KFBRV Pt 2 Ch 16
- 13 hours ago
- 5 min read
He turned his head slowly, exuding an aura of solemn dignity. As expected, the voice belonged to Charlotte.
[Charlotte] "I have changed into the tunic as instructed. However, this is my first time wearing such a garment. Is this the correct way?"
She was draped in the sky-blue tunic, the very style historically attributed to Rosaline.
[Pope] "You look absolutely flawless, Saintess. If Lady Rosaline were to return to us, I am certain she would look exactly like this. As a faithful servant of God, I couldn't ask for a more profound thrill."
He offered the exaggerated praise. The assistant priest, responsible for attending to the Saintess' attire, quickly chimed in.
[Assistant Priest] "Did you know, Saintess? That garment is the actual tunic worn by Lady Rosaline herself. The Grand Cathedral has meticulously preserved it to ensure it remains undamaged."
[Charlotte] "Pardon? Is that true? Good heavens! This is far too precious; I dare not wear it. How could someone like me wear such a sacred—"
The Pope slowly shook his head, his expression radiating benevolence.
[Pope] "Please, don't burden, Saintess. If you don't wear it, who possibly could? It is a garment destined exclusively for the Saintess."
Charlotte remained visibly flustered, her expression a picture of pure, bewildered humility.
[Pope] "You understand the profound significance of tonight's memorial service, do you not, Saintess? To match the absolute gravity of the occasion, it is only fitting that you wear this garment."
He pressed the issue, his tone gentle but unyielding.
[Charlotte] "Then...... I shall accept it with deep gratitude, Your Holiness. I will consider it a divine mandate to execute the memorial service flawlessly."
Conceding to his insistence, she bowed deeply in deference.
[Charlotte] "Your Holiness. To bestow such overwhelming honor upon someone as insignificant as myself is a true privilege. I shall never forget this grace."
Her etiquette was clumsy, more fitting for a rural village girl than a revered Saintess, but the Pope found that exact lack of refinement immensely satisfying.
She indeed is commendable.
She was excessively humble in everything she did, occasionally bordering on subservient. A girl whose standards and discerning eye were pitifully low.
Having a new Saintess who was this compliant and eager to please was an absolute godsend.
He had briefly worried that the excessively young-looking Charlotte might resemble a child playing dress-up in the sacred tunic, but fortunately, those fears were entirely unfounded.
On the contrary, the garment lent her a dignity she usually lacked. She looked more than capable of upholding the Grand Cathedral's authority.
Perhaps Rosaline's features resembled Charlotte's?
Every passage in the scriptures describing Rosaline's physical appearance had been severely damaged, rendering the original text illegible. This stood in stark contrast to the meticulously detailed accounts of her miracles and her attire.
Consequently, the Pope possessed zero knowledge of Rosaline's actual face, yet Charlotte's appearance in the tunic was so flawless it forced the thought into his mind.
[Charlotte] "Then, I shall take my leave to prepare for the parade, Your Holiness."
[Pope] "Yes. I have absolute faith that you will perform beautifully. As God's old servant, I shall pray for you unceasingly."
She offered another deep bow, and he returned a benevolent nod.
He watched with swelling pride as she scurried away. Once she was out of earshot, he turned back to the assistant priest.
[Pope] "Well? Does she show any signs of arrogance behind my back?"
[Assistant Priest] "None whatsoever. If anything, her awe at the Grand Cathedral's treatment is almost rustic."
The respectful deference they had displayed moments ago vanished entirely. Only the cold, calculating evaluation of Charlotte remained.
[Assistant Priest] "Ah, there is one thing, however......"
[Pope] "What is it?"
[Assistant Priest] "It concerns Count Albrecht and the former Countess. It appears Charlotte is independently gathering information about them."
The Pope furrowed his brow.
Is she taking an interest in the parents instead of the dead Odette?
[Assistant Priest] "I suspect, since Count Albrecht continuously sends emissaries in a desperate bid to establish a connection, she is simply curious and looking into the matter."
The Pope's scowl deepened.
That insufferable Count is always causing trouble.
[Pope] "Well, I suppose that makes sense. To a country bumpkin, a Count must seem like a fascinating entity."
[Assistant Priest] "Yes, that appears to be the case."
[Pope] "Regardless, she isn't plotting anything insidious behind our backs, is she? If that is the extent of it, she remains perfectly commendable."
Charlotte's scent mirrored Rosaline's—the fragrance of roses.
She was an infinitely better candidate for Rosaline's Feast Day than Odette. Even if the Temple faced accusations of trying to erase Odette's legacy, they possessed the ultimate justification to silence any critics.
[Pope] "She is an excellent Saintess. She is undeniably the Saintess this era requires."
He declared, stroking his beard with profound satisfaction.
The festive frenzy gripping the Empire, Charlotte looking far more radiant in Rosaline's tunic than anticipated, and the grand finale—the massive fireworks display scheduled for tonight.
Today marks the absolute end of the era of the dead Odette.
The grand design the Pope envisioned was completely flawless.
The Count's overbearing voice reverberated through Ferdinand's room.
[Ulrich] "To think you, Ferdinand, would prove even more useless than the Odette who died two years ago."
Ferdinand, dragged in and bound, stared blankly with dead eyes.
This was the exact reason the Count had spent his recent nights scouring the squares in a cheap carriage until dawn.
He had no idea which gambling den Ferdinand was holed up in, he was forced to search every single casino in the capital.
Consumed by the endless legal battles, he only discovered Ferdinand's severe gambling addiction after the trials finally concluded.
It wasn't the moderate gambling considered a refined pastime for nobles; Ferdinand had devolved into a degenerate addict, desperately chasing a massive jackpot.
Two years. I endured two solid years of absolute hell to save this bastard.
And while I was suffering, this wretch was gambling?
The situation escalated to this disastrous point entirely because of Rolf.
Fearing the Count might abandon the trial if he learned of Ferdinand's addiction, Rolf deliberately concealed the truth, failing to report it.
Rolf likely believed he could manage the situation himself, but it proved a catastrophic miscalculation.
Had the Count not been forced to liquidate his assets to pay Shylock and Sasha, had the financial situation not deteriorated to the point where he had to sell off the firearms in his armory, he still would not have realized the absolute depths of Ferdinand's ruin.
[Ulrich] "Have you lost your mind?! While your father bled himself dry to save your life, you stole family heirlooms to fund your casino trips? You wretched, ungrateful bastard!"
He hurled his cane at Ferdinand. Adorned with delicate craftsmanship and luxurious gold accents, the cane served as a symbol of the Count's authority.
It was an item far too valuable to be thrown, but the Count could no longer contain the fury boiling within him.
[Ulrich] "The heir to a Count's house behaves like a thieving rat while the family is forced to tighten its belt?"
He knew Ferdinand perfectly well. He expected his son to offer a pathetic apology in a desperate attempt to defuse the situation.
That was Ferdinand's insidious habit—offering fake, hollow apologies merely to escape the immediate crisis.
No matter how convincingly he feigns remorse this time, I will not let this slide.
However, his reaction entirely shattered the Count's expectations.
[Ferdinand] "Do you honestly think your struggles compare to mine? Huh? Do you think you suffered as much as I did, trembling in terror for two years, convinced I was going to die?!"
[Ulrich] "......!"
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