Archbishop Sernos 2
Palenia Holy Kingdom. Located in the north even among the southern continent's nations, it worshipped the Goddess of Light, Isteria, as its sole deity. There were cults devoted to the Goddess of Fire, Helena, and the Goddess of Darkness, Nix, but in this southern region, they paled in comparison to the Isterian faith.
The Palenia Holy Kingdom stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the mighty Arhen Kingdom as the southern continent's preeminent power. Its influence extended all the way to the northern continent. Every year, once a year, believers of the Isterian faith from across the continent gathered in the Holy Kingdom of Palenia.
January 1st. The day the Goddess Isteria was said to have created the world. They converged on the Light Square at the heart of the Palenia Holy Kingdom. The vast plaza could accommodate hundreds of thousands at once—it was expansive in the truest sense. Before it loomed the Light Temple, reachable only after ascending a thousand steps. This temple, which also served as the Papal Palace, was a holy site every Isterian believer had to visit at least once.
The resting place of the remnants of Isteria, the Creation Goddess and Goddess of Light. The domain of the Pope, her proxy, who wielded absolute authority. In his previous life, Licht had been there exactly once.
"Small."
Licht muttered those words as he stood before the Bailen Cathedral. Small, compared to the Light Square and Light Temple of the Palenia Holy Kingdom. Bailen, the capital of the Alder Duchy. It fell short of El Sion, but it was still a grand city. At its center stood the grand cathedral, which occupied an entire sprawling compound. And it wasn't just the cathedral. Surrounding it were buildings housing the faithful.
A ceaseless stream of people flowed in and out of the pristine white cathedral: priests in their vestments, monks and nuns in their habits, and ordinary believers in everyday clothes. Licht scanned the surrounding buildings before stepping inside. No one stopped him. The Isterian faith, devoted to the Goddess Isteria, was open to all, regardless of status or the weight of their sins.
Spacious.
The first thing that struck him was the interior—so vast it bordered on majestic. Endless rows of pews for worshippers stretched out, flanked by white pillars soaring to the vaulted ceiling. Arched overhead, the walls were adorned with stained glass that sparkled in the light. Sunbeams cast long shafts across the nave, and beneath them, hundreds of believers knelt in unison, hands clasped in prayer.
"Omnipotent Isteria, we gather today in this sacred cathedral. We are unworthy to stand before You, yet by Your holy blood, cleanse these lambs..."
At the front of the nave, before the statue of Goddess Isteria, a man who appeared to be a high priest intoned the liturgy. The surrounding faithful had their eyes closed, murmuring in response. Licht took an empty seat.
As expected.
This scene was impossible to get used to. The vast interior echoed only with the rhythm of the prayers. Every one of them clasped their hands and squeezed their eyes shut as if by prior agreement. To Licht, they looked like blind zealots chasing some illusion.
A instinctive revulsion welled up, but he slowly closed his eyes. Darkness enveloped his vision, and sounds faded away. The endless chants no longer reached him. In the pitch-black void, a world containing only himself.
There is no god.
Licht murmured inwardly. No god existed. No salvation as they preached. On that blood-soaked battlefield, the sole survivor had been the atheist Licht. He clearly remembered those who cried out to the Goddess of Light, Isteria, as they died. Even to the end, they clung to their faith, but no miracle came. The omnipotent Isteria did not save them. They all perished.
If a god truly existed...
They wouldn't have died so pointlessly.
Licht recalled his conversation with the great sage in the Sage's Tower.
The Goddess of Fire, Helena.
The sacred primordial flame. Mother of all humanity. The great sage had said he was receiving love beyond his worth. Chosen. The primordial flame slumbered within.
Licht still couldn't grasp what that meant. In over a thousand years of continental history, no apostle of the gods had ever appeared. To the godless Licht, it rang hollow.
More importantly...
Shouldn't he focus on the pressing matter at hand?
Archbishop Sernos. Are there really no Executioners here?
Licht always assumed the worst. In this situation, the worst was three or more Executioners infiltrating Bailen.
The odds are slim.
But he couldn't be certain. Life didn't always flow smoothly. If the kidnapped mages had all been transported to the Holy Kingdom, or worse, entangled in some incident and killed...
The Pope of Palenia. Defying reason itself?
Had something like that happened before? Licht sifted through his memories. The mage kidnappings in El Sion, the attempt to resurrect the previous Saintess using them as sacrifices. No record.
More accurately, he knew nothing. In his past life, he'd been cast out from the main house, living like a mouse in the annex. His knowledge of the future began at age twenty, when he started making a name as a mercenary.
The past has already diverged greatly anyway.
His foreknowledge would likely prove useless going forward.
Still.
One thing he knew.
The previous Saintess, Libre Prelude, did not revive. The current Saintess, Stella Evgenia, died.
He hadn't paid much attention to the past, but he vaguely recalled the major events. Libre failed to resurrect, and Stella perished.
A failure?
They'd used the Pope's own daughter, Stella Evgenia, as the sacrifice, yet it failed. Libre didn't return, and Stella died. The death of the Saintess chosen by Isteria herself—it was such a massive scandal that he knew of it even years later.
If that was true...
"Believer?"
A woman's voice snapped him from his reverie. When he opened his eyes, the nave stood empty and echoing. Where had all those people gone? He pulled the silver pocket watch from his pocket. Late afternoon already. The light filtering through the stained glass had turned crimson.
Licht turned slowly. A young woman in a nun's habit gazed down at him, broom in hand. She must have been cleaning.
"Service is over. Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing."
The high priest who'd led the prayers before the goddess statue was gone. The time, and the priests and monastics tidying up around them, confirmed the service had ended.
"First time here?"
As he rose, the nun spoke again.
"It happens sometimes. Mercenaries or wanderers stopping by the cathedral."
"How'd you know?"
"Your clothes give it away. Locals who live here and attend regularly dress differently from out-of-towners."
Licht glanced at himself. Sturdy, breathable clothes suited for movement, topped with a black cloak. More fitting for a wandering mercenary than everyday wear. No wonder she'd pegged him as an outsider.
"You prayed awfully long."
"Had a lot on my mind."
"You could make a devout believer yet."
"...I don't believe in gods."
"Everyone says that at first. Then faith grows, and they come to believe in Lady Isteria."
Licht's brow furrowed faintly. The nun, as if intoxicated by her own words, set aside her broom and clasped her hands with a smile.
"Lots of kids receive that grace, in fact. We Isterians run an orphanage."
"I see."
Licht didn't deny it. Bailen, capital of the Alder Duchy, visibly enjoyed good public order. In the short time since checking into his inn and exploring, he'd seen no street trash or urchins.
"We take in lost lambs under Isteria's grace. Even the heir to this Alder Duchy, young Lord Jeron Alder, is a devout Isterian."
Licht narrowed his eyes.
"You said the firstborn of Alder is a devout Isterian believer?"
"Yes. Just look at the size of this Bailen Cathedral. The Alder family has been pious Isterians for generations. No one in Bailen doesn't know it. He's quite close with Archbishop Sernos, too."
Licht glanced around. The other clergy were busy with their own cleanup, paying no mind here.
"And the second son."
"......?"
"Is Millein Alder, the second son of the Alder family, also a devout Isterian?"
The nun's eyes widened briefly, as if caught off guard. But she quickly composed herself.
"I'm not sure about that. We hear almost nothing about young Lord Millein. He rarely appears at banquets or official events..."
"......"
"Still, probably so? The Alders have believed in Isteria for generations, so the second son shouldn't be much different."
"Not much different."
"Yes, I'm sure of it."
The nun smiled again when—
"Katra! Enough slacking—come help over here!"
A middle-aged woman's voice rang out from nearby. She wore a similar habit, though styled differently. Short on hands for moving supplies, apparently. The nun bowed slightly.
"Ah, sorry. I should go."
"No trouble. Thanks for the chat."
"Anytime. The cathedral doors are always open."
"Katra!"
"Coming!"
The nun grabbed her broom from against the pew and hurried to the older woman. The nave's cleanup seemed nearly done; priests and monastics were straightening up one by one.
That was when it happened.
"Eh...?"
The once-quiet cathedral stirred with commotion.
"Archbishop Sernos?"
"What brings you at this hour..."
The clergy froze in confusion, bowing their heads. As if they dared not even look upon him. The nun who'd spoken to Licht and her elder were no different. They stared toward the entrance, eyes wide.
"I'm just here on brief business. Pay me no mind."
A calm, pleasant baritone voice. Licht, seated facing the goddess statue, stood. Turning, he saw a dignified procession approaching. And at its center, a man who naturally drew the eye.
Archbishop Sernos.
The archbishop leading them raised a hand with a benevolent smile. His priestly robes were deep purple, embroidered with intricate golden threads. As the surrounding clergy bowed awkwardly, Sernos led his group to the front, before the Isteria statue. He offered a brief, familiar prayer, then scanned the interior.
"Would you clear the space?"
One simple request. Those remaining in the nave silently filed out as if rehearsed. Even Sernos's entourage mixed in without protest and departed. The vast cathedral bathed in sunset glow.
"A pleasure to meet you."
Now alone, Sernos finally spoke.
"I am Sernos Decart, Archbishop and head of the Alder Diocese."
Still wearing that kindly smile. For some reason, Licht found it repulsive.