From late autumn to early winter, Fernandez walked along a long mountain path where fallen leaves rustled underfoot. The outer walls of the Inquisition Office could be seen in the distance. It looked like a fang protruding from the middle of deep forests and valleys.
-Step.
Many brothers walked alongside him. In silence, rolling their rosaries, they thought of the brothers who had fallen during the operation. The atmosphere was always solemn on the way back after completing a mission.
It was a triumphant return they hadn’t even imagined—a brother thought dead had returned, and a great demon had been slain during the operation. The carriages carrying the brothers’ coffins led the procession, followed by a heavy silence.
-Creak…
The outer gate of the castle opened. Inside, all members of the main office stood in formation, watching them. Fernandez could see the red flags fluttering above. Flags adorned with the symbols of a key, a crown, a sword, and an olive branch.
‘The Pope has come in person.’
He didn’t need to ask why. He had already been informed by Zephis about the convening of the Saint Advisory Council before departure.
The Saint Advisory Council was a kind of hearing. It would be highly aggressive and sharp. Now, he was just a layman who had even lost his stigma.
It could be an even harsher environment than that of a layman. Losing a stigma could be interpreted as being stripped of divine blessing and recognition…
However, Fernandez smiled as he looked at the fluttering papal flag. The Pope’s presence meant he supported him.
A saintly examination presided over by the Pope, who had traveled such a long distance, could not possibly end in failure.
-Hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo.
As the procession’s lead carriages passed through the outer gate, the monks in the courtyard began humming in unison. Low, high, harmonizing in complex melodies.
-May the Temple of the Gods grant its blessing, as the martyr of the great god departs this path.
-Angels shall guide you to paradise,
-Prophets shall welcome you upon your arrival,
-The hall of the gods awaits you.
-Not seeking earthly peace and tranquility,
-But only praising the Lord’s holiness,
-Brother, our path has always been the same,
-Until we meet again, we shall pray.
-The brightest among us has been taken,
-To become a star in the heavens.
The funeral hymn echoed through the courtyard of the Inquisition Office. The priests did not shed tears. They only offered blessings. The departed brothers had merely gone ahead. Someday, their fate would be no different.
Above the carriages, the brothers placed Keyblades instead of flowers. Small rosaries clung to the surface of the carriages like hedgehogs.
-May the Temple of the Gods grant its blessing.
-The brightest among us heads to the hall,
-To become its beacon.
Fernandez also embedded his Keyblade into the carriage. In an era where d*ath was close and farewells were common, grief was but a byproduct for priests. As they watched the coffins being transported to the Keyblade Sanctuary, the priests prayed in unison.
“Brother.”
Zephis tapped his shoulder. When Fernandez looked at him, Zephis, with reddened eyes, whispered hoarsely.
“The Sovereign awaits. Let’s go.”
“Yes, Brother.”
The living have their own time. Fernandez offered a brief moment of silence and then left.
At the entrance of the grand cathedral, knights of the Church clad in splendid armor stood guard. They raised their gleaming halberds and glared at Fernandez as he approached.
“Are you Brother Fernandez?”
“Yes.”
“Be humble. The Sovereign is present.”
Fernandez smiled as he looked at the door opening between the halberds. Humble. The Church knights wore ornate ceremonial armor and enjoyed good lodging, but the Inquisition Officers did not. Before comparing their ranks, their admonishment seemed laughable.
-Creak.
The cathedral doors opened. At the end of the red-carpeted aisle, the Pope, clad in purple robes, was conversing with other priests.
As the doors opened, their gazes fell upon Fernandez. He walked down the aisle and prostrated himself before the Pope.
“May the Temple of the Gods grant its blessing. Fernandez Sernerd greets His Holiness the Pope.”
“It’s been a while, Brother.”
The Pope smiled warmly and looked down at him.
“I’ve heard of your deeds through letters. Remarkable achievements and traces you’ve left.”
“It’s hard to believe these are the deeds of one man.”
A priest beside the Pope smirked as he spoke.
“I am Cardinal Caliocini. I’ve come here for the convening of the Saint Advisory Council. Layman Fernandez Sernerd. Have you truly lost your stigma?”
“Yes.”
After a brief silence, the Pope spoke.
“I myself have witnessed the grace bestowed upon you, Brother. Can you show it to us?”
Without a word, Fernandez undid his robe, revealing his chest. His well-defined, muscular chest was exposed under the sanctuary’s torchlight. The unblemished skin bore no trace of the stigma, and the Pope sighed.
“It’s true. Can you tell us what happened?”
“It was lost during the battle to slay the demon of the Great Wilderness.”
“I didn’t know stigmas were consumable. Layman. Could there have been another reason?”
Cardinal Caliocini glared at him as he spoke. Fernandez understood the implication behind his words. Corruption. The Cardinal was asking if he had fallen and lost his stigma.
