Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
The news of the defeat at the frontlines and of Chopin’s retreat had already reached the central sanctuary of the Sacred City.
There was a suffocating atmosphere in the huge meeting hall.
The red-robed cardinals were arguing without rest about what to do next.
“We must severely punish Chopin for his desertion! We’ve already shown him leniency for his heresies, and this is how he repays us? When the Sacred City needs him most he encourages others to flee with him!”
“Forget about handling Chopin for now, the production of new Saints’ inheritances must be sped up!”
“We’ll have to be cautious about our next step. We don’t have many more of the catastrophe cores that we stored up! And the horn that can temporarily manipulate the Eight Phenomena is completely destroyed, one could even say that the Eight Phenomena no longer exist. We need a new deterrent to deal with the Commonwealth of Caucasian’s expansion.”
“At least our operation was successful, and their Son of God has lost his power. He won’t be setting off any more storms.”
“Who knows if he’ll recover? You know, he is…” The refuting bishop got halfway through his statement and then stopped. Among the hard faces all around him, he forcibly swallowed his taboo words.
After a brief silence, mouths were opened again, breaking the stillness.
“The most urgent matter is maintaining the influence of the Sacred City and protecting justice and righteousness. If this continues, the Sacred City’s orders may not even go out of the city gates!”
“We must punish the rebels, and awe those who are blind.”
“Moreover, it is not only the Commonwealth of Caucasian. In the West, there is still that guy in the Anglo Kingdom. He has the power of the King of Yellow. We can’t let him continue to expand, otherwise, we will completely lose control of everything!”
Amidst the crowd’s dispute, someone had the courage to look up at the throne.
“Now, only by asking the Sancta Sedes and the King of Black…” He did not finish speaking, but his meaning was already clear.
Even though the situation had deteriorated to this point, even if the King of Yellow had betrayed them, the Sacred City still had not lost. As long as the King of Red took charge, and as long as the King of Black got involved, everything could be recovered.
But facing everyone’s expectant eyes, there was no sound from behind the curtain.
After a while, the figure sitting on the Pope’s throne slowly rose. He merely waved his hand, seeming tired. “So it’s come to this today.”
Amid the silence, he turned around and left. He left a crowd of bishops staring at each other in shock, with expressions full of annoyance.
In the silence, someone yawned.
It was Albert.
He got up, patted the dust off himself, and bade farewell to his colleagues. “When men grow old, it is easy for them to use up their energy. I’m going home to sleep now, if this discussion leads to any results, remember to let me know.” After saying this he turned and left.
But someone from within the central hall behind him shouted at him, “What do you want, Albert?” An old man with an ashen face looked at him with a gloomy expression.
Albert yawned. “I want to sleep.”
“At this moment of internal troubles and foreign invasion, when everyone is giving their all for the Sacred City, you want to sleep? Where is your sense of duty?”
“I’m sorry, I have no interest in launching a war. Moreover, my duty is only to observe the Holy Temple. Are all the reports and information not placed on your desks?”
“Is this your excuse for fleeing?” His peers gave him contemptuous looks.
Albert shrugged and fumbled for a cigarette. He said coldly, “Haven’t you already reached a verdict without me? We will fight, we will return the world to its rightful place beneath our feet, at any cost, all for the sake of the world!” As he said this, he pretended to shake his fist and put on the look of a fanatic, but his tone was full of ridicule. “But do you really know the consequences of this? Destroying the whole human world in a war in order to determine winners and losers… Why? Cornet, just losing your power isn’t the same as losing your life. It’s not that frightening, is it?”
Archbishop Cornet’s expression grew colder and colder.
“Albert, you have already forsaken everything that our ancestors worked so hard to create. Look at the city, its countless towers, this was once one of the most glorious places in the world! And now you want to let it all fall into disgrace because of you?”
“If it’s going to fall into disgrace, then let it.” Albert finally found half a cigarette in his pocket and cheered up. “I am an illegitimate child, did you know that?” he said indifferently.
Cornet’s expression stiffened. He suppressed his fury, and his hoarse voice came from between gritted teeth, “You…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but everyone knew what he was going to say.
“B*stard.” Albert did not lose his temper and did not even look up at him. It was just a word, and the day that he would be upset by a word would never come.
He lit his cigarette, took a puff, and the wrinkles of distress on his face softened as the harmful substance spread through him.
“Cornet, you’ve done your best for the Lord. After you die, you’ll receive your reward in heaven. Why ask for more?” He pinched his cigarette and squinted at his gloomy colleague. “Or do you think that paradise is not enough of a reward for all your wonderful dedication?”
Cornet said nothing. He just looked at him coldly.
“So stop now. You should go back, drink some wine, sleep a little bit, instead of trying to irritate me here. This is the best advice I can offer you now.” He bowed and tossed his cigarette. His shoulders drooped and he said with a flat tone, “Just a few hours ago my last friend died for you. For your stupid ambitions and desires.
He gripped the small medicinal respirator under his red cardinal robes, the last thing that Wagner had left behind.
“I’m so sad.”
…
Two days later, late at night at the top of the royal palace of Burgundy, a young man in his nightgown leaned on the terrace balcony, humming a song and staring at the square outside the palace.
Air-dried corpses still hung from the gallows at the center of the square.
The Emperor had died last, but he looked the same as all the others.
In the night before the new Emperor’s ascension, the soon to be Emperor felt no tension. In fact, he enjoyed the sight of his uncle’s corpse with great interest, sang songs leisurely and unhurriedly, and drank his red wine. Then he went back into his study.
In the study, the old man named Richelieu was copying out the decree that the new Emperor was going to issue tomorrow. When he saw his student lie down on the sofa without any manners, he could not help but frown, but he didn’t remind him to pay attention to his bearing.
“It’s almost time.” Don Juan looked at his watch. “Connect me to Archbishop Ulliel in the Sacred City,” he told the attendant standing in the corner.
The attendant left respectfully. The message to the Sacred City was sent out quickly, and after a long wait he finally picked up. The old man at the other end of the line spoke with a flat tone.
“This is Ulliel.”
“This is Don Juan, one of your countless disciples.” The young man on the sofa raised his eyebrows happily. “My dear Archbishop, I think we should talk.”
“Watch your words, Don Juan.” Ulliel’s voice was indifferent. “For a follower of God, there is no business to be talked about.”
“No?” Don Juan nodded. “My mistake then.” He hung up. Regardless of the other sides attitude or thoughts, he hung up unilaterally and without any civility or good faith.
He stood up as the clock ticked, and pulled out the copper tubed cigar and matches from the drawer. He slowly and leisurely lit it. Once it was just hot enough, he cut off the head and enjoyed the fragrance of tobacco.
It was just like nothing had happened.
He let time pass by bit by bit.
The cautiously knocked on the door outside. “Your Highness, you have a communication from the Sacred City.”
“Oh.” Don Juan tilted his head. “How long has it been, teacher?”
Richelieu looked at the time and answered, “Five minutes.”
“No need to rush, let’s wait five more.” Don Juan’s expression was full of malice and mockery. “Those old b*stards who can’t see the big picture, they didn’t need to cooperate with me. They hung up after five minutes. Contact Ulliel’s rival Cornet, there should be enough time for him to receive the news.”
The attendant left respectfully.
The clock tolled midnight.
“I never thought it would take this long to come to fruition, but now the time has come to harvest it.” Don Juan got up, snuffed out the cigar, and looked at the old man behind the desk. “Unfortunately I must sleep. But tomorrow will be a good day for me. Teacher, I leave this to you.”
“You’re not going to speak to them yourself, Your Highness?”
“Forget it. I don’t get along with those old b*stards who swallow ancient wisdom but do not understand it.” The young man shrugged. “Besides, I just got married, why should I leave my beautiful wife alone at home for those ghouls?”
Richelieu smiled wryly. “But you haven’t given me anything.”
“You know my bottom line. As for bargaining chips, there is a list of foundation assets that should satisfy their tastes. I leave it up to you. So, bargain to your heart’s content, teacher.” Don Juan sneered. “Do what you can with this blank check. At the worst, they’ll turn against us, and if that happens, don’t hesitate to twist the knife. It’ll serve them right for the cold shoulder and cold looks that they gave us in the past.”
“By your command, Your Highness.” Richelieu stood up, saluted the man who would become Emperor in six hours, and then opened the drawer. When he saw the names on the list of funds, he couldn’t help but laugh silently.
“Reptile Breeding Fund?”
Always in such poor taste.
But how long had he been preparing for this day?
The color of the night deepened.
In the distant city, the clock sounded before prayers.
In another six hours, the new Emperor would be enthroned amidst a cheering crowd.
