Knock knock knock.
"Come in."
"Boss, someone's here to see you." Nora peeked her small head into the study. "Looks like they're from the Church of the Harvest Goddess."
Ron had just finished reading Webster's letter. Hearing that someone from the church had come looking for him, he was surprised at first, then stood up at once. "I'm coming."
Downstairs, Ron immediately saw two figures.
One of them was Bishop Morris.
But judging by their positions, Morris was standing respectfully behind an elderly man with white hair and beard—clearly, the one in front was the real leader.
Someone high up in the Church?
Ron was puzzled but kept a friendly smile as he stepped forward. "Bishop Morris."
"Your Highness Ron." Morris gave a bow and introduced, "This is Archbishop Ulysses, of the capital's main cathedral."
Whoa!?
Ron was startled, his eyebrows shooting up. He immediately made the grain stalk sigil over his chest. "Greetings, Your Eminence."
This man was no ordinary figure—he was the Archbishop of one of the Human Empire's three great churches. The highest authority in the Church of the Harvest Goddess. A Legendary-rank wood-element mage, and also the Vice Minister of the Imperial Military's Magic Division.
Frankly, that position had way more weight than his status as Seventh Prince.
Ron had thought maybe the church would just give him some honorary title like "Honorary Bishop"—a symbolic post at most.
But this? The Archbishop himself had traveled all the way from the capital?
And he was a Legendary-tier powerhouse, too!
"Your Highness Ron," said Ulysses with a slight bow, "I came today to discuss a few matters with you. Would you be willing to speak with me in private?"
Ron didn't hesitate: "Of course. Let's talk in the upstairs lounge."
"I'll wait in the carriage," Morris said, respectfully withdrawing without following them up.
Ron and Ulysses sat across from each other on the lounge sofa.
"Is Your Highness well after last night's attempt on your life?"
"Thanks to the Goddess's blessing, I'm completely unharmed."
"That was a failure on our part," Ulysses said sincerely. "We failed to dispatch protection in time. I've come to ask Your Highness to allow me to stay nearby—so I may personally ensure your safety."
What?
Did I hear that right?
A Legendary-rank bigwig just asked to stay near me… to protect me?
After what happened with Webster, Ron had developed a natural wariness toward unfamiliar Legendary-level figures. He declined tactfully, "You're too kind, Your Eminence. After last night's events, I doubt any assassin will dare come after me again for now."
Sure, having a Legendary protector would be pretty awesome…
But Ron didn't know the man's true intentions. Better to say no if he could.
If there was any real danger, the system would probably issue a warning task in advance.
While Ron didn't want to rely too much on the system, compared to having a Legendary-rank powerhouse lurking nearby, the shameless system seemed the lesser of two evils.
"No matter," Ulysses said gently. "If Your Highness does not wish me to stay at this shop, I can find nearby lodging instead. I only ask to remain close enough to keep you safe at all times."
Toothache.
Ron felt one coming on.
Are all Legendary-level people this pushy?
He had just said "no," and the guy still insisted on staying—just not in the shop. Technically, Ron couldn't even refuse that.
Well… maybe the Archbishop was just sincerely concerned about his safety as a Chosen One.
"Please rest assured," Ulysses added, noticing Ron's discomfort. "I plan to stay in Chaos City for no more than two weeks. Once the ceremonial rite is complete, I'll return to the capital."
"Ceremonial rite?" Ron asked.
"Since you have been chosen by the Goddess, the Church must hold a public Ceremony of Recognition to officially announce your status to the world."
"Oh… so, like an honorary bishop?"
"No," Ulysses said, smiling as he shook his head. "You will become the Goddess's Executor."
"…The Goddess's Executor?" Ron blinked in disbelief.
Why not just call me the Goddess's Reaper while you're at it?
"An honorary bishop is merely a title, with no real authority," Ulysses explained. "But the Goddess's Executor is very different."
"Wait—does it come with real power?" Ron asked. "Because… I don't really need that..."
Ulysses began explaining slowly:
"The Church maintains various convents, which gather children with wood-element magic potential and provide them with magical education."
"Males who advance far enough are assigned to churches around the empire to serve as clergy, spreading doctrine and recruiting followers."
"Females are organized into convents, where those with lower cultivation handle daily tasks. The stronger ones remain in retreat and only emerge during disasters to help the suffering."
"And the Goddess's Executor holds authority over all convents. The position is equal to that of regional bishops but comes with greater jurisdiction."
"Regional bishops each manage only their own territory. But the Executor can command every convent across the empire. Only the Archbishop has the right to intervene."
Ulysses saw Ron's stunned expression and smiled, voice laced with meaning:
"Your Highness Ron, the convents are a formidable force. There are several sixth-tier mages among them. So long as your orders do not go against the interests of the Church of the Harvest Goddess, you may command them to do anything."
Ron's eye twitched.
Anything…
He knew that nuns weren't allowed to marry. So clearly, Ulysses wasn't implying that kind of "anything."
Was this a veiled hint to join the imperial succession struggle? Ron wondered.
After all, the Church of the Harvest Goddess had always held less influence among the nobility compared to the empire's other two major faiths.
Now that a direct royal-blooded Chosen One had appeared, the Church would naturally begin to form ambitions.
But… Ron wasn't even slightly interested in the throne.
Just as he was about to refuse, he stopped himself.
Ulysses hadn't explicitly said anything about seizing the throne. Everything else was just his own wild speculation.
Even if his guess was right, since the other side hadn't said it aloud, he did not need to call it out.
Besides… Ron was a bit tempted by the whole convent idea.
No, not for that reason.
He had something else in mind.
Just last night, he was struggling with the issue of not having enough farming space to mass-produce Chameleon Radishes.
If he grew them outdoors, the regrowth time for harvested leaves would be slow.
There was no way he could spend all day casting Plant Manipulation Spells on hundreds of radishes by himself.
And hiring mages? Not realistic. Mages were too proud for such work.
But the convents? That was a different story.
Every nun in the convent was a trained wood-element mage—and they would obey him, the Goddess's Executor.
Even the Archbishop had said: They'll do anything I ask.
Anything…
Ron's eyes lit up.
Farming counts as "anything," right?