act42side

As for the Summit of Nations... they just announced the final event of the whole deal—some 'Nativity' ceremony in that shrine.

Are you telling me they built a building big enough to be seen from any corner of Laterano, not as a dessert museum, but to put on some kind of LIVE BIRTHING SHOW?!

'You have corroborated the anomaly of your home with your own eyes, as you had hoped.'

'As you can see, this is not the Laterano you know.'

It's not like I could just trust you blindly. You're just an 'electronic confessor', after all.

But now, I believe you.

There's something REALLY wrong with Laterano. And the worst part is, nobody thinks anything's wrong at all!

'The shrine, and the ceremony. If all the anomalies are centered around the two of them...'

Then it's on us to bomb them, isn't it?

If I figured out how to blow up a shrine that big using only common household items, shouldn't every university in Laterano give me a lifetime achievement award?

'As long as you reawaken their love of explosions.'

Can you believe it? The Laterans need someone to remind them that they love explosions? Sounds like a nightmare, doesn't it? Shouldn't take more than an afternoon at the Firearms Workshop to do the job.

Oh yeah! The Firearms Workshop! The workshops may be closed, but the people are still around!

'One moment, Exusiai.'

I know what you're gonna say. It's too dangerous. Firearms Workshop is the first place they would look if anything happened, right?

Don't worry, I'll be careful. You do the same, and don't get yourself taken apart. That's my job, once this is all over and done with.

Anyway... Welcome to Laterano!

My investigation is now concluded. Thank you all for your contributions.

We can go back to the Seventh Tribunal once we've signed off on the paperwork. If the refreshments at the welcome ceremony haven't gone stale yet, may I count on your assistance in eliminating them with extreme prejudice?

I would like you to accompany me to see the gun-knights, Amos.

I...

Is there a problem?

If by 'gun-knights' you mean Reverend Patrizion, I... I'll ask Joshua to accompany you.

Explain.

There was an incident a decade ago, when a nomadic abbey was escorting prisoners back to Laterano. A terrible fight broke out between a gun-knight and her cohort...

By the time the Curia sent someone, much blood had been spilled, and the gun-knight had fallen.

She was exiled from Laterano and has not been heard from since.

I've heard of the case.

That gun-knight was my wife. It was Reverend Patrizion who led the clean-up task force and exiled her.

You've been with the Seventh Tribunal far longer than I have, Conclavist Amos. I don't need to remind you of our duty, and the duty of the gun-knights—

No, no, you misunderstand.

My wife was entirely at fault.

Any Sankta who raises their patron firearm against one of their own must be judged by the Law and be expelled from Paradise.

I am in no position to criticize Reverend Gun-Knight Patrizion... however, I can't bring myself to see him like this either.

Is this how you've handled any previous dealings with the gun-knights?

I... yes. I'm sorry.

...*sigh*.

I-I'm very sorry. Give me five minutes, I'll try to collect myself, and maybe I can go with you...

I don't mean to reprimand you. I just think that this is part of what we do at the Seventh Tribunal.

We spend our time seeing people we don't want to see, and not seeing the people we want to see. Or worse—seeing the people we want to see in the worst ways possible.

I hated handing down instructions to Mostima and the others.

But they said you volunteered to join the Seventh Tribunal...

Because there's a lot I can do here.

The same goes for you, Amos.

Thank you. But I don't really have aspirations. It was like that when my wife was around, and even more so after she left...

There's a lot at the Seventh Tribunal that needs doing. For example, there are still several Firearms Workshops that need attention.

It's our first priority right now. The seizure of the Firearms Workshops must proceed without a hitch in order to prevent any more explosions.

I'll leave it to you. Be quick, won't you?

Are you tired?

You've gone through six rows of wheat with your sickle since dawn. Perhaps you should take a break by the haystacks.

Arturia.

I'm not so frail. Besides...

Besides?

Nothing. I just wanted to see where the fields end.

I can't make out the boundary. Even my music can't penetrate it.

You'll have to work harder!

We meet again, Sister Hildegard.

Good afternoon, Arturia.

I brought your lunch—bread, some ice cream crackers, and a large mug of craft beer!

Thank you. Work harder, you said?

What I mean is, there's plenty for us to do.

Look at the golden stalks, the undulating waves of wheat... it's another bumper harvest in Laterano.

Setting aside our own food stocks, Landen Monastery will be able to put twice as much grain as usual into cystymilk bread and craft beer this year. It'll be a good source of income!

Why are you laughing?

The way you talk about life makes me appreciate this prison even more, Sister Hildegard.

The respect you show for this prison makes me appreciate you even more, Arturia.

I'm very curious about your transgression. I heard the other nuns saying that your music is beautiful, but dangerous.

I have a question.

If I recall correctly, Landen Monastery was founded to protect the Pope and important clerics of the Lateran Church...

Which makes me wonder when this place became a prison.

Is it not protecting... er, important clerics and the peace of Laterano, to put certain individuals of note under observation?

The significance of Landen Monastery has never changed.

Besides, the more important the monastery is to the Holy City, the less likely we will fall insolvent.

Hm...

How did you acclimate to this place so quickly as a Liberi?

What do you mean?

I grew up here.

...I see.

Oh, I almost forgot. This is what you requested yesterday.

Gratias.

What made you want to read <i>The Saints' Travels</i> all of a sudden?

Arturia gazes into the distance.

Behind her, the worn image of the monastery; before her, a golden sea of wheat. The wheat field runs to the edge of the Holy City, and seems to extend infinitely into the distance.

The breeze blowing through the wheat makes nary a sound. Laterano seems to slumber.

Penance, of course. What other reason might a prisoner have?

Firearms Workshop, Via Borgos, Pagus Faber

Hello...? Anybody home?

Sculptures of saints line the walls of the small workshop, acting as makeshift display shelves, exhibiting guns to would-be customers in impossible arrangements.

But Amos does not see a single customer. No one stops at the door to the workshop, except for himself. His first feeling is that the whole place seems cold and cheerless.

Not even the proprietor is present. Gazing on the dim light cast upon the sculptures, his second feeling is one of eeriness.

Senior Paganini? Are you in?

(Why would a gunsmith have such an absurd name?)

Amos looks around, then bumps into something.

He looks around and finds himself staring into a pair of massive, luminous eyes that peer straight at him from the shadows.

Eek—

Who are you, barging into my place like this—let me put my glasses on!

A functionary?

Sorry. I was taking a nap because there's been no business lately. I wasn't expecting an official visit.

I am Cardinal Aide Amos. I came to see that the handover of this Firearms Workshop is in order. And you are...?

I'm Paganini. The guy with the absurd name.