Promotion and the Uproar
The massive gates of the grand hall swung open, and the Pope—outwardly unscathed—slowly made his way inside. Trailing behind him were holy knights, their discipline ironclad as they scanned the surroundings with razor-sharp vigilance, exuding an air of unyielding resolve that brooked no weakness.
But what could be done about it? The Pope had already been beaten by me until every tooth was gone, making his unnaturally pristine face look somehow off. With no dentures in this world, his features seemed slightly distorted.
The meeting between the Pope and the Emperor. In truth, the Pope rarely intervened in politics, so encounters with the Emperor were few and far between. The Church showed no overt corruption on the surface, and as the Vivian Church was the empire's state religion, there was little cause for conflict. Yet the Pope crowned the Emperor and affirmed his legitimacy, placing them on equal footing.
In any case, the Pope was a subject of the empire, so he offered a slight bow in greeting.
"It's been a while, Your Majesty."
"Holy Father, I am grateful you've come all this way."
"This must be our first meeting since the coronation."
"Already ten years have passed."
The Emperor descended from the throne. As a professed follower of the Vivian Church, he had to show respect to the Pope. Even a moderately inept and worldly ruler like him knew how to navigate the current situation.
At the Emperor's command, the imperial guards brought forth two ornate chairs. The Pope sat facing the Emperor. The toothless Pope, looking somewhat pitiful, opened his mouth to speak.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding regarding Viscount Aron, so I've come to set the record straight."
"A misunderstanding... you say?"
"Lady Vivian herself has issued a divine oracle."
"...!"
"When the oracle came, the heavens parted, and Lady Vivian spoke directly. The holy knights, cardinals, and high priests all bore witness, and a sanctity descended that no mortal could imitate."
"Heavens!"
This was the Pope's guarantee. If the Emperor denied it now, the Church would brand him a heretic on the spot. With his position already weakened, public sentiment would waver, giving the nobles cause to strike him down. Unless the Emperor had lost his mind, denial was impossible.
"Wh-what was the oracle?"
The Pope spoke in a resolute tone.
"The heretical god Odin has incited rebellion in the celestial realm, seeking to eliminate all other gods. In response, Lady Vivian has designated Viscount Aron as the great warrior and religious leader, commanding him to convert the giant gods' followers and make them her people."
"That's absurd!"
"Are you denying the oracle now? You will face divine punishment."
"N-no, it's just... it doesn't make sense..."
"The giant gods' followers have already begun converting and marching toward the empire's east. I ask that you cease all criticism of Viscount Aron."
"Urgh."
The Emperor and nobles wore expressions like they'd stepped barefoot into a pile of dog shit—a clear sign of their displeasure. The sight of the toothless Pope speaking with grave seriousness was almost enough to draw laughter. I quickly bowed my head to hide it.
Scrape.
The Pope rose from his seat. Our eyes met. His body trembled visibly. Clearly, my education had taken hold.
As the Church members departed, talk shifted to politics. The Emperor looked utterly distressed. With Vivian issuing an oracle, converting the giant gods' followers was now an monumental achievement.
Calvern gazed skyward with a sigh before speaking.
"There was a brief misunderstanding. My apologies."
"Not at all. How could mere mortals presume to fathom the gods' will? Your Majesty's actions were entirely justified, and the misunderstanding was understandable. Yet the gods, in their grace toward me, have even deigned to issue an oracle. I am at a loss in the face of their undeserved love."
I gazed heavenward briefly, clasping my hands in prayer. At my sanctimonious display, the nobles flinched as if bugs were crawling over their skin. They'd surely heard the Pope had been beaten just before arriving, and Andro VI was indeed missing all his teeth. For him to show up preaching oracles must have driven them mad.
The Emperor's hands shook like a man struck by windstroke.
Clang!
"Ahem, Viscount Aron, receive the imperial decree."
"I, Aron Blaine, receive the command of His Majesty the Emperor, sovereign of the empire and exemplar to all."
"Lord Aron has rescued the empire from the brink of crisis and eradicated the threat entirely. This merit rivals that of a founding hero. Thus, we promote Viscount Aron to the rank of Count, a great noble, and grant him the vacant Akaron Territory—currently troublesome to administer—merging it with Blaine Territory. Furthermore, we bestow 30% of the war spoils and one million gold to honor your valor."
"Oh! I am deeply honored!"
Becoming a great noble meant little to me—the title would vanish with the empire's fall anyway. But acquiring the expansive farmlands of Akaron Territory and a million gold was a fine haul. Conveniently adjacent to my lands, it would be easy to manage. The Emperor looked almost endearing today.
"Congratulations, Count Aron. A banquet in your honor has been prepared tonight—please join us and enjoy."
"Well, since Your Majesty has gone to such lengths, how could I refuse? Thank you."
"Heh heh heh..."
The Emperor's laugh rang hollow. Leaving him behind, I exited the hall. Time to rest until evening and shake off the fatigue.
In the space Aron had vacated, the Emperor and nobles stared in disbelief. Calvern in particular couldn't shake his suspicions about the incident.
"The Pope must have been coerced!"
"Indeed! But Your Majesty, fresh reports confirm the oracle was genuine."
"The Pope was beaten, yet he received an oracle?!"
"Y-yes."
Even Great General Duke McCain was baffled. How could Vivian issue an oracle right after the Pope was thrashed—and one favoring Aron, no less? Doubting it now would label them apostates. No one dared claim it was forged or a trick from some false god impersonating Vivian. Especially not when the Pope himself vouched for Aron.
"Heavens!"
"This is..."
The nobles groaned in silence, unable to accept the situation. Even the irreligious Emperor instinctively invoked Vivian.
"Goddess of Wisdom, grant us your insight to save the empire."
Splash.
I used the finest bath in the VIP quarters. After hours of sleep, I called for a bath, and the maids attended me. Their reactions upon seeing me were unexpected—not fear, but blushing and flustered hesitation. I'd seen this before, so I brushed it off, but as I relaxed, they kept chatting me up.
"Your skin is as smooth as silk."
"What's your secret to such flawless complexion?"
"No real secret."
"How can you be so manly? Any thoughts on marriage?"
"Why the sudden interest? Haven't you heard the rumors about me?"
"Oh, those are all just nonsense, they say."
"..."
What was going on? Then I remembered: I had Savitri's synergy perk, Fantasy Charm, equipped. Strangely, everyone who saw me took a liking—even the holy knights who'd witnessed me pummeling the Pope.
No way...
Was Fantasy Charm this potent? My reputation in the palace should be vile, yet the maids' eyes were half-lidded in adoration. One even stumbled and collapsed while attending me. Should I be thrilled?
Splash!
"Eek!"
"Oh my!"
This was getting hard to get used to. I consciously deactivated the Fantasy Charm synergy. Glancing at the maids again, they still blushed. So anyone who'd seen me with it active was doomed to like me. I'd need to test it more at the banquet.
Evening fell. Bathed and hungry, I dressed and headed to the hall. My goal tonight wasn't networking—why bother when all these nobles would soon be gone? I was just there because I was starving and couldn't snub the Emperor's gesture.
Was I late? Carriages clogged the entrance, but no crowds—nobles must have arrived already. As I approached, the chamberlain bellowed toward the hall.
"Entering now: Count Aron Blaine, hero of the empire and tonight's guest of honor!"
Whoosh!
The grand doors parted, revealing the banquet hall. Walls plated in gold, marble floors, long tables laden with delicacies on both sides. Musicians played, dancers whirled, and the free-spirited party was in full swing. This was a typical noble affair.
Murmur murmur!
My entrance stirred the room. Noble ladies especially shrieked and fawned, their fathers scrambling to rein them in. It was clear now: Savitri's recommended synergy blessing, Fantasy Charm, compelled absolute affection. But the nobles' sharp glares suggested it didn't sway those already harboring grudges.
Feeling their stares, I dove into the feast. To me, banquets were just buffets. Better to eat my fill, sleep more, and prep for tomorrow's journey than waste time schmoozing.
Delicacies vanished down my gullet. No need for image control—I ate like a beast when ladies approached.
"Count Aron! Might I have the honor of a dance, holding your hand?"
"Burp. No thanks."
"Wh-why not?"
"Eh, I don't dance with orcs."
"Kyaa! So forceful!"
"..."
Mouth smeared with food, belching and picking my teeth—forceful? The ladies swarmed.
"You eat so elegantly!"
"How about spending the night with me?"
"Kyaaa! I love you!"
"Ha... this is insane."
This synergy skill was too dangerous. Come to think of it, wasn't Savitri one of the crazier gods?