Cardinal Sicarii (1)

Perhaps because the tension had eased, Línea fell asleep leaning her head on my shoulder. Her steady breathing could be heard, and the tail that had been wrapped around my body as if pulling me closer now hung limply.

As I was stuck there, unable to move, time just passed by.

Creeak.

The door opened, and something with bright red eyes peeked its head through.

It was Claire.

Come to think of it, she was also planning to apologize to Línea.

She probably came to check on me since I’d gone in first and there was no news.

“Heehee…”

After surveying the situation, Claire snickered and quietly closed the door.

That impudent brat.

I’m going to give her a good smack later.

Now that she’s healthy, I’ll really give her a proper smack.

*     *      *

An apostle has visited the headquarters.

In that situation, Sicarii felt a sense of destiny. He was a cardinal after all.

There’s no way he wouldn’t know about the major affairs within the Pantheon Temple. He knew that an apostle had been born and that Cotinus had gone to the imperial capital to welcome him.

And then what came after.

‘The apostle who should have headed to Alfheim has come to headquarters instead.’

He said he came to get armor for his companion.

And of all times, during Sicarii’s management of the headquarters.

It seemed like a well-crafted script.

The timing was so perfect that one might suspect the gods had sent him to answer Sicarii’s questions.

“O Gods, what is your intention? What are you trying to tell me? Please answer me.”

Sicarii offered a prayer.

And as always, no answer came to his prayer.

“Hehehehe.”

Sicarii laughed. He smirked at that one-way communication.

The gods are cruel. Despite clinging to them so desperately, offering so many prayers, and representing their will like this, they give no answer whatsoever.

“Then I shall continue to do my duty.”

Still, he doesn’t doubt them.

Even if there’s no answer, their teachings remain.

That’s why Sicarii chose to follow the teachings, not the gods themselves.

“Even if you abandon me, I want to believe in you.”

He was a believer.

A fervent believer who followed the will and spread the teachings.

*     *      *

Morning dawned. Línea had been gently placed on the bed in the middle of the night, so she should still be sleeping.

I decided to leave because staying together until morning would only make things awkward.

Last night, she too was somewhat caught up in the atmosphere.

So she’ll probably need time to sort out her feelings.

“The Cardinal isn’t here, you say?”

“Ah, yes… Priest Lost. Cardinal Sicarii left early this morning.”

“Did he leave any message?”

“No.”

“…I see. Thank you. Did he mention where he was going…”

“Hmm, I’m not sure about that. I’m sorry, brother.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Yesterday’s armor demonstration did end somewhat awkwardly.

So it would be fair to say we hadn’t finished our conversation.

But leaving early in the morning without any message?

Moreover, it doesn’t make sense that the priest serving as his secretary doesn’t know where he went.

This means he was told not to tell.

Is it my paranoia to think he’s avoiding me?

“Well, I’ll know if I talk to him.”

There’s still time.

We were able to receive Vitege’s Armor on the same day, so all that’s left is selecting a weapon for Claire.

That strange staff that Hecate gave her wasn’t made to be used in the first place. It merely exuded an aura that prevented Claire’s illness by just possessing it. Now it’s nothing more than a cursed object.

Besides, a paladin wielding a staff while wearing heavy plate armor would be terrifying in a different sense.

So Claire needs a weapon that utilizes weight.

That’s the best way for her to be effective without any basic skills.

However, weapons are rare among the Pantheon Temple’s sacred artifacts, and there aren’t any suitable ones for Claire among them. So the weapon will need to be custom-made. I’ve already placed an order at the temple’s forge, so all that’s left is to wait.

In other words, time is what we have plenty of.

“Well… where should I start?”

I leaned against a column and smoked tobacco. This was a designated smoking area, so no one would reproach me.

I spent some time smoking and thinking about various things.

About Cardinal Sicarii, about Línea, about future matters and past events.

When you smoke, all sorts of thoughts come to mind. This smoking time, which started for contemplation, now only brings idle thoughts.

“Tsk.”

At this point, I’m just continuing to smoke.

Once thoughts start to wander, no proper answers will come.

In that case, one should start with the most common, general, and primal action.

“I should gather information first.”

It’s time to put in some legwork.

*     *      *

The first thing I did was, naturally, meet with the priests within the Pantheon Temple. Approaching a stranger might raise suspicions, but at least there were people I had met before.

“Good to see you, brothers. I didn’t properly thank you yesterday.”

“Ah, Templar Lost. How was your conversation yesterday?”

From our first meeting, Sicarii exuded an intense presence.

Truly, even his smallest whisper was enough to make one’s heart tremble.

It wasn’t killing intent, but it was certainly enough to be called vigilance.

In that situation, how do they think of me?

“Yes, surprisingly, nothing unusual happened.”

“Ah… Indeed, as expected?”

“…As expected?”

Does this happen often?

Being wary of outsiders? No, it might not be that.

“He’s a bit rigid during first meetings. Honestly, I wasn’t too worried or suspicious of you, brother.”

“I see.”

He’s always like that in first meetings?

This guy sounds completely crazy.

What benefit is there in ruining first impressions like that?

Is it because he’s overly cautious?

Or does he want to establish dominance from the start?

“Ah, I heard the Cardinal has left his post. Do you happen to know where he went?”

“Hmm… At this time, he’s probably touring the slums for charity work.”

As I thought.

Those who should know, know everything.

Unless you silence everyone, one’s whereabouts will inevitably be revealed.

“He sounds like an admirable person.”

“He seems that way at first, but basically, he’s an approachable person.”

“I understand.”

Should I go to the slums? No, honestly, even if it’s called the slums, it would be impossible to pinpoint the exact location.

The number of slum areas at headquarters is overwhelming. It’s practically asking me to search half the city.

There were too many negative side effects from good intentions.

When you show kindness to those who have failed once, it comes back in two forms.

Either they grasp that opportunity and try to rise again, or they cling only to that kindness and try to live without making any effort.

We strive to make people become the former. The Pantheon Temple isn’t stupid, after all.

But usually, those who succeed leave headquarters for their dreams.

Then only those who failed and gave up on rising remain. Such people accumulate and worsen the atmosphere.

“Is there a solution?”

“Well, he’s reducing the amount of aid, and if they want more support, he’s providing jobs.”

“That must be challenging.”

“But because of that, there’s a bit of vitality returning.”

It’s quite a reasonable method.

Those living in the slums, begging from priests, believe they can survive just by doing that.

So they don’t work and don’t try to seize opportunities.

In that case, reduce the aid.

If they’re cold and hungry, they’ll eventually have to work; what other choice do they have?

And in that state, create an environment where they can work.

That’s at least a realistic approach.

Even after doing all that, there will be those who refuse to work and will criticize, but such criticism can be tolerated.

Other countries wouldn’t fuss over this issue either.

But there are problems, of course.

“He must be receiving a lot of criticism.”

“Yes, that’s why when he goes to the slums for charity, there’s always a cold wind blowing.”

“And figuring out what jobs to give them is also an issue to ponder.”

Creating jobs is one thing, but the pace of implementation is also important.

The difficulty of the tasks and the total wages they can receive.

If either is not regulated properly, it’s perfect for worsening the situation.

If the work is unnecessarily difficult, criticism will arise, and if the wages are excessive, people who have been working diligently will feel discouraged.

And if the work they do is meaningless, like digging holes and filling them back in, the criticism would be even more severe.

It’s all about providing enough for them to survive. And simultaneously guiding them to desire a better life.

On top of that, if they also create opportunities to teach them what they want to do, there couldn’t be a better situation.

It’s easy to say.

Only easy to say.

“I think I need to meet and talk with him directly.”

In my opinion, Cardinal Sicarii can’t handle this task perfectly.

He can’t solve a problem that politicians from various countries should be putting their heads together to solve.

If that were possible, the Pantheon Temple would have already become independent as a religious nation.

So the current situation is strange.

Cardinal Sicarii is promoting something that’s bound to fail.

*     *      *

Several days passed after that.

Sicarii had been intentionally avoiding meeting Lost and his group.

He was only working, as if he needed a place to focus.

He did charity work himself while directing those around him.

Too much work for one person.

What was the result?

“How’s the eastern sector?”

“A construction worker got injured and can’t use his leg anymore. They say there might be aftereffects even after treatment with holy power…”

It was a definite failure.

The situation was unfolding as Lost had predicted.

An accident occurred at a job created as compensation for boldly reducing aid.

If it was a job prepared by them from the beginning, and they were trying to rise again with effort, but this was the result, then it’s the fault of the one who prepared the job.

It wasn’t a fair opportunity.

“Any other issues?”

“The cooks from the guild who were supporting the soup kitchen have resigned.”

“Sigh… I see. That’ll be all, you can go now.”

It was bound to fail from the start.

A task he couldn’t accomplish alone. A matter that should have been pondered with Cotinus and other cardinals.

He recklessly attempted it.

And he failed.

“Hehehehe.”

In fact, he had foreseen that things would unfold this way.

Isn’t it natural? There’s no way one person could easily solve a problem that has remained unsolved for a long time.

“Well, instead of just standing there, why don’t you come in? Apostle.”

Sicarii noticed who was standing in front of the tent.

Lost had finally found the place where he was working.

Sicarii met him with a bitter smile at that fact.

“I’ve heard the talk. You asked other priests to stop me, didn’t you?”

“The attempt was good, but it was a reform that would fail as it is.”

“And that’s what happened. But if I give up now? I might not be able to make such an attempt again.”

“Ah, I’ll leave it be. I don’t want to stress the Cardinal out, coming all this way.”

“Is that so? That’s kind of you. As you can see, I have a lot to do.”

Sicarii began looking at documents with an indifferent attitude.

Seeing this, the priest who had been reporting beside Sicarii quietly slipped out of the tent.

“If you have something to say, I’ll listen. After all, it’s the apostle speaking.”

“Well, I doubt the Cardinal as he is now would even pretend to listen to anything I say. Isn’t that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I won’t deny it. Why would I want to show this state?”

“Your efforts are commendable.”

“Spare me the empty words.”

Lost quietly pulled up a chair and sat in front of Sicarii.

Then he placed something he had brought on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The Lord’s blood. How about a drink?”

“Well, since you call it the Lord’s blood, I can’t refuse.”

Sicarii smiled wryly at the sight of Lost who had come with a bottle of wine.

There’s no way Lost came to build a friendly relationship with him.

It’s not to comfort or encourage him for his efforts either.

The wine in front of him would truly be a poisoned chalice.

His intentions were transparent.

Though transparent…

“Gulp!”

He eagerly accepted and drank from that poisoned chalice. Some substance, whether grape wine or blood, spilled from Sicarii’s mouth.

“Kuhehe. Why the expression? Isn’t this what you wanted to see?”