act42side

If I had a halo, I'd be able to tell what that metal heart of yours was feeling when you kicked Gia out of Laterano!

I know you blame me for that.

Glad to know that you know.

Maybe things would've gone better for you, if that hadn't happened.

Over centuries of Lateran history, many have tried to recreate the terrifying high-caliber revolving antique gun that the ancient tomes described... only you succeeded.

That design, which assumed the user could withstand a recoil five times that of an ordinary gun, was the work of a genius... or a madman.

Oh, are you bragging about being born to be a gun-knight? After all, you successfully tested my design before ever putting on a suit of armor.

I just thought we were born to be partners. You and I and Gia were always the best of friends, from primary school through university.

But my first official mission as a gun-knight was to exile Gia from Laterano...

After that, you gave up gunsmithing for the Apostolic Knights, opened a workshop somewhere I didn't know about, and now...

I decided to retire, alright? You and your <i>vappa</i> 'Shrine of Gunsmithing'. What use did you Sankta have for me, if you treat gunsmithing like making potato chips?

It's a crime to be non-Sankta, is it? Gia got exiled, I get to have a halo put on me... the Liberi aren't allowed to live in Laterano the way we are now, are we?

The thing with Gia had nothing to do with being Liberi. Even if she was Sankta, the Lateran wouldn't allow someone with Oripathy—

You don't know shit!

'Lateran order' and 'Lateran purity' again? How many times d'you think I've heard that garbage from you?

Do you really believe in it yourself? <i>Somnias! Dormis!</i> How could you, if you've thought even once about how Gia died out there, alone?

I admit, I did believe in it, Patrizion. Until that day...

We got hangovers together, played with guns together, cried and laughed together. No one in Laterano could clink glasses like we could.

But when I saw Gia disappear into the wilderness, and you just turned around and went back to Laterano the way you did, that was when I realized...

We never actually shared a damned thing.

The halo is not a bad thing, Sister Hildegard. It's Laterano's blessing on us.

I know.

From the earliest nomads who followed the burdenbeasts, the Liberi had always learned from the Sankta, from their ways of living, to their ways of thinking.

The Liberi long for a better life, and they long to be part of the Holy City. We understand that.

I know.

I told that history to Arturia not so long ago.

But there is only one thing the Liberi can never learn from the Sankta—the halo.

That is why certain conflicts between the Sankta and other races living in Laterano have lingered to this day.

Unable to take part in Sankta empathy, you are troubled by doubts about your faith. You suspect Laterano of being indifferent, of alienation...

To help with Landen Monastery's finances, you were away from Laterano for a long time, Sister Hildegard. That is why your may not have sufficient understanding of this situation.

You can ask your fellow Liberi...

I know.

I know how many outsiders who live here envy your empathy.

That is why we will now share it with everyone. There be no more misunderstandings or differences. We will truly understand one another, and eliminate the conflicts and barriers between us.

The Liberi will become a truly inseparable part of Laterano.

I just feel sad.

What?

I grew up in this city. I know where one can find the best desserts, which alleys have cloudbeasts that have a special taste for pumpkins, which buildings have rooftops perfect for stargazing.

At Landen Monastery, I made beer and bread with the Sankta sisters, traveled to other countries to solicit sponsors, and got completely plastered whenever we came back...

I took pictures of how their wings went through the backs of their chairs when sleeping, and they played lullabies in the chapel when I sneaked out, so that the abbot would sleep a little longer.

I remember that!

Actually, the abbot knew. He just didn't want to scold you.

I'm a Lateran. I like this place. I love it very much.

You're right that I often find myself on the outside looking in. I don't know why the Sanktas who had been crying a moment ago start laughing and singing at their cohorts' funerals.

But...

My father was a hunter. Every winter, he would go into the mountains with his friends to hunt.

He told me that even hunters who have hunted together for decades can have different ideas when they see the same quarry. They sometimes even fight over it.

Everyone is different. That has nothing to do with whether or not we have a halo.

But you tell me I won't truly become a Lateran until I have a halo.

Do you mean to say that I wasn't a true Lateran for the past twenty years?

Has my entire life been a poor imitation?

It has, Sister Hildegard, but you should not see that as a rejection of you or any other Liberi.

It is simply a necessity for the acceptance of Laterano.

I don't care about rejection or acceptance.

I just don't think there's anything wrong with my life.

And I don't see a reason why I have to accept this so-called 'blessing'.

Laterano has already made a decision, Sister Hildegard.

It was the first time I experienced a parting, Pag.

It... wasn't a good feeling.

I guess that was when my life started to go off the rails.

It's like those popcorn movies, you know. The <i>Chainsaw Guy</i> series, or <i>The Bridges of Michaelion.</i>

First Gia, then you, then my finest student. I exiled her from Laterano personally.

I worry, too, about Fia...

What, you're worried that your dear granddaughter might run away and you'll die alone?

You all had your issues. I tried to do something, but never actually helped anyone.

Hmph.

Did you really try, or are you just lying to yourself to feel better?

Maybe both.

But there's something you got wrong. I support the idea of halos for everyone, not only because I want to protect the 'order' and 'purity' of the Holy City...

You're making Laterano sound awfully racist by putting it this way.

A Laterano where everyone shares the halo will truly become one and whole. We'll be able to solve the unimaginable calamity that threatens all of Terra.

It'll also solve all the other problems we've been having, including...

Anyway, I think that's enough sharing for now.

<i>Deo gratias!</i> Thank God that's over.

Hearing all that garbage from you again is making me sick to my stomach.

Go on in, Pag.

And if I say no?

I don't want that light show you've got on your head. And I've got no interest in studying your honorable motives.

Paganini levels his gun at the gun-knight.

Just give it a minute.

What do you mean?

You're a genius gunsmith, Pag, but you're a Liberi.

You can't use the guns you make. They're just your calling cards.

If you're really that furious with me, give it until the ceremony, then you can put a bullet in me.

Once you have a halo, you'll be able to use it—

Paganini smashes the gun against the knight's armor. Pieces fly in all directions, and the broken gun stock makes a dull thud as it hits the ground in the distance, echoing throughout the corridor.

Go on in, Pag.

Legatus Mostima. 'Overseer' Fiammetta.

Your contribution to Laterano is much appreciated. Now, kindly come this way...

To the nurseries already filled to the brim?

The ceremony is about to begin. The Matriarch will first enlighten the Liberi who have lived in Laterano for many years. Then, the broken halos and wings of the fallen angels will be repaired.

Quickly now. I will lead the way...

Heh.

Come in.

Cardinal Lemuen...

I'm afraid you'll have to find another way to address me now.

And I was under the impression that the Curia wasn't letting anyone visit me. Isn't that right?

I put in a report.

I was only just created. It's only natural that I would seek my predecessor's advice.

Haha. You've adapted quickly, Cardinal Amos.