Multi-Race, Multi-Faith - 3
The Ecumenical Council. A gathering where cardinals of the Dawn Church and renowned theologians convened to debate the Church’s doctrine, its canons, and its future.
As the continent’s dominant faith—and the de facto state religion of nearly every nation—even the mere suggestion from the Pope that a council might be convened was enough to seize the entire continent’s attention. After all, an Ecumenical Council was nothing less than the Church’s highest leadership locked in an uncompromising free-for-all. Anything less than total fascination would have been stranger still. There was even a saying that an Ecumenical Council could halt a secular war.
Its authority was that absolute. The most recent council had been held in the age when the Apels Empire gave way to the Creplofen Empire and the calendar of imperial years was replaced by the sacred calendar—proof that such gatherings opened only when the history of the continent and the Church itself stood on the brink of upheaval.
And so, once the opening of a council was confirmed, the political and diplomatic spheres of the continent fell silent. Every accepted truth and every established custom could collapse at the council’s decree. No matter how solid a fortress one built upon the rock of worldly power, the council’s verdict could erase not the fortress, but the rock itself.
“In the span of my reign the World Tree is reborn and now an Ecumenical Council is convened. I seem determined to experience every ordeal no one else is allowed to face.”
That was why the Emperor muttered the complaint with the expression of a man who had already achieved enlightenment. What good had it done to prepare for the World Tree’s revival since last year, to summon the ministers and issue directives for every contingency? The moment the Pope announced the council, every preparation had turned to ash.
There was nothing to be done about it.
Even if emperor and pope stood as equals, any matter that touched the divine required the emperor to yield precedence to the pope. Suppose His Majesty had proclaimed the revival of the World Tree and Constantina’s reappearance as “symbols of Enen’s grace and the steadfastness of Heaven’s mandate”—only for the council to conclude that “Constantina is an idol and the World Tree is merely a large tree.” The Emperor would plummet overnight from favored monarch of Enen to heathen chieftain. The mere thought was nightmarish.
“At any rate, that is how matters stand. Sending a newlywed minister abroad sits ill with me, yet when the cause is an Ecumenical Council, there is little room for complaint.”
“A husband and wife may share time whenever they wish, but an Ecumenical Council is a continental great cause that appears only once in centuries. Please set Your Majesty’s mind at ease.”
“I am grateful you say so.”
At Karl’s ready acceptance the Emperor’s face brightened, if only slightly.
“It feels awkward to call it compensation, but what do you say to taking the Magic Lord with you? She was present when the World Tree revived, and she carries the blood of an elven elder. The Pope will welcome her, not resent her.”
“I am overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s warm wisdom.”
Karl bowed his head. In plain terms the Emperor was saying: go as a witness if you must, but if the two of you are willing, treat it as a honeymoon and travel to the Holy Kingdom side by side.
That was no small concession. To allow Trixie—a duke and the linchpin of the capital’s defenses—even a brief absence from the Empire was a decision that required considerable resolve.
A honeymoon, is it?
It had not been planned, yet it was far from unwelcome.
No—he decided it was welcome. If you cannot avoid something, you may as well enjoy it.
Less than two hours after arriving at the office to prepare for a business trip dressed up as a honeymoon, he left again. He gathered his still-blinking lovers and explained the situation: he had been summoned as a witness to the Ecumenical Council and would soon have to travel to the Holy Kingdom.
“We never even went for the beatification ceremony, yet now we’re going after all.”
“I know. I thought I’d never set foot there in my life.”
Karl could only nod at Mar’s dazed murmur. Even the unprecedented living beatification had not required him to set foot in the Holy Kingdom; he had never dreamed a far greater upheaval would force the journey now.
How many people on the continent had ever expected an Ecumenical Council to open in their own lifetime? Still less that their own husband would be named a witness by the Pope. Expecting that would have been stranger still.
“Still, I’m only a witness for simple on-site testimony, not theological debate. They say nothing much will happen even if I go.”
He offered the reassurance to ease the suddenly stiff atmosphere. The council and the summons were unexpected, yes, but not the sort of disaster that made one curse aloud.
He would not have to take the lead; he need only sit and answer whatever questions were put to him. Traveling to another country was a nuisance, nothing more—hardly dangerous or exhausting.
“Besides, I’m a Blessed in my own right. They’ll treat me well. Don’t worry too much.”
And the next saint-to-be was one of his own students. If any priest tried to make trouble, he had more than enough means to turn the tables.
Not that any priest insane enough to harass a guest invited by the Pope would have been ordained in the first place.
“Then, Oppa—when you attend the council, why not wear the clothes you received at the exhibition?”
“The exhibition?”
Lin’s suggestion brought to mind the white vestments currently slumbering in his wardrobe.
It was an excellent idea. He usually wore only the Audit Department uniform, so the gift had slipped his mind; wearing a present from the Holy Kingdom while visiting the Holy Kingdom would certainly make a favorable impression.
I was the one who received them, though.
Still, it was a little embarrassing. When Cardinal Alexandriana had presented the beatification commemorative gift, Lin had been busy with the club booth and had only heard about it later. The one who remembered was the person who had not even been there; the recipient himself had forgotten.
“White clothes feel a bit unfamiliar… but you’re right, that would be best.”
“Of course. This is a good chance to wear something different. You’re always in black.”
Karl quietly averted his eyes under Lin’s mild scolding.
He refrained from pointing out that black hid stains well and was simply practical. Saying so now would only earn him more scolding.
“Ah.”
Meanwhile Rory let out a soft sound of realization.
“If Oppa goes to the Holy Kingdom, does that mean you’ll next see Eri Unnie and Phine Unnie after you return?”
The words pierced straight through his conscience; he flinched by pure instinct.
She was right. Caught up in the sudden overseas assignment, he had completely forgotten.
They’ll be disappointed.
As the founding of the Inspectorate Ministry drew nearer, Eri and Phine’s workloads had exploded. Even at his wedding to Trixie they had managed only the briefest of appearances.
They had finally scraped together free time to match his honeymoon leave—only for him to leave for the Holy Kingdom with Trixie instead. He was essentially snubbing the very people he already saw far too rarely.
“…I’m not leaving immediately. I’ll visit them first before I go.”
As he spoke he glanced sidelong at Trixie.
So that was why she had remained so composed upon hearing they would travel alone to the Holy Kingdom—she had been thinking of Eri and Phine. As the eldest among them, her consideration ran deep and beautiful.
Unfortunately her ears, independent of that consideration, had been fluttering furiously for some time; he pretended not to notice.
“Your Holiness, I beg you to reconsider. It is not yet too late. Even now we could contain the matter with a grand Mass celebrating the World Tree’s revival.”
The Pope closed his eyes at the Cardinal Prefect’s desperate plea. Anxiety had driven the normally cautious prefect to words that made little sense.
Not yet too late? How could that be true? The declaration of an Ecumenical Council had already resounded across the entire continent. Cardinals from every corner of the land were arriving one after another, and the great movement of cardinals had plunged the ruling classes of every nation into simultaneous silence.
To cancel the council now was unthinkable. The Pope’s word would become empty bluster, and the weighty, exalted name of the Ecumenical Council would fall into the mud.
Yet the Cardinal Prefect—who also served as Prefect of the Secretariat—did not urge cancellation because he wished to see the Pope’s name or the council’s authority diminished.
“The Church is not ready to advance. Better to endure a brief humiliation than to bleed to death from an over-ambitious surgery.”
He was simply judging that damage to the Church’s authority would be preferable to the shock the council would deliver.
It was pitiable. This same Cardinal Prefect had once dreamed of reforming the Church. He had admired the former Pope and boldly declared that he would one day transform the institution. Age, high office, and a broader view of the field had since tempered that fire—yet those years had been more than enough to turn a passionate priest into a politician who compromised with reality.
That was not, in itself, wrong. To pursue ideals without regard for reality would ruin the Church; to have compromised meant he still harbored the dream and left room for it to live.
That was why the Pope himself had stepped forward. A Cardinal Prefect who received the Pope’s orders might compromise with reality. But the Servant of the Servants of the Lord—the last of all to reach Heaven—must never bow his head to the world.
The Pope alone, only the Pope, must keep his eyes fixed upon the sun. Even if the glare blinded him in the end, he would stand unashamed before their Lord.
“Cardinal Prefect.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
When the Pope spoke, the Cardinal Prefect raised the head he had kept so deeply bowed.
Seeing the faint hope mixed into that expression, the Pope could only smile bitterly. Crushing another’s expectations never grew easier, no matter how many times one did it.
“All credit belongs to the arrangement of our Lord; all fault is the servant’s own failure.”
“Your Holiness…”
“Every grievance and every hatred directed at the Church beneath Heaven—this old man will carry them all.”
That was enough. With no further room left for persuasion, the Cardinal Prefect could only bow his head in grief.
He withdrew. Since cancellation was impossible, he would now move to raise even slightly the chances that the council would conclude successfully.
The Pope felt both apology and gratitude. The old passion still burned within the Cardinal Prefect after all.
Even if I fall, you will carry it on.
Despite the gravity of the moment, a smile touched his lips.
Even if he failed, his dream would not collapse. Just as he had once looked to his seniors and nurtured the dream of reform, he himself would become someone else’s dream.
Then he could die smiling even while laden with every grievance and hatred. The burden he carried would buy the Church time to change—time for new reformers to appear.
Succeeding now would of course be best.
He picked up the documents resting on the desk.
The papal burden—the ideals his seniors had dreamed of, the realities he must bequeath to those who came after.
…Masses in each nation shall be conducted by the priests of that nation with due regard for local culture; the Holy Kingdom shall supervise only whether the Masses deviate from doctrine and shall not interfere beyond that point.
The Dawn Church shall objectively examine every act it committed during the Religious Wars, and where those acts were radical or violent, it shall formally apologize and make reparation to the descendants of the affected faith communities.
While never forgetting that our Lord is Enen alone, the Church shall acknowledge and accommodate the positive functions of other faiths.
The Church acknowledges that faith and goodness do not always coincide.
…
A mission that must be fulfilled.