porisco’s spine.

‘This… this is it! This is what I’ve been longing for! This was what I was missing all along!’

Because of his priestly status, he had been forbidden to marry. He couldn’t wield power as freely as other nobles did.

Though he lived in luxury, enjoying fine clothes, exquisite food, and comfortable lodgings, that was the extent of it.

No matter how much bribery filled his coffers, it never satisfied him. Even his indulgences had to be done discreetly, under the watchful eyes of others.

But this—this was different. Look at them! Every single one of them genuinely revering and worshiping him.

‘I feel like a god!’

For the first time, Porisco felt a void within him being filled.

Honor, true respect from the people, and a power that surpassed mere authority.

Porisco had awakened to a new greed.

Although the adulation was gratifying, he still couldn’t understand why they were praising him. He needed to know the reason behind it.

“Why… Why are these people acting this way toward me?”

The temple knight, still smiling, responded warmly.

“It’s no use pretending not to know now, Your Grace. The rumors have already spread throughout the capital. Everyone knows about your profound intentions.”

The knight’s gaze brimmed with respect. Porisco shook his head vigorously and asked again.

“W-what rumors are you talking about?”

“The rumor that all this time, Your Grace diligently amassed wealth for this very moment. Didn’t you foresee the drought through a divine revelation from the Goddess?”

“M-me? A revelation?”

Divine revelations were only granted to Saints—always female.

For a man like him to claim such a thing was absurd. He had never even dreamed of receiving a revelation, let alone experienced one.

But the temple knight, as though encouraging him to drop the act, continued speaking earnestly.

“Yes. Through the revelation, you accumulated wealth to buy food, which you’ve now distributed to the slums. Thanks to Your Grace, the people suffering from the drought were saved. It’s God’s work; we understand why you had to keep it a secret.”

Porisco couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. The fortune he had amassed was spent tirelessly as bribes to secure his own survival.

How many mornings had he cursed under his breath at the dwindling reserves in his secret vault?

And in these times, where could anyone possibly obtain enough food to supply an entire slum?

“W-where would I even get food to buy?”

“Didn’t Baron Fenris bring an enormous shipment of provisions to the capital at your request? Many people saw it happen.”

‘Baron Fenris!’

Hearing that name made him snap to attention.

The man who had promised to make a grand donation and then suddenly disappeared. Why was his name being mentioned here, of all places?

While Porisco’s face grew increasingly troubled and beads of sweat formed on his brow, someone nearby approached, recognizing him with a knowing smile.

“So, how was it? Did you approve of the donation, Saint Porisco?”

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