Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1514 Pleasure Doing Business

Chapter 1514  Pleasure Doing Business

The Arch Priestess’s face went through three shades of red in rapid succession. “I have a proposal of my own regarding healing access,” he spoke up, not letting the woman spiral.

Velara’s composure rebuilt itself by force of will. “Speak.”

“In the event of a crisis that threatens civilian life, natural disasters, plague outbreaks, monster stampedes, famine, anything that qualifies as a humanitarian emergency, I want the authority to declare a state of crisis. During that period, all healing services provided by the church to civilians in the affected area become free of charge.”

Velara’s eyes widened. “You want the church to work for free.”

“I want the church to serve the people it claims to represent when those people are dying in the streets.” He raised a hand before she could build momentum. “And no, not for free. The church will be given emergency funds, ensuring no staff starves.”

Velara processed this.

“That ties the church to your governance. We become dependent on your treasury for compensation during these crises.”

“You become partners in keeping people alive during the worst moments of their lives. Which, if I recall correctly, is the entire point of representing the Goddess.” He paused and tilted his head, confused. “Or is healing the poor only part of the mission when they can pay for it?”

Several of the healers inside the cathedral shifted. The young woman near the front pews had her hand pressed to her chest.

Velara saw them watching. She was a shrewd woman, and she recognized what was happening. If she refused free healing for the poor during crises, every person in this cathedral would remember it. If she accepted, she gave Quinlan a mechanism to direct church resources during emergencies.

They hammered out the details. Who defined a crisis, how compensation was negotiated, what documentation was required before healers mobilized. Velara fought for every clause, and Quinlan gave her enough to make it work without giving her enough to stall it.

The no-conscription clause held through all of it. Even during invasion.

Velara exhaled through her nose. A controlled breath that carried the tension of a woman conceding ground she couldn’t hold.

“There is one more thing,” she said.

Quinlan waited.

“Church records. Membership rolls. Confessional testimonies. Spiritual correspondence between the faithful and their clergy.” Her voice hardened. “All of it remains confidential. Your government does not access it. Your soldiers do not seize it. Your administrators do not audit it. What happens between the church and its flock stays between the church and its flock.”

‘She thinks this costs me something.’

It didn’t.

The answer came down to a simple truth: he didn’t care who worshipped the Goddess. He didn’t care if every citizen in his empire prayed to Lilyanna six times a day and wore her symbol tattooed across their chest. Devotion didn’t reduce tax revenue. It didn’t weaken armies. It didn’t slow down the shipyards or empty the mines or produce fewer crops.

He wanted people who worked, who built, who fought when called upon, who contributed to a nation that would outlast every mortal institution on the continent.

And they would outlast every mortal institution. Because rulers died. Good ones, bad ones, they all died, and their successors were a coin flip between competence and catastrophe. Quinlan had watched it firsthand. The Vraven Kingdom was rotting from the inside because every generation of nobles was softer, lazier, and more corrupt than the last. Velara would die too, eventually. Her successor might be principled. Or might not. The one after that? A coin flip. And the one after that. And the one after that. Century after century of succession, each one a gamble.

Quinlan was permanent. Ageless. He would be there, every decade, every century, course-correcting in real time. Adjusting policy. Removing corruption the moment it took root. Him, and him alone, for as long as it took.

That was the point.

That was the entire point of his desire to rule.

So if the church wanted to keep its membership rolls private, fine. It cost him nothing, and it gave Velara a victory she could bring back to her clergy and present as proof that their negotiation had teeth.

“Granted,” he said. “Full confidentiality. Church records are church records.”

Velara’s composure cracked for a fraction of a second. She’d expected a fight. She’d built this demand as her final stand, the hill she was prepared to bleed on, and he’d given it away in a single word.

Her eyes searched his. Looking for the catch.

“You understand that this means you cannot identify who among your citizens is part of my flock and who isn’t.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“You won’t know who holds the Goddess above your authority.”

“Arch Priestess.” Quinlan’s voice carried the bored patience of a man explaining arithmetic. “The Goddess is a divine being who has existed since before this continent had a name. I’m a man with a saber. I don’t compete with gods for devotion. I compete with other rulers for results.”

A silence fell through the cathedral. Deep in the nave, a child whispered to their mother. A healer adjusted a bandage on a man’s arm and paused to listen.

Velara closed her eyes.

When she opened them, the fury was still there. So was the exhaustion, and the brittle edge of a woman who had been burned, healed, burned again, spoken to by her Goddess, and was now negotiating the future of the institution she’d given her life to with a man who had kicked down her door to do it.

But beneath all of it was acceptance.

“I will need these terms in writing,” she said. “Formally documented. Signed by both parties. Copies held by the church and your administration.”

“Naturally.”

Velara nodded once.

Black Fang stirred for the first time since the negotiation began. She’d been leaning against the cathedral wall, radiating boredom so thick that Velara had spent the entire conversation carefully not looking in her direction.

“Are you done?” the assassin asked. “You know, Miss Terror, no one forced you to stay and listen. You’re free to leave at any moment.” Quinlan grinned.

Black Fang’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Stop calling me that.”

The reason why she stayed was obvious. There were no XP out there for her to collect, she was stuck and had been for ages. She finally found something interesting here, but her fun had to be ruined.

She then stayed because someone had to keep an eye on a man who negotiated with the subtlety of a battering ram. So she decided she’d sacrifice her ears to stay and ensure her Fountain of Youth remained alive.

And Quinlan knew all of that too. He was just messing with her.

“Are you sure? Miss Terror has such a nice ring to it.”

“…”

“I’ll think about it.”

“…” Black Fang pushed off the wall. Her coat shifted, revealing the burned skin beneath, and Velara’s gaze lingered on it for a moment.

The Arch Priestess looked at Black Fang. Then at Quinlan.

Her staff pulsed faintly.

“Hold still,” Velara said to Black Fang with the tone of a woman who hated every syllable leaving her mouth. “If we’re going to coexist, I might as well start by healing the injuries I caused.”

“Hey, give me some credit as well. Most of the injuries were caused by me.”

Hearing his arrogant declaration, Black Fang’s gaze darkened further than ever before. This bastard was this smug about finally being strong enough to burn her skin?!

She looked like she was heavily debating whether to strangle him on the spot.

“…” But, in the end, both women decided to ignore his words.

Velara’s healing light washed over Black Fang’s injuries. The burns receded. The blisters smoothed. The charred skin regained its color, and the deeper damage that the healing potion had failed to reach finally began to mend.

Black Fang endured it with her arms folded and her gaze fixed on the far wall.

Quinlan watched the scene and filed it away.

‘Coexistence,’ he mused. ‘Not bad, Bratty Goddess. Not bad at all.’

Quinlan extended his hand.

Velara looked at it the way someone looked at a snake they’d been told was domesticated.

Her gaze traveled from his gauntleted fingers to his eyes, then back down to the hand. The wryness on her face could have curdled wine.

“Pleasure doing business, Arch Priestess.” Quinlan’s grin was audible. “You performed your herald duties excellently. She chose well.”

“These were the initial rounds of negotiation,” Velara corrected, her voice clipped. “Nothing has been finalized. There will be revisions, addendums, and enough paperwork to bury this cathedral twice over.”

“Sure, one of my wives loves negotiations. I’ll let you duke it out with her when you meet her later today.”

“…” Velara paused for a long beat at that. She was supposed to negotiate with his wife? But in the end, she took his hand, reasoning that any woman was likely more reasonable than this man.

Velara’s grip was firm. Firmer than he expected from a woman who fought with a staff and spent her days in prayer. The kind of handshake that said ‘I am not your subordinate and you will remember that.’

The edge in her voice softened by a fraction as she finally announced, “I am feeling hopeful for the future of this arrangement.”

Quinlan’s smile sharpened.

Velara’s matched it.

Two people who had tried to kill each other less than five minutes ago, shaking hands before the holy statue. Quinlan released her hand and turned to look out over Whisperfield.

The ice dome still covered the city. With the negotiations settled, it was time to bring an end to the siege and collect his dues.

…

Author: Soooo… Uh… When I sat down to write today’s chapters, I planned to do a nice little 2.5k words. It ended up being 5k words. I even trimmed it by an extra 300 words, fearing the negotiations being a snoozefest. I read it over many times and I just don’t know what more to cut, considering I think this is important for the future of the novel.

But I understand if some of you fell asleep. I knew it might be frustrating so I didn’t stop writing until the scene came to an end.… Anyhow. It is what it is. Apologies. Thanks for the support!