Ch.469Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

The Greatest Heretic Born from the Church. Veronica wore a languid expression.

Languid, or perhaps bored? An emotion difficult to describe in simple terms settled on her face.

Her attitude stood in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere of the life-or-death battle.

That impossibly calm demeanor not only shattered everyone’s expectations and dispelled concerns, but even evoked a slight sense of emptiness.

“…Hah.”

A sigh broke through the suffocating silence.

The revolver scratched near her temple. Veronica casually held the gun to her head, its hammer cocked and ready to fire at the pull of the trigger.

“Stop right there. Nobody move. My head is killing me right now.”

The Saint carelessly brushed back her disheveled bangs. Despite her frivolous attitude, her voice carried a sharp edge for some reason.

At Veronica’s sudden demand, Camilla and Francesca’s eyes began to dart around. After a brief silent exchange, undisguised bewilderment flashed across their blue and purple eyes.

I was equally perplexed.

Where had she been hiding, only to appear now and threaten us not to fight?

“…Why is the Saint suddenly acting like this?”

“…I’m not sure about that either.”

Behind Francesca, who was silently staring at Veronica, Camilla shot me a glance. A wordless question: what should we do now?

“……”

The knight with the hammer was staring intently at the silver bullet shooter. Though it was difficult to guess what was going through their mind, I could vaguely sense that they had lost interest in us and had no intention to fight.

After alternately examining the knight and my companions, I carefully turned to Veronica.

“Veronica. What is this all about…?”

“Please stand down for now, Major.”

“Is that really okay?”

To my follow-up question, she calmly nodded.

A momentary silence passed, followed by countless unspoken conversations. Though no one opened their mouth, we exchanged many words in just one meeting of eyes.

She was urging us to back down. With a look that asked us to trust her just this once.

After staring into her eyes that contained such a straightforward request, I quietly gestured for the two to withdraw. The two who had drawn their rune sword and disrupted the flames backed away with short steps, keeping their eyes fixed on the knight.

The battle thus entered a lull.

As Camilla and Francesca withdrew, the knight also took a step back. With a thud, the heavy hammer settled on the ground, kicking up dust and soot. Having put down the hammer, the knight lowered both arms in a relaxed posture, as if to prove they had no intention to fight.

And then.

“…I received a message.”

The Saint opened her mouth.

“I received two instructions: to cease combat and withdraw, and to treat ‘the Knight of the Cedar Coffin’ with respect.”

Click. The moment she pressed the hammer down with her thumb and pulled the trigger, the decocked hammer returned to its original position. After holstering the decocked revolver at her thigh, Veronica crossed her arms grumpily.

Her obsidian-like eyes lowered. With a crooked posture, she looked at the knight.

As if somewhat displeased, she suggested in a dispassionate voice:

“So why don’t you disarm and come with us while I’m asking nicely?”

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Veronica led us to a conference room somewhere in the facility.

The research wing where we had just been was long destroyed by the aftermath of the battle, especially the explosives and Camilla’s magic, making it unsuitable for conversation. Besides, there were orders to cease combat and treat the guest with respect.

The knight followed Veronica without protest. The Saint led the way, followed by the knight in plate armor, with the three of us trailing behind.

Camilla and Francesca kept a close eye on the back of the armored knight. The hammer and greatsword had somehow disappeared.

Though the opponent had disarmed, that was no reason to let our guard down. In the silence where one could hear a pin drop, the two women, ready to subdue the knight at any moment, followed Veronica and the knight.

“Let’s go in.”

Upon reaching our destination, Veronica nodded toward the inside of the conference room.

It was an invitation to enter, and the knight bowed to her before stepping into the conference room.

-Clank, clank.

As soon as the edge of the plate armor completely disappeared, the conference room door closed with a thud. It was Veronica’s doing.

After closing the door, the Saint brushed back her bangs.

“Phew.”

A monotonous sigh escaped her like a habit. Veronica leaned against the corridor wall in a crooked posture.

Though her unruly attitude was no different from usual, fragments of emotion were clearly visible in her behavior.

The nervous hand brushing her forehead, the expression of boredom and languor, the sigh mixed with complex emotions.

Veronica spoke in a tired voice.

“Is everyone uninjured?”

“Yes. Fortunately, we’re all fine.”

I showed her my intact limbs. Veronica let out a chuckle.

“No need to emphasize it. I do have eyes, you know?”

After a hollow laugh, Veronica moistened her throat at the water dispenser in the corridor.

Finding a functioning water dispenser when thirst had set in was a welcome sight. Camilla and Francesca, who had loosened their stifling cape folds, gathered around the water dispenser and began to chat.

“Are there any paper cups?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“No choice then. I’ll just drink directly.”

Camilla bent over and turned her head. She looked like a middle or high school boy rushing to the water dispenser after a soccer match.

Though she was supposedly from the upper class who valued appearances, the experience gained from medical volunteer work in civil war zones hadn’t disappeared. Upon discovering a water dispenser with clean water, Camilla, as if paper cups were of no consequence, filled her mouth with water and gulped it down.

However, Francesca, born and raised in a noble family and prestigious magic lineage, seemed to think differently. With her hand on the dispenser, she was looking around with a troubled expression, searching for a container.

“Here you go.”

“Ah, thank you.”

I detached a canteen from my gear and handed it to Francesca.

After confirming that the spring water had filled to the brim of the canteen, she carefully tilted it to moisten her lips. Of course, avoiding the part where someone else’s mouth had touched.

I quenched my thirst with the returned canteen.

Only after the thirst was resolved did my mind start working again. After glancing at and assessing the condition of my companions, Veronica opened the topic.

“I’m sure you have many questions, but I’ll take them one by one. Anything you’d like to ask?”

Questions? Of course I have many.

“First, you need to explain the situation. I can understand the order not to engage in combat, but what’s this nonsense about treating them with respect?”

After washing off the soot and dust on my head with the remaining water, I raised my head.

Camilla and Francesca’s questioning gazes naturally followed, as if I had scratched an itch they shared. Thus, the three pairs of eyes converged.

Veronica shrugged as if to say there was no deeper meaning.

“Exactly what it sounds like. Don’t fight and treat them with respect.”

“A vampire?”

My question implied: since when did the Church treat undead in a humanitarian and gentlemanly manner? But the Saint’s attitude remained unchanged.

“Yes. But there’s one thing I should correct.”

Leaning against the wall with a crooked posture and one leg crossed, Veronica responded with a tired look.

“That knight. They’re not a vampire.”

The Saint’s gaze turned toward the conference room. The firmly closed door lay at the edge of her vision.

Following her gaze, the two women turned their heads and looked at each other. After exchanging glances, Camilla and Francesca turned their gaze to me. Though I had roughly guessed it, their eyes still held suspicion.

I nodded once, as if I had expected it.

“The attacks didn’t work at all. Holy water, blessed bullets, magic—none of it had any effect. Armor-piercing rounds barely managed to leave a mark on the teeth.”

Though we have a record of hunting demons, that was only when we had thorough preparation and military support.

Even the scholars and clergy carefully selected by the Church and Al-Yabd couldn’t stop the knight, and even the Templar Order, specialized in undead, was helplessly defeated. Though we—myself, Camilla, and Francesca—had cornered the knight with our coordinated attack, we couldn’t finish the battle without a decisive blow.

This was clearly strange to me. The fact that weapons imbued with anti-magic energy, seals and barriers, Camilla’s magic, and Francesca’s rune sword all had no effect left room for doubt.

Of course, there’s also the possibility that the gap between the knight and us was too great to subdue them, but considering Camilla and Francesca’s capabilities, we should have achieved better results than this.

Therefore, the conclusion can be narrowed down to two possibilities:

First, the opponent was a being more powerful than the demons we encountered in the north.

Second, the opponent was not a negative and evil being to begin with.

In my view, the latter seemed more likely. And Veronica’s answer added certainty to my speculation.

“They say it’s not a vampire. We were working under the wrong assumption from the start.”

It meant everyone’s guess was wrong. Veronica, who had received a message from the Church, explained that the knight’s identity was not that of a vampire.

Then what kind of being are they? Though I asked, tired of the twenty-questions-like exchange, she couldn’t provide a clear answer either.

Shaking her head, Veronica muttered in a sigh-filled tone.

“The letter I received didn’t specify the identity of that person either. I even question whether they can be called human…”

“The Vatican must have discovered something to issue such an order, right? Didn’t they say they were going to gather and interpret all the ancient documents last time? If they found something there, they must have reached a conclusion.”

“The letter wasn’t from the Vatican.”

Everyone’s faces filled with questions at the unexpected source of the order.

No, besides the Vatican, what group could give orders to a Saint? Even cardinals and bishops couldn’t treat Saints casually.

If not the Pope, then who sent the letter?

“…Then who sent it?”

Veronica opened a case from her bosom and took out a cigar. After placing the thin cigar between her lips, she lit it with a lighter and raised her head.

Irritation had mixed into her obsidian-like eyes. After exhaling smoke repeatedly, Veronica began to scratch her head vigorously.

And finally, the Saint gave her answer.

“The Grand Inquisitor.”

The Church’s Saint, exhaling smoke, looked up at the ceiling.

“It was a letter from our Church’s eldest elder.”

*

Though the era when religious power reached the heavens has passed, religious organizations are still one of the dominant groups in this area.

The existential threats represented by demonic tribes, undead, and black magicians, and the existence of demons that had been dismissed as legends.

Entities that stand at the antipode of faith paradoxically serve as the driving force that makes people believe in God.

Humans facing hardship and adversity crave salvation, and clergy benefit the world widely through powers bestowed by God. Thus, it is fate and inevitability that religious power grows strong.

Although I don’t have deep religious faith, I knew almost everything about mainstream religious organizations. The clash between political power and religious power is a long-standing battle proven by human history.

It’s natural for governments to check the growing influence of religion, and it’s inevitable that state surveillance turns toward religious figures. And since modern state surveillance is usually conducted through intelligence agencies, it would be like saying an intelligence command officer doesn’t know about communists if I, a military intelligence officer, claimed ignorance about religious organizations.

“…The Grand Inquisitor.”

A vague murmur escaped my lips.

Even those not working in intelligence agencies would rarely be unaware of the figure known as the Grand Inquisitor. A clergyman who has lived for hundreds of years is already in the realm of mystery by his mere existence.

The fact that he is historically the most outstanding inquisitor and exorcist is also a driving force that has sustained the Grand Inquisitor’s reputation for a long time. No wonder the Church’s clergy refer to the Grand Inquisitor as ‘the father of inquisitors and exorcists’ when addressing him.

The Church’s finest inquisitor and exorcist.

If the magical society has Archmage Alexandra Petrovna the Grand Duchess and Al-Yabd has its High Priest, then conversely, the Church has the Grand Inquisitor, ‘the father of inquisitors and exorcists.’

“You’re saying the Grand Inquisitor contacted you.”

“Yes.”

Veronica began to nod, removing the cigar from her mouth. In her delicate hand was an old-fashioned letter.

Like Roman Catholicism, high priests of the Laterano Church have emblems. Simply put, a seal. Like the symbols medieval European nobles used to represent their houses, the Church’s high priests use emblems to identify themselves.

The format and appearance of emblems differ for each clergy member, with the most representative examples being Veronica and Lucia’s emblems. Though the two are Saints of equal standing, they possess emblems of different formats.

The same goes for bishops and cardinals who are treated as ‘old fogies’ by the Saint. Since emblems serve as a means to prove the owner’s identity, there must be subtle differences even among those of the same position.

“Hmm…”

The emblem stamped on the letter was in a form I had never seen before. More precisely, I had never seen it in person.

That’s because the last time this emblem was publicly displayed was decades ago. The old-fashioned emblem, which can only be seen in museums or history books, simply means one thing:

The sender of this letter is the Church’s Grand Inquisitor.

I took my eyes off the letter and spoke.

“It really is a letter from the Grand Inquisitor. I’ve only seen this in history books.”

“It’s been years since I’ve seen it in person too. No, maybe even decades?”

“When did you see it that you have to go back in time like that?”

“Around when Lucia started taking care of me.”

It seemed Veronica had previously received letters from the Grand Inquisitor.

I was curious why the Grand Inquisitor sent a letter regarding something related to Lucia, but that wasn’t important right now.

What’s really curious is something else.

“It’s strange enough that the busy priest sent a letter, but the content is also intriguing.”

Don’t engage in combat with the knight, and treat them with respect. The meaning of the letter’s content was extremely simple.

The elegant handwriting on the high-quality paper contained information about the knight. Though there was an old-fashioned quality to the sentence structure, as expected from an old person, the more I pondered the content, the more significant it seemed.

Starting with the timing of the letter.

“From what I know, the Grand Inquisitor disappeared decades ago. How did he send you a letter?”

The Church’s Grand Inquisitor, known as the father of inquisitors and exorcists, is widely known to have disappeared decades ago.

He went on a pilgrimage, he set out on a journey of penance to protect the weak and do good, he had health issues, he became disillusioned with the church, and so on.

Though there were many speculations, none were confirmed information.

I couldn’t hide my puzzlement at the point that the Grand Inquisitor had sent a letter. Even if he had learned of the location through the Vatican, how was the Grand Inquisitor’s letter delivered to the Saint isolated in a sealed underground facility?

“There’s a means of communication.”

Veronica brought the ‘courier’ who personally delivered the Grand Inquisitor’s letter here.

That courier was…

-Screech!

A hawk.

“…You’re saying that hawk is the means of communication?”

Veronica nodded without the slightest hesitation, affirming. I stared at the hawk in the cage with an incredulous look.

What era is this that they’re still delivering letters by hawk? Is he too old, past the age of playing Go-Stop with retirement home grandpas and grandmas, to be familiar with crystal balls or mobile phones?

It reminded me of Archmage Alexandra’s past actions, sending letters to Francesca via owl. Is it a rule in this neighborhood for elderly people to send letters via birds?

A hawk in a cage. Veronica, who had struggled to place the hawk, as large as the upper body of a decent-sized adult, in the cage, pointed at it.

“Despite appearances, this one delivers reliably. It’s not an ordinary bird but a divine beast. It finds its way well. It seems to have flown here through cracks in the bedrock.”

“I see.”

I unconsciously frowned slightly. The hawk with sharp eyes was grooming its feathers with a dignified posture, but when it met my gaze, it stopped.

Though I didn’t stare long, as it seemed ill-tempered at first glance, the creature beat the iron bars with its large wings as if to say, “What are you looking at? Never seen a hawk before?”

The only person properly looking at the hawk was Camilla.

“A hawk…”

Approaching the cage, she was observing the hawk with sparkling eyes. As her curious eyes began to scan its body, the hawk scurried away.

Well, assuming that creature delivered the letter. I continued my question while scanning the letter.

“The content is quite serious. ‘Do not fight and treat with respect.’ And specifically mentioning ‘the Knight of the Cedar Coffin.'”

It had the nuance of knowing about the knight.

Why would the Grand Inquisitor, an inquisitor and exorcist, treat that knight favorably? Are they perhaps acquainted?

“Given that it says they’re definitely not a vampire and we shouldn’t fight, it seems like he knows something…”

“It’s frustrating without further explanation. Would it hurt to be more helpful?”

It was like how elderly people warn: they tell you not to do something, but don’t explain why.

This was essentially all that was written on the letter. Not a vampire. Don’t fight. Treat with respect.

It was closer to a polite request than a commanding tone. But who in the Church could refuse the Grand Inquisitor’s request?

Even Veronica, who hides in tobacco shops to avoid bishops and cardinals, steals sacred objects behind the Pope’s back to sell as stolen goods for gambling, found it difficult to refuse the Grand Inquisitor’s request. Indeed, that was truly the case.

“Ah, damn. The elder really… How am I supposed to handle such a vague request out of nowhere?”

Even ‘the’ Veronica was referring to the Grand Inquisitor with a respectful term like ‘elder.’ Considering the times when she treated even the Pope as an old fogey, it was a heart-stirring sight. To the point where I wondered if she had always been such a polite person.

In fact, she’s not a person who doesn’t know manners. She’s a Saint who has been in the clergy for over a decade, and before that, she was a noble lady. It’s not that she doesn’t know manners; she just omits them because she finds them bothersome. The problem is that she omits too much.

Anyway.

“What should we do? I can’t refuse the elder’s request.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d respect an elderly person. You’ve always shown me nothing but attacks on the elderly…”

“Want to keep talking nonsense? Enough! Just give me an answer quickly.”

“Do you think I’m a machine that spits out answers at the press of a button?”

“So, is there no solution?”

…There is one.

I rolled up the Grand Inquisitor’s letter and opened my mouth.

“Get ready, Veronica.”

*

The Grand Inquisitor’s explanation was unhelpful. Therefore, there wasn’t much information gained from the old-fashioned letter.

With so little information, it was not easy to guess the Grand Inquisitor’s intentions, but the means to obtain information wasn’t limited to the Grand Inquisitor alone.

I went with Veronica to find the Knight of the Cedar Coffin.

“……”

The moment we opened the door to the conference room, a standing suit of plate armor came into view.

The knight was looking around the conference room. Like a tourist examining the architecture of a travel destination, the knight who had traveled back in time was surveying the surroundings.

They reacted right after we stepped into the conference room. As the helmet slowly turned toward us, Veronica closed the door while I sat in a chair.

“Please sit.”

I indicated the chair opposite me as an invitation to sit.

I wondered if it was possible to sit while wearing plate armor, but the knight sat down without difficulty. Their gaze lingered briefly on the chair, perhaps seeing a wheeled chair for the first time.

While Veronica and I dealt with the knight, Camilla and Francesca decided to wait outside. More precisely, I suggested doing so.

Whether it’s interrogation or questioning, when there are too many people, it inevitably becomes mentally chaotic. This acts as a significant psychological pressure on the other party, which is why agencies like the FBI limit the number of staff entering interrogation rooms.

A long time ago, it was a technique I learned during a drinking session with an investigator I met when the company went to tour American intelligence agencies.

I was the first to speak.

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”

I opened the topic in a gentle tone, and Veronica buried herself in the chair with a cigar in her mouth.

“Let me introduce myself briefly first. My name is Frederick. I’m a diplomat dispatched from the Kingdom of Abas.”

I lightly pointed to Veronica.

“This person here is Veronica. She is the 58th Saint of the Church.”

Despite being introduced as a Saint, Veronica didn’t deviate from my expectations at all. That is to say, she maintained a thoroughly unruly attitude.

A mischievous face with a dubious look. Even after receiving the Grand Inquisitor’s letter, she was still looking at the knight with a disapproving gaze.

After briefly introducing ourselves, just as I was about to ask what the hell they were doing, a deep voice leaked through the gaps of the helmet, breaking the silence.

“Are you the current master of the Altiora Cathedral?”

The knight’s first words were a question.

The helmet was directed at Veronica. After briefly frowning at the voice that seemed to resonate in her head, Veronica answered the knight’s question in a monotonous tone.

“What about it?”

“If it’s not impolite, may I ask which master you are?”

It was a remarkably courteous attitude. The deep voice, added with politeness, carried a strange energy. The knight asked Veronica which master she was.

Though nowadays it’s only used by religious people or in official settings, ‘master of the Altiora Cathedral’ has been an expression that refers to all Saints, regardless of gender, since ancient times.

One Saint per era.

That was the tradition and convention maintained until Lucia appeared, so the ‘master of the Altiora Cathedral’ existed only once throughout all ages.

“I’m the 58th master.”

“The fifty-eighth master. Much time has passed, it seems. How many years have passed while I was asleep?”

Probably 800 years. After hearing the answer, the knight briefly withheld words. They didn’t seem shocked.

“The flow of time has far exceeded my expectations.”

A calm voice leaked through the helmet. A matter-of-fact tone with no trace of surprise. A voice that even seemed detached.

I evaluated the situation positively in that the knight, who had maintained silence, was now responding to the conversation. It meant the other party was willing to engage in dialogue.

Not missing the opportunity, I threw a question.

“Do you have any idea where this is?”

“I do not know. Except that this place is underground. Judging by the energy of the earth, I suspect it might be a desert.”

“When you say energy, do you mean something related to magic or mysticism? For example, like spirits?”

“Mysticism. I do not know what mysticism you speak of. But if what you understand as magic or spirits aligns with what I think, then perhaps that is it.”

It was a strange way of speaking.

How should I describe this? It felt like someone from a higher civilization adjusting to someone from a lower civilization.

“You seemed to be using a special power. What kind of power was that?”

“It is not mine. It’s just a skill I’ve been temporarily permitted to use.”

“From whom did you receive this permission?”

“……”

The conversation broke off. I waited for the knight’s answer, but it was in vain.

Whether they were avoiding an unfavorable answer or it was a part they didn’t want to answer, I couldn’t tell. Perhaps the ominous shadows and black smoke that flowed from the cedar coffin were the ‘skill’ the knight mentioned.

After asking a few more questions on topics that had yielded answers, I moved on.

“We recovered the coffin you were laid in and brought it here.”

The next topic was about vampires.

“After first discovering the coffin, we judged your identity to be that of a vampire.”

“Are vampires still around?”

“Officially, vampires were eradicated hundreds of years ago, with ‘Countess Erzsébet’ being the last. The Templar Order succeeded in the eradication. It was also the Order that discovered you.”

“May I ask where I was discovered?”

“The official name is the Port of the Dead Whale. Commonly known as ‘Necropolis.'”

The knight replied that they didn’t know where Necropolis was located. That’s natural. Necropolis is a city of exiles that emerged after the founding of the Magic Tower.

A city with a history of less than 100 years. A knight estimated to have been asleep for 800 years. It was natural for them not to know of Necropolis’s existence.

The problem isn’t that.

“You and the cedar coffin were in the hands of cultists when discovered. Do you know anything about an organization called ‘Al-Khair’?”

The knight answered.

“It’s a word derived from the Ubram language. If my memory serves me right, it symbolizes ‘night.'”

I showed them some of Al-Khair’s doctrines and information obtained from Necropolis. The knight said they didn’t know, but something felt off.

It was as if they knew something but were holding back. More precisely, it felt like they had some guesses or suspicions.

I brought out other information.

“Originally, people called ‘Shamir’ were responsible for guarding the cedar coffin in the temple, but it seems they were seized by Al-Khair. What is your relationship with ‘Shamir’ and that tribe?”

“……”

Instead of an answer, silence returned.

I glanced at Veronica. The Saint, who had been burning her cigar for a while, opened her mouth while gazing into the distance.

“Continuing to exercise your right to remain silent won’t do you any good.”

“Does the master of Altiora still suspect me of being a vampire?”

“If you don’t explain, suspicion might turn into certainty.”

Veronica bluffed with a calm expression. Meaning she was lying through her teeth.

The Grand Inquisitor had sent a letter saying the knight was not a vampire, but only the four of us had read that letter. In other words, Veronica was using the information gap to intimidate.

However, the knight didn’t even blink.

“Truth reveals itself to those who desire it. Those who doubt will doubt even if told the sun will rise tomorrow. Even if I argue against your suspicion of me being a vampire, I cannot erase your doubt. That is the nature of trust.”

“……”

Veronica’s eyebrow twitched. When I asked what was wrong, she waved her hand as if it was nothing.

Casting a dispassionate gaze at the knight, Veronica suddenly interjected into the conversation.

“Seals don’t work, barriers are ignored. Blessed bullets don’t even penetrate, holy water and bombs are avoided. Bullets cast from melted sacred objects of the cathedral can pierce even demons, but that armor remains intact.”

“……”

“Are you really human?”

With the Grand Inquisitor’s letter between her fingers, she waved it at the knight and blurted out.

“Someone seems to know your identity. Are you really going to keep denying?”

At that moment.

The knight’s voice changed slightly.

“…You say there is someone who knows me?”

It was a question laden with a strange emotion. Veronica nodded.

“Who might that be?”

“There is someone. An elder who likes to wander around as if born with wanderlust.”

No frequent contact, no activity. We know he’s somewhere doing something, but no one knows what exactly. Present yet absent. Coming like the wind and disappearing like smoke. That was the Grand Inquisitor.

With a deep sigh, the Church’s Saint spoke in a whining voice. If he’s alive, he could at least say so. Even the Pope doesn’t know where he is.

Carrying a fat hawk under his arm, wandering who knows where… As she was muttering this.

The knight’s voice interrupted Veronica’s words.

“This hawk you mention, is it a massive bird with golden pupils?”

Veronica, who had been muttering for a while, began to look at the knight.

“How do you know that?”

“I know it well. It is the companion of an old friend.”

Muttering some strange, incomprehensible words, the knight began to describe in a calm voice. A description of the Grand Inquisitor’s divine beast.

“Golden pupils and massive wings. When it spreads both wings, it can easily encompass an adult man. Once it takes flight, it doesn’t come down until sunset.”

That wasn’t all.

“Is its nest still in the Altiora Cathedral?”

“…The third-floor room near the spire. Next to the fireplace.”

“Its favorite spot. It takes pleasure in grooming its feathers in the sunlight. If you don’t open the window in advance, it mischievously taps the glass with its beak and causes accidents.”

“You seem to know Casion well.”

To Veronica’s question, the knight shook their head.

“That is the name of the place where it hatched and came into the world. Its name is…”

“Aquila.”

She said.

“On the day it hatched, thunder shook heaven and earth. With its first flap of wings, it flew through the storm. A divine beast with a terrible temper that flies in the sky near the sun.”

“……”

“There are only a handful of people in the Church who know the mountain where Aquila was born.”

No sooner had those words ended than the knight began to nod calmly.

“You truly are the master of Altiora.”

The knight spoke, and the woman responded.

“It seems like now might be the right time to tell the truth, Sir Knight.”

The Saint says.

“It’s about time you revealed your identity.”

The helmet moves, and the knight raises their head.

As if meeting her gaze, they face the Saint.

“We have been called by many names. Created spirits, creatures of freedom and wisdom, wings forged of fire and light, messengers, servants and armies.”

And,

“When Paul first encountered us, he called us this.”

Light rose.

A soft light with a reddish energy. Like clouds parting and a beam of light descending, a ring appeared above the helmet.

A red halo.

“Angels,” they said.