136: Chapter 136 The Church's "Goodwill" Has a Price Tag

Just as the attendant finished speaking, the heavy oak doors of the administrative hall slid open silently.

A peculiar scent, a mix of holy oil and ancient scrolls, surged in like an invisible tide, instantly overwhelming the tension and anxiety that had filled the hall.

Levi's gaze moved past the crowd and landed on the doorway.

Standing there was an elderly man in crimson bishop robes; he was lean, his face covered in fine wrinkles, yet he showed no signs of senility, instead exuding an unquestionable authority cultivated from years of holding high office.

In his hand, he held a golden scepter topped with a massive sapphire, which reflected a cold and divine radiance under the sunlight streaming through the window.

Behind him followed two rows of attendants in white monastic robes, their eyes lowered and expressions solemn, their steps perfectly synchronized like moving statues.

This display caused the nobles, who had been in a state of chaos just moments ago, to fall silent instantly.

They instinctively straightened their backs, the panicked expressions on their faces quickly replaced by stiff smiles that mixed awe and flattery.

Fear of divine power was an instinct branded deeper into the souls of every noble on the continent of Terrarium than fear of imperial power.

The Cardinal's gaze slowly swept across the room, his gray eyes holding a compassionate scrutiny, as if looking at a flock of lost sheep.

His gaze lingered briefly on Baron Valerius and the other nobles, but deliberately—even with a hint of contempt—skipped over Levi, who was standing before the dais, as if he were merely an insignificant piece of furniture.

Finally, his gaze fixed on the pale Ella.

He took a few steps forward; his attendants stopped by the door in a tacit understanding, not following further.

The air in the administrative hall seemed to grow thick with his approach.

"Good day, respected Princess," the Cardinal said, lightly resting his scepter on the floor with a dull thud.

He bowed slightly, hand over his chest, performing an impeccable etiquette of the Holy See.

His voice was slow and solemn, carrying a strange resonance as if every word echoed off a temple dome. "I am Ambrosius, the Bishop of the Northern Diocese of the Holy See of Radiance. Hearing that the people of the North are suffering, I have come in the name of God to spread light and love."

Ella instinctively returned a noble's salute, her lips moving, but she didn't know what to say.

To her, Ambrosius's appearance was like a drowning person seeing a large ship emerging from the mist; though the flag it flew was unknown, the survival instinct left her unable to think.

Levi watched the scene quietly, saying nothing, his expression not changing in the slightest.

He simply ran through the report Evelyn had previously submitted in his mind.

The Holy See of Radiance, the state religion of the Empire, was one of the largest beneficiaries and also the largest landowner.

This Bishop Ambrosius was marked in the report as "extremely conservative" and "greedy"; it was said that the elven fruit wine in his private cellar was more expensive than the entire annual revenue of Blackstone Territory.

Ambrosius was clearly satisfied with Ella's reaction; he straightened up, the compassionate look on his face deepening.

"Child, God's gaze is always upon this land. Duke Silverwind's reckless actions have grieved God. Strife between believers only makes the demons of the abyss sneer," he said in a chanting tone. "But rest assured, the Radiance never fades. The Holy See is willing to guide the lost sheep and settle this pointless dispute."

Hearing the words "settle the dispute," a spark of hope instantly erupted in the eyes of the nobles below.

Baron Valerius was so excited he leaned forward slightly, as if he couldn't wait to kneel and kiss the hem of the Bishop's robe.

Ella's breathing quickened as she took a step forward, her voice trembling slightly, "Lord Bishop, you... do you mean the Holy See is willing to mediate?"

"Of course." A kind smile finally appeared on Ambrosius's face, though it didn't reach his eyes. "God loves the world and does not wish to see His people displaced. However, God's grace also requires devout faith in return. To ensure the prayers of the North reach heaven faster, and to provide relief to the southern believers who have fallen into hardship due to the severed trade routes, the Holy See believes The Foundation should show sufficient 'sincerity'."

He paused and held up three fingers, the gesture as elegant as if he were conducting a sacred mass.

"To demonstrate the North's reverence for God, The Foundation only needs to donate thirty percent of the proceeds from the seized assets as an 'offering' to the Holy See, to be used for God's charitable works in the mortal realm."

Thirty percent!

This figure caused the smiles on the faces of the hopeful nobles to freeze instantly.

That was no small sum; it was the meat they had risked treason to snatch from the mouths of the old-money elites.

Before they could recover from the shock, Ambrosius added with a smile, "Furthermore, to ensure every gold coin of The Foundation is used for the righteous path pleasing to God, the Holy See needs to permanently hold a twenty percent stake in The Foundation under the name of 'Divine Supervision.' Of course, this is merely honorary; we will not participate in daily operations, only guarding your souls at critical moments."

The administrative hall was deathly silent; even the sound of breathing had vanished.

Everyone was stunned by the Bishop's lion-like appetite disguised as "goodwill."

Thirty percent cash, twenty percent non-voting shares.

This wasn't mediation; this was taking advantage of a crisis—it was blatant highway robbery!

Ella's face turned from pale to flushed; she felt as though her throat were blocked by something.

She wanted to retort, to question him, but under the name of "God," all secular logic and reason seemed pale and powerless.

In that suffocating silence, a calm voice spoke up.

"Your Excellency Bishop."

Levi took a step forward, a gentle—one might even say humble—smile on his face, as he stepped between Ella and Ambrosius.

Ambrosius's brow furrowed imperceptibly as he finally looked directly at the young man he had been ignoring.

"On behalf of The Foundation, I thank the Holy See for its generosity and mercy," Levi's tone was so sincere that no fault could be found. "However, as the manager responsible for specific execution, I have a few detailed questions to ask for your guidance, so that we may better cooperate with God's light."

Ambrosius let out a soft huff from his nose, which served as a silent permission.

To him, this was merely the vulgar habit of a secular merchant haggling over trifles.

"First, I would like to understand the specific plan for your 'mediation'," Levi's smile remained unchanged, but his questions were like precise scalpels. "Does the Holy See intend to submit an arbitration request to His Imperial Majesty based on Article 17 of the 'Imperial Noble Dispute Mediation Act'? Or do you plan to invoke the 'Sacred Truce Decree' that only takes effect during wartime? Or perhaps, exert pressure directly on Duke Silverwind himself through the Holy See's internal channels?"

The smile on Ambrosius's face stiffened slightly.

He certainly understood these terms, but he had never expected to be asked about them so systematically by a minor border noble in public.

Levi gave him no time to think, immediately throwing out a second question: "Secondly, regarding the channels. Will this mediation be handled by you personally or by the Northern Cathedral? Will the Holy See dispatch an envoy of Cardinal rank to ensure Duke Silverwind's unconditional compliance? After all, the Duke himself is a devout believer and surely would not defy the will from the Holy City."

The corners of Ambrosius's mouth began to twitch.

"Finally, and most crucially, the timing." Levi looked directly into the Bishop's eyes, which were beginning to turn cold, his tone still gentle. "From the moment we pay the 'offering,' how long will the Holy See need to guarantee that the southern trade routes are completely reopened? One day? One week? Or one month? To protect our shareholders' interests, we hope the Holy See can provide us with a legally binding 'Trade Route Continuity Guarantee Agreement' directly endorsed by the Cathedral of Holy Light. The agreement needs to clearly specify how the Holy See will compensate for our economic losses if the trade routes are not opened within the agreed time, or if they are blocked again after being opened."

A series of professional and commercialized questions, like a dense hail of arrows, riddled Ambrosius's ornate outer robe woven from "God's goodwill" with holes.

He was completely stunned.

An agreement? Compensation?

Who was he talking to?

Was he trying to do business with God's representative on earth?

This arrogant young man actually wanted to use a secular merchant's contract to measure God's will?

"Presumptuous!" Ambrosius could no longer maintain his compassionate facade. He slammed his golden scepter onto the floor and shouted, "God's will is not something to be surmised or measured by mortal contracts! The Holy See's assistance is a gift based on faith, not a filthy transaction that can be bargained over!"

His voice echoed in the administrative hall, carrying a pressure reinforced by divine magic, causing the nobles present to bow their heads, not daring to face his wrath.

Seeing this, Baron Valerius hurriedly stepped forward to smooth things over: "Lord Levi, how... how can you speak to the Lord Bishop like that! This is our only chance!"

"Yes, yes, having the Holy See intervene is better than making deals with those savage orcs!" another noble chimed in.

Although they were pained by the gold coins and shares, in their view, compromising with the Church was much safer than taking the dead-end path of total treason.

Looking at these wavering nobles, a faint, imperceptible sneer flashed across Levi's face.

He turned around, no longer paying attention to the infuriated Ambrosius, and instead gave an order to Evelyn beside him in a tone that was calm to the point of being cold.

"Evelyn, calculate it."

Evelyn understood immediately. She didn't even need to operate the crystal tablet; her slender fingers simply tapped in the air as if flicking invisible abacus beads. Her cool voice then rang out, clearly reaching every corner of the administrative hall.

"Reporting, My Lord. Based on the total valuation of the assets currently seized by The Foundation, a thirty percent 'offering' is approximately 4.5 million Imperial gold coins. A twenty percent stake in The Foundation, calculated at the current minimum valuation, is worth no less than 3 million gold coins, and its future growth potential is immeasurable."

She paused and delivered the final conclusion.

"According to our finance department's risk assessment of this blockade, even if the trade routes are completely blocked for three months, our estimated direct and indirect economic losses will be around 6 million gold coins."

As Evelyn finished speaking, the entire administrative hall fell into a dead silence.

All the nobles were stunned. They stared blankly at Evelyn, then at the ashen-faced Ambrosius, as if a string in their minds had been plucked with a "twang."

Levi slowly turned around to face all the nobles, spreading his hands. His smile appeared incredibly sincere, yet also incredibly cruel.

"You all heard it," he pointed out calmly. "His Excellency the Bishop has provided us with a 'solution' that is more expensive than the disaster itself."

These words were like a sharp slap across Ambrosius's face, and also across the faces of all the nobles who still harbored illusions about the Holy See.

The truth was laid bare, without even a shred of "sacredness" or "goodwill" left to cover it.

"Sacrilege!" Ambrosius's chest heaved violently, his wrinkled face turning purple from extreme rage.

He raised his scepter high, pointing it directly at Levi, his voice shrill like the cry of a night owl. "You blasphemer, whose soul has been corrupted by money! You are using filthy calculations to defile God's mercy! I declare that from this moment on, you, Levi Byron, are a person no longer protected by God!"

His fury turned toward everyone present, his gray eyes burning with the flames of resentment.

"And you all! Everyone who follows this blasphemer! In the name of the Northern Diocese, I will petition the Holy City to define the entire North as a 'Land of Impure Faith'! I will call upon all devout believers in the Empire to boycott any of your goods! Your furs will go unwanted, and your ores will rot in the warehouses! You will sink forever into poverty and despair!"

A threat—a blatant threat.

These words were more lethal than Duke Silverwind's blockade order.

An economic blockade could be broken, but isolation in faith would make the entire North a plague-ridden land that everyone would avoid.

The nobles' faces instantly turned deathly pale, looking even worse than when they had heard about the blockade.

Even Ella's body swayed uncontrollably.

Yet, facing a threat enough to terrify any Imperial noble, Levi's face still showed not a single trace of wavering.

He didn't even bother to glance at the infuriated Bishop again.

His gaze passed through all the terrified faces and finally landed on the swaying girl in the purple dress.

He walked slowly to her and once again pushed the two draft trade agreements with the foreign races gently toward her.

The golden sunlight streamed through the large floor-to-ceiling window, making the two names marked in blood-red font on the parchment appear incredibly clear and glaring.

"Your Highness."

Levi's voice was very soft, yet it struck Ella's heart like a heavy hammer, shattering the last shred of her illusions about the old order.

"Now, only these two 'friends' are left who are willing to help us break the blockade for free."

He looked into her violet eyes, which were filled with struggle and pain, and asked calmly:

"Do you still wish to entrust the fate of the North to the 'goodwill' of another 'god'?"