Ch.57Episode 4 – Why Are You Only Picking On Me

## The Church is a Theocracy

The Church is a theocratic state.

While the Church adopts theocracy and absolute monarchy as its political system, its election method is surprisingly democratic. You can think of it as similar to the Vatican’s conclave.

First, a week before the election, the Pope summons all priests with voting rights from dioceses scattered across the continent. On election day, the electoral college is confined to St. Pascalina Cathedral, located three blocks away from the State Council building, and under the strict surveillance of the Inquisition and the Holy Knights Order, they conduct indefinite voting “until a winner is determined.”

It’s essentially imprisonment. No matter how much they claim it’s to protect the electors, throwing them in with only water, salt, and consecrated bread and telling them to vote—is that any way to treat people?

Of course, whether those gentlemen are voting, doing drugs, or having an orgy in there, that’s none of my business.

What matters is whether Lucia becomes a Saint or not. Since both outcomes have clear pros and cons, this election has been keeping observers on the edge of their seats.

I don’t know how it will turn out. I’m not a fortune teller, how would I know?

But regardless of the outcome, it was all too clear that I would be the one dealing with the consequences.

Because I was both a Hero’s companion and a Duke’s official.

So I waited for the voting results with the same anxiety as waiting for U.S. presidential election results.

And finally,

The results came in.

“The Saint will arrive here today.”

“…What happened?”

“The morning star has risen.”

Lucia won.

## Episode 4 – Why Are You Picking On Me?

A new Saint has been born.

Lucia, who once served under Veronica, has now become her equal. With this, she has succeeded the 58th Saint to become the new 59th Saint.

I heard the news in my lodgings.

According to an Inquisition agent who came with a cautious knock at dawn, it’s been 43 years since a Saint of the same gender was chosen twice in succession.

An election held while the predecessor was still alive—unprecedented in Church history—and a candidate who overcame all sorts of controversies and obstacles to finally be elected as a Saint. Although Lucia hadn’t gone through the canonization process and wasn’t officially a Saint yet, this kind of news would normally warrant breaking coverage.

“Lucia has become a Saint.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Camilla Rowell, who was eating toast, looked at the TV, then at me, then back at the TV before picking up a newspaper.

She quickly scanned through the political section, social section, international section, editorials, and even the cartoons before saying:

“There’s no such article here?”

News of a new Saint’s birth couldn’t be found in any morning newspaper or news broadcast. As if someone had cast a spell.

Of course, I knew the reason. In the current nationwide security crisis (major espionage cases broke out just a week ago) where political interests of various governments are entangled, everyone needed time to organize their positions regarding the birth of a new Saint.

In short, everyone needed time to catch their breath. Right now.

The problem was who would speak first… Everyone was just rolling their eyes at each other, playing a waiting game for fear of losing face, so the Church, finding this frustrating, took the initiative and requested an embargo from all media outlets.

Of course, I don’t know if the media outlets willingly complied with the embargo request or if they were forced to keep quiet after receiving not-so-subtle warnings in interrogation rooms. I don’t care either.

But this is none of Camilla Rowell’s business. She shouldn’t know about it either.

I smiled and brushed it off.

“They haven’t made an official announcement yet. The news will probably be out today.”

“Hmm… Anyway, that’s good news, right?”

“Why do you think so?”

“Isn’t a Saint someone respected for their virtue in religion?”

“I… guess so…?”

“Then that means Lucia is quite an extraordinary person.”

“I… suppose…?”

Can someone who drinks and smokes really be considered virtuous? The Church doesn’t restrict clergy from smoking and drinking, but seeing how they do it secretly suggests they don’t feel entirely righteous about it. Neither Veronica nor Lucia.

“……”

I paused and calmly considered which was less worthy of sainthood: Veronica, who spied for the Empire, or Lucia, who enjoyed alcohol and tobacco as a minor. It was hard to choose between them—a true clash of titans, an El Clásico in itself.

While I was lost in thought, Camilla Rowell approached me with her usual bright smile.

“Not everyone can save lives, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember? When you collapsed last time, the people who saved your life were Lucia and… Ve… Ve…?”

“Veronica.”

“Ah, right. Saint Veronica.”

Hmm.

Come to think of it, that did happen. It was quite impactful, but with all the major incidents that followed, I’d forgotten about it. If Camilla hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have remembered it and would have kept my mouth shut.

Honestly, it’s a shame.

Camilla Rowell looked at me like a teacher eyeing a student caught in a lie.

“…You didn’t forget, did you?”

“O-Of course not.”

“I thought so. Oh, right. When can we meet Lucia then?”

I checked my watch and stood up.

“Right now.”

The Saint will arrive soon.

*

“…Control. This is Army 207S, do you read me?”

“Army 207S. This is Deso Control, reading you three-four, loud and clear.”

“Control. Requesting course change. 255 degrees.”

“Granted, Army 207S. Bank right to heading 255.”

With the airspace closed, only military and police mages were flying in the capital’s sky. Air traffic controllers in the tower maintained order to prevent the mages from colliding with each other.

“Train arriving soon. ETA one minute.”

“Prepare to activate magical wave disruption devices.”

“Perimeter security teams and rooftop sniper teams, report status.”

The Capital Defense Command and police began controlling roads near the train station. Police set up barricades to block civilian access, armed police and military police stood guard with weapons, and plainclothes officers mingled with citizens to watch for suspicious individuals.

An honor guard in full regalia lined up at the train station. They were waiting for just one person: Lucia, who was visiting to meet her colleague.

The Abas government was treating her as a state guest. Some might question whether such protocol was excessive for one person, but Lucia was a Saint-designate awaiting canonization.

Not just anyone can become a Saint. Basically, only those with high virtue can be nominated as Saint candidates, and through election, they receive the endorsement of the Church’s key figures to become power figures who stand shoulder to shoulder with the Pope.

Failing to treat such a person as a state guest would cause major diplomatic ripples.

And since Lucia was visiting in her capacity as a Saint (designate) and leading an entourage that included numerous high-ranking officials of Cardinal rank, the Abas government had to provide state visit-level courtesy.

Just then, clear bell sounds rang out from the bell tower of the capital’s most famous church.

“Oh, here she comes!”

“The screen’s not working, fix it quickly!”

“What’s going on with this?”

Urgent voices of journalists could be heard as their broadcast transmission was cut off, probably due to signal jamming for bomb prevention. Sorry about that, folks.

The military band began playing as the train was arriving. The honor guard fired a salute. Amid the booming sounds, I asked Camilla Rowell:

“Isn’t it loud for you?”

“Huh? What is?”

“The gunfire. Isn’t it loud?”

“Nah.”

She smiled brightly and said:

“This isn’t loud at all.”

“…?”

Even my ears were ringing a bit, yet she claimed it wasn’t loud. Is she tough or just putting on a brave face? Come to think of it, she was surprisingly composed even when a bomb exploded right in front of her. Though she was suffering inside, she didn’t show it outwardly, suggesting she’s tougher than most.

Just then, the train entered the station with a whistle, slowing down.

The military band continued playing, and the honor guard all turned their heads toward the train.

Finally, as the train doors opened, the awaited people appeared.

Lucia, our colleague and soon-to-be Saint.

She had discarded her drab black priest’s robe and appeared in a pure white ceremonial garment. Walking under the warm sun, she seemed to emit a gentle radiance, reminiscent of the saints in icons I once saw in an Eastern European Orthodox church. It wasn’t surprising, as she would officially be a Saint once she went through the canonization ceremony.

Lucia approached us with her usual gentle smile.

We shook hands with her and greeted her warmly.

“It’s been a while.”

“I am in the presence of a Saint. Pleased to meet you, Saint Lucia.”

“Nice to meet you, Saint!”

“Please just call me Lucia comfortably.”

She stepped closer to ensure others couldn’t hear and whispered to us.

While Camilla and Lucia exchanged greetings happily, I approached the figure standing behind them.

Lucia wasn’t the only Church official visiting this time.

So I put on a smile and offered my hand to the person.

“It’s been a while. We meet again.”

“…Yes, good to see you. Cardinal Bernard.”

Bernard, the Security Director of the Inquisition, who had come briefly to ensure the safety of the Saint and her entourage.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Oh? Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yes, I came on business.”

“But why are you in a nun’s habit…?”

“……”

Priestess Rebecca, the Inquisition Director’s secretary, who suddenly appeared wearing a nun’s habit.

And then,

“Excuse me…”

While we were exchanging greetings, someone called out to me.

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you talking to me?”

“Who are you to—Oh?”

A waterfall of ebony cascading over her shoulders.

A charming tear mole, eyes dark as the abyss.

Tall stature, long legs.

Her voice alone makes me happy to hear, but facing her in person exhausts me.

“Uh, uhh…”

“Good to see you.”

“…Why are you here?”

She gives me an eye-smile and says:

“Did you miss me?”

Veronica.

The crazy woman has arrived.