Chapter 81: The Saintess (5)
The priests of Quavadis have come together and prayed day and night, and all of Phase III has been successful.
The essence of divine power, capable of cleansing a large area of plagues with a single drop.
Three drops of this extremely concentrated holy water were made as a backup.
Plany de la Verge (Saintess's Tears).
Just one drop was enough to uproot all the plagues in the slums.
Dolores recited a prayer of blessing and thanksgiving over the three final drops of holy water.
[Behold, all of you. Here is a woman with her only son. Do you know the grief of a mother who sees her son hanging? I, the unfortunate one who had to raise the Son of God, howled from that night to the next, and it is so painful that my heart does not follow me. This day, O my beautiful and excellent son, shall be the most bitter and sorrowful day for me...]
The epic written by the first saintess weeping shines by consoling all the holy sacrifices in this world.
Then three drops of holy water began to emit a bright light.
Archbishop Mozgus bowed respectfully and placed the small glass jar containing them on a tray.
Dozens of bishops then followed him in carrying the holy water.
It was to be stored in a solid underground vault deep inside the official residence of Saint Mecca branch of the Quo Vadis family.
Soon, a crowd of priests gathered in the main building of the Quabvadis family to watch the procession.
"...."
Dolores felt the awkwardness and discomfort in the air.
The Holy City of Quavadis had recently been in the midst of a civil war, and here were the two leading factions, the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, all in one place.
The plague, the Red Death, was a huge problem.
Suddenly, a middle-aged man with a grave and sleek appearance looked at Dolores.
"Come closer. My Nymphet, my daughter."
Dolores hesitated slightly at the words, then lowered her eyes respectfully.
"...Yes, father."
With that, she walked with slow, small steps to stand in front of the man.
Dolores' eyes took in his face.
'Humbert humbert L Quovadis.
A man who holds the title of Cardinal, the de facto highest dignity of the Old Order, a position so exalted that there is no place higher except for the Pope.
He reached out and stroked Dolores's head once, lightly.
"You've made a great dedication this time."
"You are flattering me."
Dolores was very careful with her father.
It was an uncharacteristic demeanor for a father-daughter duo, but it was also commonplace in large families, so no one thought it odd.
Humbert, on the other hand, recognized Dolores' demure demeanor and nodded.
"Very well. Give me a report on what's been going on."
" ... I've been working on a report, can I give it to you right away?"
"'Better say it out loud. Writing is stiff."
Dolores nodded silently at Humbert's words.
"We'll use the first batch of 'Saint's Tears' to cleanse all the waterways that run underground in St. Mecca."
"Have you found the source of the plague?"
"Yes. It was an unregistered well high above the slums."
Dolores was a born investigator.
She was a member of the Academy's detective club when she was a first-year student.
Dolores focused her investigations on slum patients, mostly children, and was able to secure a number of testimonies of ghostly sightings at a well.
When the children claimed that a ghost had cursed the well, Dolores went to investigate.
Sure enough, the well was heavily contaminated with plague, and he found a glass jar in which the killer had allegedly placed the plague bacteria.
What's more.
"And while investigating the area, we found a suspicious object."
This is where the report stops.
At Humbert's questioning look, Dolores pulled out the evidence, wrapped in a clean cloth.
Humbert's eyes widened at the sight of it.
"Is this ...?"
A single dagger.
With a large snake emblazoned on it, it was unmistakably the symbol of Leviathan.
Also lying next to it was a button.
A golden button with a scythe and hammer on it, clearly the mark of the tycoon bourgeois.
"Where did you get these?"
"They fell in different places by the well."
Then Cardinal Humbert's eyes dart around rapidly.
In his mind, the cause-and-effect chain was already being put together.
" ...You said that the structure of the plague seemed to be artificially created."
To create a plague of this magnitude, not only would it require an intimate knowledge of poisons, but it would also require huge research funds.
BANG!
Cardinal Humbert stomped his foot once, hard.
The white marble floor cracked and the two stone pillars around him crumbled.
"I declare a crusade! How dare you, you lowly vipers, and mistresses dare to blaspheme... ... !"
Even the Emperor bows to the will of the Quovadis, so how dare these lowly poison-making, money-grubbing creatures make such a challenge!
Indeed, there was an undercurrent of strife among the seven families of the empire.
"...."
Dolores remained silent, her mouth agape.
Then, something came out of Cardinal Humbert's mouth that made her eyes widen.
" ...Did you say hound of the night?"
Humbert said, his handsome face contorting.
"He's suspicious, too. Take him in and put him before the Inquisition. Make him spit out everything he knows."
At this, Dolores visibly panicked.
Her calm, cool demeanor crumbled in an instant.
She looked like any other sixteen-year-old girl and shouted urgently.
"He's not guilty!"
"...?"
Dolores suddenly protested, and Humbert's expression hardened for an instant.
"...Him?"
Humbert looked down at Dolores in disbelief.
"Daughter, what are you saying...?"
Dolores, the daughter who had always moved so dutifully, without a word of protest.
She had been a good daughter who had never gone against her father's wishes since she was born, except for her enemies in the New Order.
But what about now?
"...."
Dolores met Humbert's gaze, her fists clenched and shaking.
It was as if he was determined to defend the existence of the Hound of the Night.
"There's no way a man so dedicated to the poor could be evil!"
Dolores had heard the testimonies of many patients.
A man who stayed up all night to see them, saying over and over again that he was sorry for what he had done.
A man who used divine powers, albeit weak ones, and who gave away all his possessions to his patients.
'Why did he say he was sorry to his patients?'
For not being able to cure them sooner or more? If that was the case, Dolores felt strongly about it.
She had felt sorry for sick people every time. Then others would ask her what she was sorry for. Or rather, why would someone who should be grateful be sorry?
But even so, Dolores was sorry. I always felt sorry for everyone.
And the Hound of the Night understood that. Empathized with her.
She remembered a conversation she'd had with the Night Hound not long ago.
'I was lucky enough to be born with divine powers, but I'm weak in body, mind, and faith. Someone as strong as you should have been born with these powers....'
Why did God choose her to be a saint? There are plenty of other people with strong faith who don't have divine powers. Why did he give her the undeserved title of saint?
The Night Hound turned to Dolores, her head bowed and weeping.
'The very fact that you are so distressed and sorry must be why the gods chose you. It must be the love of the gods you speak of that shines through in the lowest, fiercest places.'
Dolores couldn't help but sigh softly.
The words were comforting, as if spoken by a veteran saint who had seen all the ups and downs.
This advice hit her like a knock on the door from her future self to her present self.
Like a wise old saint from the classical era, or a big sister to emulate and follow.
Watching the hounds of the night, she felt a little like that.
'When I get older, will I be able to say the same words you just said?'
'... Perhaps you will be.'
He answered strangely, giving Dolores a faint glimpse of trust.
The sixteen-year-old girl admired that.
Perhaps that's why she was so adamant about the Hound of the Night's innocence in front of her father, Cardinal Humbert.
But.
"...."
The more vigorously Dolores defended herself, the harder Humbert's expression hardened.
Then Humbert motioned to a number of bishops.
"Prepare for an urgent arrest. We will meet and question him."
Dolores's pleas were to no avail.
Humbert strode off, his demeanor even more murderous than before, and headed for the chambers where the Hound of the Night was supposed to be staying.
Dolores followed Humbert in a panic.
He was ready to throw himself down and wrap his arms around the Night Hound if he had to.
... but.
"!?"
Everyone standing in front of the cabin couldn't help but open their eyes wide.
Whirring.
An empty cabin. The curtains swallowed the wind coming in through the broken glass window and puffed up like ghosts.
A hound of the night, long gone.
The priest's urgent shouts from downstairs gave away the situation.
"There's trouble! A drop of the saint's tears has gone missing!"
The moment.
"...aah!
Dolores opened her mouth in silence.
Now he had a vague idea of why he had come here.
And the vague certainty that now that he had served his purpose, he would never see him again.
As Humbert and the paladins fussed and organized a pursuit party, Dolores stared out the window into the darkness.
The empty rooms, the broken windows, and the cold breeze brought the reality back to him.
...Thud!
His heart sank once more.
It was a different beat than the last.
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