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“Why are you yawning like that?”

As I languidly yawned in the warm sunlight streaming through the cathedral’s cloister, a familiar voice reached my ears.

“Is that you, Camila?”

“You’ve come.”

“What have you been doing here?”

“Just resting.”

Camila ambled over and took the seat next to me.

Perhaps it was her high body temperature; even in the chilly weather, her attire was quite light. Still, she donned an outfit that oozed sophistication.

Being from the land of gentlemen, she was dressed in the quintessential British upper-class style (tweed and long boots).

Where on earth did she get that?

“Looking posh.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Did you think I was being sarcastic?”

Camila flashed a bright smile.

It was now an iconic mischievous grin.

“So, why are you here?”

“I came to rest too.”

The British girl complained there were too many people around. Unless it was a party with acquaintances, mingling amidst older gentlemen seemed rather unbecoming to her.

I paused my search through my suit jacket. Unable to find a cigarette, my hand just patted my head instead.

“Dealing with elders can indeed be exhausting.”

“You’ve done it a lot, haven’t you?”

“When you work, it becomes routine to interact with people old enough to be my father.”

“Ah-ha!”

The girl nodded vigorously, clapping her hands.

“So that’s why you’ve been sounding like an old man every time!”

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

“Get down.”

“I’m sorry!”

A familiar and heavy sensation washed over me. The mop handle I had brought from the bathroom snugly fit into my palm.

“Is there any reason to hit someone just for pulling a prank?”

I told Camila to get down with the mop handle in hand, while she grabbed my wrist, pouting.

It was a sight difficult to show to others.

Staying at the Magic Tower, the moments of being chased with a ‘love stick (a maple stick)’ during running time flashed in my mind. Camila, set to get a whack, was crying and throwing a fit.

The tussle lasted for a while.

I suggested she choose between getting hit or having her dessert confiscated for a month, and after much deliberation, we settled on confiscating her dessert for a month.

“Ugh….”

“I’ll be swallowed by the earth. Stop sighing and hurry up.”

*

Even though there was still considerable time before the canonization ceremony, the cathedral buzzed with crowds.

Dozens of seats filled with politicians and bureaucrats, and priests in ceremonial robes hurried about.

They were government representatives and high-ranking clergy.

According to the protocol, Lucia was supposed to enter the cathedral with the procession of priests, followed by a six-hour main ceremony, ultimately concluded with a grand parade involving thousands of knights and auxiliary personnel.

However, because Lucia wasn’t fond of such pomp and circumstance, the Holy See decided to simplify the canonization ceremony upon her request.

Of course, Lucia wanted to entirely cancel even that parade, but unfortunately, her request was rejected due to the concerns of the clergy about the authority of religion.

Since wizards were attending today’s canonization ceremony, a wizard sitting next to me spoke in a low voice.

“It seems the cult took quite an effort for the canonization ceremony, Colonel.”

“Indeed.”

Francesca lifted her head and glanced around.

The atmosphere of the cathedral, finely adorned by the Holy See, was truly majestic. From the moment of entering, one felt overwhelmed by the sanctity of the architectural masterpiece.

“Hmm….”

As her eyes narrowed, resembling violets, Francesca began humming with interest.

“While the cathedral itself is an impressive building, I think fragile people might find this atmosphere a bit burdensome.”

“Are there any fragile people here? Everyone is here representing the government.”

“Well….”

Her pale pink lips formed a smooth curve.

“I hear the diplomats from the Imperial Foreign Affairs Department hurried over after receiving the word?”

Just before the Duke arrived at Lateran with the imperial officials, the Magic Tower learned through diplomatic channels that the legendary figure from the magic realm, who founded the Magic Tower through war, was leading the delegation with the royal family.

This news caused quite a stir in the magical community.

Thus, while the Magic Tower government had initially planned to send a perfunctory congratulatory message with a simple invitation, they hurriedly dispatched a representative the day before the ceremony.

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

“Yes, a prominent figure in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He has been sent to the Secretariat before as well.”

“An elite, huh.”

The ambassador, who had only returned from abroad yesterday, participated as the sole representative of the Magic Tower government at the canonization ceremony.

In light of other countries sending delegations of at least cabinet-level persons, the decision to send just one ambassador from the Magic Tower raised eyebrows.

Yet, no one here whispered about a diplomatic faux pas by the Magic Tower.

Interestingly, people were muttering, ‘Did the Magic Tower send someone?’

Francesca rested her chin on her hand and murmured.

“I really didn’t expect the Magic Tower to send a representative. Did you know, Colonel?”

“How would I know? I’m not an astrologer.”

“Recently there’s been talk in the diplomatic world about normalizing relations with the visit of Saint Lucia. Did you happen to miss that too?”

“Is that the topic that came up in the meeting held at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs seminar room?”

“How did you know that, Colonel?”

“The embassy staff informed me. I have acquaintances in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

“Oh, you mentioned your older sister’s a diplomat.”

For a moment, I engaged in a light conversation about the diplomatic relations between the Secretariats and the Magic Tower with the secretary from the Magic Tower. Even in that moment, I could hear voices discussing our country’s major affairs around us.

Elected politicians and dictators, bureaucrats giving orders and civil servants obeying them. Those basking in the power and glory of the mundane world busily moved about on the brink of the birth of a new saint.

Yet the most noted individuals here were neither the ambassador from the Magic Tower nor foreign politicians, but us.

Camila blinked with wide eyes filled with anticipation as I slowly sorted through the distinguished suit men in the crowd.

Some approached with keen interest, but the conversations never lasted long.

Whenever Francesca or I subtly hinted at our desire to leave, they’d awkwardly laugh and slip away. This was true for diplomats and politicians alike.

By the way, Camila wasn’t participating in the conversations at all. Her mind was drifting elsewhere.

“Oh, it seems like it’s about to start.”

Camila whispered softly, drawing my attention away from the previous conversation.

Francesca and I paused our chatter, and the voices of the delegations in the cathedral quieted as well.

A heavy silence settled over the majestic cathedral.

The silence was broken by a saint emerging through the great doors.

*

With the bishop’s introduction, the choir’s hymns, the golden crown award, and the anointing of holy oil—all of it—the lengthy six-hour canonization ceremony finally came to a close.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and night had fallen.

The people gathered at the holy site celebrated the birth of the saint in their own ways. Some cheered, while others lit candles dedicated to the cathedral.

Countless lights filled the streets.

As the waves of humanity followed, the river of light brightly illuminated the night of Lateran.

Lucia, who had been folding her hands and praying softly, raised her head.

Though winter had passed, the night air remained cold, and only after her white breath scattered into the air could her beautiful voice be heard.

“It’s finally over.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Lucia, smiling gently, nodded as her golden hair flowed down, settling on her pure white priest’s robe.

“If anyone has worked hard, it’s you all.”

A solid six-hour long canonization ceremony.

Excluding the parade, the main event alone lasted six hours, meaning we practically spent a whole day in the canonization ceremony.

“Lucia must have worked harder than us since she was the main character of the ceremony.”

“Still, it must have been tiring for you, right?”

“I was just sitting. There were days I worked 16 hours straight; six hours is no big deal.”

“…Is that so?”

Her gentle eyes curved like a crescent moon.

As the golden waves illuminated the night of the holy site, a priest searching for the saint called out amidst the sounds of laughter carried by the wind.

I chuckled lightly at the clear, urgent voice that resonated.

“It seems I’ve kept you for too long.”

“I should be on my way.”

“Yes.”

Lucia nodded and smiled brightly.

“I hope we can meet again soon.”

Having stepped outside for a moment to catch my breath, I returned straight to the banquet hall.

The canonization ceremony wrapped up with the procession of the Knights Order, but the true event was just beginning.

The coronation ceremony is set for the day after tomorrow.

During the next three days, including today, politicians and officials from various countries would stay in Lateran.

Unless they came merely for leisure at the state’s expense, those representing their governments had to accomplish something.

Thus, the banquet held immediately after the canonization ceremony resembled a colossal job fair. It was rare for leaders and representatives from over a hundred nations to gather in one place, making the banquet hall almost reminiscent of a UN General Assembly.

I quietly joined my companions amidst the bustling crowd of the banquet hall.

“I’m here.”

“Welcome, Colonel.”

“Oh, you’ve just arrived?”

Camila, who was munching on chicken salad with her fork, tilted her head and asked.

“Where did you go?”

“I just stepped out for some fresh air and met Lucia. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?”

“Uh-huh, yep.”

Since I had been away for quite a while, I worried something might have happened. But it seems that worry was unfounded.

Camila chewed her salad and said, “Everything’s fine. People were chatting with me here and there.”

“What kind of people talked to you?”

“Civil servants, politicians, priests, journalists… quite a mix!”

She said such.

Camila relished the lavish banquet provided by the cult while reciting the details of the foreigners who approached her. Francesca experienced similar interactions.

Due to the limited time, most exchanged business cards, promising to connect later, but a few came to join us while we were still eating.

“How delightful to meet you! I am Sheir, the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Magic of the Lushan Federal Kingdom.”

“Hello! I’m Camila Lowell.”

“I’ve heard much about the Hero’s reputation. As expected, your foreign language skills are impressive! Isn’t that right, Colonel?”

“You’re quite knowledgeable. I am Frederick Nostrim from the Ministry of Defense of Abas.”

“I know! Colonel, your foreign language skills are impressive too! I’d believe you were a native speaker, haha.”

“Deputy Minister, your Abyssal language is also fluent. You majored in International Relations, right?”

“That’s correct! I received my degree from the Royal University. I heard the Hero is also studying International Relations; is that true?”

“Yes, precisely in Conflict Studies!”

The visitors looking for Camila were mostly diplomats or security personnel from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Having risen to the level of a walking artillery due to her proficiency in navigating northern conflicts, it seems security officials were drawn to her.

Moreover, her specialization in Conflict Studies, a branch of International Relations, was already common knowledge. Camila had attracted the attention of governments experiencing various conflicts.

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

“It’s been a while, Director.”

“I’d like to discuss the development project for the arid marshlands. Is that possible?”

“The arid marshlands, you mean that place in the Baridun Peninsula? But wasn’t that project awarded to the Ivory Tower? I’m curious why you’re asking me about it.”

“Actually, I came to address that issue. Could you pass this matter to the Oracle? Along with the magic stone mining project?”

In contrast, those who approached Francesca were individuals working within the Ministry of Magic or trade sectors. They fervently discussed magical interests in fluent Patalian, Francesca’s native language.

For reference, most of the people who approached Camila used their mother tongue, relying on her skillful command of the local language, even if they couldn’t speak it themselves.

It was curious how someone like Camila could use foreign languages as smoothly as her native tongue without formal education, but honestly, I felt more envy than curiosity.

If only I had her ability, I wouldn’t have had to struggle so hard to study foreign languages.

Suddenly, I recalled my struggles while learning minor languages like Arabic and Swahili within the information agency and shuddered at some of their complexities, especially the grammar and accents; I never could adapt even after returning from local studies.

Just as I was gnawing on some chicken in a gloomy mood…

Camila, having finished her conversation with the diplomat, sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair.

“Ah, I’m so tired….”

“Are you okay?”

“No, not at all.”

The British girl, a Conflict Studies major from Cambridge and an intern at SIS (MI6), appeared distressed.

“I question why people come to me, only to speak drearily. They ask me to resolve their country’s conflicts; how does that even make sense?”

“Why do you think it can’t be done?”

Camila answered as if she had been waiting for that question.

“Ethnicity, religion, sovereignty, resources! Each conflict is tangled with such troublesome issues at a glance!”

Indeed.

In the fight for survival, the conflicts in this area were fundamentally the same as those occurring in the global village.

However, the urgency underlying them was of an entirely different dimension.

Losing even a single territory would greatly intensify pressure on the central government. Once the government could no longer withstand that pressure, issues began erupting throughout society.

From small protests to major regime changes. Whether due to a coup, an election, or foreign intelligence agencies meddling, the government would eventually topple, and as it fell, the issues became more festering.

If a civil war erupts, everything goes to ruin.

Refugees flee to safe zones for survival, and warlords and government troops battle for control over those safe zones. Countless cities fall as they cannot stop the encroaching monsters.

Of course, every now and then, a foreign government’s conscience might be stirred by a tragic massacre, sending forces in exchange for a ‘small price,’ but that’s merely a minority.

War doesn’t bode well for business.

And business and politics are separated by a thin paper.

Consequently, unless they’re one of the few livable countries, the rest face a miserable existence. Conditions become even harsher as nations slip into poverty.

Yet, the overwhelming majority of major powers tend not to intervene in foreign upheavals or conflicts unless there’s a compelling reason. This was evidenced by the United States vacating Afghanistan and Russia’s focus on the 2014 Ukraine conflict, neglecting support for the Levant.

Thus, whether it’s the Kien Empire, Abas, or the cult, powerless smaller nations have no choice but to appeal to the international community or cling tightly to Camila’s skirt.

One death may plunge a million into sorrow, but a million deaths fail to garner even one’s attention.

Those feeding off the nation’s resources don’t bother with matters that bear no interest.

In short,

I have no intention of getting involved in such conflicts.

“What’s the big deal? Since I’ve been to the conflict zones for medical aid, I know well enough.”

“True, but….”

“Don’t worry about it. If you meddle in such things, it’ll only give you a headache. No matter how British you are, is it right to go dropping bombs in someone else’s country?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on! Isn’t that a characteristic of Anglo-American countries? Dropping bombs over people with brown skin.”

“Are you trying to get killed!?”

“Hey, hey, don’t use your powers! This isn’t a place where we can burn cornfields and settle things!”

“Why are we even talking about this now?!”

Flames burst from Camila’s mouth, not metaphorically. Passersby admired her fiery display, exclaiming, “Wow, it’s a dragon!”, but I couldn’t bring myself to marvel at the flames erupting right in front of me.

After a prolonged back-and-forth, just as Camila was regaining her composure while snatching a tantalizing chicken leg as a trophy…

A guest from another table approached us.

Fluently speaking Kien.

“Colonel Frederick.”

The matter was simple.

The imperial official said.

“His Grace the Duke wishes to see you.”

He added,

“Your companions should come along too.”

 

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