Do Not Stand Before Me
"Do not stand before me."
"Have you finished reading?" Ena asked, opening the door to the outer waiting room and stepping inside.
She had promised to return in an hour, but in truth, a bit more time had passed. The medic checking Holy Emperor Sevritsio's temperature had held her up longer than expected.
The attendant priests had fussed and panicked while changing him out of his wet pilgrimage robes into dry clothes... and in the meantime, Roen had meticulously prepared copies of the investigation terms, the revision logs, and even the signature line for the Holy Emperor.
Ena disliked the entire process. To be precise, it was a hassle. Dismantling the Holy Church was fine. Dragging in the Royal Family and the Magic Tower to choke the life out of the clergy was also fine. Tearing their sins in the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber to shreds on public record was a necessary duty, so she could accept that too.
But handing an old man who had been standing in the rain since dawn over to a medic, providing him with dry clothes, ensuring he had warm water, and now having to double-back just to check if he had finished reading the documents... it was all strangely exhausting.
What on earth was this situation? Just yesterday, she was destroying the Holy Church, and today, she was making sure its leader didn't catch a cold. The world was truly bizarre.
The waiting room was warmer than before. A small hearth by the wall crackled with a low fire, and the wet pilgrimage robes hung to one side, dripping dry. The paladins and attendant priests sat awkwardly on the chairs provided by the Sword Order. They still couldn't bring themselves to sit up straight.
In the cathedral, they were men accustomed to receiving bows, but here, they were mere witnesses huddled in a corner of the Sword Order's outer waiting room. They were acutely aware of the difference. Thus, they even minded the sound of their own breathing.
Holy Emperor Sevritsio sat in the center chair. Though dressed in dry clothes, his face had not fully recovered its color. Faint traces of moisture clung to the tips of his silver hair. A hint of color had returned to his lips, yet they still bore the distinct pallor of someone who had stood in the rain all night, and his fingertips trembled ever so slightly as they held the investigation terms.
And yet, he was smiling. Very faintly. It was entirely out of place. It wasn't a smile to evade an answer, nor a diplomatic grin to ease the tension, nor the expression of an old politician trying to look pitiful. He looked like a child. Strangely enough, he smiled like a child who had rediscovered a long-lost toy.
The moment Ena saw that expression, she felt annoyed. It was much easier when the opponent was terrified. If they lied, she could crush them; if they flaunted their authority, she could break them; if they began making excuses, she could have Roen write it all down.
But what if they waited patiently in the rain... read the investigation terms to the very end... and meekly drank their water even after getting scolded by the medic? And now, for some inexplicable reason, he was smiling with the face of a thoroughly good-natured man. That was far more troublesome.
Ena took a few steps inside from the doorway. Roen stood a step behind her. His writing board was already open. As always, he was poised to record whatever transpired.
"Yes," Sevritsio said, raising his head. His voice was still a bit raspy, but it was steadier than before. "I have read it all."
Ena looked down at him. "Every word?"
"Every single word."
"You didn't just skim the first page and nod along to get it over with?"
"Had I done so, the Commander-in-Chief would have known."
"You certainly have a silver tongue."
"It is only because I have finished reading," Sevritsio replied, offering another faint smile.
Ena narrowed her eyes. "If you've read it all, then you understand."
"Yes."
"The Sword Order is not demanding a mere letter of apology."
"I am well aware."
"All original records regarding the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber."
"They will be submitted."
"The personnel in charge of the preservation spells within the cathedral, and the entire management team of the Sealing Chamber."
"We will secure them and hand them over to your custody."
"Rodenhaf."
"He has been detained."
"Not in the cathedral's style of detention."
"We will transfer him to a method of confinement that both the Sword Order and the Royal Family can verify."
"The records of black magic usage."
Sevritsio's gaze darkened ever so slightly. "We will hide nothing."
"Do you honestly think you could?"
"I know now that we cannot."
"Now," Ena repeated quietly. It was a short word, but it carried a sharp blade. Sevritsio did not flinch from it. He bowed his head. "Yes. Now."
The waiting room fell silent. The attendant priests held their breath, the paladins sat with rigid spines, and Roen's pen had yet to move—like a man waiting for the first line of a grand dialogue to be decided.
Ena studied Sevritsio. He was undoubtedly a pitiful sight. An old man who had stood in the rain all night. The head of the Holy Church, now reduced to the representative of an organization under investigation.
A Holy Emperor borrowing dry clothes in the outer waiting room of the Sword Order Headquarters, having his health checked by a Sword Order medic. Yet, he did not look like a broken man. On the contrary, he seemed strangely clear. That was what put Ena on edge.
Why does he have to look like such a decent human being...?
The thought slipped out internally. It was true. Sevritsio was different from Rodenhaf. Rodenhaf's face bore the greasy confidence of those who had sat in the seats of power for far too long.
A face too accustomed to one's words becoming protocol, one's silence becoming a delay, and one's authority becoming a shield. Such faces were easy to deal with. You just had to crush them.
But Sevritsio was different. His wrinkles were deep, his fatigue heavy, and he possessed the worn dignity unique to those who had ascended to the seat of the Holy Emperor... yet beneath it all, there remained a strange trace of someone who still chose to believe in humanity.
A face that had held the hand of the sick. A face that had rested a hand on a child's head. The face of a pilgrim returned from a long journey. And now, even after reading the document, a face that smiled as if he had discovered something.
Ena disliked such faces. Or rather, she found them difficult to handle. Evil people could be cut down. Shameless people could be trampled. But a person who bowed his head under the weight of his organization's sins, yet still harbored genuine goodwill in his heart, was complicated. And complicated opponents were a hassle.
"What are you smiling at?" Ena asked. Her voice was low, sharp as a blade.
Sevritsio fell silent for a moment at her question. Then, he looked down at the first page of the investigation terms. His fingertips brushed the very top line of the parchment.
Adelaine Lucrecia.
That name was written at the very top. At the absolute forefront of every condition demanded by the Sword Order. Before the word 'Church.' Before the word 'Holy Sword.' Before terms like 'desecration of remains,' 'black magic,' or 'request for investigation.' There lay the name of a single person.
Sevritsio stared at the name, then spoke softly. "Because I realized you haven't changed."
Roen's pen stopped. The attendant priests' eyes widened. The two paladins froze, not daring to look at each other. Ena's eyes slowly narrowed. "Haven't changed?"
"Yes." Sevritsio raised his head, the faint smile still lingering on his face. "You were the same way, a very long time ago."
Ena did not answer. A very long time ago. She frowned. Before she transmigrated into this body, the original Ena had lived for too long. She had spent too much time on the frontlines. She had saved too many people, lost too many, passed through too many villages, and heard too many names.
The longer she lived as the Commander-in-Chief of the Sword Order, the more things that were lifelong memories for others faded into obscurity for her, like a single line in an old report. Furthermore, she was merely a soul transmigrated into Ena's body; her memories of the past were incomplete.
Ena asked curtly, "Do I know you?"
"You likely do not remember me."
"Then speak."
Sevritsio folded the investigation terms and placed them on his lap, resting his hands over them. He looked like a man carefully organizing his thoughts so as not to speak of the distant past carelessly.
"It was back when I was not yet the Holy Emperor."
"Were you a priest?"
"Even before that."
Ena's eyes shifted slightly. "Before that?"
"Yes." Sevritsio nodded slowly. "At the time, I was just a child."
The air in the waiting room grew heavier. Sevritsio continued, his eyes looking as if they were gazing at a distant place.
"I grew up near the warzone. The exact name of the place has likely vanished from modern maps."
"...My condolences."
"Haha. It was a tiny village destined to disappear anyway. The chapel was small, there were no walls, and all the villagers possessed was just enough firewood to survive the winter."
Ena listened in silence. Roen's pen touched the paper with a soft whisper. *Scritch.*
Whether Sevritsio heard the sound or not, he kept his eyes lowered and continued. "That winter, the magic beasts descended."
It was a short sentence. But that sentence alone was enough. Magic beasts descending. A small village. No walls. Land close to the frontlines. Delayed reinforcements. Ena already knew what came next. She had seen it too many times.
"The villagers gathered in the chapel. If they stayed in their homes, they would die; if they fled to the forest, they would die; if they hid by the well, they would die. So they huddled in the small chapel, which at least had stone walls."
Sevritsio's voice was calm. Because it was so calm, it sounded like a much older, deeper wound. "I was among them."
"..."
"My mother held my hand, and my younger sibling was gasping for breath, exhausted from crying. Outside, we could hear the magic beasts clawing at the doors. Some prayed, some barred the doors, and others wept, begging for their lives."
Ena slowly lowered her gaze. A memory flickered at the edge of her mind. Snow. Winter. A small chapel. A broken door. The stench of magic beast blood. There were too many such incidents. It was not yet clear which day it had been.
"The chapel's priest kept telling us," Sevritsio said, a bitter smile brushing his lips, "to believe. To pray. That the light of the Holy Sword would protect us."
He raised his head. "But at that moment, I could not believe."
One of the attendant priests gasped softly. It was a rather dangerous confession to come from the mouth of the Holy Emperor. Yet, Sevritsio did not stop.
"I was only a child. Outside, the doors were splintering, my mother's hands were shaking, and my sibling was crying as if about to pass out. In that situation, prayers felt too distant. The Holy Sword was too far, and God was too far."
Ena looked at Sevritsio as she listened. His eyes were clear. He was neither ashamed nor denying his faith. He was simply laying bare the raw terror his childhood self had felt.
"Then, the doors shattered." The waiting room fell dead silent. "The magic beasts poured in."
Sevritsio's fingertips stiffened slightly over the document. "I thought I was going to die."
A brief silence.
"At that moment, the chapel walls lit up."
Ena's eyes shifted slightly.
"Light flooded in. It didn't come through the cracks of the door or the windows. It was a light that surged in from the outside. At first, I truly thought the sun had risen. But it was a winter dawn, and the sky was thick with snow clouds."
Sevritsio smiled softly. "And in that light, you stood."
Everyone in the waiting room held their breath. Even Roen stopped his pen.
Sevritsio looked at Ena. "You held a sword. The hem of your clothes was soaked in blood and snow, and your hair was blindingly bright. We didn't know who you were. We barely knew the word 'Sword Order,' let alone 'Commander-in-Chief.'"
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "But the moment you stood there, the magic beasts stopped."
Ena remained silent.
"Then, you spoke." Sevritsio's voice dropped. "Do not stand before me."
A sentence dredged up from the deepest depths of an ancient memory.
Ena sank slightly into her thoughts. Fragments of memory stirred. A snow-covered chapel. The breath of magic beasts. A collapsed door. People cowering in the back. And the sword she had held.
She likely had said those words. Perhaps she had said them to the beasts. Perhaps to the people. Or perhaps to both.
Do not stand before me.
Do not stand in the path of my sword. Stay behind me. If you want to live, do not step in front of death. It must have been a phrase woven from all those meanings. And to Sevritsio, it had become a lifelong creed.
"I do not remember much of what followed," Sevritsio said. "It was too bright, too hot, and my mother buried my face in her chest. But I remember one thing."
"What is it?"
"You did not tell us to pray."
Ena did not reply.
"You did not tell us to endure, nor did you tell us to die a glorious death. You did not even say that God would protect us."
Sevritsio's hand pressed down on the first line of the investigation terms once more. "You simply told us to stay behind you."
The atmosphere in the waiting room shifted.
"From that day on, I pondered for a long time. What is faith? What should the words of the Church be? Does a person need a prayer first, or do they need someone to stand in front of them?"
He exhaled slowly. "In the end, I went to the cathedral. I came to believe in God, became a priest, and after a long time, became the Holy Emperor."
Ena looked into his eyes. There was regret in Sevritsio's gaze. But it was not the regret of someone abandoning his faith. It was the regret of a man who had realized that the faith he believed in had, at some point, turned into an empty shell that failed to see the people.
"And when I looked back, I found my Church had placed a human arm in a glass case and called it the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber." His voice trembled ever so slightly. "I read that truth."
The investigation terms. Adelaine Lucrecia. Desecration of remains. Black magic. Submission of records. Securing the culprits. He had read every single line.
"And yet, there was a name on the very first line." Sevritsio smiled faintly once more. "That is why I smiled."
Ena remained silent.
"Because I realized you haven't changed." Those words settled over them again, this time carrying a bit more weight than before.
Sevritsio bowed his head. "Back then, you placed people behind you first, and now, you place a person's name at the very front."
Roen's pen moved in absolute silence. *Scritch.*
Ena heard the sound. It was being recorded. This scene. These words. Perhaps someday, someone would read this record. Ena, the Commander-in-Chief of the Sword Order. Holy Emperor Sevritsio. The child saved in the past. The name of Adelaine Lucrecia. All of it would remain on the parchment.
Ena found the reality of it slightly embarrassing.
"Are you trying to move me with that story?" Her voice was cold. She made it deliberately colder.
Sevritsio shook his head. "No."
"Then why?"
"You asked why I was smiling," he said calmly. "I merely answered."
"Your answer is too long."
"It is because it is an old story."
Ena narrowed her eyes. Roen said nothing, but internally, he was likely organizing this situation with great interest. Her adjutant was just that kind of man. He might already be pondering where to insert this conversation in the archives. Ena didn't like that either.
"Sevritsio."
"Yes."
"The fact that I saved you when you were young does not lighten the sins your Church has committed."
"I know."
"The fact that you are a good man does not absolve you of your current responsibilities."
"I know that as well."
"And it is no reason for me to pity you."
"I do not wish for that."
"Then what do you wish for?"
Sevritsio closed his mouth for a moment. This time, he did not answer immediately. He slowly opened his hands resting on the document, as if letting go of something he had been holding onto.
"I hope that I do not forget which side I must protect."
Ena stared at him. "Not the Church?"
"I must protect the Church as well," Sevritsio said honestly. "I am the Holy Emperor. I cannot abandon that responsibility."
"..."
"But protecting the Church as it is now would be killing the very faith I believe in."
The waiting room was silent. His words were not perfect. They were not beautiful like a savior's proclamation. They were a mixture of realistic responsibility—unable to abandon the Church—and the genuine regret of a devout believer. Because of that, he felt human. Ena disliked that. Human-like adversaries were difficult. They made her think too much, even when she had to tear them down.
"I do not believe in your faith."
"I know."
"Nor do I believe in the Church."
"That is only natural."
"And I do not trust you yet, either."
Sevritsio bowed his head. "Yes."
"But those words just now are worth recording."
Sevritsio's eyes widened slightly. Ena immediately added, "I do not mean that in a positive way."
"I know."
"Once words are recorded, they become a responsibility."
"I will bear that responsibility."
"If you fail," Ena's voice dropped, "I will crush even that faith you wished to believe in."
The attendant priests turned pale. The paladins stiffened. Yet Sevritsio did not shrink back.
"If that time comes, I will be the first to destroy it."
Ena stared at him for a long moment. Whether those words were sincere, a firm resolve, or another form of arrogance, she could not yet tell. But one thing was certain: Sevritsio was not Rodenhaf. He did not make excuses. He did not brandish his authority. He did not wave his goodwill like a shield. He simply read the document, recalled an old memory, and tried to state what needed to be done. Ena decided that, for now, this was enough.
"Roen."
"Yes, Commander-in-Chief."
"Add a clause for the Holy Emperor's direct cooperation to the investigation terms."
"How should I draft the details?"
"Holy Emperor Sevritsio shall take direct responsibility for submitting the original records concerning the Sealing Chamber and securing the custody of the management team."
*Scritch.*
"And," Ena paused briefly, "record Holy Emperor Sevritsio's past testimony separately."
Roen's pen paused. Sevritsio also raised his head.
"Commander-in-Chief."
"What is it?"
"That has little direct relevance to the investigation."
"It is relevant," Ena said curtly. "It is necessary to confirm what the Church has lost."
Sevritsio could not find any words. Ena looked at him and said, "What you wished to believe in as a child, and how far the current Church has strayed from it. Record that as well."
Roen bowed his head. "Understood."
Sevritsio let out a very quiet breath. It was a sigh mixed with both relief and shame.
Ena turned around. "Read the document again."
"I have already read it."
"Read it twice."
Sevritsio paused for a moment, then bowed his head. "I shall."
"The Church has covered up far too much with sentences they stamped without reading."
Roen raised his head ever so slightly. It sounded remarkably similar to what he had said earlier. Ena pretended not to notice.
"This time, read it with your own eyes to the very end, and sign it with your own hand."
"I will do so."
Ena walked toward the door. She paused for a moment in front of the waiting room door. Without turning back, she spoke. "And Sevritsio."
"Yes."
"Do not stand in the rain next time."
The Holy Emperor's hands stilled. Ena continued, "If you collapse, the investigation schedule will be disrupted."
The words were cold. They were undeniably cold. Yet, the tension in the waiting room thawed just a fraction. Sevritsio offered a faint smile. This time, Ena did not bother to point it out.
"I will keep that in mind."
"Good."
Ena opened the door. The cold air of the hallway rushed in. Just before stepping out, she added quietly, "Do not stand before me."
Sevritsio raised his head. Ena still did not look back. "The place you must stand is not before me."
A brief silence.
"It is before the name of Adelaine Lucrecia."
With those final words, Ena left the waiting room. The door clicked shut. The dawn light had crept a bit further into the hallway. From the direction of the training grounds, the sound of wooden swords clashing echoed. *Clack. Clack. Clack.*
Roen followed quietly a step behind. After walking a few paces, Ena spoke softly. "Roen."
"Yes, Commander-in-Chief."
"That old man."
"Yes?"
"He is truly troublesome."
"I agree."
"Is looking like a decent person also a strategy?"
"I believe it is an innate trait."
"I hate that even more."
Roen said nothing. His silence was strangely irritating. Ena narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Did you just laugh?"
"No."
"Do not record this."
"Record what, exactly?"
"Any sentence suggesting that I went soft on that old man."
Roen was silent for a moment. "I have not written such a sentence yet."
"Yet?"
"I was keeping the possibility open."
Ena stared at Roen for a long while. "Do you want to die?"
Roen replied with complete composure, "That is already the third time you have said that today."
"I can make sure you never have to hear it again."
"In that case, I shall not record it."
"You catch on quickly."
The two walked down the hallway. The Sword Order Headquarters was gradually waking up. The sound of wooden swords from the training grounds grew louder, the aroma of warm soup drifted from the cafeteria, and scribes bustled about carrying documents.
As she walked, Ena traced the ancient scenes left in her body's memories. A small village. Winter. A collapsed chapel door. The crying of children. The breath of magic beasts. The memory was still hazy. But it wasn't entirely gone either. Perhaps it would return to her later. Perhaps it never would. Regardless, only one thing mattered to Ena.
"The Church is not an institution that needs to be entirely dismantled. It will be enough to excise the rot."
"I agree." It was only right that what was done in the name of vengeance should end here.