III

III

 

"Well, it was a nice ceremony," said Archbishop Chapek, sitting in the seat across from the Pope, the cardinal, and Abel. He smiled in satisfaction because the memorial service in Saint Vito's Cathedral had ended without any hindrances.

Assisted by his sister the cardinal, the Pope had completed the memorial service for the soldiers who'd died fighting the heretics two years ago. The communion service for the sponsors, the Duke and Duchess of Bohemia, their daughter, and the women of the Duke Ribush family—"the emeralds of Prague," who gathered national popularity—also ended without any problems. The Duke of Bohemia's speech was still going on in the cathedral, but the Pope, the cardinal, and the silver-haired priest who was escorting them had returned to the archbishop s mansion, where they were lodging. It had been announced at the ceremony that the Pope had not been feeling well, but that obviously had been an attempt at preventing a repeat of the previous day's attack.

"With this, the souls of the lords and knights who died in battle will be at peace. Good, good," said the archbishop.

"That also was due to your meticulous preparations, archbishop," Caterina said.

During the ceremony, the guest of honor, Pope Alessandro, had moved the hood of his vestments down low over his eyes and hadn't removed it upon entering the carriage. The cardinal, seated next to the archbishop, thanked him on behalf of the painfully shy boy Pope. "I imagine it must have been difficult to make the necessary arrangements, but everything was done well and without omission, Archbishop Chapek," Caterina said before smiling at the middle-aged and bald yet impressive figurehead. As she gazed at the scenery passing by outside the horse carriage, she asked suspiciously, "Isn't this the wrong way, archbishop?"

The cathedral where the ceremony was held was located on the site of Prague Castle, and the archbishop's mansion where the Pope's entourage was lodging was to the right of the castle's front gate. When she realized that she was seeing the tower of the archbishop's mansion from the left side of the carriage, Caterina asked, "The lodgings are in that building, aren't they? Is this really the right way?"

"Of course it is," replied the archbishop with a kind smile. "Honestly, a certain person said he must meet with His Holiness and Your Eminence. We'll go there before we go to the lodgings."

"A certain person?" said Caterina, who was rather annoyed that the archbishop had rudely decided to take the detour without consultation. "Who is it? Somebody I know?"

"Yes, somebody well known to Your Eminence," replied the archbishop. Suddenly, his face—which had been the portrait of sincerity—transformed into something entirely different, beginning with his thick lips, which warped into an evil smirk. "Because he's a blood relative of yours; His Holiness Alfonso is the only true Pope."

"His Holiness Alfonso?" Caterina exclaimed, taken aback that the archbishop had addressed Alfonso in that manner. "Archbishop, you can't be from Neue Vatican!"

All of a sudden, ominous shadows jumped out of the thick foliage and scurried to the left and right of the horse carriage as it halted.

"Auto Jagers!" Caterina cried as soon as she saw the group of four figures donning black coats and gas masks.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't move, Your Eminence. It's not my intention to handle you roughly," the archbishop grinned as he gripped a small pistol, aiming it at the Pope. "It is His Holiness Alfonso's wish that you and Alessandro be brought to him alive. Please be still. If you don't, I can't guarantee that you'll live."

"I never thought the hand of Neue Vatican would reach the level of archbishop," Caterina gasped, covering her beautiful face with her slender hands and groaning powerlessly.

"It's a pity, Your Eminence. Although you arranged for four agents, you brought only one of them with you at this critical time," the archbishop laughed. He switched the aim of his gun muzzle from the Pope to the priest, who'd been fumbling in his pockets. "Sorry, Father Nightroad, this is the end for you."

The archbishop laughed caustically and pulled the trigger. The gun muzzle aimed between Abel's eyebrows made a faint sound and spat fire. "Wh-what?" the archbishop exclaimed.

It wasn't Abel whose eyes bugged out in pain over being shot—it was Chapek. "What are you . . . ?" The archbishop struggled to speak. His hand and handgun suddenly had been overpowered by the mighty grip of the weak boy Pope.

"Please hold the archbishop! I'll go take care of those zombies out there!" shouted Abel. He drew the percussion revolver from his pocket, but the archbishop was so shocked that he didn't notice the Auto Jagers blowing apart, their heads transforming into plasma.

As he removed the gun from Chapek's hand, the robed Pope informed the cardinal: "I've s-secured the a-a-archbishop, Duchess of Milan. P-please give me my next orders."

"For now, return your voice to normal. That, and you can put your hood back, Father Tres," Caterina instructed.

"R-r-roger," Tres replied. The voice that could be heard from under the hood mechanically changed its tone to match that of another person. The hood he threw back revealed a somewhat expressionless but handsome face, incomparable to that of the boy Pope.

Wearing a quizzical expression, the archbishop asked, "T-this guy is an agent? That's crazy! Then, the Pope—"

"He's a dummy. It's a classic method, but it was effective this time. Incidentally, we hid the real one in a hotel in the city. That's how things are, so give up, Archbishop Chapek," Caterina barked in a tone that was as sharp as a shard of ice. "We've suspected you since the attack the other day, because you were one of the few people who knew about our plans to travel incognito."

Caterina had found it difficult to believe that someone in a position as high as archbishop had been leaking information. They urgently needed to hide Chapek's arrest. As soon as they brought him to Rome, they would have to interrogate him severely and make him name the other traitors. It was a bitter but unavoidable eventuality that they would suspect his relatives.

"Are you okay, Caterina?" asked Abel, peeking in. "You look sort of pale. Are you tired?"

"Ahhh, no. I'm okay . . . perhaps slightly disheartened," Caterina replied. She coughed lightly and then gave a semisweet smile. "I've been under stress, wondering when we'd be attacked again. After all, I'm not fit for a crime scene."

"See, I told you to leave the hard work to us," Abel said self-importantly. "It isn't that healthy. You should let us deal with the crime scenes."

"Sorry, but I wanted to do something myself this time. Besides, the enemy didn't suspect Father Tres because I was here, right? I wasn't completely useless," Caterina said in attempt to justify her worth. "As for the result, nobody was hurt, so that's good, isn't it?"

"However, there was no need to risk danger, Duchess of Milan," Tres added sharply, discontent to have used his master as bait. "Although we succeeded, the operation was too risky, which is something I can never back."

Wiping her mouth with a handkerchief, Caterina mumbled absently: "Alec ... a long time ago, he wasn't that weak a child." Whether consciously or unconsciously, her line of sight was fixed on the corner of the city where the real Alessandro was hidden. This time, the voice of the cardinal who was nicknamed "Iron Woman" was quivering. "Certainly, he's always been a little weak-spirited, but it's only since he became Pope that it's gotten to be so extreme. It was right about then that his stammering and shyness became severe. They say stammering is related to self-consciousness." Caterina sighed deeply in front of her silent subordinates. '"I didn't want to be Pope'—I think what he said was certainly true. I forced that unwilling child to be a candidate for Pope."

The battle over the successor to Pope Gregorio XXX, who'd died suddenly five years prior, had been exceptionally severe. In addition to the qualified cardinals of noble birth, Gregorio's younger brother, the sharp and able cardinal leader Alfonso d'Este, called "II Ruinante," had nominated himself as a successor candidate.

Francesco, who was the illegitimate son born to the previous Pope and a lower-class knight's wife, and Caterina, who was female, couldn't possibly match the cardinals who had powerful uncles or who were noble-born.Therefore, they racked their brains, deciding to bet on the final trump card. Although he was only ten years old, they nominated Alessandro, whose mother belonged to the oldest noble family in Rome, to be Pope. As a result, the brother and sister who'd won the bet supported the new Pope and came to grasp the actual power of the Vatican.

Caterina s choice had been absolutely correct. If they hadn't defeated their uncle at that point, she would've gone through an entire lifetime without occupying the center of the Vatican. That became her pretext for having to grasp power by any means. Even now, she could say with confidence that her choice had been right. Only, she had committed a sin: the sin of offering her little brother as a sacrifice on the altar of power for her own ideals.

"I was the one who did a thing like that to that child. Therefore, I can't help how much I'm detested or hated. I have to protect him at all times—that's my responsibility. But this time, I wanted to do something myself. Although, as a result, I caused you trouble," Caterina said.

"Well, the end result was all right, isn't that so, Tres?" asked

Abel, deliberately smiling as though nothing was bothering him.

"Affirmative," replied Tres. It was hard to tell how serious he was because he didn't show any emotion or gesture much, except for a nod.

"Well, once we've restrained the archbishop, shall we go see His Holiness? I feel secure because Vaclav and Professor are by his side, but ..." said Abel.

Caterina peered suspiciously at her subordinate, whose smile had withered away during his speech. "What's wrong, Father Abel?" "Um, what did this guy say a little while ago?" asked Abel. "Huh?" Caterina's eyebrows moved together, but Abel didn't notice because he was staring intently into the face of the archbishop they'd just captured.

"You said, 'Although you brought four agents . . .' How did you know there were four agents, including us?" asked Abel.

Seeing Chapek quickly avert his eyes when questioned, Caterina finally understood what Abel was trying to say: "four"— namely, Abel, Gunslinger, Professor, and Know Faith. But the only people who knew that Know Faith had arrived in Prague, other than the three people present, were Alessandro and Havel. How could he have known that?

"This man is a decoy?" asked Caterina. Abel went pale. "You two take care of the archbishop—I'm going ahead!" he said before making a hasty exit.