Reincarnation of a Hunter Chapter 33 - The Diocese of Marseille

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The next morning, after bidding farewell to Enrique and his group, we set out again on the road to the Holy See.

 

Pascal asked me about Enrique.

“My lord, I’m curious why that wandering singer accepted your proposal. He agreed to sing without asking for anything in return.”

 

Though 〈Song of Truth🎵〉 had been helpful, even without its buff, Enrique would have accepted my offer.

“How should I put it? I suppose it’s because Enrique is an idealistic socialist?”

 

Pascal clicked his tongue.

“That ideology sounds dangerous just by its name.”

“Indeed. Especially for someone like me—a noble and a lord.”

“But then, why does Enrique like you so much?”

“Maybe he sees some kind of utopia in me.”

“Utopia?”

Ah, right. This world doesn’t have the word ‘utopia.’

“It refers to the most ideal society humans can imagine.”

“Ah, I see why you called him an idealistic socialist. That’s impossible to achieve.”

 

He was right. The world Enrique dreamed of would never come.

Earth’s history had already proven that.

 

Ironically, though, some of the ideals espoused by utopian socialists on Earth had been adopted within free-market economies.

Perhaps what Enrique wanted from me wasn’t a revolution, but fragments of those ideals.

[Spending the territory’s budget for the sake of its people.]

That might have been all he asked for.

 

After another day of camping, our long journey finally came to an end.

 

⚔️ 

 

Magerit, the capital of the Iberian Kingdom and the city where the Holy See of the God of Prosperity resided.

 

The city was so vast that buildings stretched all the way to the horizon, and the outskirts were already bustling with people coming and going.

There were no visible city walls—likely because the city had expanded so much that walls had become pointless.

 

Even though Martin and Pascal had lived for a long time in the Empire’s Westphalian territories, they seemed stunned by the sheer size of the city.

 

Pascal gaped in awe.

“My lord, I never knew there could be so many people in one place.”

“In terms of population, this might be the largest city on the northern continent.”

“Could it be even bigger than the Empire’s capital?”

 

The imperial capital of Germania, Hamburg, has a large port and numerous industrial facilities, but it is not as densely populated as Magerit. This is because the surrounding territories have dispersed the concentrated population.

 

“That makes sense. The empire created satellite cities to distribute its resources.”

“Satellite cities?”

“Ah, think of them as subsidiary cities. Does that make sense?”

“Right, right. So, in other words, Magerit is too overcrowded.”

“Exactly. Here, slums are expanding the city recklessly. It feels like the districts were divided without any real planning.”

 

In the distance, far from the main road, slums resembling hillside shantytowns were scattered here and there.

 

‘Just looking at it, you can tell the unemployment rate is high, and the wealth gap is extreme. Problems are bound to erupt soon.’

 

Seeing the gloomy expressions of the residents, we changed the subject.

 

Since there were no separate inspections, our group headed straight to the entrance of the papal office on horseback.

 

Many establishments catering to papal visitors were visible there, so we decided to secure an inn first.

 

Pascal, seemingly eager to rest properly, pointed to a high-end inn and said, “My lord, if you wish to preserve your noble health, you should stay at an inn like that.”

 

Staying at such a luxurious inn—complete with what looked like an outdoor pool—was out of the question.

It might sound stingy, but it felt like a waste of money. We weren’t here for a resort vacation.

 

“My noble health? That place looks way too expensive.”

“Wouldn’t it be worth the price?”

“Motion denied. Find us an inn with a stable and good food.”

 

Pascal reluctantly began asking around and soon led the group to a clean-looking inn.

 

⚔️ 

 

In front of the Office of the Pontifical Secretary of the God of Abundance.

 

Even though I was a noble and a lord, here, everyone had to wait their turn equally.

 

At least my business—’establishing a parish’—meant my turn would come quickly. The person I needed to meet was a high-ranking official, after all.

 

Sitting on the bench, I felt so bored that I began to yawn.

Just then, the door to the State Council opened, and a novice priest called my name.

“Count Eric Marseille, I will guide you inside.”

Following the novice priest’s lead, I moved along with Martin and Pascal, who had accompanied me. Soon, we arrived at a room with a plaque that read 【Office of the Prime Minister of the State Council.】

 

The first thing I saw upon entering was an elderly man dressed in a worn-out priest’s robe. He spread his arms wide and smiled at me.

“Count Marseille, welcome. Please, have a seat here.”

 

Our group sat on the slightly tattered sofa, sipping tea served by the Prime Minister himself as we exchanged greetings.

Then, the real matter at hand began.

 

“You’re establishing a diocese in Marseille?”

“Yes. I wish to create a diocese integrating four territories: Marseille, Rhône-Alpes, Ferrand, and Dijon. I’ve already received letters of consent from each lord.”

“Already? That’s remarkably fast. Is there a reason you’re moving so quickly?”

 

The question felt oddly pointed. Though I grew wary, this was the Prime Minister of the Papal State Council. 

 

Hiding my unease, I simply answered, “Why delay unnecessarily? Establishing a diocese benefits the Papacy as well, doesn’t it?”

“The speed is… unusually fast. It’s been a long time since things have gone this smoothly.”

“Churches are already established in each territory, so it’s only natural, isn’t it? It’s not like we’re starting from scratch.”

“Starting from scratch?”

“Anyway, the foundation is already there. All that’s needed is your approval.”

“Hmm…”

 

The Prime Minister furrowed his brows in thought before setting down his teacup.

Then, fiddling with his necklace, he spoke again, “Tell me the real purpose behind establishing this diocese. What are you hiding?”

“Excuse me?”

 

The question was absurd. 

 

This was hardly proper etiquette. Moreover, he was interrogating me as if I had some ulterior motive.

Is this guy insane?

 

The moment I was about to curse at the Prime Minister, the necklace he had been fidgeting with emitted a faint glow.

 

‘Huh? A glowing necklace—what’s that? Could it be a magical artifact?’

Then, a system message appeared before my eyes.

 

---

 

‼️System Alert‼️

🔺You have resisted the mental-type status-affecting magic 〈Confession〉 due to 〈Status Ailment Immunity〉.

---

 

‘What the—so the Prime Minister used a magical artifact!’

 

〈Confession〉was, as the name suggested, magic that forced the target to speak the truth. It seemed he had used it to determine whether I was lying or not.

 

Annoyed, I abruptly stood up from my seat. I might let a lot slide, but a mental attack? I’m not some pushover who’d just tolerate something like this.

 

Then, pointing at the Prime Minister’s necklace, I snapped, “Does the Papal State’s Secretariat dare use magical artifacts recklessly on guests? This disrespect will not go unpunished!”

 

Flustered by my words, the Prime Minister clumsily rose from his seat.

 

“N-no, that’s not… Lord Marseille, it’s not what you think—”

 

“Don’t give me that ‘not what I think,’ you pathetic old man! You should’ve started with an apology!”

 

As I jabbed a finger at him, he began sweating profusely, scrambling for an excuse.

 

Just as I took a step forward, ready to grab the Prime Minister by the collar—

 

“Please wait a moment, Lord Marseille.”

 

A middle-aged woman’s voice came from somewhere. I looked in its direction but saw nothing.

 

‘What? An invisibility spell?’

 

Just as I suspected, a faint silhouette gradually materialized in the empty space before taking full form.

 

Soon, the silhouette became a woman clad in priestly robes. She wore a white clerical gown and a white zucchetto (a hat worn by clergy). Her attire alone revealed her identity—someone of the highest rank.

 

The Pope.

 

‘Appraisal.’

 

---

🔸Catriel Toledo (57 years old)

➺Daughter of the late Count David Toledo. 

➺Pope of the Church of the God of Prosperity. 

➺Serves Annapurna.

---

 

It was the real Pope.

 

According to my senses, the Pope’s level was that of a highly skilled priest and mage. The composure with which he appeared alone must have stemmed from that very strength.

 

“I am Catriel. I must ask for your forgiveness for resorting to the use of a magical artifact.”

 

“Your Holiness.”

 

In response to the Pope’s apology, I simply greeted him and stayed silent. It was my way of expressing displeasure—Pope or not.

 

The Prime Minister, as well as Martin and Pascal standing beside me, fidgeted nervously, but what could they do?

 

“Count Marseille, you seem quite upset. I understand. This was our oversight.”

 

The Pope gestured toward the sofa, inviting me to sit. But when I remained stiff and unmoving, she spoke again.

 

“The establishment of the diocese will be approved immediately, and we will appoint the bishop you desire. Please, take a seat. We have important matters to discuss.”

 

What could possibly be more urgent than the establishment of a diocese?

 

In any case, it was clear that this conversation would benefit me. When the other party lowers their stance, it’s best to squeeze out as much as possible.

 

“A noble’s word is law. You must keep your promises.”

 

“Of course, Count Marseille.”

 

Only then did I take my seat, and the others followed suit.

 

I then asked the Pope directly, “What exactly compelled you to resort to using an artifact against me?”

 

“We received intelligence that subversive elements are infiltrating the higher ranks of our Papacy. One of the suspects is Daniel Salamanca.”

 

“So you assumed Daniel might be up to something?”

 

“Yes. But judging by your reaction, it seems Daniel is certainly not the one.”

 

It was absurd.

 

The Papacy of each religion in this world is more centralized than any other organization.

 

That means the Pope’s authority is absolute.

 

Why not just round up all the suspects and beat the truth out of them?

 

Moreover, since most of them are priests, they could heal with restorative magic while torturing.

Why go through all this trouble of setting traps for the investigation?

 

“I have even received blessings from the God of Prosperity.”

“I even considered the possibility that Daniel submitted a false report.”

 

Sounds plausible.

 

“Why would dissidents bother establishing a diocese?”

“They could seize an entire well-organized group at once.”

 

Meaning, after building the Marseille diocese, they could hand it over entirely to another religion.

Since territories outside Marseille allow diverse religions, it’s a feasible scenario.

 

“The Church of the God of Prosperity doesn’t trust its lower-ranking members.”

“What we don’t trust isn’t the priests—it’s greed.”

 

I understand, but it’s frustrating.

Despite their immense power, they’re overly cautious. I downed the now-cold tea in one gulp.

Watching me, the Pope continued, “From what I’ve observed briefly, it seems Count Marseille possesses some unique ability. Could you use that ability for our sake, even if just temporarily?”

 

“You want to act just because someone resisted 〈Confession〉〉?”

 

“How did you even know we used 〈Confession〉? It seems you have the ability to perceive the essence of things. Is it a power granted by the God of Prosperity?”

 

‘Not bad. They figured it out in such a short time.’

 

〈Status Ailment Immunity〉. was a blessing. And while〈Convenient Low-Level Appraisal〉wasn’t solely a blessing, it was still an ability granted by a divine being.

 

However, 〈Convenient Low-Level Appraisal〉only provides limited information. If luck is on my side, I might catch the dissidents the Pope mentioned.

 

“You want me to uncover hidden enemies.”

 

Pope Catriel looked startled at my words.

 

“Is it truly possible?”

 

“I never said it was possible. I’ll give it a try. But if I succeed, you’ll have to grant me a few things I want.”

 

A flush of excitement spread across Pope Catriel’s face. It seemed he had been quite troubled.

 

“Name anything.”

 

“The newly established diocese shall be named the ‘Marseille Diocese,’ and the Vatican will cover all financial responsibilities for the churches within it. Naturally, the bishop will be Daniel Salamanca.”

 

A diocese spanning four territories, yet bearing only Marseille’s name.

 

Our territory wouldn’t spend a single penny. And the appointment of Daniel, who follows my lead.

 

“That’s not a problem. Is there anything else you’d like?”

 

“I’ll tell you after the matter is resolved.”

 

Depending on the caliber of the individuals caught, my demands may change. The Pope, sensing my intent, gave a faint smile.

 

“Understood, Count Marseille.”

 

This is great