The Monster Lady and the Holy Knight - Chapter 22

Three years ago, when a meteor struck, the Rom Archipelago had already suffered significant damage from a tsunami. That was when the first wave of migrants emerged, and over the past two years, more and more had begun crossing to the continent since Bahamut rose from the sea.

It wasn’t as though they had wanted to abandon their homes. The pride of the archers, raised on salt and horses, was too high for them to accept becoming a wandering people, treated poorly wherever they went.

Veronica looked at the young siblings, too young to bear such pride, and asked, “Do you think God would not care for children from foreign lands?”

“He would care for them. He opens His eyes of mercy to the weak.”

“Then, shouldn’t they be allowed to enter with us?”

Leon lowered his expressionless gaze, staring directly at her. It felt like the first time their eyes had met since they had left the temple that morning.

“It’s not certain that we’ll even get a pass.”

“I saw the guard’s reaction. He practically looked like your fanatic. Even if permission isn’t granted, he seems like the type who would open the gate secretly for you.”

Leon’s expression became subtly more complex at her optimistic certainty. His twisted lips looked like he might be smiling or sneering.

“I’m sorry, but things don’t always work out so simply. Especially when there’s a noisy companion involved.”

Veronica was about to ask what he meant by that, but at that moment, the small iron gate rattled, and white-armored knights poured out. Her attention was immediately drawn to the gate.

There were six of them—one knight clad in white plate armor, accompanied by five papal guards in Crusader uniforms.

The knight scanned the crowd briefly before spotting Leon’s towering figure and trotting over. His horse stopped in front of Nightstar, appearing as if they were in a stand-off.

“Sir Berg, by the command of the Holy Father, I am here to escort you to the papal palace. Please mount your horse and follow me immediately.”

The knight’s movements were dignified and solemn, but his stiff tone revealed a hint of nervousness.

Leon, who had been silently watching him, uncrossed his arms and spoke, “It’s been a while. Weren’t you Louis’ apprentice? So it’s been five years?”

The knight remained silent for a moment, caught off guard, before answering in a slightly softened tone. “…I didn’t think you would remember me. I was knighted four years ago, so I’m no longer an apprentice.”

“Aha.”

Leon mounted his horse after helping Veronica up. The knight’s gaze lingered briefly on the woman held close in Leon’s arms.

“Do you have anything else to say?”

“No, just… I was confirming your companion.”

The knight gave Veronica one last glance before turning his horse around and taking the lead.

The formation quickly took shape. It was similar to their arrival, but this time a black horse was nestled in the middle of the white group. It was more of an escort than a welcoming party.

The refugees cast fearful and resentful glances at the soldiers who had suddenly appeared. Some looked on with curiosity, wondering who the Holy Father’s guests might be. By the time Leon and Veronica entered the city, creative rumors—perhaps even claiming one of them was the Pope’s hidden child—would spread like wildfire across the fields.

Veronica, tense, stole glances at the guards standing beside her. Their faces hidden behind visors, they were rigidly formal, more like statues than humans. Their precision and ice-cold atmosphere reminded her of the Holy Knights she had once heard about. Perhaps she had grown too accustomed to Leon’s relaxed and laid-back demeanor.

Or was that face of his just another mask?

As the sound of the signal rang out, the horses stomped their hooves in unison. Veronica pondered the meaning of Leon’s phrase “noisy company.” She then recalled the look in the knight’s eyes as he had watched her. Before her thoughts could reach any conclusion, the horses swiftly charged into the pitch-black arches. By the time they burst into a brilliantly sparkling world, her mind had already been bleached white.

The road suddenly brightened after the darkness, revealing a wide avenue large enough for ten carriages to pass side by side. Riding atop the galloping horse, Veronica took in the sight of the city of prosperity and abundance, unable to blink even once.

Snow-white doves flapped their wings as they soared into the sunlight.

They used to say that even if the continent fell into corruption, Kart would remain sacred. She had thought it simply referred to the city’s eternal peace, but now she understood what it truly meant.

This was a city so noble it couldn’t be challenged. Even a beggar in Kart lived a more luxurious life for the eyes than a middle-class citizen in Bayern.

Sunlight streamed down white roads. Shops were filled with bright red and yellow fruit. Towering above the stately buildings were the spires of the temple, and at every crossroad, fountains of naked angels gushed water.

The small bridges connecting one road to another were something she had never seen before. As they passed under an arched bridge, she instinctively ducked her head like a turtle, though it was absurd—she was far too short to hit her head while the knights rode through without worry.

Nightstar kicked the ground fiercely, galloping as if knowing the time to rest had finally come, using every last ounce of strength.

They crossed a bright blue winter river and passed a woman carrying a paper bag. An old man walking his dog and a merchant setting up newspapers at a stall glanced in surprise at the soldiers rushing past like a sudden gust of wind.

At first, Veronica’s emotions flared with admiration. Then, a strange gray smoke of discomfort began to rise. That inexplicable unease peaked when she saw a harmonious family having lunch at an outdoor restaurant.

The face of a boy with his arm missing, clinging tightly to his brother’s hand, overlapped with the bright smile of a child lifting a piece of meat with his fork. From that moment, Veronica couldn’t look around anymore.

She fixed her gaze straight ahead.

It felt as if she had seen the world’s unfairness far too clearly.

The boundaries between a peaceful world and a dangerous one were stark, unlike dreams or illusions. So surely, there was no reason not to open the gates of this prosperous land to others.

Why did they insist on enjoying it alone?

This is Kart, isn’t it? The land of peace promised eternal rest by God.

As Veronica pondered these questions, the horses ascended a hill and arrived at a massive square, far larger than the road they had been on.

Oval colonnades lined the square’s entrance, and at its center stood a towering obelisk crowned with a cross. Directly ahead, a grand temple gleamed in its white splendor. The twelve apostles stood on the roof, gazing down upon the square bathed in sunlight. From the viewpoint of the statues, the square and the road they had ridden must have resembled a giant key.

The horses lined up in twos across the square, halting before the steps of the temple.

A group of children ran past, laughing, as the sacred bells from the tower rang out.

Veronica felt as though she had stepped into a painting. Dazed, she looked around. The surreal landscape made everything she had endured over the past few weeks feel like nothing more than a bad dream.

Or perhaps she had died falling from her horse as they crossed the city, and soon a winged angel would appear to declare that this was the realm beyond the heavens.

However, the figures descending the white steps were far from angelic. Black-robed priests approached, taking hold of the horses’ reins.

“Eat well and rest up. We’ll meet again soon.”

Before parting, Veronica hugged Nightstar’s head and whispered to him. The horse blinked as if understanding. Smiling, Veronica turned to follow Leon, but a papal guard holding an axe halted her.

“Your companion will be escorted to the papal palace.”

“Isn’t this the papal palace?”

“The papal palace is behind the temple. Sir Berg will join you there after his audience.”

Though the guard’s tone was polite, his scrutinizing gaze was sharp.

Veronica glanced at the people blocking her way, then turned to watch Leon’s retreating figure as he climbed the steps. He didn’t even look back, as though he had forgotten her existence.

She opened her mouth to call out to him but quickly closed it again. What should she call him? Leon? Sir Berg?

Either way, it felt awkward and strange. It seemed to reflect the nature of their relationship—awkward and strange no matter what she called it.

“This way, please.”

The priest, tall and pale, stepped into her view, blocking the distant figure of Leon. With no other choice, Veronica followed where he led.

***

With a loud thud, the temple doors swung open. The guards and knights parted to the sides with synchronized movements. Only Leon had been summoned by the Pope. Glancing down the steps, Leon saw the woman being led away and, confirming her departure, stepped forward.

Pillars and vaulted ceilings. Sacred murals. The path leading to the altar was filled with breathtaking beauty.

The temple was so richly adorned it could be considered excessive. Few knew where to focus their gaze in this sanctuary overflowing with visual splendor. But Leon, who had been entering this temple for over 20 years, was one of the rare few who knew where the eyes should rest.

On the cross above the altar. There was no other place for joy in the eyes to rest.

Leon spotted the Pope standing before the red altar. As this was a formal audience, he wore a red mantle symbolizing the blood of pilgrims and a triple crown upon his head. In one hand, he held a staff.

Leon stopped five steps away from him and knelt, one knee to the ground. Slowly, the Pope turned around. Julius V, the 222nd Pope, was a man in his nineties. But to view him as a kind old man who told nostalgic stories would be a mistake. Julius was a crotchety and fearful old man.

If Leon hadn’t written a carefully worded letter ahead of time, he never would have been allowed through the city gates. Instead, an Inquisitor would likely have been sent to investigate if the Holy Sword had fallen into heretical hands.

The evening they arrived in Aseldorf, when Leon had briefly left the inn, he had visited the city’s postal office. While Veronica was washing, Leon sent a letter reporting that he had found the assimilated one.

“You arrived sooner than I expected. The carrier pigeon only arrived recently.”