Even something that I initially loathed and felt so tense about until just before doing it can calm my mind and make me composed once it actually starts. Just like how my hands shake with nervousness right before a test but become steady once I receive the exam paper in front of me, once I crossed that line, I felt incredibly calm.
Honestly, I hadn’t decided what to say or how to chew them out when I got there, but hey, it’ll work out somehow.
This whole event was something I took upon myself without notifying the church, so it wasn’t just the central government that was in chaos. I was the one who requested, “Please treat me according to the constitution and national protocol,” and of course, protocol is not just about what they adhere to; it’s mutual.
If you want to be treated well, you must establish enough dignity to warrant that treatment.
I didn’t know anyone in the central government, so I couldn’t gauge the situation there, but the church was in complete disarray. It had been ages since a saint or apostle visited the central government in the church’s representation, and the officials responsible for protocol had to dig deep through dusty archives to find the paperwork.
“Wow, that looks amazing on you!”
Naturally, there were protocols I had to respect, too. I couldn’t just wear any old outfit to meet the leader of a nation—though the only country in this world is this one. They would surely dress in their finest to show me respect; it’s only right for me to do the same.
Well, at least I thought it was a given in the church. Dressing sloppily wouldn’t just be disrespectful; since we were the visitors, it would leave me embarrassed. I could be treated as, “What pitiful beings can’t even dress appropriately for such a distant visit?”
The saint’s robe I usually wore was already quite luxurious, and normally, I would never have even contemplated donning anything fancier. But as I mentioned earlier, once I had acted, I tended to remain calm when the fallout came after.
So, I went along with it.
Thanks to that, I ended up in a striking outfit resembling the pope’s attire, with shimmering golden thread woven into a blend of red and white fabric. A kind of decorative scarf hung around my neck, draped down.
At least it wasn’t the kind of outfit that left my legs exposed like my usual saint’s robe.
I ended up with an extremely religious-looking veil on my head, which was layered with red fabric also sewn with golden thread.
It looked awkward when I saw myself in the mirror, but at least Aurora and Linea said it suited me perfectly.
By the way, I was really curious where they had procured such a noticeably expensive outfit so quickly. If it were custom-made, it should have taken years… well, they also found a super expensive saint’s robe and brought it right away, so they must have some sort of method. In a world where just putting a torn outfit in a cabinet can fix it, maybe they’d been working on it since the moment I became the saint.
Naturally, Aurora, my saint assistant, and Linea also changed their outfits.
Initially, I planned to meet the president alone and just send the two of them to the academy, but they refused stubbornly, so I gave up and decided to bring them both along.
… It seemed inappropriate by status, but who cares? It’s already spilled milk. Using a bit of power here wouldn’t mess things up too much.
Emphasizing that she’s the “only” saint assistant, Aurora stood on my right side as my closest aide for protocol. For reference, instead of a dark nun’s robe, she wore a bright saint’s robe. Although it was a bit simpler than a saint’s robe, it was definitely something high-ranking enough to make Aurora’s face turn pale.
I had Linea, who would guard me right next to me, outfitted in the highest quality plate armor. It wasn’t just metal armor; it was something fortified with holy power I had directly infused into it. Just wearing it would heal minor wounds effortlessly and provide protection against magical attacks.
And as Linea donned that armor, she too turned pale, perhaps realizing what it signified.
Well.
Why.
What.
This is the path you chose.
Tough it out with your will.
And the saint knights tasked with protecting me during my procession all followed behind me, along with a multitude of people whose faces I didn’t even recognize.
Of course, I’d heard their names once or twice, but once the number surpassed twenty, I gave up on memorizing them. Regardless, I’ll just say it was a long list, and since I couldn’t fit everyone on my private jet, they sent another passenger jet for those following behind.
… It turned out to be much grander than I initially thought, but whatever.
At the point of sending a letter to the president, I had emptied my head, thinking, “Whatever happens, happens,” so it wasn’t something I minded.
I just hoped the central government would have a massive headache from this.
*
After a prolonged airplane ride, we arrived at the airport and found a huge crowd of people I hadn’t seen last time waiting in front of the plane.
There were what appeared to be soldiers in ceremonial uniforms, a great number of people in suits far away, a long red carpet stretching from the stairs set up at the plane to the limousines in the distance, and, filling the space in between, civilians who seemed to have been carefully chosen from various sectors.
How long had it been from when I sent the letter to when I visited?
It had probably been exactly a week. Since I hadn’t specified in the letter when we should meet, I received a query from the government asking when I would be available. I had replied, “As soon as possible,” and then they contacted me again with a request to meet a month later.
“Is that so? It seems ‘as soon as possible’ means one month in the central government.”
When I answered that with a terribly lackadaisical expression, the priest who had come to relay the message turned pale and hurriedly ran off. I’m sure the priest, whoever he relayed the message to, the bureaucrat who heard from him, and the ministers who received reports from that bureaucrat, and finally, the president above all had their faces turn pale, too.
At least the church had gotten used to my ruckus, but civil servants working in the central government probably weren’t. They’d likely managed the administrative processes I’d stirred, but that was better than dealing with the church that had to take in and store the corpses of witches.
It was a sunny day. Now, it was mid-September, and the season could technically start being called autumn. The clear blue sky with fluffy white clouds was incredibly beautiful.
The blue sky reflected in the pale faces of the people was far from beautiful, though.
Waving back at the people in the distance who were excitedly greeting me, I abruptly hardened my face upon seeing the men who had climbed the stairs.
There was no need to strain myself to do that. They were already the kind of people who made my blood boil just by looking at them. Even if they hadn’t desperately tried to entangle themselves with me, I wouldn’t have gotten this irritated.
If no one was around, they probably wouldn’t show any significant reactions upon seeing my expression, but this wasn’t a situation like that. The distant crowd couldn’t accurately perceive the circumstances here, but the cameras capturing my proximity and livestreaming it won’t hold back.
Even if I didn’t know what transpired behind me, my current deep discomfort would surely be communicated through the latest broadcast technology.
After the broadcast, it would be uploaded online as a video.
“…I am President Adrian Miller. It’s my first time meeting you in person.”
Ah, later I learned that it was standard for the president to attend canonizations. It’s the most important ritual in the only church. Just as the central government sends appropriate figures for significant events, so is it a principle that the government should do the same, yet I hadn’t seen this person at the canonization ceremony.
He probably thought back then that the church was forcibly making a saint out of someone.
I stared at the outstretched hand for a few seconds, pondering. Should I shake it? Or is it okay to ignore it?
Well, ignoring it might reflect poorly on me, too. After all, this was someone who rose to that position with the support of citizens. Moreover, I was much younger than the president. Being excessively rude wouldn’t be good.
Just by staring at the hand without shaking it for a few seconds, I would surely convey my irritation.
“…I am Saint Clara Anderson. Nice to meet you.”
Fortunately, my palms were dry. I thought it might turn awkward, yet being a seasoned politician who had rolled around the political arena for decades seemed to aid in avoiding severe embarrassment.
All things considered, for someone who had badly misread the atmosphere to escalate the situation to this extent, that wasn’t too bad, though.
After giving it a light shake a couple of times, I released his hand. Seeing the president withdraw his hand without hesitation suggested he had no intention of fostering familiarity with me at this stage. A wise choice.
“This way, please.”
With my palm up, I pointed towards the route I needed to take. While it was evident where I was headed, it seemed he wanted to appear as if he were quite good at escorting me.
Since I was planning on making a scene in the meeting room anyway, I just followed along his lead for the time being.
*
I was worried about what to say in the car, but at least it seemed he felt the atmosphere of me not wanting to be around him. In the car were not the president and me, but Linea and Aurora. The spacious car made it quite comfortable to accommodate three teenage girls in the backseat without any issues.
“Um, so…,”
Aurora said, as if she were trembling from nerves.
“Do I just need to sit there? Really?”
I nearly burst out laughing, but since it was a serious matter for her, I suppressed my laughter and answered.
“Yeah, you just need to sit there. If anyone speaks to you, answer briefly. I’ll handle the conversation.”
“Okay….”
Replying in a drawn-out manner, she placed her hand on her heart and exhaled. Like with the saint’s robe, the outfit precisely fit Aurora, accentuating her figure even bolder. … I blushed at the thought that I likely looked like that in the clothes I used to wear daily.
At least the attire I was currently in was thicker than the saint’s robe and layered with multiple fabrics, featuring various decorative trims and embroidery. So it wasn’t too embarrassing. The best part was that, of course, my legs weren’t exposed under a long skirt.
“Linea, you just need to stay still, too. You don’t need to worry that much.”
“Understood,” Linea replied, the armor clinking softly as she did. It seemed the armor fittingly adjusted so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable even when seated in the back. Then again, just looking at it, it didn’t look cheap at all.
In any case, there was no work to be done when we arrived. Externally, it was presented as a meeting to discuss future affairs with the head of government after the canonization, but the established facts from meetings among working-level staff had already concluded it would be an “informal hearing.”
Surrounding me were high-ranking church officials who followed me and high-ranking government officials where they gathered, the goal being to judge the merits and faults of the person who created that document.
Through this, I aimed to ensure that there wouldn’t be anyone rushing at me, even for the sake of loyalty to the president.
… Of course, this wasn’t to avoid future inconveniences; it was to ensure I wouldn’t need to seize power at all.
Anyway, I still had no intention of becoming pope.
… If the situation became absolutely unavoidable, then maybe I’d consider it.
Speaking of which, the whole situation being this way was the central government’s fault.
I’ll do my utmost to turn the tables. Damn bastards.
*
Before dinner, a brief scheduled meeting.
Strangely, the meeting place wasn’t the “government office meeting room,” but the “parliament hearing room.”
Officially, it was due to the little saint’s wish to check out the ministries, but the reality was they were genuinely eager to hold a hearing. During the staff meetings, there was even talk of bringing that person in as a criminal under the church law, but the government’s staff fought against it tooth and nail, so we ended up with an informal hearing.
Well, for me, since I didn’t need that much time, it didn’t matter. The church side, after a long while at the forefront, could only sigh in disappointment.
Normally, when outsiders visit government facilities, the press would follow them around incessantly, snapping photos and videos, but of course, the press couldn’t be allowed inside the parliament for this reason.
……By the way, there were indeed an incredible number of reporters. Where did so many people emerge from that hadn’t even come near me when I was out and about?
Perhaps my secret escort team lurking nearby was exceptionally capable.
“Well then, let’s begin.”
It wasn’t officially recognized, nor were actual legislators present; the hearing was attended solely by the working-level staff and leaders from both the government and church, which probably meant they couldn’t call it a hearing.
When I sneaked a glance at the person leading this situation, he nearly dropped the paper he held.
I wondered if the holy power I had been subtly emitting from my body was helping.
… Well, it was cowardly on my part, but so what? I am a saint. I could look a bit holy.
Ideally, among the people here, I’d like them to see me as someone untouchable.
“First, here is the person who wrote the relevant document at your request, Saint. His title is the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, and his name is Eric Mohel.”
He was a middle-aged man. His thin face and sharp chin resembled a razor blade. If I had to compare, he looked like a starving Doberman after two weeks of no food. Strangely, although he had a sharp appearance, his head was also damp with sweat.
He probably knew it too. Regardless of whether it was compelled by higher-ups or not, he was fully aware that any actions here would be just his own doing, deftly distancing himself from all responsibility.
From my standpoint, whether he severed ties or not, the government’s image had already sunk to the depths.
There was a significant difference between having official reasons to dislike someone or not. If it’s unofficial, people won’t empathize, but if it’s official, they understand. It provides a reason no one can refute for me to openly express my frustration without being challenged.
“Then let us begin the questions. Saint?”
The unnamed facilitator, who had calmed down slightly compared to earlier when he was trembling, called on me.
“Do you have any questions to begin with?”
Of course, it was a progression derived from the staff meetings. The government side had blurted out that they didn’t know what the person had done, leading to the conclusion that I would speak first as the involved party. Naturally, I welcomed this. They would have prepared countless rebuttals to my statements, but well.
There are many ways to shatter their logic.
“Aurora.”
“Yes, Saint.”
We had agreed in advance to refer to her that way in formal settings. It was Aurora’s request, as she worried about any potential damage to my authority.
Aurora responded to me and pulled out a massive book from the briefcase she had brought. It was thick, heavy, and comprised of extremely thin and light pages, yet the vast amount of writing recorded over centuries amounted to its weight of nearly 600 grams.
That was right. It was the holy scripture of this world.
“Before hearing the tale, I have something I wish to say.”
Without waiting for a response, I stood and stepped aside from my seat. Then, stepping back with purpose through the crowd, I moved to the center of the hearing room where the witness stood.
Holding the holy scripture with both hands respectfully, I presented it before the man Mohel.
“Please place your hand on this.”
“…….”
The hearing fell into silence.
“……Yes.”
With a tense expression, he swallowed and placed his left hand on the scripture, to which I instructed, “Now, place your right hand over your heart.”
“…….”
The man complied.
“Now, please swear an oath.”
“…….”
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of the man’s head.
“I pledge in the name of Goddess Ariel—”
“No.”
I cut him off, smiling gently.
“Not that.”
“Pardon?”
What I wanted wasn’t that clichéd oath. I wanted a certain solemn sworn statement that would ensure truthfulness, even if the individual didn’t know about other deities.
Certainly, even if Ariel would ensure that pledge is kept, that wasn’t my intention.
“If you are the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, you surely know there are not only Goddess Ariel, but also another deity.”
“…….”
The man’s mouth dropped open, looking as if he were about to choke.
“Pledge in the name of Demon Baal. Swear that here, you will not lie, and that you will only present the truth.”
“……Ah.”
A sound of someone reacting against that spectacle slipped out from someone’s mouth in the back.
Sever ties? Avoid responsibilities?
Whose decision is that?
[Isn’t that a bit excessive to leverage the gods like this?]
Ah, if you’re annoyed, send someone else, not me.
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