Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: The Saintess of Lamentation
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And in that moment, a crack appeared in the perfect expression of Pope Sebastian, who always wore the same mask-like smile.
The statue of the Saintess of Lamentation was flawless.
She wore a crown of thorns, holding a sword in one hand and scales in the other.
The sculptor Magda from Kanavel Village had hesitated for a long time just before completing the Saintess of Lamentation.
“What expression should the Saintess of Lamentation wear?”
Known as the final sword of the goddess Ifreet, the Saintess of Lamentation descends to earth with thirteen wings unfurled.
She reveals herself to humanity only once.
When the apocalypse foretold in the Book of Revelation arrives, and she comes down for judgment.
For centuries, the Saintess of Lamentation had ignited the competitive spirits of artists.
They tried every trick in the book to capture a beauty immersed in sorrow, true to her name.
But Magda boldly chose a blank expression.
And her choice was right.
The statue was beautiful.
Yet what drew the eye wasn’t merely her stunning appearance.
Though steeped in sorrow, the saintess shed no tears. She was resolute and solemn, more overwhelming than any saintess statue they had ever seen.
“This is…”
Even Cardinal Solon, who had planned to mock it thoroughly as just another mediocre piece, was left speechless.
It was dignity perfectly suited to the sword of judgment.
Confirming the shock on Cardinal Solon’s face beside him, Gilliam allowed himself a satisfied smile inwardly.
All the effort he had put into transporting the flawless statue from that remote mountain village felt instantly vindicated.
Lost in admiration of the statue, Solon suddenly came to his senses.
He hated to admit it, but the Saintess of Lamentation that Gilliam had brought was truly magnificent.
Cardinal Solon cleared his throat needlessly.
“Ahem, well… It’s not bad, better than I expected. Passable, I suppose…”
“Your Holiness?”
But Gilliam wasn’t in a position to mock Cardinal Solon’s bruised pride.
Cardinal Gilliam stared at the pope with wide-eyed surprise.
Come to think of it, Pope Sebastian had been led before the statue and had remained utterly silent, offering not a single comment.
Wondering what was wrong, Cardinal Solon looked at the pope—and jolted in shock.
“No, Your Holiness…!”
“…”
Tears were streaming from the pope’s eyes.
Gazing up at the statue, Sebastian stood frozen in place like a statue himself, weeping silently.
It was an utterly bizarre sight.
In all his years serving no fewer than three popes in Lucerne, Gilliam had never witnessed anything like it.
No, Gilliam hadn’t even known Sebastian was capable of tears.
For a man of heretic inquisitor origins—bloodless, tearless, shrouded in endless suspicious scandals—to weep before a statue?
It was incomprehensible to both Gilliam and Solon.
Solon snuck another glance at the statue.
It was an exquisite sculpture, but not so overwhelming as to bring tears… Had His Holiness always been so sensitive?
The two rival cardinals stood side by side, mouths agape, when the pope quietly called to them.
“Cardinal Gilliam.”
“Yes?”
“Who is the sculptor that made this?”
“Ah, she’s a devout artist from a small village called Kanavel in the east… Her name is Magda.”
“I must meet her at once.”
“?!”
“What? Your Holiness! But!”
“No, it would be faster if I went to her myself.”
Pope Sebastian strode off without waiting for the two senior cardinals’ reactions.
The two left behind forgot their rivalry for a moment and blinked at each other in stunned silence.
5. The Mass of Lamentation
Juliet gazed quietly out at the world beyond the gently rocking carriage.
The marble buildings rising like sheer cliffs were less pretty than peculiar.
Perhaps because they were lavishly overlaid with gleaming gold.
“Is this your first Mass, Juliet?”
At Helene’s question, Juliet finally looked up.
“Yes. Lucerne, too.”
“Oh my.”
Helene clapped her hands with a sharp smack at the unexpected answer.
“How fortunate! Then we can do all sorts of fun things this time.”
Juliet gave a faint smile at her aunt’s playfulness.
Juliet was currently traveling with her maternal aunt Helene to attend Lucerne’s Mass.
Lucerne was a tiny city-state ruled by the pope and the Papal Court, and only forty-eight families were permitted to participate in the Mass.
*Lucerne’s Forty-Eight Seats,* they called it.
It referred to the forty-eight families qualified to be treated as honored guests of the Papal Court.
“They shelled out a fortune in donations,”
Theo whispered to Juliet alone from behind, in a voice only she could hear.
Juliet let out a soft chuckle.
Unexpectedly for someone from the devout east, Lionel Levatan was a deeply religious man. He donated steadily every year, and the Levatan family received invitations to the Mass annually.
When Juliet voiced her curiosity, Theo grumbled that he’d seen it all so many times it was no longer interesting or novel.
Out of habit, Juliet toyed with the silver key-shaped pendant hanging around her neck.
Juliet’s late mother, Lilian, had been devout as well.
Juliet recalled being gravely ill as a very young child, and Lilian had requested a high-ranking healing priest from the Papal Court.
Juliet herself remembered nothing of it.
In contrast, during her time in the north with Lennox, Juliet had never once visited a temple.
There were no temples in the north to begin with.
The northerners, Lennox included, were indifferent to religion, and Juliet herself avoided temples because of her thoughts on Dahlia.
*Which is for the best, really.*
At the very least, she wouldn’t run into Duke Lennox Carlyle here, not even by chance.
There was no way in hell the Carlyle ducal house would make the Forty-Eight Seats.
Juliet liked that fact.
Two weeks had passed since that chance encounter and parting with Lennox Carlyle.
In that time, Juliet had traveled between Alje and Carcasson, resting without a care in the world.
Afterward, neither Lennox nor any news of him had come.
Even the secretive whispers among top-tier merchant groups about the “Carlyle ducal wedding” had gone silent.
She had no idea how the deals with the merchants had turned out.
Juliet had deliberately cut off her interest.
Just as she was preparing to return to the capital’s earl household, Helene had suggested they detour to Lucerne for the Mass.
“What’s the one thing you absolutely can’t miss in Lucerne?”
Helene, who had hopped nimbly from the carriage, asked as she led the way.
Did she… expect an answer?
Juliet looked baffled, while Helene’s son Theo and the hired mage Eselrid wore expressions closer to *here we go again*.
“Um, the temple rite?”
“Yes! Shopping!”
Helene snapped her fingers cheerfully.
Snap.
The crisp sound rang out.
With that, Helene dragged Juliet straight to Lucerne’s shopping district.
Despite being a small city-state, the crowds of visitors had made the shopping district rival the empire capital’s boutique street, White Poplar Avenue.
And Helene’s spending matched her status as head of the Marigold Merchant Company, one of the continent’s top five guilds.
“That one!”
“This too!”
“No, no—different colors!”
Helene swept up everything in sight.
At first, Juliet hesitated, wondering if this was okay, but it had been ages since she’d gone shopping with someone after her mother’s passing, so she enjoyed it.
Besides, the last time she’d said, “I can’t accept something this expensive, Aunt…” she’d been assigned the “homework” of spending three hundred gold a day for a week. Juliet never questioned Helene’s choices after that.
Helene, with her short, sparkling blonde hair that could be mistaken for a boy’s, had impeccable taste as well.
Helene hauled Juliet around every boutique in central Lucerne.
Somehow.
The boutique clerks treated Helene’s words like divine scripture, jotting them down faithfully.
Juliet tried on hats, gloves, and shoes as Helene directed.
“There’s a banquet this evening!”
Yet even after circling every shop in Lucerne, Juliet’s ordeal wasn’t over.
“Today’s the first day, so it’s the most important! Got it?”
Helene beamed as she handed Juliet off to the boutique clerks.
“Make it perfect!”
With those forceful words.
Moments later, a clerk emerged with a dress.
Juliet was a bit flustered by the dress, which looked like it had been in fashion centuries ago.
The shoulders were cut straight, hiding the body’s curves as much as possible—a design fitting, in a way, for a temple.
It was quite different from the clothes she wore in the north or capital, so she asked, and they explained Lucerne had its own dress code.
It might have been Helene’s taste, but Juliet liked the dress.
“Lady, your waist.”
Until the clerk began cinching her into an antiquated corset.
A scream of *stop* nearly burst from her throat. But the clerk seemed to read her mind and cut her off swiftly.
“The guildmaster said to make it perfect!”
They wrenched Juliet’s waist mercilessly with the corset, then layered a white chemise and red dress over it.
Next, they brushed her fine, abundant light brown hair several times, then braided half of the sleek locks and pinned them up.
Finally, they placed a tiara adorned with rubies and pearls on her head.
“Good heavens.”
Hours later, Helene peeked in to check on Juliet and gasped in admiration.
“You’re unrecognizably beautiful, Juliet!”
Then Helene leaned in and whispered like it was a secret.
“Someone’s coming to escort you later. Wait here.”