Chapter 101: Sacred Competition (2)

“So, what brings you all the way here?”

Left alone, just the two of us.

We sat across from each other on the lobby sofa on the second floor.

“It’s not like you’re really here to check on my recovery.”

Saint Istina let out a deep breath.

Then, with a calm expression, she appeared to be settling her emotions, preparing to get to the point.

She must have wanted to become a bishop.

The highest leader of a church district, representing an entire region.

Once she secured that position, she would be able to officially claim the wealth and influence she already possessed implicitly.

In other words, she would rightfully take control of all the region’s sources of money.

‘But to get elected, she’ll need a majority vote from the twelve bishops.’

She would have to win over the neutral bishops, but those were all tenured and immovable types, not easily swayed.

That’s why she had come to me—to find a way forward together.

“As expected, President Roger, I like how you’re never pretentious. You get straight to the point.”

As if slightly disappointed by how I left no room for personal small talk, the Saint puffed out one of her cheeks.

Then, arms crossed on her own, she gave in to the breeze she’d stirred and opened her mouth.

“There’s someone I’d like you to persuade before I meet the Archbishop in two days.”

“Is that person one of the other bishops?”

At my question, which dove right into the heart of the matter, Istina furrowed her brows slightly.

“So you knew?”

“Anyone who already has both wealth and honor is bound to crave power next.”

The Saint, having been seen through so thoroughly, gave a soft chuckle.

She didn’t seem offended by having her inner thoughts exposed.

“You’ve already achieved enough with the Director Robert incident, and yet you’re still trying to win over the other bishops—that must be because of faction politics.”

Istina absentmindedly toyed with the wolf fur draped around her shoulders.

“That’s right. The one I want you to persuade is an old bishop with a head as hard as stone.”

She plucked a single strand of fur and let it float lightly into the air.

Then she ordered a glass of whiskey from the hotelier who’d come out delivering lunch.

“They couldn’t care less about how much I contribute. They only show favor to people who benefit them directly.”

I gave a nod to show I understood.

And as soon as I’d recovered from my cold, I picked up the glass of whiskey now sitting in front of me.

“So that means I’ll have to do something that earns the favor of a grumpy old man.”

“Exactly. And you’ll have to figure out what that is on your own.”

Istina lightly pinched the tight-fitting habit clinging to her body.

Then she elegantly crossed her legs, stretching the fabric as she did.

“In return, I’ll make sure the reward is substantial.”

A substantial reward.

Having accumulated immense wealth in Nord, she made her offer with a confident expression.

However.

I simply took another sip of whiskey, my eyes narrowed like a fox.

“I’m not interested in the Silver Star executive you mentioned last time.”

“Really…? Then is there something else you want?”

Istina stared at me, eyes rounded, as if to ask—if not money or power, then what?

“……”

But I said nothing in response to her question.

I just swirled the large ice cube in the on-the-rocks glass, letting it melt slowly.

My reflection wavered on the clear surface of the ice.

For a man sitting across from the Saint—known throughout the Empire as the most beautiful and benevolent—my demeanor was exceedingly calm.

No—more than calm, I was serious.

Because I didn’t just see her as a woman; I wanted to make a meaningful deal with her—one that would shape my life.

“Make our family into nobility.”

At last, the reward I had decided upon was revealed.

Istina’s red lips parted slightly in surprise.

“Nobility…?”

What I wanted in return was something she could hand over fairly easily.

“If it’s nobility, couldn’t you just persuade Her Majesty the Empress, who you’ve grown close with recently?”

However—

She soon realized that even my request wouldn’t be so easy to grant.

“No. I’m not talking about reinstating a baron title. I want one of the Five Noble Ranks.”

The Five Noble Ranks.

The officially recognized elite class of the Empire.

From the highest rank of Duke to the lowest of Baron—holding any one of these titles meant true membership in the ruling class.

“……”

Of course, there were ways to take shortcuts—buying a title, marrying into a noble family that already held one.

But most people who went down that route were never truly accepted within high society.

That’s why most nouveau riche gave up on ever obtaining one of the Five Noble Ranks, writing it off as sour grapes.

Eventually, they failed to properly invest the wealth they’d worked so hard to amass, only to see it drained away by taxes and tariffs.

No matter how much money they had, merchants had to keep working endlessly. Meanwhile, the upper nobility’s wealth grew even as they spent freely.

This was the reason.

“Now that’s finally a serious request.”

Istina likely understood it well—

Just how grueling it was to qualify for one of the Five Noble Ranks.

“To earn it, I’d need certification acknowledged by the Imperial Palace, the Church, and the Three Major Houses, right?”

Through Her Majesty the Empress, I already had a chance to meet the Emperor, so prospects were good for the Imperial side.

As for the Church, I had the very Saint in front of me.

“That’s correct. And I’ve already secured the first two.”

“So that just leaves the Three Major Houses, then.”

Finally, the Three Major Houses.

The Grand Duke of the North, the Grand Duke of the West, and the long-standing, prestigious Fern family from the capital.

The first two could be handled through Echina and Helena.

And as for the Fern family…

“Wait a minute. Don’t tell me…”

Realizing something, Istina uncrossed her legs.

With the crisp sound of stockings brushing together, I smiled faintly.

“That’s right. The bishop we’re meeting today is from one of the ‘Three Major Houses.’”

I gently set down my empty whiskey glass.

Then, rising to my feet and clasping my hands behind my back, I said,

“Isn’t he Paul Fern, the younger brother of the Fern family’s head?”

The Saint swallowed deeply at the fact that I had already thought this far ahead.

Realizing I was capable of envisioning a grander scheme than she’d expected, she let out a faint scoff.

“So from the very beginning, you accepted our request with the goal of becoming nobility.”

“Well, it had to be worth giving up my nap and making the trip out here.”

She stared at my back as she took another sip of her whiskey.

No doubt she was a seasoned drinker who didn’t get tipsy easily.

Yet, somehow, a subtle flush had bloomed across her face.

“Alright, then. Let’s go see him now. Fortunately, he should be home.”

Istina stood up from the leather chair as well.

She gave a light shake to her stretched-out dress and walked up beside me.

「―――――」

The residence of Bishop Fern, true to his belonging to one of the Three Major Houses, was located close to the Imperial Palace.

However, the first impression of the mansion was a little unexpected.

Considering its equal standing with the Northern and Western Grand Duchies, the building was surprisingly modest.

Of course, it was still beyond anything a commoner could dream of.

But compared to the Luton estate in Nord, it was only about half the size—comparable to a large villa in the Eastern region.

“From this point on, you’ll need to listen to me carefully.”

Istina, who had arranged the meeting with Bishop Paul of the Fern family, began to speak.

As the attendants came out and pulled open the old iron gate at the entrance, she laid out the key points.

“Paul is the type who values his tenured position above all else. He’s very strict and reserved. Don’t expect him to open up easily.”

“He’d have to be, if he’s trying to remain neutral in a faction war.”

That much I had already expected.

He was someone who hadn’t appeared in the news even once in the past ten years.

But even so, I’d been able to learn about him thanks to a comment made by the head of the Fern family during a visit to Nord:

‘My younger brother is a bishop in the Silver Truth Church…’ That was all it took.

From this point on, I’d have to win him over with nothing but the observational skills I’d honed as Chief Secretary.

“Still, thanks to me, getting in to see him should go smoothly. We’ve shared the occasional cup of tea.”

Istina clasped her hands behind her back and spoke proudly.

Sometimes, when I looked at her like this, she didn’t feel like a saint at all—but more like a powerful figure from the underworld, or a queen from a rival kingdom.

“I’m grateful, truly.”

With a faint chuckle, I stepped into the mansion alongside her.

“Welcome, Saint Istina. Bishop Paul is in the back garden.”

Dressed in modest maid uniforms, the attendants led us around the back of the antique-style mansion.

There, we found a modestly sized garden—and an elderly man tending to it.

He was standing on a small ladder, carefully trimming the trees with a pair of pruning shears.

He looked to be about 170 centimeters tall, with a head of snow-white hair.

But despite his short stature, there was nothing soft or unassuming about the look in his eyes.

As someone who had survived the brutal factional warfare of the Church all his life, he possessed intense red eyes.

“Let’s wait patiently for now. Gardening is Bishop Paul’s only hobby, and he always takes it very seriously.”

Just then, Istina spoke in a gentle, saintly voice, showing him respect in her own way.

Had I been an ordinary gentleman from the upper class, I might have followed her lead.

But.

What was it that I did for a living?

My job was to identify and meet people’s needs.

Situations like this were all too familiar.

“It’s alright. I’ll take it from here.”

Instead of waiting, I stepped forward and approached him, catching Istina’s gaze as she quietly observed what sort of magic I was about to work this time.

“This is Eastern-style landscaping, isn’t it? It reminds me of the domes of the mosques in Mahar.”

I casually struck up conversation while looking at the Japanese boxwood he was diligently trimming.

“That’s right. I was inspired by those round domes.”

“Judging by how you’re trimming the leaves instead of cutting branches, it seems you have quite the skill.”

I stood beside him, hands clasped behind my back.

Then I lowered one hand and firmly held the unsteady ladder he was standing on. Only then did Paul glance down at me.

“You flatter me. It’s just an old man’s one and only hobby.”

“Please, carry on. I’ll hold it steady for you.”

I maintained a calm expression as I held the ladder firmly.

Then, the very same Bishop Paul—known for being so strict—thanked me.

“Thank you. I’ll try to finish quickly, then.”

Istina stared blankly at the two of us.

For a full twenty minutes.

The sight of me standing tall, holding the ladder steadily like a son helping his father.

“What do you think about this side? Should I cut the branch?”

“It’s early summer now. Even if you cut it, the humidity will help the leaves grow quickly and cover it again.”

He was even initiating conversation with a man he’d never met before.

And I responded without the slightest awkwardness, keeping our exchange focused solely on gardening.

“Is that so? Well then… hmm. The blade isn’t cutting very well today…”

The clinking of pruning shears echoed softly through the small garden.

Then, in a very composed tone, I asked the bishop,

“If you don’t mind, would it be alright if I tried trimming it myself?”

“Please, go ahead. I’m getting too old to do even something like this properly.”

I accepted the large pruning shears from him.

Then, I rolled up the sleeves of my dress shirt to the forearms.

With one leg hooked over the ladder, I raised the shears.

Next, I precisely located the section he had been in the middle of trimming and cut the branch cleanly with force.

―――――!!

A thick branch dropped to the ground.

But Istina didn’t look at the fallen branch.

“Hm… For a secretary, you’re quite…”

When I glanced sideways, I saw that she was looking at my forearm.

Following her gaze, I checked to see if maybe a leaf had stuck to it.

‘Nothing’s on me, though?’

When I looked back at the Saint, she had pulled her hood up again to cover her face.

“Will that do, Bishop?”

“Perfect. You’re a skilled young man. Is gardening your hobby?”

The old man looked up at me from the base of the ladder with a relaxed expression.

“Yes, it is.”

“Well then, I ought to at least offer you a cup of tea in thanks. Care to join me?”

This was Bishop Paul—famous for being guarded around others.

And yet here he was, suggesting we sit and have tea together.

As I naturally followed him toward the tea table, Istina stared at me in disbelief.

When our eyes met again, I flashed her a sly, knowing smile, inviting her to join us.

In response, she gave a silent shake of her head, as if to say, I give up.

In that moment, she must have truly realized—my job had always been to cater to people’s needs to the extreme, as the Secretary of the Grand Duke’s house.

“You’re someone I really wouldn’t want to lose.”

The Saint muttered to herself beneath the shadow of her hood.

At the same time, she instinctively wet her vibrant lips—

Just like a she-wolf who had set her eyes on a particularly tempting prey.

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