Clark would surely create an honest institution.
Col could do nothing more than pray for them as both Clark and Yagine walked away.
And Sharon would also want an official monastic institution for the orphanage, too, surely.
Clark had said that Sharon noticed there had been donations from the cathedral but stayed quiet about it. Perhaps she thought somewhere deep inside that the priests recognized it as an official orphanage.
He could only imagine how the tax collectors were, gathered outside.
What sort of expression was on Sharon’s face at that moment?
Was she cursing the soldiers dispatched by the city council, throwing rocks at them, brandishing her sword above her head in order to rouse her compatriots to make it a successful feint?
But what they harbored in their hearts was not just hatred. There were prayers, and those prayers were a wish to coax out fruit from a seed. Clark and the children would go through the underground passages and meet up with the other tax collectors. From the outside, it would seem like Sharon’s prayers had reached God.
It is all so stupid, Col thought.
“Col. We’re off, too. It’d only get messy if someone sees us here.”
Eve called out to him, and he nodded. They slowly walked off, like criminals.
He then entered the nave and looked up to the image of God made of multicolored glass behind the pulpit.
He heard a muffled thud from behind him, which was likely the tax collectors knocking on the cathedral door. It was made of thick wood and reinforced by iron. Only a battering ram could break it.
Yet, by knocking on the door, they were trying to pull everyone’s attention to them.
He could not put their wishes to waste.
“Brother.”
Eve entered the underground passage, and Myuri called to him.
The knocking on the door came again.
He turned to face the secret entrance behind the pulpit, as though desperately trying to ignore the sound.
“Don’t let it bother you.”
The gentleness of the hand Eve placed on his shoulder stung instead.
The feeling they should open the door and the resignation that opening the door would accomplish nothing intermingled with each other.
Yet, as Col’s feet moved to take him down the hidden stairway, Yagine handed Clark something in the corridor below.
“This is the letters patent—it has the name of the previous archbishop on it, not mine. On the slim chance I end up excommunicated, it will still hold power. There’s no need to worry.”
“…Understood.”
Clark dropped to one knee, and like a believer receiving the sacrament, he took the rolled piece of parchment.
That was the presentation of a letters patent for the establishment of a monastery.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been appropriate for Sharon to be here.
They would have received it together as the bell of reconciliation and blessing rang.
When he imagined that, Col could not help the stirring in his heart.
“Let us go.”
Yagine urged Clark onward.
The door to the vault was open.
Everything was hurtling toward a single conclusion.
Col was rooted to the spot, simply not satisfied with the option of moving forward because—
“Col!” Eve called to him, her voice annoyed with a hint of anger.
Myuri had also bit onto his clothes, roughly trying to drag him along.
Yagine looked at him apologetically.
Col was the only one out of place here.
But he had a reason for it.
“Please wait.”
When he said that, Eve looked toward the ceiling, Yagine widened his eyes, and Clark looked at him with doubt.
“Grrr…”
Even Myuri was growling, pulling him with such vigor that it almost ripped his sleeve.
He stopped her and held his ground because he had faith.
“Sir Col, I understand your pain…”
“No, that’s not it.”
“It isn’t?”
Col shook his head, closed his eyes, and imagined. He became a bird looking down on the cathedral from the heavens, and he imagined.
At that very moment, in front of the cathedral, Sharon and the tax collectors had taken up camp, holding fast to their positions. The soldiers sent by the city council were gathered around them, long spears in hand, keeping them in check. And even farther out from that, far beyond the city walls, the king’s army was marching toward them.
The king was acting to demonstrate that the tax collectors were bad, Sharon and the rest were acting to demonstrate they were the very ones who should be arrested, and the soldiers from the city council were acting to demonstrate that they were following the king’s orders.
But what about himself?
Could he truly go along with this show?
No, he could not.
There were no ideals to be found here—it was a more superficial, concrete, mundane story.
And if this was something that could be resolved by appearances alone, then there was another way.
In short—
“Can we not see this show from another angle?”
Everyone frowned.
“What are you…?”
“Another angle?”
“…”
All those who were world-weary looked at him at the same time, irritated.
The only one who looked at him with hope was Clark, but that was merely an expression of his intense feelings for Sharon and not any expectations for Col’s ability.
Yet, once Col thought of something, he could not get it out of his head.
“The monastery,” he murmured, and Eve, Yagine, and Myuri all exchanged glances. “It’s the monastery. That letters patent.”
Col pointed, and everyone’s eyes turned to Clark’s hand.
“There is a reason—a legitimate, justifiable reason for Sharon and the others to gather at the cathedral!”
When he yelled, Eve scratched her head. She looked at him like a drunk who was shouting about seeing spirits.
“Col, calm down. You’re just confused right—”
“Oooooooooh!!!”
It was Yagine who howled.
“God! O God! Yes! God, you have shown me the way!”
Yagine turned to the heavens, his massive stature tottering as he rushed toward Col, moving so quickly that Myuri didn’t have enough time to step between them despite being on guard.
It was possible to call what Col received an embrace, but it was best described as getting charged.
“O God! I thank you! I thank you for sending me this astute young man!”
After Yagine hugged him hard enough to lift him off the ground, he turned around.
“Yes! That is what we can do! There is a way to solve this by opening the cathedral doors and taking in Sharon!”
Impossible, Eve wordlessly muttered, but Col picked up where Yagine had left off.
“There is exactly one situation that can show the cathedral did not succumb to the tax collectors and that the tax collectors did not come with the intention of using violence, even if we do open the door!”
“Are you insane? The tax collectors are actually out there, gathered and armed. If that’s not an uprising, then what is it?”
When Eve asked, Col took a deep breath and answered:
“A petition.”
People had their strengths and weaknesses. If Eve had something she wanted to do, she would think of a way to weave a web of machinations that would eventually make things land in her lap of their own accord. But there were more straightforward ways of colliding headfirst with things in the world. And sometimes that became violence.
It was because people were stirred to action by intense feelings.
“A petition for the cathedral to build a monastery just for the orphans. It’s been several years since the Chu
rch has stopped all services in the Kingdom. They’ve been waiting for such a long time, and they simply couldn’t wait anymore. If they wanted the doors to open to have their wishes heard, to be shown mercy in the name of God, it’s only natural they would act a bit rough, yes?”
“Wait, but…”
Eve recoiled, and Yagine spoke.
“Eve, we need your assistance. If we can say that you, former noble of the Kingdom, backed the tax collectors in order to return home loaded with honors, then the papal office will look on you more favorably. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
Just like Eve had said herself, she could change her standing as easily as a bat flitted back and forth. If someone who was possibly an ally of the Church like herself was to deeply insinuate herself among the tax collectors, who were nothing but nuisances, then the Church would surely find peace of mind for the time being.
But no, the reason Eve looked like she had swallowed a bug was because she had realized the implicit meaning in Yagine’s words—a command to bargain with the papal office in order to calm them down.
“…This’ll make me money, will it?”
Yagine struck his massive, drumlike belly and raised both hands.
“Of course it will!”
Yagine got right to the point. He suddenly turned to Col and smiled like a bandit.
“The Twilight Cardinal is here! Be it monastery or orphanage, I’m sure the donations will come pouring in from all kinds of factions looking for protection!”
Col had come to Eve, ready to feast on mud if it meant saving Sharon and the tax collectors.
It would be wrong if he ran away now. “…It sounds like my name holds quite the influence.” Col turned to Eve as he spoke, albeit timidly.
Eve’s face went bright red, and after she widened her eyes, she yelled, “Do what you want!”
While she was used to cornering others in arguments, perhaps she was not used to the same being done to herself.
Yagine childishly shrugged and called over Clark, who stood there in shock.
“You are the star here, Clark.”
“Wh—? Me?”
“Don’t you have feelings for Sharon? As her father, I know she’ll be in good hands with you.”
Clark’s eyes went rounder than a fish’s eyes as he stared at Yagine.
“But we will need direction in order to quell the scene. We will need a show to quiet everyone outside. Any ideas?”
Yagine turned to look at Col suggestively.
This was the man who fell in love with a golden eagle whose fully spread wings could cover an entire forest. He had likely “directed” miracles once or twice in his life before becoming the archbishop.
And Col could not help but remember who it was beside him.
“…Leave it to me.”
When he answered, Myuri briefly whined in displeasure, but he reached down to pet the back of her neck to quiet her.
Col felt slightly depressed thinking about how much she would complain afterward, but when he thought about how they might have gone straight through the tunnels to escape, he was ready and willing to bend to all her cajoling.
“All right, then, get ready! This will be our first divine business in years! Get ready to receive this petition!”
For the sake of moving forward.
For the sake of fighting against fate, to not be swept away.
“Twilight Cardinal—no, Col,” Yagine said. “Thank you.”
All Col could say in response was, “I still don’t know if it’ll work yet,” but Myuri, apparently unhappy with his lack of confidence, nibbled at his leg.
EPILOGUE
And thus the grand cathedral doors were opened. The house of God granted its mercy to those who came armed, all for the sake of the helpless, orphaned children…
Once the tale was over, a strummed chord echoed throughout the atrium. A great number of guests had been enraptured by the minstrel’s tale.
But there were still plenty of people who looked on in doubt—had the cathedral not given in to evil ways, and was it not a den of evils forsaken by God? Oh, but oh!
Da-na-naaaaan.
This sort of program could be seen all over Rausbourne, and no matter where a traveler went, they would likely find the same. Col felt like he would lose his appetite again if he had to hear that story once more, but there was someone else there to eat his meal for him.
“It’s getting cold, Brother.”
“Go ahead.”
He passed the plate with the mountain of mutton to Myuri, who bit into it with glimmering eyes.
“This is my treat. I doubt you’ll be able to eat it all, even if you pace yourself.”
The one who smiled was Eve, and the one ordering some more meat was Hyland. Once Hyland was done ordering directly from the owner of the Golden Fern, she spoke with a bitter smile with regards to the minstrel’s melody, which they could hear from the window that faced the atrium.
“I have to say, artists are truly gifted, aren’t they?”
She was not talking about the minstrel’s voice but the miracle he was singing about.
“Even the silliest of tricks look like a miracle depending on perspective. Both the papal office and the Kingdom will have to stay silent after seeing something like that,” Eve said as she looked at Myuri, but Myuri continued to eat, pretending not to notice. Or perhaps she was not pretending—maybe she really did not.
“A whole flock of birds flew out carrying the Church’s banner from the cathedral, right? I can’t believe I didn’t get to see that…,” Hyland said, genuinely disappointed. “And all the stray dogs and pigs and chickens came from all over town to bless the event, didn’t they? You can find plenty of people making their animals do tricks on the street corners, but I’ve never seen anything so majestic before.”
“Lord Hyland, keep in mind how light my wallet got because of it.”
While that was an accurate account of what had happened, there were several layers to the truth.
To those who could see only the outermost layers, the tale went that the tax collectors had stood up for the orphans, and when the cathedral accepted them, a miracle occurred thanks to God’s blessing.
Those who peeled a layer back thought that Eve had paid a sum of money, scraping together some artists, and directed a miracle in order to calm the whole commotion down. That was the explanation they had given the royals, including Hyland. They did that because there was a need to hide the true identity of Myuri and the others like her and, more importantly, to inform them it was not truly a miracle. They would be needing the Church to fight and fix their evildoings in the near future. They would be getting their priorities backward if the Church hesitated to fight because they were reeling from a divine miracle.
And peeling back the last layer showed the innermost story.
Myuri had called on the stray dogs to gather the other animals, and when Sharon received a letter from one of the dogs, she agreed to take a chance on the silly display, gathered the birds, and directed the miracle.
After the banner flew out from the cathedral over the people gathered there with weapons and torches, Clark and Yagine emerged, permit in hand. Clark publicly received the permit from Yagine, and then he handed it over to Sharon.
While everyone stood there in bewilderment, aside from a few key players, they forcibly overwrote and imbued new meaning into the whole situation.
The cathedral had accepted the tax collectors’ petition, and God had granted them all his mercy.
There was a grand and sturdy front, one that had nothing to do with the politics of the Kingdom or anything like that, but it was all for the innocent children whom God would surely save as long as they followed his teachings.
And then, after the cathedral bells rang, a single white dove flew down and landed on Sharon’s shoulder.
The city council soldiers, still without a clue as to what was going on, fell to the ground to grovel because they interpreted it as God’s wi
ll.
Or perhaps it was a way for them to placate themselves as they were bewildered by the awesome happenings around them.
“I guess I’m saddened most by the fact the Twilight Cardinal’s name wasn’t loudly associated with this.” Hyland’s tone was joking.
All Col had done was think up the way to do it, and he had not been officially present.
But he needed to lend a hand so that the new monastery could get off the ground.
“And you’re really not taking on the job?” Hyland looked at him with sad eyes, and Col failed to find words. “I know Clark and Sharon and the rest want you to.”
“No, I’m still not suited for such a thing yet. I’m only receiving their support in the end.”
Clark would be the abbot of the new monastery, and Sharon, who would be headmaster of the new orphanage, had asked Col to take on the role of prior.
The foundation of the new monastery would be built with Eve’s money, Hyland’s land, and the cathedral’s permit, but it was obvious to all that it stood in a delicate position between the Kingdom and the Church.
They needed someone who could act as the keystone, so they would not be so easily exploited.
They decided that would be the name of the Twilight Cardinal, but he firmly turned down the offer to be appointed the monastery’s prior.
Instead, they settled on him receiving support from the monastery for his aspirations to walk the theological path.
He had made a promise that he would gift a copy of the common-language translation of the scripture in the place of a relic in order to attract worshippers and their donations.
With that in their possession, the monastery’s authority would grow, and many priests would come to consult it.
“And even with the scripture, I think I am being overestimated. The translation is not because of anything I’ve done alone but rather the result of the cooperation among many high-ranking clergymen here in the Kingdom.”
“You need people to read your writings. The passages you wrote are pretty popular here in Rausbourne.”
It was Clark who had spread them around…which meant that he had nowhere to run.
He would have to stay uncomfortable like this for a little while longer.
Wolf & Parchment: New Theory Spice & Wolf, Vol. 4 Page 27