III

III

Four angel statues stood on the altar's canopy, quietly looking W down on the mortals gathered in the cathedral.

"Pope sanguine nobilis, virtute nobilior ..." The voice of the man prostrated before the shining golden altar wasn't loud, but it echoed inside the church. On his left shoulder, the purple sash that indicated he was an ambassador drooped on the white marble floor. " Vive pius, moriere piua, cole sacra, fiat dei voluntas. Amen. It's been a long time, Your Holiness."

"It has been a long time, Uncle Alfonso."

As soon as he walked out from between the halberd guards lined up in rows beside the altar, the white-robed young man extended his hand. The emerald fisherman's ring that sparkled on his bony ring finger symbolized that he was God's agent on Earth.

The young man—the three hundred ninety-ninth Pope, Alessandro XVIII—rewarded his uncle with a weak smile. "Th-th-thank you for your hard work as the A-Archbishop of Cologne. I trust nothing has gone wrong since then?"

"No, Your Holiness—by the grace of God and Your Holiness," Alfonso d'Este, the Archbishop of Cologne, answered with a slightly Germanic accent. He had recently turned fifty, but his white hair made him look much older. His ash-colored eyes, sharp as needles, now gazed at his nephew.

"Your Holiness looks as well as ever." He turned his head. "Oh, both Francesco and Caterina—it's also been a long time."

"Uncle, it has been a long time."

"We haven't kept in touch, Uncle."

A man and woman in scarlet vestments waited behind the Pope. They greeted Alfonso, who smiled at them with fond sentiment.

Cardinal Francesco di Medici, the Pope's half-brother, was a great and dauntless man. The elegant, beautiful woman next to him was his half-sister, Cardinal Caterina Sforza. They were the two most powerful members of the Vatican; Francesco governed internal administration matters as the Minister of the Inquisition, and Caterina handled matters of diplomacy as the Foreign Affairs Minister.

"Has it been five years since we last met? Your progress is legendary. When I heard of your active ways, I was a proud uncle," Alfonso said.

"It's hard to believe five years has passed already." Caterina's voice was mixed with faint, conflicting emotions. Although she'd always hoped for Alessandro to be Pope, she suddenly came to think of her uncle's hardships, almost as if losing the election had thrown him into exile.

When Caterina's father, Gregorio, still had been alive, Alfonso concurrently had been the leader of the cardinals, Director of the Department of Inquisition, and Foreign Affairs Minister. He had made drastic cuts in the Vatican's reforms. He was strict with himself and all the more rigid with others; he had no forgiveness for corrupt church workers and showed no compassion at all to impious lords. When he was in power, many high-ranking church workers were burned at the stake, and many countries were attacked and overthrown.

"II Furioso"—that had been his nickname.

After Gregorio's death, if II Furioso had succeeded to the status of papal ruler, the course of history would have changed drastically. Of course Caterina—a realist—and Francesco—who had very similar ideas to his uncle—feared that the common lords would be disaffected by Alfonso's enthronement. So, the brother and sister had formed their first and last alliance; educated their younger brother, who had such excellent lineage; and opposed their uncle.

Caterina looked at her uncle with misery. Nevertheless, he's aged . . .

There was no trace of II Furioso in his lined face. Five years in a foreign country seemed to have extracted much of his venom. Alfonso stood there, a harmless, powerless, defeated old man, silently hoping his remaining years would be easy ones.

"Now that you mention it, Uncle, thank you very much for the many expensive presents." Francesco's thoughts seemed to be similar to his half-sister's. With rare sympathy playing on his face—the angles of which looked like they'd been carved with a hatchet—Francesco bowed. "When I was in financial straits, you saved me. I wished to thank you with this gift. Its deterioration was just starting to show, so I thought you should have a new one soon."

"Well, well, for someone like me, I thought it might be presumptuous ... "Alfonso shook his head, grinning. "After all, the Vatican is the face we show to the world. Luckily, I was able to gather donations not merely from Cologne, but from Uber Berlin, as well. . . . So, how is its condition?"

"It's being installed now. I'll look at it after the benediction ceremony. In any case, is Germanicus such a wealthy kingdom?"

"Yes. Among the developing nations, industrialization is progressing surprisingly well. After the former Ostmark annexation, they seem to be aiming wholeheartedly for invasion of Bohemia, so the neighboring common lords are getting nervous. That nation always has been in the habit of making an enemy of the world."

Caterina gazed at the two men who intently began to discuss the international situation. She coughed. Her body was tired; she hadn't slept well since the Barcelona incident, and she'd caught a bit of a cold. Additionally, she was starting her period. The truth was, she wanted to have a good night's sleep in her mansion . . .

"Sister, a-a-are you a-a-all right?" the Pope asked anxiously.

"I'm all right, Alec. Don't worry." She smiled to reassure her little brother and made an effort to control her coughing fit.

No matter how tired she was, she couldn't rest now. She wouldn't allow herself to overlook any trouble while her uncle was in Rome. She had to be alert.

"Duchess of Milan," a voice tentatively called.

Caterina suddenly came to.

Beyond the row of halberd guards, whose lances' tips sparkled, stood an expressionless young man and a swarthy giant. They both wore cassocks.

"What happened to Father Nightroad, Father Tres?" Flicking her earpiece, she remembered that she couldn't use her radio inside the cathedral. Caterina dropped her hand from her earlobe to touch her brother's shoulder, and she whispered quietly, "I'm going to get some fresh air for a little while. Can you keep our uncle company during that time, Alec?"

"Y-yes, Sister! P-p-please leave it to me."

"Thank you. Do your best."

Caterina squeezed his hand and then turned to leave. Her uncle still was talking earnestly with her half-brother. She figured they wouldn't mind if she left for a little while. Although she didn't notice, her uncle's cold gaze concentrated on her back as she left the church.

She looked around the dark plaza, peering up at the large, dazzlingly lit-up cathedral dome. It was one hundred twenty-five feet in diameter and ninety-five feet high. Caterina thought it looked like the head of a giant. The pillared halls, which extended in opposite directions from the delicate façade, looked like huge arms hugging the plaza.

Normally, the San Pietro plaza was full of church workers and pilgrims, but there was no sign of anyone tonight. In the center of the deserted plaza rested two water fountains and a narrow obelisk, which soared into the night sky.

"Such a thing in a place like this?" Tres murmured. "I first saw Father Leon in this plaza. That wasn't here then. This thing was built recently."

Caterina sat down next to the obelisk, sighing softly. The early summer night was warm, but she couldn't stop shivering and coughing. "Long before the Armageddon, an obelisk, brought here from the far south, stood in this plaza. About one hundred years ago, it fell over in an earthquake. That was during the age of Clements XIX; since then, it was left in disrepair. This is the obelisk that Uncle Alfonso brought the day before yesterday to commemorate his visit to Rome. Never mind that, continue what you were saying before." After she leaned on the obelisk, Caterina wearily opened her mouth. "Ab—Father Nightroad said he wished to retire? He seems to have taken the Barcelona incident quite to heart."

"Yes. He's a perfect fool!" said Leon, who stood nearby, stiff and aloof. He'd neatly pressed his collar and shaved his face. As long as he didn't speak, he gave the impression of a proper church worker. "If I forced him to go on this operation when he's in that state, I think he'd either fall on his face or get himself killed. For now, we've left him alone until he cools his head. Please, forgive my arrogance in making this decision without discussing it with you, Your Eminence."

"It's the appropriate decision, Father Leon. If I'd been there, I probably would've said the same thing."

Although she was sincerely grateful to her subordinate, Caterina's expression remained melancholy.

In terms of relations with foreign countries, the Vatican's Ministry of State was equivalent to the city's Department of Foreign Affairs. In addition to managing the Pope's embassies and the dioceses in each country, it was Caterina's duty to conduct diplomatic negotiations with the common lords. In those situations alone, she could exert nearly unlimited power on activities outside Vatican territory. However, her authority inside Vatican territory was extremely limited.

Incidentally, the Ministry of Doctrine consistently controlled the police and administered justice within Vatican territory, including Rome. Cardinal Francesco di Medici was responsible for all that. At present, he was Caterina's most difficult political opponent. If the staff of the Ministry of State trespassed on the Ministry of Doctrine's territory over this incident, Francesco would lose no time in crushing Caterina, who was also the Secretary of the Ministry of State. If there was an emergency in Rome, Caterina could depend only on her secret unit — the nine AX agents.

Tres, who'd been maintaining a firm silence while she spoke with Leon, finally opened his mouth: "Duchess of Milan, isn't there another agent you can recall? Statistically, it's most effective for a terrorist to strike the city during the visit of an important person. Namely, the presence of Archbishop Alfonso presents a great risk. Isn't there another unit you can send to support us, perhaps a on short-term basis?"

"Other agents . . ." Removing her monocle, Caterina thought.

The Professor was in the middle of a war with a slave trade syndicate in the Kingdom of Hispania. Sword Dancer was pitted against an entire clan of vampires in Bruges, and she'd received information that No Face was on a mission to recapture a relic stolen by a heretic society in Prague. The others were in similar situations. There were no free hands.

"It can't be helped. If it's going to be like this, we'll manage by ourselves somehow, Tres."

"Affirmative. It's unavoidable."

"Please, Gunslinger, Dandelion—do your best," Caterina begged with a small cough.

Alfonso's lodgings were inside the Pope's palace, so she probably would keep her uncle company until late that night. Tomorrow morning, a mass was scheduled with high-ranking church workers, including the cardinals.

It looked like there would be no sleep for her tonight, either.

"I'll rest here a little while longer. At any rate, I'll probably stay here for the night. I'll return before the benediction ceremony. Until then, both of you: Please, stay by His Holiness' side."

The cathedral's clock indicated it was forty minutes past eight. There was a little more time until the evening prayer bell rang, announcing the end of the day. Languid, Caterina watched the darkness swallow up her two subordinates as they walked inside the cathedral.

It was a quiet night. The two moons watched over her. In preparation for the early morning mass attended by the Pope, the entire area was off-limits to the public. Except for the occasional mounted guard clattering by, there was no sign of anybody in the plaza—almost.

"Good evening, Abel." Caterina's beautiful voice was gentle as she addressed the shadow that now stood beside her. "The night air feels good, doesn't it? The breeze is refreshing."

"Good evening, Caterina." He was quiet, but she could hear him. His eyes were downcast.

Caterina remained calm and silent. Leaning her slender body against the obelisk, she listened to the nighttime insects.

They both appeared to be frozen in time, but then Abel spoke: "I'm sorry, Caterina." His expression couldn't be seen in the moonlight. He was shaking as if he were wounded deep in his heart. "I'm sorry. I ..."

Abel fell silent again. He reminded Caterina of a child who had nowhere to go but home, although he knew once he got there, he'd be scolded. She wore a tranquil smile; at length, she touched the rosary that hung around the priest's neck.

---

---

"Do you remember, Abel?"

"Eh?"

"Ten years ago, when we met ... I remember the promise I made you."

Cradling the man's rosary lovingly in her palm, Caterina spoke as if chanting a prayer: "That time, when you saved my life, you said 'I have to protect humans. So, I saved you.' Do you remember what I said?"

A small, clear voice answered: '"I have to stop the enemies of mankind. Let's fight together.'"

"And I have never forgotten that promise, Abel."

Caterina made a fist. Her fingers, white as alabaster, firmly grasped the rosary with surprising strength. She gazed into the priest's eyes. "Your enemy is my enemy; you and I are fighting with the same sword. Therefore, don't fight alone again."

"Thank you, Caterina." His eyes, as blue as a winter lake, reflected his gratitude. "Really, thank you."

"Not at all."

She combed a hand through her luxurious hair and laughed. Caterina stood up. At last, it was nine o'clock.

"Well, let's return to the others. Alec is probably afraid to be on his own. And I said I'd return in time for closing prayers. You come, too, Father Nightroad."

"Understood." Cutting across the broad plaza, Abel followed his superior. He scratched his face, as if to cover his embarrassment. "Time goes by so quickly. Ten years already have passed since that day?"

"From time to time, I think, if not for that kind of thing . . ."

"If not?"

"I might not have entered the holy world; I would have stayed at the university and married somebody I loved. If that had come to pass, however, my older brother would have done whatever he wanted." Caterina snickered, but her ash-colored eyes were as sharp as razors; they were the eyes of an ambitious woman, feared by domestic and foreign enemies. "If my brother had gone unchecked, the Vatican would be in trouble. As soon as you leave him alone, he immediately wants to antagonize the whole world. He'd want to make an enemy of the whole world all at once. He might have started two or three crusades by now."

Abel's feet, which had been following his superior until then, got tangled up. He stopped, desperate to avoid a fall. "C-Caterina, what did you just say?"

"Eh?"

'"He'd want to make an enemy of the whole world all at once.' Didn't you say that?"

"Yes." Confused, Caterina watched her subordinate's face change color. "What about it?"

He grabbed her. "Wh-where did you hear that expression? No, from whom!"

"My uncle . . . Uncle Alfonso. He said to my brother . . ."

"From the archbishop?" Abel's face turned white. He asked again, spittle flying, "Right now, Archbishop Alfonso is...?"

"He's in the belfry. He dedicated a new bell to commemorate this visit to Rome. At tonight's benediction ceremony, we're consecrating that . . . Abel?"

"Stay in the plaza! Don't go into the church!" he shouted, running off toward the cathedral.

If a person everyone perceives as a victim is actually one of the assailants . . .

After the Barcelona incident provided some intelligence about the terrorists, Francesco and the police had postponed Alfonso's visit and adopted strict, vigilant policies in security. All the bells in Rome had been investigated, and people entering Rome had been checked over thoroughly.

However, one bell hadn't been investigated: the bell Alfonso himself had brought for the dedication. One person hadn't been checked over: Alfonso.

Running up the stairs, Abel shouted, "No, don't strike that bell!"