The Blood of the Martyr (1)
Peter Priest examined the man before him.
Hollowed eyes with pupils like those of a dead fish. Skin pale to the point of pallor. Slightly disheveled black hair. Glasses perched haphazardly on his nose.
A tall, lean figure without an ounce of excess fat stood there in priestly robes. The black vestments, which should have been neat and solemn, somehow appeared drab and dreary.
Beside him stood a deaconess with shimmering golden bobbed hair, chattering brightly without pause. The contrast between the two could not have been starker.
In a word, this man was too gloomy. Peter nearly grimaced without thinking.
'This is... the head priest of the Academy Cathedral?'
It seemed so from the circumstances. When coordinating with the academy, he'd been told the head priest of the Academy Cathedral would come to greet them personally.
Peter slowly approached him.
Camilla Priest shared his negative reaction. As she drew near the man alongside Peter, she whispered to him.
"Peter Priest, is that really the head priest of the Academy Cathedral?"
"...It appears so."
"Aigoo... Has Caldea Imperial Academy finally seen its last days?"
"Don't judge a person by their appearance, Camilla Priest."
"No, but that's just not right. At least put on a proper face."
Camilla had a point. For receiving a priestly delegation from the Holy Nation, his appearance was sorely lacking. If only he'd at least combed that unkempt hair.
As those thoughts crossed his mind, the distance between them closed. Reaching conversational range, Peter spoke first.
"May the Lord's grace be with you. I am Peter, a mid-level priest and humble servant of the Lord, affiliated with the Holy Nation's Blue Rose Society. This is Camilla, mid-level priest."
"Senior Priest Lucio Antonelli. In addition to serving as head priest of the Academy Cathedral, I also hold a professorship in theology. This is Deaconess Sophia."
"M-May the Lord's grace be with you...."
Sophia, catching sight of Peter, shrank back and bowed her head. She looked like a startled small animal.
Peter tilted his head at her reaction.
...Have I met her somewhere before?
Her face seemed familiar. He'd seen her a few times in passing, but he soon dismissed it as unimportant.
Probably a student at the Clergy Academy in the Holy Nation.
He'd once served as dormitory supervisor there, so it made sense. Peter smiled kindly.
"Pardon me, but did you perhaps graduate from the Holy Nation's Clergy Academy?"
"...Hic!"
"Hm?"
Sophia suddenly began hiccuping, prompting Peter's puzzled look. Head Priest Antonelli stepped forward.
"Deaconess Sophia is a bit shy around strangers."
"I didn't realize. My apologies."
"I-It's okay...."
Sophia hid behind Head Priest Antonelli, peeking out only her head. Peter gave an awkward smile.
I've really gotten off on the wrong foot.
During his time as dormitory supervisor, he'd been quite strict and rigid. But that was in the past. Peter had no desire to create friction now.
Still smiling warmly, Peter addressed Head Priest Antonelli.
"Haha... We have urgent business, so we'd like to visit the Academy Cathedral right away, if possible."
"Of course. This way, please."
Peter followed as Head Priest Antonelli took the lead.
This time, no matter what...
He reminded himself of the purpose of their visit.
The Academy Cathedral was quiet. With classes in session, the theology students and professors were absent, leaving only a few caretakers milling about.
Entering the head priest's office felt like ages had passed. Then again, I'd been swamped lately with assignment-related work, so it made sense.
The office came equipped with plush sofas and a tea table—for occasions like this, when guests visited. I sat without hesitation on the sofa at the head position.
It was only natural; my rank outstripped theirs.
Priests Camilla and Peter took seats on the facing sofas opposite each other. They hadn't exchanged a single word on the way here, making it obvious their relationship wasn't cordial.
Then Deaconess Sophia approached cautiously.
"H-Head Priest, shall I prepare some black tea?"
"My usual black tea, please. And for you two... black tea is fine?"
Peter responded to my question with a genial smile.
"Anything works for me... but I'd be grateful for whatever you offer."
"Sounds good to me."
Sophia bustled off to brew the tea.
"...Hm."
I glanced sidelong at Priest Camilla. She scanned the office with sharp eyes.
Unlike Peter, who appeared to be entering middle age, Camilla looked no older than her mid-twenties at first glance. She'd risen through the ranks remarkably fast.
Of course, I myself—barely turning thirty—was still young for a senior priest position. In my case, merits from the Great War had played a major role.
So what had propelled Camilla to mid-level priest so quickly?
I can't stand leaving curiosities unanswered, but conversations have their proper steps. Leaning back on the sofa, I turned to Peter.
"Was your journey here comfortable?"
"Yes. Riding the empire-spanning train I'd only heard of, I can see the empire truly is vast and advanced. The trip was quite pleasant."
"Glad to hear it."
Camilla remained silent, simply sitting and listening attentively to our exchange.
With Peter taking the lead in speaking to me, he seemed the slight superior despite both being mid-level priests. Priests don't judge solely by rank, after all.
"As rumored, the Caldea Imperial Academy's cathedral is impressive. It holds its own even compared to those in the Holy Nation."
"Thank you."
Even after Sophia brought the black tea, we continued our leisurely chat over cups.
How long did this polite small talk last?
"Um... Head Priest Antonelli."
Peter lowered his voice slightly. I felt the inevitable moment had arrived.
"Yes, Priest Peter."
"You must know the reason for our visit here..."
"You've come all this way to dispose of the finger, haven't you?"
At the mention of the finger, Sophia flinched behind me. Peter glanced at her and nodded gravely.
"Exactly. His Holiness the Pope still views that finger remaining at Caldea Imperial Academy with great concern."
"Hm..."
"If you're amenable, Head Priest Antonelli, we'd like to examine it as soon as possible."
Peter seemed quite impatient. Truth be told, I'd been uneasy keeping that ominous finger myself.
"Understood."
I nodded readily and rose from the sofa, heading to the desk by the window.
Opening the drawer revealed a prepared ornate box. I lifted it carefully with both hands.
Returning to my seat, I placed the box on the table. Peter and Camilla's eyes were glued to it.
"It's inside here."
"I-In there... the finger..."
Gulp.
Peter swallowed dryly, then slowly extended a hand toward the box. He was visibly tense, and Camilla watching him matched his anxiety.
I observed them silently.
So the rumors are true, after all.
If two priests from the Holy Nation reacted this way, I had no choice but to believe the tales about the first head priest, Giovanni.
Which meant the finger inside truly belonged to Head Priest Giovanni. A chill ran down my spine anew.
Clunk.
Peter's hand slid the lid aside. Inside lay an elongated object wrapped in a burial shroud.
"Wrapped in a burial shroud...?"
"Yes. Just in case."
"I see. Wise precaution."
Peter carefully unwrapped the shroud, revealing a blackened, withered finger.
"Is some evil spirit sleeping inside it?"
Peter shrugged slightly at my question.
"Who knows... We don't know yet. But it's hardly suitable for an academy where students come and go."
"I agree."
He was a sensible man. My estimation of Peter rose a notch.
Peter fiddled with the finger briefly before returning it to the box. The lid closed gently.
"Heh heh... We'll dispose of this properly. No need to worry."
"I entrust it to you."
"Hmm... By the way..."
Clutching the box, Peter stroked his goatee and eyed me intently. Unsure of his intent, I asked,
"Yes?"
"Forgive the impertinence, but have you ever served in the Great War?"
"...Why do you ask?"
My tone came out sharper than intended. Peter looked taken aback.
"Well... If I may be so bold, you seem quite young for your rank. I assumed you'd earned merits in the war."
"...I'll decline to answer that."
Their eyes widened slightly. Ignoring it, I continued.
"It's purely a personal matter, so please don't misunderstand. My apologies."
"N-No, it's I who overstepped into private territory."
I regarded the flustered Peter with slightly cooled eyes.
I had zero desire to reveal my war service to Holy Nation folk. From experience, they hadn't left me with a good impression, nor had they inspired trust.
That was why I'd never told even Sophia. Confiding my participation to anyone from the Holy Nation felt profoundly unappealing.
"Well then, about accommodations for your stay over the next few days..."
I tried forcing the topic shift.
"...Head Priest Antonelli?"
Camilla, who'd been silent throughout, finally spoke to me.
I turned at her husky voice. Her sharp eyes fixed on me.
Camilla's lips parted again.
"Do you happen to know a priest named Helena?"
That single utterance.
Just those words...
"......"
And the world I'd barely held together came crashing down.
Miserably, utterly.