Ch.361Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

# “Why are you yawning like that?”

While stretching out a yawn in the sunlit cloister of the cathedral, I heard a familiar voice.

The owner of that voice was Camilla.

“You’re here.”

“What were you doing here?”

“Just resting.”

Camilla trudged over and claimed the seat beside me.

Perhaps due to her high body temperature, her attire was remarkably light despite the chilly weather. Nevertheless, Camilla was armed with sophisticated elegance.

Maybe it’s because she’s from the land of gentlemen. Camilla had adorned herself in typical British upper-class style (tweed and long boots).

Where did she even find those?

“You look posh.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Did you think I was being sarcastic?”

Camilla flashed a fresh smile.

It was that mischievous grin that had become her trademark.

“So, why are you here?”

“I came to rest too.”

The British girl grumbled that there were too many people. She might tolerate a party with acquaintances, but mingling among middle-aged people didn’t suit her temperament, she added.

I stopped rummaging through my suit jacket. Unable to find my cigarettes, my hand emerged from my pocket only to ruffle my innocent hair.

“Dealing with elders can be tiring.”

“You sound like you’ve had plenty of experience.”

“When you work, dealing with people old enough to be your father becomes routine.”

“Aha!”

The girl nodded vigorously and clapped her hands.

“So that’s why you always sound like an old man!”

## Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

“Bow down.”

“I’m sorry!”

A familiar, heavy sensation fills my hand. The mop handle from the bathroom wraps comfortably around my palm.

“How can you beat me just for playing a little joke!”

I told her to bow down while holding the mop handle I’d procured locally, and Camilla grabbed my wrist with a tearful expression.

It was an embarrassing scene not fit for public viewing.

Perhaps it reminded me of being chased with the “rod of love” (a birch stick) during running time at the magic tower. Faced with the prospect of a beating, Camilla wailed and made a fuss.

The squabble continued for some time.

I presented her with a choice between a beating or a one-month dessert ban. After much deliberation, Camilla made her decision, and we agreed to confiscate her desserts for a month.

“Sigh…”

“The ground will cave in. Stop sighing and follow me quickly.”

*

Though there was still considerable time before the canonization ceremony, the cathedral was already bustling with people.

Politicians and officials occupied numerous seats, while clergy in ceremonial vestments moved about busily.

They were government delegations and high-ranking clergy.

According to protocol, the canonization ceremony should have begun with Lucia entering the cathedral with a procession of clergy crossing the Lateran, followed by a six-hour main ceremony, and concluded with a large-scale street parade involving thousands of holy knights and supporting personnel, but…

At Lucia’s request, who particularly disliked pomp and circumstance, the Vatican decided to reduce the street parade and conduct a simplified canonization ceremony.

Of course, Lucia wanted to cancel even that parade entirely, but unfortunately, her request was rejected due to opposition from clergy concerned about religious authority.

Magicians were attending today’s canonization ceremony.

The magician who had taken the seat next to me spoke in a low voice.

“The church seems to have put considerable effort into the canonization ceremony, Sir.”

“Indeed.”

Francesca raised her head and looked around.

The atmosphere of the cathedral, lavishly decorated by the Vatican, was truly majestic. From the moment one entered, there was an overwhelming sense of sanctity emanating from the architecture.

“Hmm…”

Her eyes narrowed, and her violet-like pupils sparkled. Francesca began to hum as if finding something interesting.

“While the cathedral itself is an elegant building with its own charm, I think this atmosphere might be a bit overwhelming for the faint-hearted.”

“Where are there faint-hearted people here? Everyone represents their governments.”

“Well…”

Her rosy lips formed a smooth arc.

“The magicians who rushed here after receiving word from the Imperial Foreign Ministry?”

Just before the Grand Duke arrived in the Lateran leading Imperial officials, the Magic Tower received news through diplomatic channels.

The news that the founder of the Elemental School and legendary figure in the magical world who established the Magic Tower after the war was leading a delegation to the church as an elder of the Imperial family sent shockwaves through the magical community.

As a result, the Magic Tower government, which had planned to send a formal invitation and conventional congratulations, hastily dispatched a representative just a day before the canonization ceremony.

“Was the Magic Tower representative the ambassador to the Lushan Federation?”

“Yes. They say he’s a promising candidate for Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs. He was also dispatched to the Secretariat.”

“Quite the elite.”

The ambassador, who had been abroad until just yesterday, represented the Magic Tower government and Oracle alone at the canonization ceremony.

Considering that other countries sent delegations consisting of at least prime ministers and ministers, the Magic Tower government’s decision to send just one ambassador seemed questionable.

But no one here criticized the Magic Tower for diplomatic discourtesy.

Instead, people were whispering, “The Magic Tower actually sent someone?”

Francesca rested her chin on her hand and muttered.

“I didn’t expect the Magic Tower to actually send a representative. Did you know about this, Sir?”

“How would I know? I’m not a fortune-teller.”

“There’s been discussion in diplomatic circles lately about normalizing relations following Saint Lucia’s visit. Did you not know about that either?”

“You mean the discussion from the meeting held in the Foreign Ministry seminar room?”

“How do you know about that, Sir?”

“The embassy staff told me. I also have acquaintances in the Foreign Ministry.”

“Ah, you mentioned your sister is a diplomat.”

We briefly chatted with the Magic Tower Secretariat official about diplomatic relations between the church and the Magic Tower. Even then, voices discussing important national matters could be heard around us.

Elected politicians and selected dictators, officials giving orders and civil servants following them. Those enjoying worldly power and glory moved busily as the birth of a new saint approached.

But the people attracting the most attention here weren’t the Magic Tower’s ambassador or foreign politicians, but us.

Amid the stares coming from all directions, Camilla blinked her expectant eyes, while I slowly identified the suited individuals mixed in the crowd.

Some approached with interest, but conversations didn’t last long.

When Francesca or I politely suggested they leave, they would smile awkwardly and retreat. No exceptions, whether diplomats or politicians.

For reference, Camilla barely responded to conversations. Her mind was elsewhere.

“Ah, I think it’s starting now.”

Camilla whispered softly to me as I was engrossed in conversation.

Both Francesca and I stopped talking, and the voices of delegations seated in the cathedral also subsided.

Silence fell over the majestic cathedral.

Breaking that heavy silence was a saint who appeared, opening the massive doors.

*

From the bishop’s introduction and the choir’s hymns to the presentation of the golden crown and the anointing with holy oil. The six-hour canonization ceremony finally came to an end.

The sun set in the west.

Night fell.

Those who had come to the holy place celebrated the birth of a saint in their own ways. Some cheered, while others lit candles offered to the cathedral.

Countless lights filled the main streets.

Following the surging crowd, a river of light brilliantly illuminated the night of the Lateran.

Lucia, who had been praying with her hands gently clasped, raised her head.

Though winter had passed, the night air was still cold, and only after her white breath dispersed into the air could her gentle voice flow.

“It’s finally over.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

Lucia nodded with a gentle smile, causing her blonde hair to cascade down and settle on her pure white priestly robe.

“If anyone worked hard, it would be all of you.”

It was a canonization ceremony that lasted a full six hours.

With just the main ceremony taking six hours, excluding the parade, we had essentially participated in the canonization all day.

“Lucia worked harder than us. She was the protagonist of the canonization ceremony.”

“But you must be tired?”

“I was just sitting there. I’ve had days when I worked 16 hours, so what’s six hours?”

“…Is that so?”

Her gentle eyes curved like a crescent moon.

As golden waves illuminated the night of the holy place, the voice of a clergyman seeking the saint carried on the wind along with people’s laughter.

Hearing the clearly anxious voice, I smiled lightly.

“It seems I’ve kept you too long. I should go now.”

“Yes.”

Lucia nodded and smiled brightly.

“I hope we can meet again soon.”

Having stepped out briefly to catch my breath, I immediately returned to the banquet hall.

Though the canonization ceremony concluded with the holy knights’ street parade, the true event was just beginning.

The coronation ceremony is scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

Politicians and officials from various countries will stay in the Lateran for about three days, including today.

Unless they’re here on a government-funded vacation, those attending as representatives must accomplish something before leaving.

Therefore, the banquet held immediately after the canonization ceremony was essentially a massive job market. With leaders and representatives from over a hundred countries gathered in one place—a rare occurrence—the banquet hall resembled a UN General Assembly.

I passed through the crowded banquet hall and quietly joined my companions.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome back, Sir.”

“Oh, you’re finally here?”

Camilla, who was eating chicken salad with a fork, tilted her head and asked.

“Where did you go?”

“I went out for some fresh air and met Lucia. Nothing happened, right?”

“Mmm, nope.”

I was worried something might have happened since I was away for quite a while. But it seems my concerns were unfounded.

Camilla chewed her salad and said:

“Everything was fine. People did approach us though.”

“What kind of people approached you specifically?”

“Civil servants, politicians, clergy, journalists… Quite a variety!”

That’s what she said.

Camilla savored the abundant feast provided by the church and listed the foreigners who had approached her. The same was true for Francesca.

Due to time constraints, most simply handed over their business cards and moved to other tables, promising future meetings. However, some still approached even as we were in the middle of our meal.

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you! I’m Sheir, Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Magic Department of the Lushan Federal Kingdom.”

“Hello! I’m Camilla Rowell.”

“I’ve heard much about your reputation as a hero. You’re as fluent in foreign languages as they say! Isn’t that right, Sir?”

“You’re well-informed. I’m Fredrik Nostrum from the Abas Ministry of Defense.”

“I’m aware. You’re also fluent in foreign languages, Sir? I would believe you were a native speaker, haha.”

“Deputy Assistant Secretary, your Abas language is also fluent. You studied international relations in Abas, correct?”

“That’s right! I received my degree from the Royal University. I hear the hero is also majoring in international relations, is that correct?”

“Yes. Conflict studies, to be precise!”

Those who approached Camilla were mostly diplomats from foreign ministries or security officials.

Having demonstrated abilities on par with a walking self-propelled artillery during the northern conflict, Camilla had attracted the attention of security professionals.

Moreover, the fact that she majored in conflict studies, a branch of international relations, had long been known through word of mouth. Camilla was receiving attention from governments experiencing various conflicts.

“Miss Ranieri. It’s an honor to meet you again.”

“It’s been a while, Director.”

“I’d like to discuss the Barren Swamp development project, if possible?”

“The Barren Swamp must be the one on the Baaridun Peninsula. Wasn’t that project contracted to the Ivory Tower? I’m curious why you’re asking me about an Ivory Tower issue.”

“That’s precisely why I’ve come. Could you possibly convey this matter to Oracle? Along with the mana stone mining project.”

Meanwhile, those who approached Francesca were from magic departments or trade sectors. Without exception, they spoke in Patalian, Francesca’s native language, and discussed magic-related interests.

For reference, most people who approached Camilla used their native languages. Even if they couldn’t speak English, Camilla was proficient in their local languages.

I wondered by what principle she could use foreign languages like a native without any education, but honestly, I felt more envy than curiosity.

If I had Camilla’s ability to speak foreign languages, I wouldn’t have had to study them so intensively.

Suddenly, I remembered the agony of learning the spicy nuances (especially grammar and accent, which were hard to adapt to even after field training) of Arabic and Swahili, which were minor languages even within the intelligence service.

Just as I was about to bite into some chicken with a gloomy heart…

Camilla, having finished her conversation with a diplomat, sighed deeply and leaned back against her chair.

“Ah, I’m tired…”

“Are you okay?”

“No. I’m not okay at all.”

The British girl, a Cambridge conflict studies major and former SIS (MI6) intern, made a tearful face.

“I wonder why people come to me with such gloomy talk. They’re asking me to resolve their country’s conflicts—does that make any sense?”

“Why do you think it doesn’t?”

At the casually thrown question, Camilla answered as if she had been waiting for it.

“Race, religion, territorial claims, resources! Every conflict is entangled with headache-inducing issues!”

Indeed.

In terms of being struggles for survival, the conflicts in this neighborhood were fundamentally the same as those in the global village.

However, the underlying desperation was on a different level.

Losing a territory significantly increases pressure on the central government. When the government can’t withstand the pressure, problems begin to emerge throughout society.

From small protests to regime changes. Whether through coups, elections, or foreign intelligence operations, governments fall in some form, and during that time, problems fester like infected wounds.

If a civil war breaks out, everything goes to hell.

Refugees flee to safe zones for survival, while warlords and government forces wage war to control those safe zones. Meanwhile, countless cities fall because they can’t stop the monsters that pour in.

Occasionally, foreign governments moved by tearful massacres send troops for “modest compensation,” but those are rare exceptions.

War is bad for business.

And business and politics are closely intertwined.

In the end, except for a few livable countries, the rest are doomed to miserable lives. The situation worsens as one moves toward poorer nations.

However, the vast majority of powerful countries don’t intervene in foreign political changes or conflicts without special reasons. This is a truth proven by the United States withdrawing from Afghanistan and Russia reducing support for the Levant region to focus on the conflict with Ukraine in 2014.

Therefore, whether it’s the Kiyen Empire, Abas, or the church, weak countries without allies can only appeal to the international community or cling to Camilla’s skirt.

One death can plunge a million into sorrow, but a million deaths may not even attract one person’s attention.

Those who eat from the national coffers don’t pay attention to matters without vested interests.

In other words,

I have no intention of getting involved in such conflicts either.

“What’s the big deal? You’ve done medical volunteer work in conflict zones, so you should know.”

“True. But still…”

“Don’t worry about it. Paying attention to such matters only gives you a headache. You may be British, but should you go around setting fire to other countries?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, isn’t that a characteristic of Anglo-American countries? Dropping bombs on people with brown skin.”

“Do you want to die!?”

“Hey, hey, don’t use your abilities! This isn’t a cornfield where we can burn things and settle later!”

“Gaaaah! Why are you bringing that up now!”

Sparks flew from Camilla’s mouth. Not metaphorically, but actual flames.

Passersby exclaimed, “Wow, a dragon!” and praised Camilla’s firepower show, but I couldn’t possibly admire the flames rising right in front of my face.

After a good deal of squabbling, just as Camilla, who had secured a plump chicken leg as her trophy, was beginning to regain her composure…

A guest from another table approached us.

Speaking fluent Kiyen.

“Fredrik, Sir.”

The matter was simple.

The Imperial official said:

“His Highness the Grand Duke summons you.”

And added:

“Your companions should come along as well.”