Chapter: 361
I might not know what the Berandi tribe wants, but one thing is for sure: regardless of their leader’s true feelings, he can’t give up the title of priest.
Even if he fails to perform his priestly duties properly, other tribes still see him as the priestly chief. So, if he’s out there shouting, “My father has passed, but I am still a priest,” it makes sense. Of course, I have no idea why he’s doing it, but he’s clinging to that identity all the same.
That’s enough for me. If the Berandi leader is going to wear the title of priest, he better act like one.
“When someone arrives, blessed by the Eternal Blue Sky and bearing divine tokens, let the priest welcome the guest!”
As I stepped into the Berandi camp, I proudly declared this.
I mean, I truly carry the blessing of your god, along with the very items of his divinity. Even if you try to harbor ill will against the Empire, how could you possibly kick out someone who’s representing your own priesthood?
– You seem to have lost your mind.
That muttering echoed in my head, making me feel a bit awkward. After all, as someone who wrecked the faith of the Eternal Blue Sky, I probably shouldn’t be shouting such things.
Still, I managed to keep my confidence intact. If I were selling out the Eternal Blue Sky for my own selfish gains, I’d be just as much of a bastard, but this situation benefits both parties.
‘Let’s just say we’re both trying to do something good here.’
– Sure, I guess it’s good for me too.
With that, the Eternal Blue Sky fell silent again. It wasn’t long before a few nomads hurried over.
The fact that they came unarmed suggests they’re planning to welcome me as a guest.
Upon arriving at the central yurt, I found a middle-aged man waiting. He had his hair slicked back neatly and his beard well-groomed, indicating he cared about his appearance. However, the irritation and exhaustion combined in his expression made him look like a failure who just drowned his sorrows in booze.
“The blessing and divine tokens.”
As soon as he confirmed my entrance, he pulled a leather pouch from his mouth and muttered.
“It’s interesting that an imperial citizen possesses something even the priest hasn’t seen.”
But contrary to his words, he displayed no real curiosity. Instead, he gestured to a chair opposite him, inviting me to sit down.
As expected, there were no hostile gestures or attempts to attack right away. It was still a tense situation, but the fact we could have a conversation meant we were off to a good start.
“I am Gurute Batal, the sole priest of the plains, and also the leader of the Berandi tribe.”
“I am Karl Krasius of the Empire of Wuridia, granted the title of Count by His Majesty the Emperor.”
Upon hearing my name, the priest twitched slightly in his slouched chair before composing himself.
“Karl Krasius?”
A sharpness replaced his earlier lethargy, filling his eyes with newfound intensity.
“You’re the heretic who destroyed the home of the Grand Priest who serves the heavens.”
It sounded more like an intimidation tactic than an accusation fitting the narrative. Since I had invoked the blessing and divine tokens, the chief could now assert his faith over me by representing the Northern beliefs against the imperial heretic. The reason for this meeting? The divine token holder wanted to meet the priest.
But it didn’t matter. Once the meeting was established, negotiations were already underway.
“How ironic that the enemy of faith carries the blessing and divine tokens.”
“Even adversaries are part of myth.”
My sudden comment made the priest’s eyes twitch, but I pressed on undeterred.
“And because he is part of the myth, he may entangle with the divine.”
As I gestured to my aide, he placed my sword on the table. Unlike with the Kaitan tribe, I couldn’t bring armed guards along, so this was a necessary compromise.
…Actually, this setup is probably how things should be, while the Kaitan situation was the anomaly.
“The first pope of the Dawn Sect was killed at the hands of a heretic. However, the dagger that pierced him became divine, and the heretic, having harmed a representative of the faith, is now a martyr spreading that faith.”
I knew I was just throwing out empty words, but the priest seemed to catch on, turning his gaze to the weapon on the table.
Good, he seems to be perceptive enough to understand.
“That’s why it’s not so strange for a weapon that killed the Grand Priest to be divine, nor for a heretic who desecrated the temple to receive a blessing.”
To summarize, I’d just proclaimed: ‘Sure, I murdered your Grand Priest and demolished your temple, but hey, my blessing and divine tokens are the real deal!’
In that moment, a thought crossed my mind—do I need to strip down and show him my blessing too? But as the priest chuckled and returned his focus to me, I relaxed.
“Humans can never fully grasp the will of the gods. You’ve brought something valuable.”
With that, the priest addressed his attendant behind him.
“Prepare a feast for our esteemed guest.”
“Yes, Chief.”
Hearing that I would be treated hospitably eased my anxiety. Had things gone wrong, I might have had to throw a sword dance and hightail it out of there.
That being said, the priest’s ability to see value in mere swordplay was a relief—he at least seemed to sense the divine.
The priest’s demeanor was notably warm. Here was someone being presented with the divine tokens of a crumbling faith while also recognizing a diplomat capable of restoring his tribe.
Yet one thing jogged my memory: it’s strange that such a calm person has yet to express any intention of surrender—
“It’s embarrassing to claim the title of priest when we don’t even have divine tokens or a temple to serve our lord.”
“That sounds like a lot of hard work.”
“It’s quite beyond mere flattery. Our Berandi tribe is supposed to be united under faith, but here I am, a priest feeling lost in the dark. How desperate must my fellow tribesmen feel? But now the Empire shows us divine tokens infused with your lord’s power, leading us down a new path, and even this gratitude feels insufficient.”
Hearing the priest shift to respectful language made this all click for me. Even if he yearned to surrender, he felt bound by duty as a priest. He wanted to save his people but couldn’t abandon the role of the priest. To surrender would tear down the very faith he sought to uphold.
In that maddening dilemma, I had opened a pathway for him, so he was probably unsure how to proceed. Certainly, the way he framed it—saying it was the Empire leading the way forward—spoke volumes.
Now it seemed that the priest’s surrender wasn’t merely a survival tactic. It would express gratitude towards the Empire, which restored light to a fading faith. A matronly duty for any priest.
“His Majesty is well aware that there are northern cultures to respect. He seeks to cherish and embrace the northern faith. Thus, as a servant blessed by His Majesty, I am merely returning what should rightfully belong to the North.”
At this, the priest beamed widely. The emphasis on the divine was now mixing with the Emperor’s political intent to embrace the North’s cultures. The reasons for the Berandi tribe to surrender were laid before me without reserve, and it felt like a win-win situation.
“However, the return of divine tokens will only happen after the priest formally receives his title.”
Of course, bestowing a title was also a key reason for surrender. If we were in a good mood, then why not push forward?
In fact, the granting of a title was a gift capable of turning even foes into allies. If presented at the right time, it could strengthen our bond further, morphing it into something far deeper.
Notably, the moment I uttered the word “title,” the previously amused priest froze in disbelief.
“As I mentioned, His Majesty respects the northern cultures. This means he shall hold Berandi achingly close.”
Yes, that’s precisely what will happen. The priest will symbolize the Empire’s broad tolerance while also representing the common faith shared among the roaming tribes. If the Empire is to control the North smoothly, the priest must become a prominent figure within it.
I discreetly retrieved the official seal I’d tucked away. I saw the guard behind the priest tense as I reached into my robes, but when I produced only the seal, he visibly relaxed.
“This symbolizes His Majesty’s trust in the Berandi tribe.”
“…Marquis?”
At the blank response, I couldn’t help but smile.
Sorry, Count Kaitan, but the title of marquis is a better fit for the Berandi. There’s enough symbolism and history to justify it, but with their lack of power, it’s impossible for them to overpower other tribes.
‘It’s perfect.’
If the strongest among them becomes a marquis, he can use force to keep other counts in check, decreasing the chances of another Kagan rising.
Thus, the Berandi it is. Instead of creating a powerful marquis, I need to sculpt an honorable marquis.
“I congratulate you on becoming the thirteenth marquis of the Empire. Looks like you’re my superior now.”
The priest—no, the now-marquis of the Berandi tribe stared dumbfoundedly at the seal.
*
The stormy negotiations finally concluded.
“If you’re at the front lines, you never know when you might get swept up in combat. For now, retreat to a safe place, and once the war is over, you will be granted your title by His Majesty.”
The envoy’s words lingered in my mind long after the negotiations ended.
‘What a godforsaken life it’s been.’
I felt a laugh bubbling up. Ever since the nomads’ defeat in the last war, and following my father’s passing, it’s been an unending string of hardships. And yet, amid all this chaos, light came shining through.
‘Divine will, huh.’
The envoy remarked that the Empire’s Emperor aimed to embrace the nomads with mercy and grace because he’d received divine instruction to do so.
Heaven’s will.
‘…Heaven.’
Just saying that word sent me over the edge, unable to contain my laughter. The priest serving the Eternal Blue Sky had survived through heavenly guidance and, more than that, not through a shameful capitulation, but secured a life rich with honor and wealth.
It’s ridiculous! I thought faith was devoid of hope or future, yet it appeared that god had been watching over the one surviving priest.
“Chief!”
Still chuckling, Shati, one of my guards who had sat in on the negotiations, cautiously opened her mouth.
“That earlier claim, was it really divine?”
It wasn’t a long question, but the confusion Shati felt was unmistakable. After all, an imperial citizen just brought a divine token that had been lost to these plains.
I smiled back at Shati, responding to her query.
“Dunno.”
“…What?”
“I honestly just don’t know.”
At my bold confession, Shati stiffened up.
But what can I do? I really don’t have a clue.
‘How would I know about that?’
I’ve never even seen a divine item, and ever since my father passed, I haven’t felt the presence of the divine.
It’s weird that a priest who has received no divine responses can even recognize one. Priests aren’t infallible beings.
“Ah, Father! We surrender without even knowing if it’s divine—”
Shati’s voice strained into a frantic shout as I shook my head at her. She zipped her lips immediately but still wore an expression of doubt and discontent.
“Shati.”
“…What is it?”
“The important part isn’t whether it’s divine or not.”
Noticing her urge to speak up again, I hastily added, “It’s important to believe it is a divine token.”
Whether that sword is genuinely divine or not? I have no idea. However, the Empire’s envoy says it is, and his words carry the Emperor’s weight. To the envoy, the sword may as well be divine.
Thus, it doesn’t matter if it’s the genuine article or not. The Emperor and the lone priest will declare it a divine token.
‘Who cares what’s true?’
The mightiest nation on the continent and a figure of faith affirming someone’s claim; does the actual truth even matter?
Even if it did, wouldn’t it pale in comparison to the peace of the plains and the survival of the tribe?
‘This booze is great.’
I tossed back a hearty gulp of the mare’s milk I’d been nursing.
Today looks like a day to drink myself silly.
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