The candle flames deep within the temple flickered in Archbishop Hubert's eyes.
Yet their warm glow could not dispel the chill in his gaze.
At the temporary meeting that had only just concluded, Prince Ortis's seemingly mild yet utterly unquestionable tone still echoed in his ears.
"Archbishop, the matter of the Crescent Tax must be reconsidered."
"The Desolate North has endured war for years, and the people are suffering. This year's collection should be postponed by twenty percent from previous years, perhaps?"
"As for the offerings required by the temple, I will allocate additional funds from the royal treasury."
"Your Highness." Hubert remembered that his voice had been like an undercurrent beneath ice.
The Desolate North's circumstances truly differed from those of other regions.
Thus, Hubert had never dared to demand as much as boldly as his old friend Ude did.
He merely collected taxes and offerings within his diocese according to doctrine and tradition.
Moreover, those devout believers donated a substantial sum in offerings of faith every year.
The Church was practically the wealthiest organization in the entire Desolate North.
Hubert did not turn hostile.
He simply responded in a solemn tone.
"The Crescent Tax is a devout Dedication to the Crescent God, and concerns the divine protection bestowed upon the Desolate North."
"This is the will of the Lord. How can it be reduced because of mortal hardship?"
"The temple's operations, the provisions for the Apostle Army, the maintenance of divine arrays, and the many clergy who distribute alms throughout the territory out of their own salaries—which of these can do without this foundation of devotion?"
"If not for the Church's alms, the number of believers who die of starvation and disease each year would at least double."
He stroked the sun-pattern insignia at his chest, crafted from