act42side

Wait a moment, Senior Executor. So you never intended to bring Arturia back to Landen Monastery?

I never stated that I would.

Well, if you won't, I will!

There are certain things I must still ascertain with Arturia.

Now, now, Federico, it won't do to torment a poor nun like that.

Richele?

Did you have to run away so suddenly? All I did was joke around with you a little in front of that confessional.

What was the joke?

Uh, okay... anyway, I know this fugitive's a tough one, so I brought reinforcements.

Giving up my chance to witness the Nativity in the process. Aren't you touched?

I never requested assistance from the Notarial Hall.

I know, I know. You hardly ever work with the other executors.

You think I volunteered for this? Special orders, jointly issued by all seven tribunals of the Curia.

Pretty shocked when I got the orders... for a moment there, I thought Arturia had convinced you to commit treason.

I have no such intention, and she has no such power.

I have completed my assessment and determined that any risk to the Curia can be eliminated. You and your men may stand down now, Executor Richele.

Are you defying the special orders, Federico?

You have no authority to refuse.

My orders were to oversee Federico's apprehension of Arturia before the Nativity, and to bring both of you in, should there be any suspicious behavior.

Not so fast, Senior Executor.

Were you talking to me, Seniora Arturia?

Of course.

I've been sitting in that monastery ever since I got back. I think I would like to stretch my legs for a while longer still.

It's been more than a decade since I last saw night fall upon the Holy City... the view from this spot is remarkable.

So you're resisting arrest... Oh, I do so hate overtime.

Stay behind us, Sister Hildegard.

You do the honors, Federico. You've been on this criminal's case for years. No one knows her tricks better than you.

Looks like the Lateran has long had its eye on you, Fede.

Raise your gun. It won't be the first time.

Arturia stands at the edge of the roof. Federico has many questions, but he can see that her fingers are already touching the strings.

Behind her, Federico sees the Shrine of Nurtury, so tall he cannot see the top, and the infinite crowd meandering towards it.

Richele and his other colleagues stand behind him. Federico hears the sound of weapons being locked and loaded.

Tension runs high. It is as though he must prove something as executor.

There is no time to think. Federico raises his gun.

You have admitted to escaping confinement, Arturia. By the authority of the Lateran Notarial Hall, I am hereby reassessing your danger level and apprehension procedures.

You must fulfill your obligations as a Lateran citizen and work with us to resolve any threat to Laterano.

Without warning, the muzzle of Federico's gun flashes.

At the same time, music pours out of the cello, becoming one with the hymns emitting from the direction of the Shrine of Nurtury, drowning out the sounds on the roof.

Ugh—!

Federico! What are you doing?!

I shot at the building beside you. I did not strike any of you.

But... that hurts... <i>Mastigia!</i> I think a rock hit my head... am I bleeding?

Do you know what you've done, Federico...?

Yes, you are bleeding.

I will submit a detailed report once the incident is resolved.

...I will include a detailed explanation of the head injury you have suffered.

That was decisive, Senior Executor.

Now, how do you intend to handle all these unconscious people... what are you looking for?

Richele has an annual pass for the confessionals. They can deliver these people to a hospital.

Now, share your discoveries and work with me to resolve any dangers to Laterano.

It's just a guess.

You chased me all the way here, then got your cohorts out of the way. You've evidently arrived at the same theory I have.

It's almost time, Fede.

Perhaps the city itself will soon tell us exactly what has happened to it.

//换新的

I've never seen so many outsiders in Laterano.

That's for sure.

The last Summit of Nations didn't have enough guests to fill a single hotel.

Just about every cardinal in the Curia is here... it's so crowded. The air is even more awkward than the Basilica.

We're far enough on the edge, Mostima. We're like the cleaners standing against the wall of a casino.

Whatever this Nativity is, it's probably Andoain bringing out a Sankta kid who just learned to talk, so the Matriarch standing there gets to ceremonially polish the kid's halo...

All symbolic puff. We could be home watching <i>One-Armed Chainsaw Guy 2</i> instead.

Let's just think of it as watching Nurturer Andoain work.

Haven't you already said all that needs to be said to him?

My heart's been feeling twitchy for some reason...

Do you feel it, Mostima?

Yeah.

Fiammetta turns sideways. She has never seen such a serious expression on her friend's face.

I'm feeling nervous... no, anxious, fearful. It's excitement and expectation, and I don't know why...

I can't describe it. It's like my heartbeat isn't my own.

Is this empathy?

You're a fallen Angel and I'm a Liberi. Neither of us has the power. No, it's not just us...

Fiammetta scans the crowd, and is now certain that this heartbeat is not an illusion.

The emotions that she is feeling are written on every face in the crowd. Every heart present throbs to this beat, which does not belong to them.

...Look up.

What?

Comfort bells.

Fiammetta follows her friend's gaze.

All the doors and windows were closed when the Nativity began. Not so much as a breeze can get in.

But the comfort bells are swaying in time, the ones hanging in the Hall of Enlightenment with them, and the ones in the corridors leading to the nurseries. Yet they do not produce the chimes that they should.

A sort of medium... like the musical devices that Leithanians use.

If my guess is right, we're feeling the heartbeat of the mother who is giving birth.

It's exactly the same!

It's exactly the same as what I felt when I waited outside the delivery room when my wife gave birth!

I could feel the unfathomable pain, but she would not give up. Her emotions tugged at mine, and we both spoke the name that we had already decided...

'Bailey, Bailey...'

Lord above!

The mother fainted? She's too weak. The pain of birthing is more than she can take... i-it's not good!

My heart's about to leap out of my mouth.

She's not giving up...

Lord, Holy City Most Pure, have mercy on us.

Have mercy on us.

Have mercy on us.

So... this really is a form of... 'empathy'.

Comfort bells sway violently throughout the hall. The ever-shifting emotions in the irregular heartbeats tug at everyone's nerves.

No one knows who the mother is, what her name is, how old she is, where she came from... but everyone knows what she is experiencing. No one moves a single step.

The fragile newborn has not yet triumphed over death. The struggle to break through the shell of ignorance seems eternal. Inside the Shrine of Nurtury, thousands of people experience a childbirth together—

Such clear empathy should never have existed in Laterano.

After a long, long time...

The heartbeat begins to weaken, until all is silent.