Miracle Standard (6)

The Academy? I knew it existed, of course, but I never imagined I’d have any reason to go there. After all, like any high-ranking noble, it would be far more efficient for me—a Saint—to simply summon private tutors. Besides, a communal educational institution for minors in a medieval world? No matter how many spells, Divine Powers, or monsters existed here, it still felt way too unrealistic.

The connections I needed right now were all domestic anyway. My plan had been to learn everything intensively through private tutors, then make the rounds through high society and the financial world to get things done. Naturally, refusing the king’s request wasn’t an option. Not when both the Hero, the Crown Prince, and the Imperial Princess would be attending at the same time—missing out on what could be the lead role in a youth drama? No way.

“What exactly does Your Majesty wish from me?”

“I would ask you to help ensure that my eldest son and the kingdom’s Hero are not seduced by the Empire. As long as they do not fall for the Empire’s schemes, the Church’s new currency will receive the full support of the royal family—even if the Saint contributes nothing directly to that outcome.”

Well, when he put it like that, what could I say? The newly issued Miracle Standard currency—named with shameless bluntness as Gold—desperately needed the backing and support of secular powers. And it wasn’t a bad offer at all. The Hero was someone I needed to meet and build a relationship with anyway. The Crown Prince was someone I should stay on good terms with if possible. And creating a communication channel to the Empire through the Imperial Princess would be valuable for the Church as well.

“In that case, as the Saint, I will gladly accept Your Majesty’s request.”

“Excellent. You make decisions quickly. I’m also impressed that you’ve already secured ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough influence within the Church to decide your own position.”

The moment my answer left my lips, the king’s attitude toward me shifted noticeably. Until now he had been completely neutral, but now there was a clear hint of favor. Of course, it wasn’t genuine goodwill. He had simply realized my standing in the Church was stronger than he first assumed and was extending political courtesy. Still, the fact that he now saw me not as a sixteen-year-old girl with unusually strong Divine Power being manipulated by the Church, but as a Saint with real authority inside it, was encouraging in itself.

After exchanging a few more light pleasantries, I withdrew and returned to the Great Cathedral.

“How did it go?”

“The royal family will push our Gold at the national level. In exchange, they want me to help make sure their son and the Hero don’t get any strange ideas while at the Academy.”

“The king played his hand well. It seems he’s now certain the new Gold originated from you, Saint. Rather than trying to block it, he intends to tie you down while the royal family secures some shares or control.”

I had suspected as much. No matter how much secular power held the upper hand over the Church, suddenly challenging currency hegemony was bound to be irritating. If the idea had been completely absurd, they probably would have crushed it by force. But once they examined it seriously as a real threat, they must have realized—this might actually work. It could have been my own delusion, but if that hadn’t been the case, the king wouldn’t have summoned me so quickly to make such an offer. The best time to snatch up a promising business item is before it takes off.

Even so, I couldn’t just sit back and take it.

“It’s September now, so we still have about two months, right?”

“Correct. However, those two months are shorter than they seem.”

He was right. Winter break always flew by in the blink of an eye. Before you could finish your homework, you’d be thinking, Just one more week of playing around… But in business terms, two months was an eternity—dozens or hundreds of companies could rise and fall, entire landscapes could change. And I already had my next plan crystal clear in my mind.

“Isn’t it about time people start coming to ask for miracles?”

“That is true, but… will you be stepping forward personally, Saint?”

Any clergyman could perform miracles using Divine Power. From healing small cuts and scrapes to, in the Pope’s case, something close to pseudo-resurrection. Even that had weakened over time, with average levels per rank dropping, but as the Saint I possessed enough Divine Power to regenerate an entire body part. I had never tried it, but Cardinal Rondel had confirmed I could.

So why let that power go to waste?

“When selling a product, the most important thing is demonstrating the bait item in front of as many people as possible.”

“But the people of Endium already know this. If they need help, they simply go to the nearest prayer house, cathedral, or the Great Cathedral.”

Well, many people did know. Once you had gathered a certain amount of money, you could simply show up. Those of higher status or willing to spend more would get priority, but the Church didn’t refuse treatment. The real problem was that even a miracle from an Archbishop was an overwhelmingly expensive burden for ordinary people. They’d have to hand over several months’ income at once, and according to Church standards based on scripture, an Archbishop’s average miracle only healed broken bones.

Honestly, that was charging way too much.

It was a vicious cycle. When economic power weakened, prices rose. When users decreased because of the higher prices, economic power weakened further. Then prices rose again. A truly hellish loop.

“Don’t set the average that high.”

“…Pardon?”

“Exactly what I said. Stop expecting people to figure things out on their own. You have to roll up your sleeves and make the first move before they react.”

With that, I looked over the ‘price list’ on the desk, picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and drew thick diagonal lines—slash, slash, slash, slash—across the prices from Priest all the way to Archbishop.

“You’re halving them?”

“We need to get people to experience the product first. Which is why I’d like you to arrange a kingdom-wide tour schedule within the next week if possible.”

“Within Endium would be one thing, but traveling across the entire kingdom is far too dangerous.”

His words made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me tilt my head in genuine confusion. Dangerous? I was the one and only Saint of the unified monotheistic Church, even if its authority had declined.

“It’s fine. I can’t just sit still because there’s a little risk.”

“It may not be ‘a little.’”

I understood his concern. Right now, the Saint was an irreplaceable asset to the Church. Naturally, they wouldn’t want to risk even the slightest danger. But if the goal was rapid asset growth, investment had to be bold and aggressive. The difference between aggressive investment and reckless gambling was often just a single sheet of paper, but staying cooped up inside the capital without ever stepping outside the kingdom was simply pathetic.

“I will trust in the Church and in faith. Please prepare quickly.”

“…Understood, Saint.”

I felt a little sorry for constantly giving him headaches, but since they had gone so far as to summon or possess me to save the Church, pushing this hard was only natural. He eventually gave in.

And so my next move began.

“O ye who suffer, come unto me. I shall deliver you from your pain.”

It sounded a bit too religious, but I was the Saint. No one could complain if I delivered my lines with proper religious flair.

“But, Saint… we have no Gold…”

“The Church’s miracles are not reserved only for those who possess wealth. Do not doubt the Saint’s declaration that she will bestow miracles. To say I will perform them now means I will ask for no payment. You need only bring those who require miracles to me. If you have faith, nothing else is necessary.”

It had been quite some time since the Church began demanding money instead of simple devotion for healing. Especially for anything from an Archbishop or higher—only nobles could usually afford it. Yet here was the Saint, whose status surpassed even a Cardinal and who was rarer than most nobles, standing in the street and declaring she would perform miracles for free.

It was understandable that people couldn’t believe it right away. The ones who finally gathered the courage to approach were those truly desperate.

“My son was run over by a carriage a while ago and ended up like this. The healer said the bones are already twisted beyond repair—even a clergyman’s miracle couldn’t fix it. But if he stays like this, how can my boy live? Saint, I beg you—please bestow a miracle upon us.”

A father had brought his son, who looked about middle-school age. The boy’s arm was horribly twisted, looking almost like a reverse joint at first glance. That kind of injury was practically impossible to heal with Divine Power. Closing bleeding wounds, realigning dislocated bones, or reattaching severed limbs was possible, but fixing something that had already twisted, hardened, and set was extremely difficult.

Still, there was a way.

“The elbow joint is completely reversed.”

“If he stays like this, he has no future. Please, I will pay any price…”

“There is one method, but it may appear cruel. You said you would pay any price, correct?”

“Please, I beg you! I will attend every mass without fail and pray. I will never again ignore those who speak ill of the Church.”

The way he wept while saying that, it was clearly the biggest promise he could make. In other words, he was someone who truly wanted to do something but had no money to do it. Perfect.

“Then I shall take this twisted arm and grant him a new one. O believer, do not be afraid of what you are about to witness.”

I nodded to the Holy Knights. Two of them restrained the father, while two others grabbed the son, who had shrunk back in fear at the sudden appearance of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knights. The last one drew his greatsword, raised it high above the boy, and looked at me.

“There is no other way. Do it.”

“W-wait, waaaaaait! Aaaaagh!”

Shunk!

The greatsword severed the twisted arm. It cut cleanly through the upper arm—at the very spot that bulges into a bicep when you flex—and the mangled forearm dropped to the ground with a wet thud as blood gushed forth. The boy whose arm had been cut screamed and thrashed wildly. His father wailed as if his own arm had been taken. Even the Holy Knights and clergy accompanying me looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠visibly disturbed. It really was excessively brutal to watch. Honestly, even I felt like throwing up. How could the others not?

But that sentiment lasted only a moment.

“Hoo…”

I brought both hands close to the severed stump and drew forth Divine Power. It wasn’t the explosive amount I had released during my speech, but it was still enough to put a heavy strain on me. The miracle that bloomed from it was—

“H-huh…?”

From the clean cut, something began to grow, bathed in the light of Divine Power. The speed was like watching a plant grow in time-lapse. The glowing shape continued to extend until fingers formed at the end, then the light faded. In its place was a perfectly healthy new arm.

“I’ve only ever heard about that in stories…”

The people who noticed stared back and forth between the newly grown arm and the severed one on the ground. The boy, who had been out of his mind from pain, and the father who had been screaming both blinked rapidly, unable to process what they were seeing.

So I spread a gentle glow around us and drove the point home.

“You said you would do anything, but that is not what I require. Simply tell everyone you meet about what you saw and experienced today. That will be enough.”

It was the beginning of viral marketing—a promotional method with enormous expected returns relative to the cost.