act26side

Eileen loved the sight of it. So did Gerald.

Many were scared to talk to the Sarkaz. But they got along a lot better after the first bloom season.

People realized that the cruel and warlike Sarkaz would stop to take a look when they passed by the flowerbeds. They would take a flower or two to put in their homes.

They weren't fearsome desperados. They were no different from us.

There is one here.

Ah, you mean the one beneath the statue.

I saw it. It was lucky to lie beneath the statue when it fell.

But it's not the one I wanted.

Why?

Look at it. Don't you see?

It may have hid itself beneath the statue, but its stem is broken, and its petals are burned.

But it's still here.

Is it?

I used to believe there were things that would survive, no matter the adversity. You may laugh, but I truly did.

Life wasn't easy, but all was good.

Amita Nina would make snacks for the kids when she has the time.

Have you ever heard of herb pizzelle?

Amita Nina and Hyman made them from a Lateran recipe using Sarkaz herbs. A dessert that everyone loved, one that belonged to this abbey, and this abbey alone.

Amita Nina used to say that tasting bitter fruit is all well and good, but the children should grow up knowing more than bitterness.

They should know what sweetness tastes like.

I will commit this dessert to memory.

Ha. It's not important. We forgot the taste of sweetness a long time ago.

No one makes pizzelle anymore.

I find myself curious at times.

If Sankta weren't so special, if everyone in Laterano was mundane, normal, insignificant as I am...

Would the Holy City still look the same?

Would Laterano be Laterano?

...I don't know.

That's a shame.

Clément...

Do you no longer have faith? Have your beliefs changed?

I was just made to see reality.

Things are not as immutable as people think. Testing them only harms them.

One little flaw, one little imperfection, one tiny, little wound, and it's broken beyond repair.

Like the flower you found.

The flower I'm looking for is no longer here.

It's almost time for Matins. I should go.

Goodbye, Senior Federico.

Federico Giallo stands alone in the morning light of the sacrarium.

The marks left behind by the flames have already been scrubbed away. Deprived of its furnishings, the sacrarium feels empty, with only the sound of footsteps to fill it.

Federico is an outstanding Executor. He has been with the Notarial Hall for six years, carrying out his duties with excellence.

But this is his first year as a saint. There is no one to guide him or instruct him.

The silent saint picks up the broken and burned flower.

The statue protected it from the flames. It was a miracle that it survived the fire.

But this miracle is worthless in the eyes of another.

The flower is still here.

But it is not the one he wanted?

Wounds beyond repair...

I don't understand.

Would Laterano still be Laterano?

Insufficient data to reach a conclusion.

Executor Federico realizes with a start—

Clément's expression was too calm.

He did not mention Gerald's death, nor the arrangements of the other Sarkaz.

What about himself?

Words without action have no power. That is why he did not say he would find out the truth.

Nor did he say he would fulfill Gerald's last request.

Federico gazes at the broken flower before his eyes.

He has a feeling—

A feeling that, someday, he will find the answer to all his questions in this flower.

Mm—uh—

Morning, Sara... it's time to wake up...

Mm... mmm... zzz...

Eren! Wake up, Eren!

Mamma came back yesterday!

Huh?!

She came back? Where is she?

It must be her! Look—

A new blanket from Mamma? It's a little torn...

But there are pictures of circles on it! And people with wings! Like what Mamma promised us!

Who cares if it's a little torn? Mamma's clothes are torn too. We have to be good.

I know, I know.

Let's go and find Senior Federico!

Can we play with Senior Federico today?

No, silly, we're going to tell Senior Federico that Mamma came back to see us last night, so he doesn't need to worry!

Hey, wing-man.

I'm talking to you! Hey, come back!

Assuming that 'wing-man' is an epithet for Sankta, there are multiple individuals who fit the name.

I'm talking to you. I know your name is Federico.

Very well.

You really know how to piss people off, don't you?

I don't have time for your crap.

That guy, Oren...

He said that Gerald, he... for us, for me and Fortuna...

Is it true? Is Gerald really—

Yes, Gerald is dead.

Now that you answered, I'm starting to wish you didn't.

I don't get it... how could it be...

...I'm sorry, but this is a fact.

Ha... what are you sorry about?

Bah...

Keep your distance, wing-man. Close your eyes. Don't look at me.

That thing on your head is way too bright. It hurts my eyes. I just need a second to adjust.

Very well.

Gerald gave you his knife. The choice was his. It's not my place to argue.

But I can't let you take it away.

You have to know what it means to take the weapon of a Sarkaz mercenary.

It means carrying on the legacy of his name.

Yes. That's why I'm going to take it back from you, along with Gerald's name, and his honor.

I challenge you.