21. Salt Is God and Invincible
21. Salt Is God and Invincible
The journey back had been exhausting. After the Chairwoman pulled that sudden show of physical affection, the atmosphere turned completely glacial.
The reason Rus and Chloe had looked at me that way was obvious.
'Honestly, if I saw a work superior that much older than me kissing someone on a business trip...'
I tried imagining it: walking in on Rus or Chloe kissing a man over a hundred years their senior. The mood would inevitably turn to ice. What else could you expect?
What actually threw me off more was that the Chairwoman herself, after the kiss, had apparently gotten embarrassed and flown off ahead of us. Even now, back at the office, she was nowhere to be seen, presumably elsewhere.
As for Rus and Chloe:
──I'll be going now. We have something to talk about.
──...Me too.
Those were their parting words before they vanished somewhere. I'd had more questions for them. How Rus had gotten her hands on the Dark Sword, what they knew about the self-proclaimed goddess—I hadn't been able to so much as open my mouth in the carriage because of the atmosphere.
Well, it wouldn't be a problem to ask when the time was right. It wasn't urgent.
The Chairwoman's confession and kiss. Rus's Dark Sword. Chloe and the self-proclaimed goddess. My heart-scabbard and the fragment of the sacred relic.
An enormous amount had happened. Yet the sentiment I felt now was something else entirely.
A soft rustle.
"...This is insane."
No matter how many times I looked at it, it was mesmerizing. Enough to forget everything about the Chairwoman, Rus, and Chloe.
The salt glittered under the sunlight like piles of spun gold. But considering its true value, calling it worth its weight in gold—perhaps even more—wouldn't be an exaggeration.
I'd sent Equipment No. 2 and my slave away. Alone now in the office, I watched the salt pile higher and higher on my desk. I'd produced every grain of it myself, sweating bullets in the process.
'I can feel the fatigue, the ache, but my instincts tell me that as long as I eat well and rest, I can keep doing this indefinitely.'
When I thought back to that tidal wave of salt the sacred relic fragment had shown me in the rock salt mine, the odds were high that this wasn't some temporary phenomenon. It was likely a permanent condition.
In other words, if I wanted to, I had become a superhuman who could produce salt from nothing.
'Who gives a damn about Ranks?'
Magic? Sword aura? Power Ranks? They could all go to hell.
I could produce salt. I just had to grunt a little and salt came pouring out! I could generate a budget all by myself!
"Eureka!"
I'd tested it over and over in the frigid silence of the carriage ride, and I'd shouted those words in my head more times than I could count. And now, shouting them out loud here, uncensored, was the truest expression of my heart.
Every hardship I'd endured until now would have been worth it if it was all just to obtain this single divine power!
'What's more, this isn't just any salt.'
Unlike sea salt harvested from seawater, rock salt by its nature often contains impurities. Absolutely pure rock salt does exist, but as a mineral ore, it's frequently mixed with other substances. Refining that rock salt, turning it into clean, edible salt, is a tedious and surprisingly expensive process. Consequently, truly pure salt has always commanded a premium even among the already costly varieties, with constant demand from the upper classes.
The salt flowing from my fingertips was, at a glance, specialty-grade.
'Maybe because it's produced by the sacred relic's power—it even carries a faint trace of divine power.'
That detail wouldn't give the Church grounds to challenge me. On the contrary, the highest-grade salts normally acquire their divine power precisely through the expensive purification rituals performed at the Church's request.
The only difference was that such salt traded at truly exorbitant prices, precisely because they'd called in the Church just to bless some table salt. And I could now produce that same salt in unlimited quantities.
No matter how many times I mulled it over, I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face.
'If I could have it my way, I'd replace every professor and staff salary with salt, just like I did with the equipment and the slave.'
That would shrink cash outflows, and since I could produce the salt for free, the academy wouldn't lose a thing—a miraculous cycle of wealth.
But that wasn't realistic. Unlimited in theory, maybe, but there was still a hard cap on how much I could produce in a single day.
'I could probably cover a few people, but the entire staff is out of the question.'
So how could I squeeze the maximum profit out of this divine gift? The answer was already settled.
"So, Finance Director. I heard the old woman was summoned."
"It's been a while, Cardinal Leti. My apologies for bringing you all this way."
"Heh-heh. Surely this, too, is the Goddess's will. If the Finance Director calls, I must answer at any time."
She entered in immaculate white vestments, an old woman with a genial smile. The cardinal I'd spoken with before regarding Equipment No. 2—Professor Kirke—was her. She'd arrived right on time, having been summoned while I was still on the road.
One of only five cardinals in the Holy Kingdom, and a 7th Rank powerhouse in her own right: a monster.
The reason I'd chosen to negotiate with such a being without the Chairwoman or anyone else as a guard nearby was simple.
"I'd like to discuss the 'favor' you promised me."
"Hmm... what must come has come, then. What exactly does this old woman's favor entail?"
"Nothing too difficult for you, Cardinal."
"Let me be clear from the start: if this concerns renegotiating the price of healing potions, free rental of consecrated materials and construction supplies from the Holy Kingdom, cutting the dispatch contributions for our priests, or the gate tolls to the Holy Kingdom—none of that can be done. I told you as much back then."
"You can set your mind at ease. It's none of those."
"...Those words, coming from you, Finance Director?"
"I'm not sure what you take me for, but this is genuinely a moderate request."
This elder—this grandmother, I should say—was far too worldly for a cardinal. Two of the Holy Kingdom's five cardinals remained within the Kingdom's borders; the other three were dispatched abroad. The arrangement aimed to preserve as many of the connections, rights, and interests from the Holy Kingdom's past as a former hegemonic power as possible. Cardinal Leti was the one responsible for the entire Kingdom.
Given that the other two cardinals covered the Empire, that meant she alone handled all Church-related diplomacy for the continent's second-largest nation. Whether because of that burden or simply her nature, Cardinal Leti was extremely sensitive about money.
'She instantly calculated the value of Kirke's research donation and snatched it up in one bite, after all.'
A deal was a deal. She'd shown the academy genuine respect, then turned around and fed me every scrap of information about Kirke—it was as infuriating as it was unassailable. She wasn't a difficult person to deal with, though. Precisely because she was so sensitive about money, there was no one easier to reach an understanding with on financial matters.
"First, take a look at this."
"...A specialty-grade product with this much residual divine power only comes out of the Empire's northern mines. Why are you suddenly showing me salt?"
"As I understand it, the Holy Kingdom receives a fixed quantity of salt as compensation for performing purification magic at the Empire's northern rock salt mines."
"That is correct."
"And I also understand that even that supply fails to meet the Pope's demand for salt."
"Hmph."
It wasn't exactly a secret. Beyond simple consumption, salt infused with divine power was indispensable for numerous Church rites. The critical point was that what the Church needed wasn't just any salt—it was specifically "specialty-grade salt imbued with divine power."
Precisely like what I had right here.
"Then are you saying you can connect me to a mine or a trading partner that can supply salt, Finance Director? Though once we consider transportation, the unit cost would—"
"I'll sell it at half the market rate."
"May the Goddess bless you! A Saint has descended upon this place!"
Ah, look at how fast the conversation moves now.
No doubt Cardinal Leti had already purged any inconvenient questions from her mind—like how the academy, which wasn't a mine, could possibly sell such salt on a regular basis. Only the profit—half the market rate!—remained.
I could have pushed the price a little higher, but it was better to leave her feeling indebted to me here. Even at half market rate, the profit was still obscene. And there was one more thing.
"But that alone wouldn't constitute the 'favor,' would it?"
"O Saint, what more would you ask?"
"The Delphia Kingdom."
"...Ah. I understand. When would you like me to report?"
"Whenever you deem the time most opportune."
"If it is the Salt Saint's request."
The Surveyor had been in the Kingdom because the royal family had commissioned her to survey the Delphia Kingdom. And that fact meant the Delphia civil war—and the royal family's intervention—was right around the corner.
Considering the considerable distance to the Delphia Kingdom, the priests and cardinals stationed there could provide excellent intelligence.
Normally, a civil war in another country would be none of my concern. But.
'Crown Prince Zeke asked me for a favor, and Beatrice is an excellent source of revenue.'
It wouldn't cost me a single coin, so if I could keep Beatrice at the academy while staying fully informed of the situation, I could maximize the profit.
That was precisely why I hadn't spelled everything out. The Finance Director of what was, in the end, an educational institution, taking an excessive interest in royal affairs and foreign nations—discretion was paramount. And when it came to money, Cardinal Leti was trustworthy.
I handed her a sack of the salt I'd just produced as an advance payment, and Cardinal Leti departed, beaming.
I watched her leave, then clapped my hands once.
Clap!
"F-Finance Director! It worked!"
As if the sound had been a signal, Professor Alon came bursting out of the side room—the one with the bed the Chairwoman used to hide away. At the same time, "I" also walked out of that room.
A landscape of two selves: the one seated at the office desk, and the one emerging from the door. Truly a satisfying result.
"I hadn't expected this level of efficiency."
"This is the potential of illusion magic! If you could reconsider the 40% donation, just a slight reduction—"
"You're welcome to make the same case to the Chairwoman."
"...Forget I said anything."
He might have come across as clueless and a little pathetic, but Professor Alon was, despite appearances, an illusion mage nearing the threshold of 7th Rank and the de facto head of the illusion magic discipline.
The manticore illusion at the entrance ceremony had possessed physical force and radiated immense pressure—that was precisely why he'd earned investment, wasn't it? Until now, that was the extent of my interest in him, nothing more. But.
'He's more useful than I thought.'
Maybe it was because he hadn't been trying too hard, but even a 7th Rank like Cardinal Leti hadn't noticed that the "me" at the desk was an illusion. To be fair, she'd come expecting an ordinary negotiation, so using detection magic against a 1st Rank would have been absurd anyway. Nonetheless, if it was this effective, it seemed likely to fool almost anyone at the 5th- or 6th Rank level.
'This will make it much easier to keep an eye on Equipment No. 1 and the slave.'
It was still only an illusion, limited to pre-programmed actions and words. But simply having "me" visibly present in the Finance Director's office would put effective pressure on Kirke and Milia. And it meant I could be away on extended business without any problems.
If it could have handled paperwork, it would have been perfect, but even illusion magic had its limits. Still, whenever I fell into a deep sleep and woke up, the paperwork had always taken care of itself.
"Then I trust there'll be no problem manufacturing an artifact imbued with illusion magic of this caliber."
"Well... that is..."
"Professor Alon?"
"Well, illusion magic is, ah, rather complex... I can certainly make it, but the efficiency is..."
"Don't talk in circles. Speak plainly."
"...It will cost a great deal of money. A medium to hold the magic will be required, that medium must be replaced regularly, and for an illusion of this scale, the medium itself would have to be exceptionally expensive."
"Is that all?"
"A-And to produce it on our school's budget would be a devastating blow regardless! We're already struggling in so many ways because of that 40% donation...!"
"Before I returned, I picked up a direct-line communication artifact to Count Anton Beryl. And I'm quite certain the Count instructed you, Professor Alon, to stay close to me, with separate compensation provided."
"...H-hic."
"Don't you think it's a bit much to pocket the money you've received, and then demand more to cover the artifact's production?"
"Ah, well..."
"I will prepare the medium myself. Just focus on the manufacturing. Naturally, the Chairwoman will personally inspect the finished artifact for any defects. I guarantee that if you carry out this favor properly, you'll be amply rewarded."
"...Understood."
Professor Alon. Greedy. Naive. A bully to the weak and a coward to the strong. Oblivious. But for all that, his greed was magnificent, and his skill as an illusion mage was undeniable.
Count Anton had personally instructed him to stay close to me, which gave me ample justification to use him in multiple ways. After the territory incident, he now fully understood that I was the Chairwoman's most trusted aide—he wouldn't dare entertain other ideas. Above all, he was the perfect conduit to spread the word about my false romance with the Chairwoman. The man was, at a glance, a notorious gossip.
'I'll designate him Equipment No. 2.'
Kirke, stuck in that underground lab, had been underused as equipment. But Professor Alon—no, Equipment No. 2—would be used far more frequently.
As I nodded to myself, Equipment No. 2 hesitated, then spoke.
"M-might I inquire as to what you'll be using for the medium...?"
"Why the sudden curiosity?"
"Absolutely no ulterior motive! I need to know the medium to begin crafting the artifact! If it's a mineral or a magic stone, I must construct a frame to match!"
"Ah, if that's what you meant."
A medium that could receive magic well? The choice was obvious. An excellent medium fit for Church rituals, and one I could produce for free.
A soft rustle.
"This... is?"
Ah. He didn't recognize it?
This was called "salt."
"Will this suffice?"
"A-Absolutely!"
I was already looking forward to seeing how else I could squeeze this new equipment dry.
Truly, salt was God, and nothing short of invincible.