The cathedral was the work of two hundred years, finally completed in Tempus Fugit 724. It was circular in shape, with towering images of the Goddess Strecia carved into the walls to the north, south, east, and west. There were always believers who, upon seeing the cathedral for the first time, were moved to tears by its sublime beauty. In addition, since rumors had spread that Strecia’s expression subtly changed depending on the angle at which it was viewed, believers endlessly circling the temple had become a common sight.
“The fog’s very thick today, isn’t it, My Seraph?” Angelica said, her cheek squashed up against the carriage window. The childlike behavior charmed Sofitia, who sat diagonally across from Angelica.
“I believe the temperature fell very low last night,” Sofitia replied, “so I doubt this fog will clear for some time.”
Looking out the window as they passed a snaking column of believers making their way to the entrance to the nave of the cathedral, Sofitia and Angelica entered through the side door reserved for persons of high standing. Awaiting them on the other side, accompanied by several priests, was the man who stood atop the hierarchy of the church, Archbishop Ariel Harmiton himself.
The driver graciously offered a hand to Sofitia, who took it as she stepped down from the carriage. She faced the softly smiling Ariel, held out the skirts of her black gown covered with intricate silver embroidery, and curtsied.
“Your Holiness. It has been too long.”
“A messenger hurried to inform us that we would have the unexpected pleasure of your company. I rushed to make myself presentable.”
“I hope you will forgive our sudden intrusion.” Sofitia bowed low, at which Ariel became greatly flustered.
“Oh, this is embarrassing. I didn’t mean to imply anything like that...” He faltered. “But, Seraph, you are radiant as ever. As I recall, it has been two years since last we met, yet to my eyes your beauty has only grown more exquisite.”
“You have that right! The seraph gets more beautiful every day!” Their conversation was interrupted by Angelica, her chest swelling with pride. Even for kings and rulers, it was considered no mean feat to meet with the archbishop in person. Such was the reputation his position commanded, and so one might have understood the intense dislike with which the other priests glared at Angelica.
“Angelica, here you must be mindful of what you say,” Sofitia chided her. Angelica’s eyes grew as round as a gray squirrel’s, and she tilted her head sharply to the left.
“Huh? But it’s true, isn’t it? I mean, His Excellency the Archbishop thinks so too.”
“I could not agree more with the young lady,” said Ariel, nodding along. Angelica thrust her nose in the air and nodded herself. The sigh that escaped Sofitia was so profound she even surprised herself. She had, without exaggeration, nothing but admiration for the nerve it took to stand undaunted before the man who occupied the highest position in the Holy Illuminus Church, but she also fervently wished Angelica would consider whether now was really the place and time.
“I sincerely apologize for my subject’s impropriety.” The actions of one’s subjects all reflected on their ruler. Sofitia bowed her head again.
“Please raise your head, Seraph. Indeed, I envy you having such excellent people in your service.” Ariel did not appear offended in the slightest. On the contrary, as he stroked his bushy beard, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “But we should not stand chatting away under these wintry skies. Please come inside. I will have the wrath of the Mekian people to contend with if I allow Seraph Sofitia to catch a cold.”
“I wish you wouldn’t jest about such things.”
“Huh?” Angelica interjected. “But the people would be angry.”
“Angelica.”
In a state of discomfiture, Sofitia followed the merrily grinning Ariel into the cathedral.
Sofitia’s and Ariel’s footsteps echoed in the silence of the cathedral. They walked for five minutes through the mystical cloisters that floated into view in the pale, blue-green light. Then, Sofitia was shown into a room so sparse as to make everything up until then seem like an illusion.
“This is my room,” Ariel said. Sofitia felt genuine surprise. Everything on his person, from the robe of his office to his many ornaments, were fine enough to rival the spectacle of the cathedral. Sofitia did not engage in the distasteful habit of speculating on the private quarters of others, but even so, she could not deny that this was unexpected.
“Not what you were expecting?” he asked with a gracious smile that said he had guessed her thoughts. Sofitia readily admitted that it was not, which made him chuckle.
“I had it rebuilt nearly a year ago,” he explained. “I imagine it feels horribly cramped to you, but this is where I am most at ease.”
“It is not so different from my own room. You need not be concerned.”
“It is a relief to hear you say that.” Ariel directed her to a simple round table, where a fine-featured boy in a white robe drew out a chair for her. In the middle of the table there was a small vase of white porcelain, containing a single, modest blossom. Singularly rare, with each of its petals taking on a different color, it was a spinacia—Sofitia’s favorite flower.
Archbishop Ariel really remembered that little conversation from all of two years ago.
Ariel made no mention of the flower as he sat down opposite her. A moment later, another boy identical to the first appeared to offer her tea.
They must be twins, Sofitia thought. As the boy bowed his head and drew back, he gave her a furtive glance that was full of curiosity. When Sofitia smiled at him, he retreated, looking flustered.
“We have everything we need. You may go.”
“Yes, Archbishop,” the twin boys chorused in clear and ringing voices. They left in perfect step with one another, as though they had rehearsed it. Sofitia found her eyes following their retreating backs, until Ariel spoke softly.
“That which glittered so brightly to my eyes in my youth has come to seem very foolish as I grow older.” Bouncing the shining platinum medallion that hung around his neck on his palm, he gave her a sly smile. This medallion, which he now handled with such irreverence, was the mark of his position as archbishop and one of the Three Great Treasures of the Holy Illuminus Church. Anyone with any connection to the church knew this.
Sofitia felt laughter rise up within her at this very un-bishop-like behavior, and was unable to contain it.
“If His Holiness, Archbishop of the Holy Illuminus Church, means to carry on like that, he had best be prepared for the sermon Bishop Krishna will give him.”