level_act42side_07_end

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.

I thought you said you didn't really have aspirations.

Cardi... Seniora. I didn't come to gloat. Our relationship was never cloak and dagger, was it?

Sorry.

But if you came to ask about Lemuel, I've already said this many times—I have no idea where she is.

It's something else that I want to ask about.

Did you sacrifice your career only to protect your sister? Or did you truly believe what she said...?

From the Nativity, to the Summit of Nations... something doesn't seem right about all that has been happening in Laterano lately. It's like we've come down with a sort of illness.

They're the same thing to me.

Th-There's something I want you to see.

Amos turns his terminal on and hands it to Lemuen.

What's this?

Application to join the Legati. I wanted to be a Legatus, and get assigned to Bolívar.

You want to leave Laterano? Why?

My wife and I...

We had a big fight and I left. When I came back, she had gone on a mission, dealing with Sarkaz raiders attacking caravans in the wilderness near Kazdel.

She's always been like that, never listening to people. It was winter. I figured she wouldn't be back until spring, and I was thinking about doing something to make up for my leaving...

You know the rest about what happened to her. Fallen, exiled, et cetera.

It was convenient that the Seventh Tribunal was responsible for national security and foreign relations. It took a long time, but I finally found out where she went. I thought...

I understand.

What do you mean, though, when you said something didn't feel right?

The selection standards for Legati are extremely high. A man of my ability didn't really have much hope... so the application sat in my draft box for a long time, until...

You approved your own application when you were created cardinal of the Seventh Tribunal?

Y-Yes.

Reverend Patrizion said all I needed was an opportunity when he informed me of my imminent creation...

I'm sure he meant something else, but this is all I could think of.

However, the moment I approved the application, it just... vanished. No notice of rejection, no record to be found anywhere.

It just disappeared from my terminal, l-like it never existed.

There was no way the application would have gone through. I would not be allowed to resign my cardinalate and become a Legatus so quickly.

Besides, all the Legati have been recalled to Laterano. I wouldn't be able to go and see Aurela, even if I really did become one.

For me, approving the application wasn't even about making up for anything... it was just a small, insignificant comfort.

Who would want to wipe away such a small comfort?

For me... that was enough to make me question if this Laterano is real.

Maybe... your sister was right.

Have you told anyone else?

N-No. I couldn't sleep last night... you were the only one I could talk to about this.

This isn't some newfangled interrogation technique, is it, Cardinal Amos?

You can trust me, Seniora Lemuen.

We both have things that truly matter to us. Few things.

An interesting point, Senior Amos.

By the way, there's an even bigger Nativity scheduled at the Shrine of Nurtury today.

'We prepare for death all our lives.'

Even in a place like Rocamarea, where everything is washed out by tides of plague and famine, an old man may lick his parched lips and say something to the effect before his eyes close forever.

Words as old as time, as they say. To some, they are an eulogy to wishes unfulfilled; to others, an utterance free of regret. But there is a common premise between the two—

Death is the conclusion to life.

(Looks up in confusion)

(Flaps wings anxiously)

Indeed, child, your mother will answer no more.

...She has died.

(Soft chirp)

The mother has breathed her last. Andoain gently closes her eyes.

The fledgling leans over. He is trembling, even the sheen of his hide darkened. Andoain places him on his own knee and looks into his eyes.

The fledgling's voice is mumbled. Andoain does not speak the language of beasts, but he can feel sorrow, like a current running beneath the calm surface—the fledgling's and his own.

Death is accompanied by new birth. When your mother knew that her own life was beyond saving, she chose to leave the hope of life to you.

She used her last strength, and succeeded.

This is your first lesson.

(Soft chirp)

Rocamarea, the town with the clock tower, the abbey in the wilderness, and now... I've experienced many such moments, and now I have another. Each experience brings deeper insight.

All walk toward the inevitable end. That is why the continuity of meaning is so precious.

Death is a parting.

A gift from the departed to the living, the beginning of the living's own salvation.

Do not fear, child.

Lament and remember... I will do so with you.

I will stay outside and leave her funeral to you, Andoain.

What of the Matriarch?

She is indisposed, preparing for the Nativity to bestow halos upon all the non-Sankta here... she sends her apologies.

No matter.

We have grown accustomed to welcoming new life with ceremony, while funerals are always simple... Tell the Matriarch that it will be a little while before I return to duty.

Are you alright?

The mother's passing was sudden. The child is young, and unaccustomed to such sorrow. I must stay by his side.

No, it's you the Matriarch is worried for.

What do you mean?

Matriarch said she and you had been with this mother for a long time. She understands the sorrow in your heart.

You are a thinker. Every journey gives you inspiration, but also fatigue.

As for the child... he is a miracle. He has the strength to emerge from darkness.

The Matriarch wishes me to tell you that no new life in Laterano will ever succumb to calamity nor sorrow.

They will be born equal, they will be brave, and they will be strong... Laterano will see to it.

Andoain feels the fledging arborbeast push against his arm. He wants to calm him down, but the fledgling pushes his hand away and spreads his wings.

The fledgling takes flight, landing on a comfort bell in the middle of the room, making a pleasant sound.

Andoain watches in confusion. He has worn a halo for decades, yet his eyes still struggle to adjust to the fledgling's dazzling light.

(Flaps wings forcefully)

(Loud cry)

He has been with the fledgling day and night. He knows what these movements mean.

The fledgling is inviting him to play.

The Nurturer, who can never turn down a child, stands stunned.

He wants to communicate his sorrow, decline this incomprehensible invitation in the most tactful way possible.

But eventually, he steps up and takes the young arborbeast's claw, dancing a waltz in the middle of the empty room along to the comfort bells.

The arborbeast's excited cries echo throughout the room. His feathers shine bright under the halo, showing its sheen unreservedly in the spinning circles.

Their steps grow quicker, and Andoain looks toward the body of the deceased mother, trying to ascertain his own emotions. Then he realizes with a start—

He is no longer sad.

He is joyful as the fledgling, he is beautiful as the fledgling, he sings and dances for the future with a heart full of hope, just like the fledgling.

Their spinning steps draw beautiful circles on the ground and in the air.

Is... is this...

Is this what Sankta means?

Only the instinct to avoid pain...

But no right to sorrow and mourning?

Is this the Sankta? Is this the miracle of life?!

Nobody answers his hysterical call. His Matriarch is bestowing halo after halo upon the people in the Hall of Enlightenment.

He alone stops in his tracks. He recalls a funeral, one that should not exist in his memory.

A field of irises. A child. Cruel but sincere confessions and prayers. Ringing of bells.

Still no answer?

Hey, Aurela?

You don't believe me, you listen for yourself.

Ouch! The sound hurts my ears... it's just noise! I can't make out anything!

What's going on, Aurela?

You're asking me?

You're a gun-knight. Were, at least. You know more about these things than we do.

You said it yourself, I <i>was</i> a gun-knight.

The static is bad enough. You wanna add to the noise, and I know plenty of ways to shut you up.

Sister...

Don't be afraid, Hugo.

(Please, Aurela. The children are watching.)

(These Sanktas have come a long way after a terrible ordeal that left them with broken halos, and a heart full of fear, with no comfort in sight...)

The intercity net of Laterano has always been very stable, with dedicated personnel performing regular maintenance on communications equipment located in settlements outside the city.

This emergency communication post is only three kilometers from the Lateran City. If any one of them is still working, this would be it, but I've sent a dozen hails through the special channel with no response.

Is Laterano really done for? Hah.

Could you try a few more times, Aurela?

You look even more nervous than them.

Do I?

Nueda does not say more. A few children come over and grab the hem of her dress, staring forward with her.

The white walls of Laterano are already visible from this settlement. Impeccable as the clouds, it looks like the abode of a holy spirit who accidentally ventured into the mortal realm, a miracle that should not exist.

The pilgrims are but a stone's throw away. Dusty and tired, their broken halos and wings seem even darker in this wilderness.

The pilgrims have reached the end of their journey, but is it truly the end of their suffering?

That's it... Laterano...

Looks like the people in there can hardly even fend for themselves at this point. Get your things, we're going in.

You're right, we can't wait here forever. Let's go!

But if we enter the city without the Curia's permission...

Tell me, did we fallen sinners ever ask the Curia for permission when we decided to return?

Don't tell me you came back to repay Laterano's kindness. I'll put you first against the wall.

Stop.

You must not enter Laterano.

Look who we've got here. A Notarial Hall executor.

Are you Aurela?

You know who I am?

I looked you up in the Notarial Hall database after receiving your message.

Aurela, former citizen ID LC0073458, former captain of the Third Gun-Knights. You were tasked to escort a Lateran caravan through the northern wilderness in the winter of 1090, when you engaged a group of Sarkaz mercenaries in combat.

You completed your mission, but the nomadic abbey encountered a small-scale Catastrophe on your way back. The Sarkaz prisoners attempted an insurrection and were executed on the spot, by you.

When a fellow gun-knight attempted to record the events truthfully in a mission report, you threatened your cohort with a gun in order to hide your excessive use of force.

In the chaos that ensued, you killed your cohort, resulting in you being stripped of citizenship and exiled from Laterano for life.

And what of it, Senior Executor? Are you trying to remind me that Laterano will never forget my sins?

Look at the hundreds of people here. Some are fallen angels who were exiled like me, some are errari who left the Holy City for different reasons...

Some of them have never even seen the Holy City, growing up in a cesspit like Bolívar, yet still believing in the tenets of Laterano...

Have you not seen their halos? Are they fallen, or are they sick? They've crossed mountains and rivers to come here, for an explanation, for any comfort they can find.

And all the Lateran does is send a single executor to stop us from entering?!

More and more errari Sanktas gather, surrounding Federico, pointing their weapons at him.

You'll keep us out because we left Laterano for too long and forgot how to live like other Sanktas?

The Law punishes sinners, but what sin did I commit when all I did was live twenty honest years in Leithanien?

If the Law is that cruel, then it's not us who should be punished. It's you—you and your cohorts, tuskbeasts of the Law!

I fell because you punished an innocent man! You've never used your power for good!

Federico watches the crowd quietly.

The street lamps have lit at an inopportune time, casting eerie colors upon their faces. Fear, anxiety, anger, confusion, panic... all these emotions come together to twist their visages.

Their hands tremble as they hold their weapons. The tension is palpable in the air.

Federico is confident he can take out their leader quickly and suppress the rest by force, bringing the situation under control.

He has always done so. It has always worked.

Federico is an outstanding executor. He has been with the Notarial Hall for eight years. He knows what he is doing.

This is his third year as a saint. Other than a burnt flower and a few chance acquaintances, there is no one to guide him or instruct him.

Slowly, he moves his hand away from the gun at his belt—making sure the tense crowd sees it—while his eyes never leave them.

I did not come to repeat the judgment that Laterano once passed upon you.

I am not here as a representative of the Notarial Hall, the Curia, nor any other official Lateran organ.

The reason you must not enter Laterano is because the city is currently affected by anomalies beyond comprehension. Your presence may cause the situation to further deteriorate.

I will explain, but I need time.

Arturia? You should not leave the Holy City.

Don't worry, I met the Doctor... and I am here on the Doctor's instructions.

The Doctor's discovery confirms our hypothesis. All of Laterano is caught up in some kind of dream, but the anomalies in the dream are being reflected in reality.

A calamity has descended on the entire city.

...Like the Kargereich invasion of Zwillingstürme, after the disintegration of the Witch King's Pavillon?

Maybe. I don't fully understand it myself. But there is no doubt that millions of Laterans are being caught in a struggle between reality and illusion, and we need help.

The violators and errari...

A chance dissonance is often the beginning of an interesting variation.

I concur with the Doctor.

However, if the calamity has engulfed all of Laterano, they are likely to enter the dream the moment they enter the city.

That's why I came looking for you. And I brought my cello.