Pope Glacia (2)
“Why don’t you want to hear that? A grown man, and all you do is useless nonsense. So what do you intend to do now?”
“If Your Holiness would entrust it to me again, I will see the matter done properly.”
As if this were some royal succession struggle for a crown prince. Truly hopeless.
“Entrust it to you again? So you can force me to go and apologize in person next time?”
“Th-that is—”
She had thought the Hero Party’s travels would broaden his horizons and finally put some sense into him. Instead he only kept disappointing her.
“If you simply kept your head down and behaved, this seat would have come to you on its own. Do you covet it so desperately?”
“Is Your Holiness truly planning to make one of those petty quarrelers the next Pope?”
“Yes. That is exactly what I intend. Had you been among them, the seat would have fallen to you naturally.”
For all William’s failings, he was still family by blood. Of course she preferred to raise a relative to the papacy over anyone else. A little self-restraint and it would have been his. Why did he insist on bungling every single thing so thoroughly?
“Does Your Holiness mean to let the next Pope become a mere petty man and drag the Holy Kingdom’s dignity into the dirt?”
Was that supposed to be an argument? He refused to yield even a single word.
“Hah. You certainly talk well. At least they try to settle matters within the Holy Kingdom’s own fences. Unlike a certain someone who came back spouting nonsense he picked up in some militaristic foreign state.”
“That is not true.”
His answers were smooth enough. In the Holy Kingdom one obeyed Holy Kingdom law—yet look at the mess he had made.
“Go and cool your heels for a while. I will handle the reception of the Saint myself.”
“……Yes.”
Nothing but empty ambition. She could no longer tell whether this was still the Holy Kingdom or some ordinary royal court.
Once William had left, Elias—who had been watching the Pope’s mood while she sat in silence—spoke carefully.
“What do we do now? Sir William may have ruined things, but even so that Saint is thoroughly rotten. Her mind is… not right.”
“Hmm.”
Yes, her mental state did seem off. Elias was not the sort to lie, and the report had the ring of truth. A rotten Saint—and she had even summoned the Pope herself.
“You must not go.”
“Yes. Going would be unwise. And yet this cannot simply be brushed aside. The entire fault lies with that grandson of mine.”
He made the mess; she was the one left to clean it up. Hopeless, truly. How long would she have to keep mopping up after him?
I am partly to blame for sending him in the first place.
She had chosen to send him, so she shared the blame. In the end, this affair was her responsibility as well. There was no point arguing right or wrong.
“Going is the correct course. The Empire’s founding anniversary is nearly upon us, and she is Grand Preceptor as well as Saint. The Emperor will summon her soon enough. If the Pope who called her simply turns her around and sends her home before that, it would look equally ridiculous.”
A troublesome business. If she refused to bend, nothing would resolve cleanly either way. Elias was no fool; once he understood her intent, he said no more. Ultimately they would all end up dancing on that woman’s palm.
“Regrettable.”
“That girl already knows. That is why she could summon me so leisurely. She might have done the same even without the William affair.”
The more she thought about it, the more extraordinary the situation became.
“I-I see.”
“What a piece of work she is. Aside from that mage Noah, no one has challenged me quite this much.”
“Even that mage never went quite this far.”
Noah, the mage of the Hero Party. His position had forced him to tread carefully around her, but had Noah been this Saint Olivia, the result would have been identical.
“He only behaved because he was with the Hero Party. She is the more formidable of the two. Well then. I would rather not lose—but we shall see.”
She would have to meet the girl in person. Whatever else, this would not be an ordinary opponent. She found herself looking forward to it.
Meanwhile, William left the Papal Palace and gathered his close knights.
“That damned Saint bitch. Insolent beyond belief. If not for the Ashtars I would have taught her a lesson long ago.”
“Sir William, what do we do?”
At the knight’s question William turned his head. What was there to do? They would proceed as planned.
“It changes nothing for the plan itself. We carry it out on schedule.”
“But the Empire’s Saint—”
The Empire’s Saint? She was no real obstacle. If anything, her presence made the whole affair possible. That was precisely why he had avoided provoking her more than necessary.
“We already accounted for her. They will hold a banquet to soothe the Ashtar girl; we strike then. The deed will already be done—what can some Ashtar wench do about it? She cannot interfere in our internal affairs.”
The Holy Kingdom’s authority was not something even she could simply ignore. They would not lay a hand on the Ashtar princess, so she would have no grounds to protest.
“Yes. As you command.”
Yes. Not much longer now. He would drag his grandmother down from the papal throne and then—
A day passed.
And, astonishingly, the Pope herself came all the way to the inn. It was so much simpler than I had expected that I blinked several times.
“Huh. The Pope is already here?”
“That’s what they say.”
I asked again just to be sure, and Celia blinked back at me as she answered.
“Hmm. Strange. That Pope?”
“Yes.”
She had arrived far sooner than I expected—that Pope, of all people. But we still had some distance to go. Right now she was waiting outside. In other words: I came in person, so crawl out here and greet me properly.
And… why should I?
“We should wait and see for now.”
“Pardon?”
Celia was usually sharper than this. This was something that needed watching. Why? Because the answer was obvious.
“Having them announce her from outside instead of coming in means she wants me to go out and receive her, doesn’t it?”
I caught on immediately. The same woman who had always treated Noah like an insolent mage would never simply accept some rootless Empire Saint.
“Yes, that would be it.”
“And why should I do that?”
What did I stand to gain by going out to greet her? For a mere Pope? Not even the Emperor of the Empire, but some foreign Pope? I had not come as an official Empire envoy. If she disliked it, she should have become me instead.
“Well, it could become a problem. Diplomatically, that is.”
A diplomatic problem? Who did she think I was? An Ashtar. On top of that the Emperor doted on me enough to call me his woman. Even if I tried to refuse, given that Emperor’s temperament he would never leave me alone.
Meaning: if a diplomatic incident flared up, the Emperor would clean it all up. Even with imperial authority weakened, the fact that the Emperor’s teacher was an Ashtar meant the Ashtar faction in the Diet would have no choice but to side with me. And I was Grand Preceptor besides.
So I had the standing to talk back. In short, I had far more solid backing now than during the Hero Party days, and it felt good.
“Yes, it could be seen as a diplomatic slight. But look at it the other way—who would ever imagine the Pope herself would come all the way to some ordinary inn?”
Absolutely no one.
That was the strange part. Therefore I would simply pretend I had no idea. Lie. That was all.
Celia glanced toward the window. Her gaze drifted downward, probably trying to spot the Pope outside.
“If you look out the window, she’s right there.”
I peeked. Sure enough, the Pope’s magnificent white carriage stood out clearly. Not garish, yet its polish, the Papal crest, and the pure white horses pulling it all screamed that this was no ordinary conveyance.
“All the more reason, then.”
“Haa. I wash my hands of it. I’ll tell the sister outside.”
A little time passed. Outside there was a brief, noisy commotion.
—So. That insolent wench wants to see this through to the end?
I thought I caught the Pope’s voice, tinged with irritation. She had clearly heard my reply—and she sounded thoroughly annoyed.
If she was going to yield, she should have yielded completely and come all the way inside herself.
—Saintess. The Pope has come in person.
The sister on watch relayed the message.
“Ah, so she has come herself, has she.”
She had come right to the door of the room. Honestly, that was already a considerable concession on the Pope’s part. For the Pope to leave the Papal Palace at all was extremely rare. Part of it was the office itself, but mostly it was because the faithful outside deified her so fiercely.
In any case the Pope was the highest head of the Goddess Church—the living proxy of the divine, chosen by the goddess, essentially the emperor of the faith. For someone of that station to move in person was a genuine hassle.
I decided to let her into the room. The innkeeper collapsed in a foaming heap from pure shock. The Pope’s influence was truly something to behold.
“My. I wondered if it might be so, but you truly came?”
“Hahaha. When the Empire’s Saintess says she wishes to see this body, how could I sit still? I also came to apologize for my grandson.”
When the Empire’s Saintess says she wishes to see this body.
Decoded: A Saintess who isn’t even a proper Saintess dares claim she wants to see me? Fine—let me take a look at that smug face of yours.
The apology was probably for William’s affair, but that too was a veiled jab. Yes, William’s actions deserved an apology, but the subtext was: Did you really get so sulky over something so small?
It might have been overthinking, but knowing this Pope, it was obvious. If the Empire’s Emperor ever became Pope, the result would probably look something like this. No—even then he would not quite match this madwoman.
In short, her words were laced with thorns. Classic her—the same Pope who used to needle Noah. Circumstances had been different back then, yet here we were, reunited.
Time for me to answer in kind. I put on a truly apologetic expression and spoke with careful humility.
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I never dreamed Your Holiness would actually come in person.”
I went in low and contrite—on the surface only. The Pope was already translating my words. So the great Pope has such a light backside she came herself? Understanding the real meaning perfectly well, her brow twitched ever so slightly.
“Is that so? Good heavens. I had thought you might dawdle forever on account of my grandson and never come visit, so perhaps I should have waited instead?”
She smiled while deliberately bringing up William, claiming she had not expected me to come—yet the real meaning was that I was the sort of woman who would have stayed holed up until she herself appeared. Therefore she had kindly come of her own goodwill, and I ought to show proper hospitality.
Did she think that would leave me with nothing to say?