Chapter 80.2

“So holy power isn’t related to faith, after all?”

After all, these priests started out as mere civil servants.

Did they truly adhere to doctrine or genuinely believe in Renslet’s lineage? Of course not.

But seeing the faint holy power shining before me, such debates felt utterly pointless.

“This likely happened because a large number of Northerners have started earnestly believing in Renslet’s lineage,” Mary said, her voice brimming with excitement.

The North had a relatively small agricultural sector, which was why faith during Mary’s Blessing was neither deeply rooted nor widespread.

However, this plague was different. It did not discriminate between professions. It delved deeper and spread broader, embedding faith and belief into the hearts of Northerners.

“It certainly seems that way. The phrase ‘crisis is opportunity’ couldn’t be more fitting for this moment.”

High risk, high reward was proving itself true. Through this plague, the North had gained more than it lost.

Although many Northerners had perished from the black magic plague, their sacrifices had not been in vain.

“The question remains, though. The faith came from the Northerners, so why is holy power being manifested by the priests of the Order?”

“That’s the same with the Papal Office or the Imperial Church, isn’t it?”

“Now that you mention it, you’re right. Do you have any theories, sir?”

“It’s likely due to the difference in mana receptivity and mental states.”

“Difference in mental states?”

Mary tilted her head, seemingly understanding the part about mana receptivity but puzzled by the mention of mental states.

“Belonging to an organization and having a sense of duty can enable remarkable things.”

“Ah…?”

Mary seemed only halfway convinced by my explanation.

“Are we ready? If the preparations are complete, let’s begin.”

I set aside the matter and focused on monitoring the operation ahead of me.

I was currently in the alchemy production line of Factory 1.

Here, both our employees and priests from the Renslet Order were hard at work.

“With holy power, we can make potions.”

They were producing potions—something the North could now manufacture independently.

And in large quantities, too.

‘In the original history, potions were never mass-produced. The Church strictly controlled them, and their prideful priests refused to cooperate.’

Once potion mass production succeeded, the mortality rate among Northerners would decrease significantly.

Of course, since the process involved infusing holy power, potions wouldn’t be cheap.

However, they wouldn’t be as rare as before—when they were so scarce that even the wealthy couldn’t buy them.

In ordinary circumstances, people could rely on Medi-Kits for treatment and only turn to healers or potions in emergencies.

The North’s population now had nowhere to go but up.

“Arad, the items from Bishop Company have arrived.”

While Mary and I observed the potion production process with keen interest, Chief Teo entered and reported.

“But… half of the items we requested are missing. They’re available, but they can’t be shipped to the North.”

“The Imperial Palace must have intervened.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chief Teo handed me the purchase confirmation slip he had checked.

A significant portion of the essential raw materials for mana potion production had not been delivered.

“Well, it saves us money. By the way, what about the sand I requested?”

“If you’re referring to the sand for making glass crucibles, it’s arrived.”

“Good enough.”

I brushed it off lightly after reviewing the confirmation slip.

If holy power hadn’t manifested in the North, this could have been disastrous. But now, it didn’t matter.

“So the Emperor has died?”

I asked, turning to the hottest topic of the day with a peculiar feeling.

‘Was this just a random stroke of luck, or did my Fortune stat act up again?’

Even though I was the top expert from the Silver Age and inhabiting the body of Arad, a custom-made All-Master, I didn’t remember the exact date of the Emperor’s death.

I only vaguely recalled it being around this time.

“Yes! It seems the Empire is in quite a state of disarray because of it. Word is that the capital is preparing to receive delegations of condolence.”

Chief Teo recalled his conversation with the Bishop Company merchant as he answered.

“A delegation of condolence, huh… Well, an Emperor is an Emperor, no matter how much of an enemy they are. We’ll have to send someone.”

The mention of a delegation brought to mind Count Gard, who doubled as the head of the Rune Merchant Guild.

“Mary.”

I turned to Mary, who had been quietly listening to my conversation with Chief Teo.

“Have you heard anything from the High Tower about delegations of condolence or congratulatory envoys?”

The Emperor was dead, and a new one would soon ascend.

The envoys sent for condolences would likely stay on to serve as congratulatory envoys during the coronation.

I didn’t feel particularly emotional about the Emperor’s death. He had been on his last legs anyway, and in the original timeline, this was around when he was supposed to die.

What mattered was how we could capitalize on this moment.

“They’re still discussing it, as far as I know.”

“I see. Then again, dealing with the plague is the North’s top priority right now. Still, they’ll need to send a delegation soon…”

“They might not send one at all,” Mary interjected with her personal opinion.

“Why do you think that?”

“The Empire tried to send a legion under the guise of a relief army to exploit the chaos in the North. That plan was scrapped when the Emperor died, but still…”

Her expression turned bitter, filled with resentment.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“And above all, the masterminds behind this black magic plague are none other than the Imperial family and the Church.”

Her words made perfect sense.

International politics shouldn’t be driven by emotions, but that was far easier said than done.

On Earth, international politics were influenced by public sentiment. In this world, they were shaped by the emotions of monarchs and nobles.

Grand Duchess Arina and the Northern nobility harbored an unparalleled hatred for the Empire—sometimes even more than the Northern commoners did.

‘This might even be Mary conveying Arina’s thoughts.’

Arina was a wise ruler but also a person and a woman.

No matter how idealistic a ruler might be, they could never be entirely free from emotion.

“That’s exactly why we must send a delegation.”

“Why?”

“The more uncertain the situation, the more important intelligence becomes. A condolence delegation is the perfect legitimate means of reconnaissance.”

“But…”

“Think about what we’ve suffered during this plague.”

“…!”

“There’s a lesson to be learned here. Letting emotions dictate our actions and refusing to send a delegation would be shortsighted. Instead, we should bow our heads, deceive the Empire, and extract every bit of information we can.”

I laid out my thoughts for Mary, hoping that they would be relayed to Her Grace at the High Tower.

“…I see.”

Mary seemed convinced and nodded with resolute eyes.

‘Looks like the message will get through.’

Seeing the determination in her gray eyes, I felt reassured.

“Phew! Thank goodness! You’re here!”

Just then, someone entered the factory, calling out to us loudly.

Few people could walk around the industrial complex so freely and confidently.

“Sir Balzac? Sir Sun?”

It was Balzac, who had been scouring the North for dark magicians and the Bell Witch, alongside Sun, the guardian of the High Tower.

“Ah, today’s the day you were scheduled to return to the High Tower.”

“That’s right! And it’s such a relief we arrived in time!”

“…?”

Balzac looked immensely relieved, his gaze shifting toward me—or more precisely, toward Mary.

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