Inside a private chamber within Laterano's grand palace, an elderly man carefully scouted his surroundings. After ensuring the immediate vicinity was clear, he reached beneath his desk, secretly pulling out a hidden object. He double-checked the area once more to guarantee no eyes were upon him before letting out a long breath of relief.
Only then did he close the doors and latch the windows shut. Drawing a blade that gleamed with a cold metallic edge, he stabbed down into the object sitting on his desk, meticulously partitioning it into several neat slices. A satisfied nod escaped him.
He was clearly delighted with his own precise surgical handiwork. Gazing at the dissected target on the tabletop, a blissful glow illuminated his face, as though he thoroughly relished the sensation of cutting into it.
Yet just as he prepared to execute his next move, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.
The old man went rigid with alarm in a flash, frantically snatching up the neatly sliced object as he scanned the room for a suitable hiding spot.
"Your Holiness! I'm coming in! The Sarkaz guest has been delivered safely to Laterano. To be completely honest, when I first heard about this arrangement, your choice blew my mind. You two managed to pulled off something this huge without giving anyone a heads-up..."
Jeanne strolled straight into the Pope's office, tossing out a casual greeting. The spacious sanctuary—previously half-demolished during her past antics—had been fully restored to its usual elegant architecture. And right in the middle of it stood Pope Yvangelista himself.
He held a plate containing a freshly sliced piece of cake, a flurry of panic still frozen on his face. Upon seeing that the intruder was merely Jeanne, a visible sigh of relief washed over him, like a man realizing the monster in the dark was just a coat rack.
Jeanne blinked twice at the sight. She couldn't help but suspect whether this venerable figure was secretly engaged in some unspeakable wrongdoing behind closed doors. Why else would entering his own office scare the daylights out of him?
Yet knowing his character as well as she did, the grand leaders of Laterano usually carried out their schemes out in the open. Expecting him to engage in actual covert malice was utterly unrealistic—unless the old man had somehow stumbled across a strange fashion catalog and decided to try on a dress in secret.
"Ah, Jeanne! It's only you," Pope Yvangelista said, picking up the plate resting by his side to greet her. It was obvious now that he had simply been slicing dessert. "I was just about to enjoy a little afternoon tea. Would you care for a slice?"
Why on earth were you sneaking around like a fugitive just to slice a cake? Is there someone in this building threatening to rob your snacks?
"Don't even get me started. I've been target of a despicable vendetta!" Pope Yvangelista explained with a pitiful expression, looking genuinely like a victim of a cruel conspiracy upon catching Jeanne's bewildered stare. "Don't just stand by the entrance. Come in and lock the door!"
He promptly shut the heavy doors of his office himself. Watching the old man breathe a sigh of relief as if he had narrowly escaped a firing squad, Jeanne briefly pondered whether he had been placed under house arrest following a silent palace coup.
"Sigh... what a nightmare," Pope Yvangelista grumbled bitterly, recounting his recent ordeal. "I made a arm-wrestling wager with Patrizion the other day. Whichever of us lost had to buy the winner a box of limited-edition donuts."
Well, that sounded normal enough. That was practically standard daily entertainment for the senior leaders around here.
"How much did you win?" Jeanne asked, a sudden suspicion dawning upon her as she stared at the old man.
Pope Yvangelista raised his head, uttering with profound sorrow, "I won a full year's supply! And then that sore loser went straight to the head chef and suggested that at my advanced age, excess sugar is terrible for my health! Now every single dessert served to me this month is made with artificial sugar substitutes! I refuse to accept such synthetic atrocities!"
Your lives in Laterano are truly filled with wild drama! Jeanne thought to herself.
It was undeniably the most bizarre act of political retaliation she had ever witnessed. Were all the top leaders of Laterano this absurdly petty in their free time?
Jeanne took a forkful of cake, pondering the situation in silence. She had no intention of taking sides—though seeing the grand leader of Laterano so genuinely distressed over artificial sweeteners was undeniably entertaining.
"Forget my tragic grievances for a moment. Let us focus on official matters," Pope Yvangelista said, quickly realizing from Jeanne's amused expression that his attempt to play the victim and score her sympathy had failed miserably. He immediately straightened his posture, shifting into a serious demeanor.
"The Sarkaz Lord has arrived within our walls, hasn't he? Tell me... what kind of person is he in your eyes?" Pope Yvangelista dropped the lighthearted banter, pressing directly about their guest.
This was a matter of paramount importance to him. The presence of a Sarkaz carried profound historical weight within Laterano, which was why he had been waiting eagerly for her return.
"Logos came here with genuine goodwill," Jeanne stated plainly. "However, how you interact with him—and how Laterano bridges its gap with the Sarkaz as a whole—is something you two must navigate on your own. I didn't live through that ancient history, nor have I carried the weight of the feud between Sarkaz and Sankta. It isn't a burden I can resolve for you."
Jeanne spread her hands helplessly. She understood all too well that this endeavor was far from simple. Along the way, the intense stares cast by the local Sankta populace upon Logos had not escaped her attention.
Although the vast majority had exercised remarkable restraint, quite a few still harbored deep confusion and resentment. Facing such deep-seated friction, Jeanne knew Laterano had to face these inevitable grievances head-on.
"From your tone, it sounds as though you harbor doubts regarding our choice?" Pope Yvangelista asked, searching her face.
"I simply feel things are moving a bit too fast," Jeanne confessed, voicing the worry weighing on her mind. "I worry that accelerating this reconciliation without adequate preparation might trigger unexpected backlash."
"Too fast? I don't believe so," Pope Yvangelista countered, shaking his head. "The rift between our bloodlines has endured for thousands of years. That is an undeniable truth, but it does not mean we should drag our feet any longer."
Jeanne nodded in tacit agreement. The old man possessed far greater wisdom regarding political realities than she did; her role was simply to lend her strength to his efforts.
"Heh, rest assured. There won't be any disasters," Pope Yvangelista added with a warm smile, taking a slow sip of his tea. "I understand what concerns you. We have weighed all these risks thoroughly. Have faith in us!"
The gentle, benevolent expression on the old man's face carried a soothing warmth, reassuring Jeanne that he possessed the capability to navigate this delicate storm. Her lingering anxieties gradually eased.
"In that case, let's discuss the grand council you are assembling," Jeanne shifted the topic away from the historical feud, focusing instead on the upcoming assembly. "I heard that even Yan and Ursus have agreed to send delegations. Is that true?"
The upcoming assembly held far greater urgency for her now—it was easily one of the most pivotal global events in recent history!
"Yes... even I was surprised by how smoothly those two nations agreed to dispatch envoys," Pope Yvangelista remarked, stroking his white beard with a tone still laced with slight disbelief.
"Ursus is one thing—we maintain regular diplomatic channels with Deity Grypherburg. But Yan agreeing so promptly raises serious concerns about what they are facing on their own soil. After all, they too border the vast ocean."
A subtle edge of worry crept into his voice. Laterano harbored genuine concerns that Yan might already be grappling with a massive outbreak of those horrific oceanic monstrosities.
"We will learn the exact situation once their envoys arrive," Jeanne replied evenly. "I believe a realm as ancient as Yan possesses the strength to defend its borders."
While Jeanne knew little about the ancient empire of Yan, she clearly recalled Kal'tsit mentioning that Yan was among the safest regions on Terra. Kal'tsit had even half-jokingly suggested that if global affairs ever collapsed, Jeanne could move to Yan and enjoy a quiet, peaceful life for a long time. Of course, that's assuming that the Ancient Gods of Yan doesn't revive.
"Indeed. We shall know soon enough."
Pope Yvangelista's tone remained heavy. It was obvious that he, too, harbored deep anxieties over whether this monumental council could proceed without disruption, or if some disaster might derail their efforts.
Almost every major nation on Terra had agreed to send delegates to Laterano. The Holy City had spent years preparing for this exact moment, and they could not afford a single misstep that might ruin everything.
"It is certainly a daunting undertaking," Jeanne remarked, her tone turning solemn. "Which is why there is something crucial I must inform you of before the council begins."
She hadn't wished to dump even more pressure onto his shoulders right now, but time was of the essence.
"The situation in Iberia is far worse than we anticipated. If we aren't careful, that entire nation could fall to the Seaborn overnight."
Jeanne spoke with absolute gravity, without a trace of exaggeration. Hearing her words, Pope Yvangelista let out a long, quiet sigh, settling in to listen intently as she laid out the full picture.