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While I couldn’t say for sure what the Barandiga tribe wanted, there was one thing I could be sure of—their chief could not abandon the title of High Priest no matter what.

Despite not properly performing the role of priest, the other tribes still recognized him as a priest. That meant that, at the very least, he himself was actively maintaining that identity and spreading the word that ‘My father may have passed, but I am still a priest.’ His reasons were unclear, but the fact that he held onto the title was undeniable.

And that was enough. If the Barandiga tribe’s chief bore the name of a priest and couldn’t give it up, then we just needed to act accordingly.

“One who bears the scar of the Eternal Blue Sky and possesses holy relics has come, so let the priest welcome him as a guest!”

That was why I confidently declared my presence the moment I arrived at the Barandiga tribe’s camp.

I bore the mark of the very god he worshipped and also carried that god’s relic. Even if he harbored resentment toward the Empire, as a priest, he couldn’t afford to turn away someone like me.

— I don’t think you’re normal, either.

I felt a bit embarrassed as a voice muttered in my head. After all, it wasn’t really something I should boldly shout as the person who completely destroyed the faith serving the Eternal Blue Sky.

Still, I managed to maintain my composure. I’d be a bastard if I were selling out the Eternal Blue Sky for my own selfish interests, but this was beneficial for the both of us.

It’s for our mutual benefit, so please overlook it.

— Well, alright, since it’s good for me too.

With those words, the Eternal Blue Sky fell silent again. Soon after, several nomads came running urgently.

They were unarmed, so it seemed that they intended to receive me as a guest, at least for now.

***A middle-aged man was waiting when we arrived at the yurt1 at the center of the camp. His hair was slicked back, his beard neatly trimmed—clearly, he cared about his appearance. And yet, the way he downed his drink with an expression of pure exhaustion and irritation made him look less like a respected leader and more like a man wallowing in a streak of endless failures.

“Scars and holy relics, you say.”

The man, confirming my entry, muttered as he removed a leather flask from his mouth.

“Interesting to hear that an imperial citizen has something that even a priest hasn’t seen.”

Despite his words, there wasn’t even a trace of curiosity in his expression. Instead, he simply gestured toward the seat across from him as if saying, ‘Let’s sit and talk.’

As expected, there was no outright rejection or hostility. Although it was still a precarious situation as I hadn’t received hospitality yet, just being able to have a conversation was a good start.

“I am Barandiga Gurt Batal, the only priest of the steppes. I’m also the chief of the Barandiga tribe.”

“I am Carl Krasius of Wiridia, granted the title of count by His Majesty the Emperor’s grace.”

The priest, who had been slouching in his chair, flinched at my name and slowly straightened his posture.

“Carl Krasius?”

The boredom in his gaze vanished, replaced by something sharp.

“So you’re the heretic who destroyed the home of the High Priest and desecrated the faith of the Eternal Blue Sky.”

His words carried an unmistakable weight of accusation, but I had already expected this.

Since I approached the priest while using scars and holy relics in a religious manner, he would naturally counter by invoking my faithlessness, using my identity as a foreigner and a heretic to seize the upper hand. After all, this meeting hadn’t happened because an Imperial envoy requested an audience with the Barandiga’s chief. It had happened because the bearer of the divine mark and relic had sought out its priest.

But that was fine. The moment the meeting was set in motion, the negotiation had already begun.

“A heretic holds both the mark and the relic of the Eternal Blue Sky? What a sick joke.”

“Even an adversary is part of the myth.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed at this sudden statement, but I didn’t stop.

“And because the adversary is part of the myth, they can become entangled with the gods.”

With those words, I gestured to the 4th Manager, who placed my sword that she had been carrying on the table. Unlike my previous dealings with the Kaitana tribe, I had been forced to limit my guards and weapons this time, so this was unavoidable.

...No, actually, this was normal. The Kaitana tribe was the strange one.

“The first Pope of the Dawn Sect died at the hands of a heretic. However, the dagger that stabbed the Pope became a holy relic by absorbing holy blood, and the enemy of faith who harmed the Pope repented and became a martyr who spread the faith.”

It was a vague statement, but the priest seemed to notice something and turned his gaze to the sword on the table.

Good. He was quite quick-witted.

“So it’s not strange that the sword that killed the High Priest becomes a holy relic, and the heretic who destroyed the temple can bear the divine scar.”

In other words, ‘I killed your High Priest and destroyed your temple, but anyway, the holy relic and scars are real.’

For a moment, I wondered if I should take off my clothes to show the scars, but the priest who had been staring intently at the sword chuckled and turned his gaze to me.

“Humans can’t know the will of god. You’ve brought something precious.”

Saying that, the priest spoke to his guard behind him.

“An honored guest has arrived, so prepare a feast.”

“Yes, Chief.”

I was a little relieved to hear that I would be treated as a real guest. If things had gone wrong, I would’ve had to do a sword dance in the middle of a tribe that was the focal point of nomadic faith and then escape.

That aside, the fact that he accepted the relic without any further questions and just by looking at it... did that mean that he truly was a priest? Could he sense divine power?

***His response was surprisingly calm. As a priest, he was dealing with someone who brought a holy relic of their crumbling faith, and as a tribal chief, he was facing an envoy who might hold the key to his tribe’s survival. Given all that, his reaction made sense.

The only thing bothering me was why hadn’t someone this peaceful expressed any intention to surrender until now—?

“In a situation where we didn’t even have a temple to serve our god, let alone holy relics, it was just shameful to call myself a priest.”

“You’ve endured much.”

“Even as empty words, I wouldn’t call it endurance. The Barandiga tribe has always been bound together by faith. And yet, even I—their priest—wandered in the dark, lost. How much worse must it have been for my tribespeople? But now, the Empire has shown us a relic imbued with the power of our god, leading us to a new path. I cannot even begin to express my gratitude.”

Hearing the priest’s words, which had shifted to a formal tone, I could understand. He wanted to surrender but couldn’t. To keep his people alive, he needed to submit to the Empire. But as their priest, he couldn’t do so without shattering the very foundation that held his tribe together.

I opened up a way out for him in that maddening dilemma, so the priest had no reason to hesitate. This much was certain judging by how he said the empire, and not me, guided them to a new path.

Now, the priest’s surrender was not just a choice for survival. He was offering his loyalty to an Empire that had rekindled his dying faith. It was what a priest should rightfully do.

“His Majesty is aware that the North has its own culture. He wishes to embrace the North’s faith with respect. As his loyal servant, I am merely returning something that rightfully belongs to you.”

The priest’s expression softened into a deep smile. At this moment, the display of the holy relic had also become a symbol of the Emperor’s grace and his intent to unify the North under his rule.

“However, the holy relic will only be officially bestowed upon you once you have formally accepted a noble title.”

Of course, the bestowal of a title was also one of the reasons to surrender. I might as well push it while the mood was nice.

Moreover, bestowing a title was a gift with the magic to make even an enemy smile. It was a trump card that could advance a supportive relationship to a united one if given in a good mood. Indeed, the smiling priest froze in shock at the mention of a title.

“As I just said, His Majesty respects the culture of the North. This means he will treat you, the only priest of the North, with great importance.”

Yes, he would treat him importantly. The priest would become a living symbol of the Empire’s tolerance, a unifying figure for the scattered tribes who still clung to their faith. For the empire to smoothly control the North, the priest must become a big shot in the empire.

I casually took out the seal that had been sleeping in my chest pocket. I saw the guard behind the priest tense up when I suddenly put my hand in my chest pocket, but she relaxed her posture when a seal came out instead of a blade.

“This is the trust His Majesty bestowed upon you, Marquis Barandiga.”

“...Marquis?”

I smiled gently at his dazed response.

It was unfortunate for the professional networker Count Kaitana, but Barandiga was perfect for the marquis position. He had the symbolism and history to be made a marquis. Sadly, his actual scale was small, making it impossible to overwhelm other tribes with force.

Perfect.

If the strongest one became the marquis, they could use brute force to dominate the North. That was unacceptable. The last thing we needed was a third coming of a Kagan.

So, Barandiga it was. We needed to create a marquis of honor, not real power.

“Congratulations on becoming the empire’s thirteenth marquis. Well, looks like you outrank me now.”

The priest—no, Marquis Barandiga, kept staring at the seal with a dazed face.

***The storm-like negotiation ended.

“If you remain on the front lines, there’s no telling when you might be caught in battle. For now, find somewhere safe to stay. Once the war is over, come to the capital—His Majesty will officially grant you your title.”

The envoy’s words before the end of the negotiations still echoed in my mind.

What a shitty life I’ve had.

I felt like laughing. Life had been nothing but trouble since the nomads’ defeat in the last war and since my father passed away. But now, a light had shone on that life.

The Mandate of Heaven, huh.

The envoy said that the empire’s emperor wanted to embrace the nomads with compassion and tolerance because he upheld the Mandate of Heaven.

The Mandate of Heaven.

...The heaven.

The moment the word crossed my mind, I couldn’t hold back my laughter. The priest serving the Eternal Blue Sky survived by the will of the heavens. And not only that—instead of a humiliating submission, a life of wealth and honor was guaranteed.

It was mind-boggling. I thought this faith was without hope or future, but was the god of this faith watching over its only remaining priest?

“Chief.”

As I kept chuckling, Shati, who had been in the negotiation room as a guard, cautiously opened her mouth.

“That thing from earlier, is it really a holy relic?”

Though a short question, Shati’s confusion was clear. It was a natural reaction, given that an imperial citizen brought a holy relic long lost in these steppes.

I smiled at Shati and answered.

“I don’t know.”

“...What?”

“I said I don’t know.”

Shati’s body stiffened at my bold answer.

But what could I do? I really didn’t know.

How the hell would I know?

I’d never seen a holy relic directly, and I haven’t felt the power of our god ever since my father passed away.

To begin with, wasn’t it stranger for a priest who had lost his divine connection to be able to recognize a relic? A priest wasn’t omnipotent.

“F-Father! To surrender without even knowing if it’s a holy relic—“

I shook my head at Shati, who was stammering before screeching. She immediately closed her mouth, but her eyes were still full of doubt and dissatisfaction.

“Shati.”

“...What?”

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s a holy relic or not.”

Seeing signs that Shati was about to shout again, I quickly added.

“What matters is that people believe it’s a relic.”

I had no idea if that sword was a holy relic or not. However, the imperial envoy called that sword a holy relic and mentioned the emperor, saying they would embrace even pagans. It was as good as the emperor guaranteeing that the sword was a holy relic.

Then, it didn’t matter if it was not really a holy relic. The most powerful nation on the continent and the only remaining priest were both declaring it was.

Who cares about the truth?

Did that petty truth even mean anything when the continent’s strongest country and the representative of that faith said it was true?

And even if it did, was it more important than the peace of the steppes and the safety of my tribe?

This alcohol tastes good.

I drank the fermented mare’s milk in my right hand without hesitation.

Today, I’m drinking till I drop.

Footnotes

1. A yurt or ger is a portable, round tent covered and insulated with skins or felt and traditionally used as a dwelling by several distinct nomadic groups in the steppes and mountains of Inner Asia.