Chapter 32
Chapter 32
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Surging Faithful and Overflowing Offerings
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*Papal Palace. Pope Innocentius III's office.*
The Pope stood by the window, gazing down contentedly at the order the Penance Feast had brought to the capital.
Through the trial of scorching tongues, the faithful had repented their sins and now yearned for the controlled pleasure under the Church's authority.
Or was that all?
Everything had begun with the mildest flavor of all: Tomato Sauce.
The red stew distributed at the Church's free soup kitchens.
As rumors of that miraculous taste spread, the hungry began crossing the thresholds of cathedrals.
Not to hear the Lord's word, but to savor a piece of bread and a bowl of stew given in His name.
Yet in time, those who came for meals were moved and began attending sermons to hear the Lord's teachings.
The donations from these new faithful filled the offering boxes to overflowing every day.
Rumors reached even the nobles' salons.
Under the guise of joining relief efforts for the poor, nobles competed to donate vast sums of gold and goods.
Of course, their true aim was to taste, even once, that heavenly flavor circulated solely under the capital's Church authority.
If the first miracle had created a river of gold coins, the second—the Penance Feast—summoned surging waves of them.
Arrabbiata, initially mere tongue-searing pain, became an unstoppable frenzy once the Papal Palace imbued it with sacred meaning: penance and grace.
The faithful now willingly embraced the scorching trial to wash away sins, reveling in the pleasure that followed the pain.
The nobles grew even more cunning and discreet.
To savor more of this holy stimulus, rationed strictly under Church oversight, they pulled every string at their disposal.
Some approached bishops under the pretext of confession, pledging massive donations; others offered to fund the cathedral's full restoration to prove their house's ancient piety.
As a result, the Papal Palace's vaults were enjoying the most prosperous golden age in history.
The Church's influence, from the empire's lowest depths to its highest peaks, had taken deeper and stronger root than ever before through those two red sauces.
Pope Innocentius III, satisfied with his own foresight in designing and achieving all this, smiled warmly at the two red sauce jars in the room.
Just then, a quiet knock at the office door shattered his reverie.
"Come in."
At the Pope's permission, the door opened, and Saintess Lumiel Benedicta entered with a reverent expression, bowing her head.
But her face no longer bore the shadows of helplessness or self-reproach from before.
Instead, her golden eyes shone with the clear, keen light of one who had discovered a new mission.
The Pope watched her transformation with interest, asking in a kindly voice,
"You've returned, sister. Seeing that new light on your face, it seems the world beyond the cathedral has taught you well."
Lumiel raised her head without hesitation.
Her voice carried conviction and passion, free of former doubt.
"Your Holiness. I... I have witnessed a new miracle of the Lord."
...
She recounted without reserve her chance meeting with Sir Jonathan and how he had saved her when she collapsed from hunger.
Especially when describing the creamy ivory dish he made from humble potatoes and eggs, her voice trembled with awe, like a congregant testifying to a miracle.
As he listened to Lumiel's fervent report, the faint smile on the Pope's lips deepened.
Tomato Sauce, Arrabbiata, and now a third miracle.
His seasoned eyes sparkled with intrigue and sharp insight.
"Ho, so Sir Jonathan served that dish to you personally."
"An unnamed miracle in ivory... Heh."
Pope Innocentius III sat across from her, chuckling kindly at Lumiel, who still blushed with lingering excitement.
Lumiel belatedly bowed her head, embarrassed at having revealed so much personal feeling.
"Forgive me, Your Holiness. I got carried away by private emotions..."
"No, sister. Your vivid account has left even I unable to fathom the value of Sir Jonathan's new miracle."
The Pope stroked his chin, deep in thought.
Lumiel's description went beyond mere taste—it bordered on religious testimony.
A man who saved her from hunger's collapse and soothed her tongue and soul with a cloud-like dish from rough ingredients.
To Lumiel, at least, he was nothing less than a new saint.
"If the Penance Feast is the Lord's whip awakening sin, then that ivory miracle is like His warm hand embracing wounded souls."
"Yes, yes! Your Holiness! Exactly!"
Lumiel nodded eagerly, moved to tears.
Just then, the office door burst open, and a priest rushed in, panting.
"Your Holiness! An urgent imperial edict has been proclaimed!"
The Pope's brow twitched faintly.
"What is this commotion, brother? Speak slowly."
"In His Majesty's name, a new sauce called mayonnaise is to receive the Imperial Safe Mark immediately, be supplied first to all imperial forces, and distributed empire-wide through the royal trading company!"
"...!"
The Pope fell silent for a moment. The very ivory miracle Lumiel had just raved about—the one that saved her from hunger.
The Emperor's haste meant he had already grasped its worth.
He gave a subtle nod to Cardinal Aquila standing nearby.
The cardinal promptly fetched a small silver tray from the office corner.
Atop it sat a small amount of mayonnaise in a white porcelain bowl, secretly procured by a priest after Lumiel's report, just in case.
"Your Holiness... this is...?"
"Should I not witness this fragment of the Lord's new miracle myself?"
The Pope delicately dabbed a piece of dry bread with the ivory sauce, handling it like holy oil.
Then, with reverence, he brought it to his lips.
First came a cloud-like softness on the tongue. Then a deep, pure nuttiness beyond butter or cheese.
This was the opposite of the Penance Feast.
No lashing trial, but a warmth caressing the soul.
Even the stale bread melted softly like clouds upon meeting the ivory cream, releasing the pure wheat sweetness hidden within.
Softness. Nussiness. The exquisite balance of life's abundance and fresh lemon juice enraptured the tongue.
This was no mere tasty food.
A miracle drawing out the utmost potential from the humblest ingredients, granting perfect abundance in itself.
The salvation Lumiel described took form on his tongue.
If the Penance Feast was sharp flame revealing sin, this was merciful light embracing all.
And the Pope understood why the Emperor had moved so swiftly.
This taste could captivate the hearts of the empire's lowliest, starving masses in an instant.
It was no great leap to see the Emperor seeking to monopolize even this warm salvation under his authority.
More fundamental and potent than Arrabbiata, it was a weapon to rule the people's hearts.
The Emperor now sought to govern souls through food.
In that instant, all kindness vanished from the Pope's face. The office air froze cold.
'One step too late.'
The Emperor, that cunning lion.
He had pierced the ivory miracle's value and moved to monopolize its power under imperial authority.
Unlike Arrabbiata—with its pretext of social unrest—this was pure preemption.
No room left for the Papal Palace to intervene.
If this salvific taste reached the people solely as the Emperor's grace, centuries of Church charity and relief authority would crumble.
And with Tomato Sauce and Arrabbiata pilgrims waning, donations might follow.
Perhaps because the Pope's face shed its warmth for the cold pragmatism of a seasoned politician who had faced the empire's lord across chessboards for decades. Cardinal Aquila and the priest dared not breathe.
But the Pope soon regained composure.
After a short yet endless silence, a faint smile curved his lips.
His eyes held not anger, but the cool gleam of a veteran captain facing massive waves.
"Heh... Truly the empire's sun. I played the Penance Feast, and he seeks to overturn the board."
His voice mixed not rage, but delight at a worthy foe.
He sank back into his throne and spoke softly to Lumiel.
Lumiel tilted her head at his cryptic words.
Pope Innocentius III smiled leisurely at her, like a chess master who had just made his next move.
"The Emperor preempts mayonnaise to become the secular lord distributing it to army and people. A fine play. But he made a grave error."
The Pope met Lumiel's golden eyes squarely and murmured,
"He named the thing but failed to define its meaning."
The Pope rose and walked to the grand world map in his office.
"The Emperor can distribute bread to the people. But teaching why it's sacred, granting prayer's authority before eating—that only we, the Papal Palace, can do."
"If he rules bodies, we rule souls. And sister, your vivid testimony is the mightiest weapon to claim those souls."
At his words, Lumiel's face bloomed with smiles.
'Something I can do. Something I must do.'
While princess and Tower Lord's granddaughter bargained with power and reality, she could only cling to ideals powerlessly.
No longer.
Her wish for Sir Jonathan's benevolence to spread—that was the Lord's will itself.
Lumiel rose, bowing to the Pope with unyieldingly clear eyes unlike before.
"Yes! I shall carry out your will!"
Meeting her resolute golden gaze, the Pope looked upon the saintess with utmost satisfaction.
If the imperial house preempted mayonnaise the object, the Papal Palace would preempt the soul within.
From that day, the imperial capital surged with two massive waves.
...
But who could have foreseen it?
That these two colossal waves would collide in an unimaginable way, birthing a storm never seen before.