story_cello_1_1

The wind rustles the branches in late autumn, the sound of a cello filling the forest matted by fallen leaves.

Amiya treks along to the cello's melodies. Her fist is loosely clenched, rings shimmering faintly beneath the sunlight filtering through the trees.

A black-haired Sankta is standing in a clearing in the forest, embracing her cello, ever so focused.

The sound of the cello continues to <i>flow</i>, uninterrupted by her arrival. A gentle sound.

Amiya stops, and her palms begin to loosen. Gradually, even the trees around her and the clouds above her begin to melt into the flowing stream, seemingly rippling through the sky, yet also around her feet.

Arturia.

You shouldn't just wander from your room as you please. Besides, today, there's a...

The Sankta woman lifts her gaze slightly. There is still a bit of distance separating the two of them, but Amiya is sure that the woman has seen her.

Amiya does not move, instead, the starlight and the waves reach out to embrace her. Across thousands of blurry scenes, countless figures intersect with her.

She feels as if she has become a book, and the cello's melodies a pair of hands, flipping through the deepest pages of her emotions.

Federico warned everyone to stay away from her music.

But, Amiya is not of the same mind.

She quietly takes a deep breath.

This is something only she can do. To touch the face beneath the veil of mystery, to reach Arturia.

Amiya, what are you looking at?

Huh?

Amiya turns when she hears the voice. At some point, a woman as pure as the moonlight approached, her eyes gentle as always.

Amiya sees herself reflected in the eyes of the woman before her–

Sitting in the corner of the deck with her arms tightly hugging her knees, bangs loosely covering her eyes.

Amiya, you've been sitting on the deck all this time. What are you looking at?

Um, the sun is about to set.

One of the nice men from Engineering gave me a lolly. Theresa, are you done with work?

Yes, I am. Are you thinking about your mom and dad?

Dad used to carry me up to the roof of the work shed after he came back from his Engineering work.

It got pretty cold after the sun went down, but Dad's shoulders were really thick, so we could stay there for a long time.

I remember the stars coming out one by one, until filled up the night sky...

But now, the Doctor is with me. Dr. Kal'tist is with me too, and so are you.

Every now and then... it makes me... miss Mom and Dad a bit less.

The Doctor said that in this last year of sailing the land, you were the motivating factor.

It's very fortunate that the Doctor saved you. I'm also glad that Rhodes Island was able to become your home.

Mhm.

Perhaps, death is not the most profound goodbye. But, it is the most cruel, impossible to turn back.

Yet, you have faced it bravely.

You may have to endure more goodbyes in the future. But remember, goodbye is not the end.

You will feel. You will connect. You will live on. You will become the place where everything meets. You... will become the future.

...Mm.

Where do you plan to go next?

I'm going back.

I... Thank you so much.

But, I can't stay here any longer.

The memory of Theresa becomes blurry.

The Lord of Fiends grants illusions unto others. The Lord of Fiends also passes down memories and Arts, as well as emotions and knowledge.

But, Amiya has never delved deeply into herself.

Like a pair of mirrors. Amiya throws open the transparent door.

...and on the other side of the door is a lawn.

It has just rained, and a pleasant scent wafts through the air. A small church stands silent not too far away––

All the guests have already left, leaving only a young Sankta standing in front of a tombstone.

She stands there in silence, water droplets still clinging to her cheeks. She cannot tell if they are rain or tears.

So, Arturia, is 'death' the theme of this song?

You're suffering. But, look. It took a long time, and meeting a lot of people, to not be so sad when I think of my parents.

But, you're not just sad. There's also confusion... and anger?

Directed at who? The guests who turned their backs and left? Or, 'death' itself?

Yet, Arturia does not truly see her. The young Sankta stands in the shadows of the past.

Mamma, how much courage did it take for you to take that brave step?

How could death pluck your life from you so quickly?

Why does death turn human bodies into empty husks? Why is it so easy to make all those complex, profound emotions disappear without a trace?

Why are we but wisps of clouds?

So free, so beautiful, yet gone whenever the wind blows?

It turns all our effort to make up for past regrets into new regrets.

And you shouldn't have... you didn't need to die.

Cora, you didn't need to die.

There were so many chances for you to leave before the Empresses' celebration began.

Arturia, you had so many chances to tell me your feelings, in Marigold Alley, at Ludwigs-Universität, even at the theater in front of the spire.

Did you not know how to express them? Even though you know that I understand your music.

I tried telling Viviana, hoping that she would discover your existence through the clues left in the Güldenesgesatz.

But, even she...

I don't want to change the decision that you made, nor can I.

That's right. In fact, you know better than anyone that I passed on with no regrets.

The one with regrets... is you, isn't it?

I'll always remember our first meeting, at Lehrer Emmanuel's funeral, beneath the sunset in front of the imperial spires...

I helped tune your cello, and you told me about the people you had met and things you had experienced.

I couldn't see your face clearly, but I could hear the stirring sounds of your cello.

You shared with me your regrets, as well as the faith those regrets brought you. You were the first person who encouraged me to play the melodies of my heart.

You are one of the few close friends I've had on this long, long journey.

I don't want to...

But will my feelings, and all the things I've experienced, truly dissipate like flowing clouds?

Arturia, my dear friend, play for me. Let me hear your music one more time.

I've always believed that this is what they precisely meant.

The cello's melodies flow, and more scenes that she has never seen unfold in front of Arturia. Those images and sounds melt into a river, flowing towards reaches unknowable to man.

Arturia wades through the river.

She does not know when or how she reached the shore, but when she next opens her eyes, she finds herself standing in front of a door.

You've come a long way, haven't you?

Is this a monastery?

A monastery built on a nomadic plate. Looks a lot like Sanctilaminium Ambrosii, doesn't it?

It has roamed the lands with me for many years. But now, it's been still for two and a half months.

Is it worn down?

No, it's because I've been sick.

I've been waiting. Waiting for death to come.

No need to keep looking. I'm the only one here, and no one else is coming.

We're a long way from Laterano. So far that even the legati who crossed countless lands for the Lateran Declaration have never tread.

I know what you're here for, Arturia.

The reason an ideal can be an ideal is that it is sufficiently out of reach.

I've been to so many different places. I've approached cities, entered barrens, icefields, and deserts all scattered with life...

In every place I've been, the flames of war continue to burn. I have witnessed every forgotten end.

Over the course of my long journey, I've never put down my cello.

I've played for all kinds of people from all walks of life, but the end result has never been satisfactory.

A strong soul, rationality without reservation, a pure and sincere openness... I strive to approach to that future, yet it is still so far away.

But you will die here, in a distant corner, in a dilapidated monastery. Death will reduce everything to naught, leaving not a trace behind.

Do you grip your cello to play your own requiem? With nothing but fear, helplessness, anger, and sorrow?

Just as you used to be.

The clouds are gathering outside the window again.

What?

We cannot hope to hold onto a single cloud. But, is it not the entire sky we seek to depict?

Great men must die, just as ordinary men must die. Those who've walked with us through life will eventually part ways, and none may overwrite death.

Death will cut the threads of our lives and turn our bodies into hollow shells, incapable of harboring thoughts or feelings, incapable of forming new substance.

But, this does not mean that the complex and profound emotions we once held will completely disappear.

Precisely because death is insurmountable, I must play, and continue to play. This way, those dissipated feelings will continue to be felt, understood, and remembered by all.

Is that not its very purpose?

Arturia, have you considered that what you just saw might actually be your future?

I'm glad that I'm finally getting closer to it.

The sound of strings continues to reverberate through the woods. The Sankta slowly places her cello into its case as the Cautus girl watches her movements in silence, waiting for her to make eye contact.

Amiya?

Sorry for getting you wrapped up in my melody...

Arturia, we haven't had a chance for formal introductions since you came to Rhodes Island.

I believe today's occasion makes for a perfect icebreaker, better than any deliberate arrangement.

Your powers are strange. You don't even need an instrument...

It's like...

Two mirrors.

Simple, yes, but through them, you can see countless selves.

You, and Rhodes Island, are a lot more interesting than I thought.

I can say the same thing about your music... Even in such a short period of time, it feels like we've gotten to know each other quite well.

Do you feel those emotions often? Do you understand how I think?

Mhm.

But in the end, we're still rather different.

Such a shame.

But we'll have plenty of time to spend together.

Now then, please hurry back with me.

There's no need to rush. I'm not trying to get away.

The fact is, you've been away from the landship for a long time.

And, it just so happens that there's a distinguished Lateran guest who wants to see you.

We've been looking all over for you...

I see. My apologies, then.

Amiya, after we get back to the ship, do you think I could invite you to my concert?

You could be more than just an audience.

Sure. We welcome all who have good will towards Rhodes Island.

Do you see me as one such person?

No, your thoughts go beyond good and evil. That, I'm well aware of.

But, let me be clear on that one point.

Nobody would mention any of the events that just transpired. After a piece, there is always some tacit understanding among the performers, and among the audience.

I quite like the view here. Too bad I won't be able to stay any longer.

Let's go.

Hmm...

A 'distinguished guest' indeed.

Looks like Amiya is more capable than I gave her credit for.

It is an honor... Holy Father.

To the Infected children who just ran by, I was nothing more than 'The Grandpa with the Lateran Candy.'

No 'Holy Father' here. Just a grandpa.

As you wish.

Arturia Giallo. I believe this is the first time we've met.

But you don't seem surprised.

I get the sense that your trip to Leithanien has brought you a wealth of experience and broadened your horizons.

If it had something to do with me, and had to be personally arranged by the leader of Rhodes Island... I figured it was probably a very important person.

Though, I expected a meeting like this would take place in the Basilica's Hall of Pontifical Audiences, where the Holy Father would hand down his sentence to a dangerous repeat blasphemer.

It's true that the Notarial Hall has logged far too many anomalous incidents that involve you.

When Federico brought you back to Laterano, the Curia immediately organized the First, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Tribunals to conduct a joint trial.

All according to the law, of course.

'The law'.

So before that happens, we should meet at least once. And Rhodes Island is the only place where that could happen.

Arturia, daughter of sin. For the time being, you can think of this dormitory as a makeshift confessional.

What we say here will not be recorded, and will not be acknowledged hereafter.

I've had an awakening.

Without ritual, or witnesses. But that's fine. You were no hero to begin with.

On behalf of Laterano, I pronounce you, Arturia Giallo...

Our next chosen <i>Saint.</i>

I get the feeling you don't do this willingly.

What makes you say that?

Though, it doesn't really matter. There will always be some meaning behind the law's choices.

Federico was the one who brought you to Rhodes Island, right?

Funny. I wonder how you explained to our darling Saint that the fugitive he had just apprehended was also chosen to be a Saint?

Or, maybe...

You're right, Federico doesn't know yet.

But, he will understand. I will ask that of him.

After all, I am neither condoning nor forgiving the things you've done, my child.

I never cared for the law's forgiveness, or this... title. It's all rather annoying, to be entirely honest.

What else will the Curia be using me for?

Child...

There is much you do not understand. Your experiences, behaviors, ideals, and even the paranoia reflected in your Arts...

Have all appeared countless times before – one particular interpretation by Sankta, unto Sankta.

How can you be so sure that your unique talents, your unique Arts... are not a deliberate manifestation of the law?

After all, you carry a halo over your head. You are a Lateran Sankta, Arturia.

The white walls of Laterano have stood for thousands of years, and you are not the only, uh, 'Alienus,' as much I loathe the word.

Nevertheless, our glorious law has given me a decisive answer.

And what does this vague 'answer' mean, Your Holiness?

It means...

That every light we know will one day be extinguished.

And it is no exception.

The old Pope playfully points to the halo hovering above his head.

Arturia is lost in thought.

Even if everything about the Sankta existence is interpreted as 'its' boon?

The Pope does not answer, simply moving abruptly to his next question.

What will you be?

I... What?

Take away your prejudice, your pride, and your sins – and what will be left of you? What would you do? What would you bring?

Answer me this.

I'm still searching, Holy Father.

There's no point in lying to you. But, you say that our halos will fade... and that the Sankta will lose the cozy cabin of their faith?

Wouldn't that just make Laterano the same as any other place?

My ideal 'understanding', my ideal 'emotion', the kind of unreserved, pure, and honest... 'communication' that I seek...

Has nothing to do with what you just said. Not even a little bit.

And yet, why does the law insist on choosing me as a so-called 'Saint'?

Mm... All I can say is, you're right.

You gave a much more reasonable answer than I expected. It would appear that what transpired in Leithanien was much more extreme than what was officially documented in our intel.

And... what if I refuse to become a Saint?

Or, is this the 'atonement' that you've arranged for me, and I don't have the right to refuse?

Child, the choice is still yours to make.

I am simply conveying the warning I've received to a fellow citizen of Laterano.

You, who stands atop all the Operae, would turn to a sinner?

But, as you know, the Pope has ways of cleverly manipulating the words of a revelation, for example, by changing the name of the Saint.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to threaten you. Federico will see the case through regardless.

If you really think that, then why––

––But, when the sun sets, your thoughts and beliefs may prove to be a potent medicine.

The 'Saint' is a sign that the Sankta are in peril. All I can do is tinker around the edges.

Furthermore, the tragedy that you caused was also your own tragedy.

Sankta, Laterano, faith, empathy, communication, and our society. These things comprise your story. They comprise you.

Is there any Pope who would turn a blind eye to all this?

So, after deep reflection, I decided to personally see you to the end, young Saint. Until your duty is done.

I will lead all of you to the future you deserve.

What is that end?

Don't know. Prophecy isn't part of the job.

Having that said... going off of recent developments, the future you deserve is far from bright.

It seems like this decision has been a heavy burden on your shoulders.

The situation might just be bad enough to necessitate the gamble.

How does that sound to you, Arturia?

Well...

Would you consider... becoming an audience for a Saint?

I'm not particularly well-versed in music, but... Actually, wait a minute...

I've been standing for too long. Why don't we head to Rhodes Island's cozy reception area for a bit?

You can listen while we walk.

Fine, fine. Hup.

Please begin, then. I'd like to hear something distinctly 'Lateran.'

Through the window, the daylight's tail end stubbornly leaves its outline in the sky, the dusk shimmering brilliantly.

For no particular reason, she thinks of the sunsets in Zwillingstürme, and the clouds above many cities she has seen.

The sky is getting dark, and a slight shaking comes from underfoot, indicating that the landship is about to sail into the night.

The bridge lights come on.

Now then...

A melody begins to flow.