level_act42side_01_end

Have you checked all the intersections?

Yes, Your Eminence. We didn't find any suspicious individuals.

We also interviewed potential witnesses nearby, but at this time we have no concrete leads.

Mushrooms might spring up on a wet pillar by themselves, but bombs don't, do they?

Huh... how could they?

With the exception of public officers of the Curia and the Shrine of Nurtury, anyone who is in possession of explosives is subject to surveillance by the Notarial Hall.

It's been years since an unplanned gunshot last rang out in Laterano, never mind an explosion.

Lemuen bends down and retrieves a bomb fragment from the damaged pillar.

It's pretty sophisticated. If a bomb like this was filled with standard explosives, the blast would have damaged far more than just one pillar.

Do you mean it was homemade? But why? A practical joke?

The Lateran Arms Control List was compiled by the Curia's extremely experienced explosives experts. Pretty much anything that could possibly cause a good-sized explosion is on there.

It would take considerable effort to assemble a bomb like this using materials not on the list. No one would do this for a whimsical practical joke.

Besides, today is no ordinary occasion. The second Summit of Nations is underway.

Lemuen recalls the streak of red. She feels a bit of unease, and even more perplexity.

Get me the files on recent movements around Via Jovita... correction, all of Pagus Stevonus.

What is it?

Files that are clearly relevant to the case at hand should have been retrieved the moment we received our orders.

There you are!

(Pats chest) *pant*... *pant*...

Forgive me, Cardinal Lemuen. Here are the files you requested.

My name is Amos, I'm an investigator with the Seventh Tribunal. I will be serving as your aide and conclavist.

You're late, Amos.

Patrizion said you'd be here approximately ten minutes after I arrived at the scene. Here we are, thirty minutes later.

I'm so sorry, I was preparing refreshments for the welcome ceremony. I didn't think it would be so urgent...

(Shhh—)

I assume you've heard about me, if the Seventh Tribunal appointed you as my aide.

L-Lemuen the Silent...

I tolerate no excuses.

Want some ice cream, Federico? This one's on me.

I am not in the habit of enjoying dessert in the middle of a mission.

Besides, I already partook before leaving the Notarial Hall.

So it was <i>you</i> who took the last cup from the lounge...

How about you tell me why you rushed out of the Notarial Hall in such a hurry? Reward for me solving that case, so to speak.

You've been standing at this intersection for ten minutes, but there's nothing here.

I am under no obligation to share my private affairs with colleagues.

You said you were in the middle of a mission...

What's that sound...?

Oh—you were waiting for a confessional!

You've certainly accumulated your fair share of 'sins' as the executor with the highest rate of complaints at the Notarial Hall, but it's still a huge surprise to see you proactively seeking confession.

Here.

What?

I expensed the cost of a City of Gold Blind Box on that field mission to Sargon, which resulted in my reimbursements being twice as much as what was actually spent on mission costs...

I went out my door with shame weighing on my heart... and spotted a confessional driving by... Anyway, long story short, I got myself an annual pass. You can borrow it.

Arrival announcement.

Automated Confessional ELCARO-001 is arriving at this station. Please line up to enjoy confessional services.

'May all who are lost find salvation.'

The confessional enters their view, and Federico reaches out.

Hahahahahaha!

Even a robot knows you don't have any emotional needs, Federico.

Virtually every Lateran comes into contact with confessionals in the course of their everyday lives. In a way, these machines hold more diverse and comprehensive data than that stored in the Notarial Hall.

They form natural archives, revealing abnormalities.

...I have arrived at certain conclusions.

Hm... one second, Federico. You don't have to share your conclusions, but could you at least explain what you're looking for?

Self-reflection is part of the daily studies of the faithful. As an extension of the Church, there are almost as many confessionals in the Holy City as there are dessert carts.

These mobile public facilities roam the streets and alleys of Laterano, ensuring that citizens' emotional relief is always immediately available.

In the tiny, private space, among the holy sculptures, guns, and pleasant music, a penitent may spill their guts to the electronic confessor.

Sins could range from the shame of consuming too much sugar, to the crime of betraying one's kin or bringing harm to one's people.

After rejecting Federico, the automated confessional ELCARO-001 stops in an alley, opening its door to allow a mysterious guest to enter.

'You're late, Exusiai.'

You were the one who told me to be careful.

I made sure I didn't have a tail on my butt, and you didn't give that stone-faced guy a chance to fiddle with anything.

'He may have observed something abnormal about me.'

Let's pray he doesn't catch you and tear you apart, piece-by-piece.

What is it?

'You changed your clothes.'

Of course I did. A Penguin Logistics uniform is way too conspicuous for Laterano.

I designed this outfit myself. I've only worn it once, at my graduation!

And it's YOU we should be talking about. Do you know how weird it is to hear your voice come out of a confessional's speakers?

'Back on topic. The experiment failed?'

I hate to admit it... but yes.

It took so much effort to find the replacement materials—the market, the bakery, the playground, the school's secret shop... I went through every single source I could think of.

And it didn't even blast the pillar in two! Any material that's even halfway decent is restricted, and no one could give an answer when I asked why.

It's not because of this 'Summit of Nations', right?

If anyone in Laterano thought the beautiful sight and sound of an explosion would be any threat to the Summit of Nations, then it's not me with the problem, it's Laterano!

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?