Chapter 125

PROLOGUE There is a reason his clothes were black. The night is always darkest just before dawn, after all. Anyone who sees his vestments immediately understands exactly why the people call him the Twilight Cardinal. There was a certain girl who had gotten a whiff of something along those lines from a bard who regaled many a tavern with their tales—she had spent night after night absorbed in putting these overstated passages to paper—and now, that girl stood before him. Her brows were knit together, making for a laughably serious expression as she dipped her finger in a bowl of egg whites and ran it through his hair. After countless little adjustments she straightened herself, took a step back, and gave a satisfied huff. Col found all this a bit excessive, but his exasperation quickly faded. Looks counted for quite a lot in high-stakes situations. In fact, even this mischievous, rambunctious girl cleaned up quite nicely when her iconic silver hair was plaited in braids and she slipped on pure white robes. This girl, who was sometimes referred to as the Saint of the Sun, looked him up and down, then nodded in approval. The boy who had been waiting off to Col’s right reverently held out the scripture for him to take. Much like how a knight would hold a sword, or the way a merchant might carry a set of scales, Col took up the scripture. He understood this would help make him look the part of the Twilight Cardinal. Funnily enough, vanishingly few people had actually seen the real Twilight Cardinal with their own eyes. Coming across these eyewitnesses was almost as rare an occurrence. And so just about anybody could claim to be the real Twilight Cardinal. It was not particularly hard to convince anyone who happened to be in earshot of this. The resulting fervor was real enough to raise entire towns on empty plains seemingly overnight—a demonstration of the sheer power of the commonfolk’s frustrations with the Church’s tyranny, and their expectations for the Twilight Cardinal. Meanwhile, the man himself had been much too naive and careless. He realized now that it was unacceptable to allow opportunists and schemers to exploit that power. No longer could he shy away from duty and claim he was not yet ready to fill the shoes of such a grand figure. He had no choice but to fight, even if that meant shouldering the burden of the people’s impossibly high expectations. That was his responsibility as the one who had raised the flag of this grand cause. “Let’s go, Brother.” The girl who played at being a saint held out her hand. No matter what terrors or hardships awaited them, he could endure it all—so long as he had this little knight by his side. And if he looked over his shoulder, he knew he would see the faces of friends and comrades seeing him off. Col took a deep breath, and stepped forward as the Twilight Cardinal. First, he would have an audience in the cathedral with the archbishop, ruler of this corner of the empire. The archbishop was a person of great import, bestowed with the position of a secular noble within the empire. Winning over the archbishop would be a massive victory in his fight against the Church. He could ask for no better adversary in his first battle. Col walked through the vaulted hall of the cathedral and approached the great round stone table. Distinguished individuals were seated there, watching him with piercing gazes. Yet he stood before them without an ounce of fear in him.