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Chapter : 76
Baptismal Name
“Filthy. The way a cardinal behaves….”
A bizarre sight: the Pope holding a broom and cleaning a cardinal’s bedroom. Where else would you see such a thing?
The Pope dusted off the dirt in the room and neatly arranged an ancient text laid face down on the desk. Soon, seeing a bottle of alcohol tipped over under the table, his blood pressure rose, and his hands trembled.
“Get up, you!”
Haneli was fast asleep, wearing his full clerical robes, looking quite comfortable.
“You lie there sleeping while I have to sweep and scrub my back until it hurts! I’m the Pope, and you are my disciple, yet I’m almost eighty years old. Even if the world is upside down, there’s still a proper way to do things!”
“Isn’t it because you’ve grown old and sleepless?”
The Pope raised his broom arm and struck Haneli, sending dust flying.
“You vile wretch! You insufferable brat! I, a sick man, even have a proper meal prepared for you to serve me, and you dare…!”
“Who’s here?”
“The imperial court sent someone. The Empress wishes to receive a baptismal name.”
The Pope, suddenly choked up mid-scolding, reached out to touch his disciple’s eyelids. Haneli removed his bandages.
“You’re late.”
“Perhaps it’s the right time. Didn’t you delay it, intending for the royal marriage?”
During the royal marriage, the temple had already realized the Empress had no baptismal name.
“I didn’t delay; I was looking for the right moment.”
The Pope looked at Haneli, sitting in the dust, and asked:
“Do you think the water path will flow?”
“The water path has opened, yes, but I don’t know if it will flow yet.”
The Pope clasped his hands behind his back, worried. Water that stagnates rots.
The water path had stagnated and rotted, and now it was slowly clearing.
“Time seems to flow again.”
“That’s natural. Time is like a waterway. If it stagnates along a narrow timeline, it rots. Opening a waterway doesn’t guarantee flow. There must be water. Water must exist to flow, to clear the path, and prevent rotting.”
Bearing the weight of a soul is no light matter.
“Dawn will break soon. We should prepare to receive the guest.”
“I’ve already instructed the novice clerics.”
The Pope reproached Haneli, who had removed his bandages:
“Are your eyes okay?”
“Yes. They’re fine.”
“Your calmness is unsettling.”
“I now understand why the gods warn caution when using divine power.”
A blue light shimmered in his eyes. His eyes could see the nature of humans.
Though his eyes had been gouged out as divine punishment, the eyes of the gods had replaced them.
These eyes pierced the essence of a person, making even just looking exhausting.
“I’ll roughly cover your eyes.”
Haneli straightened his robes.
The Pope sighed to himself. This one had misused divine power and still received punishment. Yet he remained careless with it.
“The guest should arrive soon.”
“It’s still dark.”
“At dawn, send the clerics to the entrance.”
Haneli raised his head and looked toward the imperial palace.
“I see now why the divine punishment ate your eyes.”
* * *
“Baptism will be over quickly.”
The Pope administered the baptism.
Inside the prayer room where the baptismal name would be received, there was a marble basin.
Water flowed lightly in a large platinum basin. A channel beneath carried the water away.
“Dip your hand here. Your bare hand should touch it, so it’s best to remove gloves.”
For infants, the entire body is usually immersed, but that’s only ceremonial; touching with part of the skin suffices.
Kiung.
Rian whimpered and wandered around Charles’ feet.
The temple called Rian the “White Companion.”
A companion bound by soul was allowed to accompany someone into the baptismal room.
“It’s okay. It’ll be over soon.”
Charlov dipped his arm into the holy water. Ripples made his skin tingle.
[Arell]
A term for an ancient god forgotten in the old language.
“It sounds like a beloved name.”
Rian rubbed his head against Charles’ ankle.
Krung?
The Pope sprinkled holy water on Charles’ forehead. Droplets ran down, tapping his nose.
“You are weak. I have granted a blessing for your health this year.”
For some reason, words failed him. He confirmed the baptismal name.
“Doesn’t it feel like a beloved name?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Strange that it makes me want to cry.”
The Pope wiped away his own tears. For the first time, he cried seeing a baptismal name. His eyes reddened, and tears fell.
“Let’s leave now.”
Charlov slowly left the baptismal room.
“It’s early, so no worshippers are here. Stay as long as you like.”
The temple corridor was empty. Only a few clerics were sweeping.
The newly ordained clerics stood in a daze.
“Is it over?”
Benjamin, wearing a covert robe, looked back at Charlov.
“They’re all crying. Did something happen?”
“It was just receiving a baptismal name.”
The Pope bowed his head. The clerics wiped beneath his eyes and brushed away falling tears with their wrists.
‘Why do they cry?’
Perhaps they were shedding tears for those who could not.
“Divine power resonates,” Haneli answered, feeling his eye patch.
“The divine power, stagnant in the spring water, sensed old traces and wept.”
Haneli saw off the emperor’s entourage.
It was near dawn. Sunlight erased the darkness.
The imperial party who had visited the temple left.
“That place holds such sorrowful traces of the past.”
* * *
Bronte Count’s Residence
The Count placed his sword on the table and wrote a letter for the Imperial Secretariat.
[If the path you believed right collapses, what will you do?]
“When a child is born, they are baptized at the temple.”
The imperial carriage passed through the imperial city.
The emperor’s entourage, in covert robes, was inside.
“It’s an old custom. Parents have continued it, hoping their child grows up healthy.”
“…Did all parents feel the same way?”
“They likely did.”
Dawn had just broken, and pedestrians gradually filled the streets.
“When I was young, my mother was always trying to hide me. She often told me to hold my breath.”
As if trying to erase Charlov from her view.
“Why did she hide me so?”
Benjamin ran his hand through Charles’ hair.
“It was protection. Even if the child didn’t know.”
“Still, that child may not understand it as protection now.”
That child no longer clearly remembered her deceased mother.
“Ordinary matters have cause and effect.”
Benjamin nodded.
“The wish for a child to grow healthy was the same. Only the way of expressing it differed.”
Charlov murmured, looking down the street of the imperial city.
“I fear responsibility.”
Shouldering duty weighs heavily.
“I worry that the child will experience a childhood like mine. That after falling like fallen leaves, they’ll fade alone.”
“Do you dislike children?”
“It’s not a binary like like or dislike. Children are innocent, small, fragile. I thought I lacked the strength to protect such a child. If I couldn’t protect myself, how could I protect anyone else…”
“Responsibility is heavy.”
Charlov shivered slightly.
“I still find such responsibility burdensome.”
Charlov’s life was unstable.
“I wasn’t trying to burden you with duty.”
Benjamin replied gently.
“It wasn’t about duty. It was about walking together.”
“….”
“Extending my arm was to give you a support to hold onto and rise.”
Duty is heavy because it comes with many rights.
“Can’t I just extend my arm, is that not enough?”
Benjamin pulled Charlov into his arms.
His firm chest pressed against Charlov’s back. Charlov, stiff before, smiled faintly at the hand patting his lower abdomen.
Fingers lightly tickled his abdomen.
“Lately, suddenly…”
“Suddenly?”
“You’ve touched me more often.”
Benjamin rested his chin on Charlov’s shoulder.
“Is it not okay?”
“It’s just getting warm.”
“The Empress, reckless before, now curls up like a prickly hedgehog when I extend my arm.”
Benjamin rubbed Charlov’s lower abdomen lightly.
“Why keep rubbing my abdomen?”
“Yesterday you were unwell and almost threw up repeatedly.”
Recalling memories of near death upset him rapidly.
“Thought it might ease your discomfort.”
Benjamin rubbed his abdomen while wrapping his arm around Charlov’s waist.
Sitting on his lap, Charlov felt slightly dazed.
‘Where did the imperial etiquette go?’
Mentally, he felt secure and didn’t push him away.
“Even before dying…”
“….”
“If someone held me like this, I wouldn’t have felt so lonely.”
Leaning on him, his breath pressed against the back of his neck.
“Death is beyond human realms.”
“That’s why black magic is forbidden.”
The temple strictly forbade black magic because death lies beyond humanity’s domain.
“Rian has fallen asleep.”
“Since visiting the temple, he hasn’t been able to gather his energy. Energy flows out, and he seems to try to suppress it to control it.”
Rian, buried in white fur, lay on his lower abdomen.
Reaching to cover him with a blanket, his body crumbled.
A red waterfall seemed to flow like a vision. No, that couldn’t be. Nothing like that should flow here. Everything was red. A crimson mist rose, covering the land, and “it” with a demon-like mouth stared at him.
“Charles.”
Someone called her.
“Charlov.”
Thump.
The carriage shook violently.
Charlov, losing balance, slid down. Benjamin grabbed his waist and covered his head.
Bang!
They slammed against the backrest. The carriage shook as if it would split.
“Whoa, whoa!”
The driver panicked, calming the horse.
“The horse… the horse was startled, Your Majesty.”
Charlov’s hair flowed like a waterfall, a red wave covering his vision. Soon, the plain ceiling of the carriage came into view.
Benjamin held Charlov’s waist and asked:
“Are you okay?”
“…Never a moment of peace.”
“I heard a loud noise! What happened?”
Sounds came from outside.
“You must get out for a moment.”
“What is it?”
Benjamin asked. From outside came the reply:
“Flames have risen.”
Benjamin got out, looking up. Flames rose, dark red smoke trailing. A choking heat swept over. Servants fleeing the fire were visible.
“It’s the Bronte residence.”
Soon, the royal guards arrived, giving directions.
“Weren’t they on leave?”
Benjamin stared vaguely at the flames. The Bronte family is skilled in handling swords on the battlefield.
Not long ago, Count Bronte had requested leave, claiming his wife was ill.
If the head of a sword-wielding family remained at the residence…
“What is this fire?”
