Hyde Arrives in Fierenzo and Meets Archibold

Writing letters to the wife waiting for me was a rather delightful pastime. Each time I set pen to paper, my affection for Psyche seemed to swell all the more.

A fortnight had already passed since leaving Agarpe. I was half a day from arriving in Fierenzo, and I found myself swelling with a certain anticipation.

"A city of letters, art, and theology."

Was there any city more perfectly suited for a man like me—Hyde, who dreamed of becoming a priest—than Fierenzo, overflowing with cultivated minds?

Milione, however, merely snorted.

"Letters and art, my ass. Fierenzo is a city stuffed with hypocrites and blowhards. Live there a week and the greasy stench rolling off those fat faces will make you want to vomit."

Milione had been living rather quietly of late. She no longer spat curses at random, nor did she go out of her way to make life difficult for people. I suspected the words I had spoken while wearing Rust's mask—that Hyde's weakness is a demure lady—had landed rather well.

And yet, the closer our procession drew to Fierenzo, the more her composure frayed, her focus scattering like someone in the grip of anxiety. This was her hometown, her house—a place she ought to have missed.

"We've arrived, Lady Milli! Fierenzo is visible in the distance!"

The old knight Oldman shouted as we emerged from the forest. Because the carriage stood on a high hill, the view below spread out at a glance: a broad golden plain, and beyond it a city cradled by the river. The city walls were elegant, and spires rose high from every district. It was, without question, a magnificent place.

"Truly worthy of a metropolis of two hundred thousand."

Even from afar, you could feel the vitality of the city. The carriage raced down the slope and made for the city gates. At the entrance we met the guards, and under Oldman's unhurried handling we passed inside without incident.

"Lady Milli. Shall we head straight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the manor? We must deliver Young Master Oscar's body to His Grace the Archbishop, so we can afford no further delay."

Oscar's corpse had been embalmed, but the days were hot with summer, and the embalming techniques of this dark age left much to be desired. A foul odor was already seeping from the carriage that bore the coffin, and everyone was steeped in exhaustion—clearly eager to finish their business and rest.

"Then let's go to the manor."

Milione spoke in a calm voice. Then she looked at me, as if to ask, And what about you?

"I would like to see the Grand Cathedral of Durgien. I hear Michelangelo's masterpiece, The Creation, is spread across the ceiling? And the building itself took the greatest architects of the age two hundred years to complete."

An architectural feat without precedent. The greatest cathedral in human history, passed from one generation of renowned architects and artists to the next over two hundred years. The mere thought of seeing that building made my back itch with impatience. How wonderful it would be to pray inside such a magnificent structure—surely one would feel as though God Himself were present.

"I have an appointment with Father this evening, so come to the Archibold manor."

With a flick of her head, Milione departed as though she had lost all interest in me. At last—free of that ravenous lioness of a woman, free to claim a stretch of time that was mine alone.

Freedom.

What a sweet and splendid word. Free will itself was the greatest gift God had bestowed upon mankind.

"Freedom is a wonderful thing."

I now put my free will to one hundred percent use and set out for the Grand Cathedral of Durgien. The journey had left me weary, yet as I walked the city streets, vitality seemed to pour from my body.

"Bread for sale—bread—!"

"Newspapers—!"

As befitting the heart of the Durgien province, Fierenzo's commerce was highly developed, and its roads and waterways had been beautifully maintained. The tiled pavement left not a scrap of mud, and the people's attire was clean and refined.

"Lord Royman, have you read the latest academic journal? With this newly invented telescope, they say one can observe the celestial bodies far more clearly!"

"What I want to talk about is the mural painted in the chapel. Have you seen The Last Judgment? That painting is truly extraordinary…!"

Good heavens. A place where people on the street discussed science and art. Even in the modern society of the twenty-first century, such a scene would be rare.

"This is moving!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I had never imagined that a place of such shining intellect could exist in this barbaric world. Everyone I had met until now had been raging, howling heathens and frauds who bellowed like beasts. Overcome with emotion at the sight of these streets, I dropped to my knees right where I stood and prayed.

"Lord, I thank You for guiding my steps to this place…!"

Tears of joy threatened to spill. No—I may already have been crying.

Someone snickered at the sight of me.

"What's that guy's deal?"

"Look at those clothes. Some country bumpkin from the sticks?"

"There's always a few of them every day—coming to Fierenzo and pulling pathetic stunts like that."

My behavior looked like a bumpkin's? Well, perhaps it did. I rose from the ground and quickened my pace toward the Grand Cathedral of Durgien.

The moment I arrived, my body seemed to freeze in place.

"Good Lord—can human hands truly build something this beautiful?"

The majestic exterior wrought of marble, the golden ornaments—they hammered against my chest. And the angels adorning the outer walls? The sheer force of the great bell tower? I felt like a pilgrim gazing upon the great cathedrals of Europe, steeped in long history and profound worth. Here I was, taking the world tour I had never managed in the twenty-first century.

And the interior—what would that be like?

I was so moved that I tried to enter, only for a knight in silver armor to scowl and block my path.

"Halt. You must pay to enter."

What—pay money to enter a cathedral?

I could not comprehend this treatment.

"The church is my Father's house. Why must I pay to enter the place where my Father dwells? Do you pay money every time you walk into your own home?"

At my words, the silver-armored knight let out a snort of laughter. He pointed a finger, and there I saw the following written:

What kind of church charges admission? I could not understand it, but if those were the rules, I had no choice but to follow them. Money was of little concern—I simply wanted to see inside the cathedral.

I paid the silver coin and tried to go in, only for the knights to bar my way once more with their swords.

"Listen here, outsider. You cannot enter this devout and holy cathedral dressed like that. Come back in more proper attire."

Was this for real? I had to worry about a dress code just to go to church?

Of course, minding one's appearance was generally good practice. But these were the finest, cleanest clothes I owned—and still I was being turned away. What was this, some famous restaurant? Did I need a dress code just to go to church?

My mood soured on several counts.

"Sirs. What do you think a church is? Is it a cultural heritage site? An idol to be worshipped and enshrined? Man does not exist for the church—the church exists for man."

"Ho—. I'd like to hear more of that. Man does not exist for the church; the church exists for man—. A most interesting claim."

Someone addressed me from behind. The knights who had been scowling at me snapped to attention with a clatter of armor—clearly a person of considerable rank.

I turned my head and saw a priest's robe dyed in purple. Around his neck he wore a silver Roman collar—actual silver, I now realized. His frame was lean, yet he looked anything but frail; his waist and crown rose so straight toward the sky that he resembled a sword driven vertically into the earth.

A soft jingle.

And upon that sword-like man's chest hung a golden cross.

A Gold Badge priest. An extraordinarily high-ranking cleric.

His ash-gray hair was neatly swept back. His face was slightly pale, but his amber eyes were strikingly vivid, his features sharp as a bird of prey, and he carried himself with absolute self-assurance. If Doban was a roaring lion of a man, this one felt like an eagle soaring through the open sky.

"Your Grace Archibold—. On duty. All is well."

"Your labors are appreciated, as always."

At the knights' salute, I grasped the man's identity. Your Grace Archibold—. In this kingdom, only one person was addressed that way.

"Are you Medici Archibold?"

I asked. The knights, already tense, rattled in their armor as they trembled.

"You insolent cur! How dare you address His Grace in that manner!"

"A lowly Wood Badge monk dares—! Your Grace, allow us to throw this rude creature out at once!"

The knights seized both my arms. As guardians of the cathedral, their skill was the real thing—I was dragged off as helplessly as a condemned prisoner.

"Wait—. I have yet to hear this fellow's introduction."

Archbishop Archibold raised a hand. When the knights stopped, I brushed the dust and wrinkles from my clothes and bowed my head.

"I am Hyde, a Wood Badge monk from Agarpe. Archbishop Archibold, I have long heard of your name and renown. It is an honor to meet you."

Archbishop Archibold. Though he stood politically opposed to the Agarpe family, I had said before that I very much wanted to meet this man at least once. And having finally met him in person, I could not decide whether he was exactly as I had imagined—or more than I had imagined.

The Archbishop spoke.

"Monk Hyde. Ah, so you are that Hyde. I have wanted to meet you as well. But first, I should like to continue the conversation from a moment ago. This church exists for people, you say?"

The Archbishop Archibold I met for the first time was a man overflowing with composure and dignity. There was clearly a reason so many people held him in such high regard. The mere fact that I could unfold my theological theories before him filled me with joy.

What is sex? What is a dick, and what is a cock? How many centimeters of dick does it take to drive a woman mad? For the past five years I had been forced to talk about nothing but such things—and now, hearing the question of whether the church exists for people, I was truly moved.

Unwilling to let that emotion slip away, I spoke at once.

"The church is not merely a building—it is a community, and it represents each individual. And even if one takes the church to mean a building, should it not open its doors for the poor and the sick?"

"So then, Hyde—you mean we ought to leave the doors of this Grand Cathedral open twenty-four hours a day for vagrants and beggars, and freely share everything within?"

"If one adheres strictly to Scripture, yes. The Lord Himself said that those who are well have no need of a physician. The Gospel is for the unrighteous. The church, likewise, is for the poor and the sick."

"Indeed. 'If one adheres strictly to Scripture'—. Monk Hyde, then why are you wearing clothes?"

Why am I wearing clothes? Should I strip? Walk around naked?

Of course I said no such thing. And no matter what I might say, I already realized I had fallen into Archbishop Archibold's logical trap with no way out.

Archibold continued.

"Did the Lord not say to give the clothes off your back to those who are naked? And yet, Hyde, you wear a robe, and beneath it a shirt and trousers, and shoes as well."

So this was the kind of man Archbishop Medici Archibold was.

He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"A common mistake among young priests. Looking upon all things in this world with the optimistic lens of Scripture. It is not a bad thing. But life is reality, and tomorrow continues without end."

"……."

"Come inside the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Grand Cathedral with me. There is something I very much wish to show you."

Archibold walked ahead, and I followed. We entered the cathedral, where ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the marble floors gleamed. A hunchbacked man mopping the floor stopped and bowed deeply toward Archibold.

"Your Grace, thank you! The prayer you offered last time must have worked—my mother's condition has improved greatly!"

"Is that so. But give your thanks not to me, but to our Father in heaven."

A red-skinned woman with an impaired arm paused from dusting and smiled brightly at Archibold.

"Your Grace, isn't the weather lovely?"

"It is. Undine, your face looks as fine as the weather itself."

The Grand Cathedral was vast. It required a great many hands to maintain, and most of them seemed to be people who were physically impaired or looked down upon for their race or skin color. Looking at them, Archibold said:

"Many mouths are attached to that 'mere building' you spoke of, and they eat and live by it. Without the entrance fee, they would be cast out onto the streets. So then—what is right?"

"Even so, I believe charging an entrance fee is wrong. What good does it do if the church—which ought to keep the lowest threshold of all—raises its own doorstep?"

One compromise, then another—you must not. I knew better than anyone the man who had compromised his way into losing everything.

Archibold laughed heartily.

"Yes, the truth is you are right. Hyde, you are a most just and faithful priest. In fact, everything you say is correct. But the finances of this Grand Cathedral are in such poor shape that we must collect entrance fees. Have pity on us."

Archbishop Archibold drew something from his pocket. It was a scroll, covered in numbers of some kind.

"The nobles and wealthy of Fierenzo have failed to pay the offerings they promised. Hyde, a just man like you would know well that embezzling offerings is a sin."

Ah—. Was he testing whether I was fit to be his daughter's husband?

"Baron Voltaire lives nearby. If you succeed in collecting the offering from him, I shall reconsider the matter of the entrance fee. We have roughly five hours until our evening appointment, so time will be tight."

"One hour will be enough."

I took the scroll and strode out of the Grand Cathedral.