I had told Marmar and Balan beforehand.
That we weren’t in Roman for sightseeing, and that there wouldn’t be ti to relax or enjoy the city.
But that didn’t an I’d co here to undertake so grand mission either.
It wasn’t a tourist trip, but I had co with a relatively light heart—just to finish my business and return quickly to report back to the brides.
And yet now, I was about to et with the Archbishop of Roman—Antiek.
He might well be the ultimate adversary in all this, or perhaps the figure pulling the strings from the shadows. The sudden arrangent of this eting left with a bitter taste in my mouth.
“That... Se, Saint Priga was one head of the Church... and this man is the other. I can’t imagine what kind of man he’ll turn out to be. If anything goes wrong, I, Balan, am prepared to offer up my body...!”
We entered what could only be described as the enemy’s stronghold—no, the very seat of their power: the Sanctum of the Holy King.
Though Saint Priga’s residence in Gracia was also referred to by the sa na, in a strict sense, this place was the one truly worthy of it.
After all, the Gracia faction of the Church had splintered off from here long ago. The origin and tradition belonged to this side. This city was older, and with it, ca legitimacy.
Of course, just because sothing is older or more legitimate doesn’t automatically make it right or good. Still, the towering architecture built on centuries of history was undeniably impressive.
━This place... it’s extraordinarily nymph-friendly...!
━Look, it even has nymph statues...!
For so reason, there were a surprising number of nymphs around, who looked like tourists.
The gleaming ivory marble floors, the towering columns, and the impossibly high ceiling decorated with murals resembling a divine creation scene—it all hit with overwhelming majesty.
“Being in a place like this... even soone with no faith might start to believe.”
It reminded of the first ti I’d walked into Angmar’s royal palace.
In a place like this...
“In a place like this, who does live here...?”
Marmar’s words snapped out of my thoughts. The timing was so eerily appropriate that it made laugh. I guess we humans—and imps with tails—aren’t so different in how we think.
Swoosh. Flick.
“Ah! Comrade! Why are you grabbing my tail?! You can’t just pull it—tails can co off, you know!”
“I just... wanted to see what it felt like.”
Marmar flailed in a panic, checking if her tail was still attached. Looking past her shoulder at the pillars, I found myself wondering the sa question again.
Who lives in a place like this?
In the glorious and imposing Angmar palace, Ayra, a woman of equal grandeur, sat proudly on her throne.
Then what kind of person would dwell in this grand divine sanctuary?
Of course, I knew of the Archbishop of Roman—Antiek. But I didn’t know much about him, and I’d deliberately avoided learning more.
I didn’t want to form preconceived notions.
Still, if I had to imagine him, perhaps a stern, bearded priest in his old age? Or maybe a kindly elderly man with white hair and pale skin?
Perhaps even a plump, ambitious scher.
Just then, the priest guiding us pointed to a door.
“This way. This is the reception room of the Sanctum. Archbishop Antiek is already waiting inside.”
“Then °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Marmar, Balan—you two wait here.”
Following the priests, I entered the room.
There, already seated, was a man in long white priestly robes. And the mont I saw him, I had to admit that my imagination had been far too narrow.
Sssht.
He rose from his chair and extended a hand toward .
“Welco, Teo Gospel. I am Antiek, Archbishop of Roman.”
He was a giant of a man—not inferior to Reinhardt in size. I had to crane my neck just to et his gaze.
He looked to be in his early to mid-40s. His hairline receded in an M-shape, and his left eye was covered by a luxurious eyepatch.
His face was covered with scars and burn marks... to be honest, if not for the priestly robes, he would’ve looked more like a warrior, a thief, a pirate, or a bandit than a clergyman.
Sssht.
Perhaps noticing my stare, the man touched his eyepatch and face.
“I know what you’re thinking. Everyone makes that face the first ti they et . I suppose my appearance isn’t exactly comforting.”
It was strange hearing a man who looked like a battlefield commander speak with such humble tones—very typical of priests.
But his intimidating fra wasn’t sothing that could be hidden with words alone.
After all, humility only suits those who are great or powerful. When the powerless humble themselves, it’s not virtue—it’s groveling.
In that sense, this man’s humility was like a sharpened blade.
“Still, I must admit, I was surprised when I first saw you as well, Sir Teo. I had heard you were a feral monk, nearly eight feet tall, with a wild beard.”
“I see.”
“A magician who reached the realm of Grand Magic in the shortest ti ever—I imagined soone much rougher and more intense. Though even now, your presence is strong in its own way.”
He chuckled. A laugh full of bold confidence.
I’ve always believed that everything in a person’s life happens for a reason.
If soone stood above others, then they must’ve earned that place—through power, skill, or lineage.
And by that reasoning, Antiek could rightly be called a heroic figure.
At least on the surface, he certainly had the presence to lead others. People tend to choose their leaders carefully, after all. They want soone they can proudly point to and say, “That’s our boss.”
Still...
It was hard to believe that a man like this was secretly orchestrating a coup or operating from the shadows.
But then again, you can never judge a book by its cover.
Even I, a half-fairy barely larger than a mouse, was about to marry five won at once. Who’d look at and think that?
Sssht.
Archbishop Antiek bent at the waist and knee. When he t my gaze while bowing, I was briefly taken aback. Then he said,
“...But now that I see you in person, I understand. You resemble him. That man. He had the sa clear eyes as you, Sir Teo.”
“That man...?”
“Isaiah Gospel. I’m told he was your father. I knew him well. In a way, this eting between you and was destined long ago.”
Isaiah Gospel.
To hear that na here of all places—I hadn’t expected it. The unexpected ntion made my heart falter for a mont. As I was catching myself, the bowed man straightened up and spoke heavily.
“Your reckless nature—you must’ve inherited that from him too. Then I imagine you’re not fond of long-winded speeches either. So I’ll get straight to the point.”
Sothing big was coming.
I braced myself internally as he parted his lips.
“Beco our guiding light. Just as he was ant to be.”
***
Antiek’s real na was Barabbas. He had no last na—just Barabbas.
The na ant “son of the father.” And in this context, “father” referred to God. He was, in essence, called Son of God.
But despite its glorious aning, the na carried a sense of tragedy.
That was because the Church often gave nas like Gospel or Gloria to orphaned children—nas ant to reflect hope and grace.
And just like most who bore such nas, those called Barabbas often lived hard, cursed lives.
Antiek—no, Barabbas—was no different. He had done just about everything: thief, bandit, you na it.
He had been the worst kind of criminal, and in the end, was sentenced to death by an angry mob.
“I was strapped to the execution rack, just waiting for the flas. I was twenty-five at the ti... likely the sa age as you, Sir Teo. Can you imagine it? A criminal hanging on a scaffold at twenty-five.”
“......”
“No one spoke in my defense. Even those I thought were comrades were the first to condemn . It was only natural. And that’s when I t him.”
“Isaiah, you an.”
Nod.
I hadn’t known Isaiah Gospel had been in Roman. Neither Reinhardt nor Stella had ever told .
It must have been long before Isaiah disappeared.
Antiek continued.
“He bought for thirty gold coins. Can you believe that? Who pays thirty gold for a vicious criminal? Back then, that was enough to build a fine house here in Roman.”
Thirty gold coins.
I thought back to when I first t Marmar. Surrounded by angry villagers, nearly burned alive—I had bought her freedom with gold too.
Isaiah had done sothing like that as well?
The parallel stirred a strange feeling in . Curious to hear more, I sat back in the sofa and urged him on.
“I see. So he got you released?”
“Of course. But actions have consequences. I lost an eye back then.”
His lone remaining eye sparkled with a boyish gleam.
“After that, I beca his servant. I followed him all across the Roman region. Ruins I’d never seen, mountain peaks I didn’t know existed... It was the first ti I realized how wide the world truly was. Sotis I regret losing that eye. If I hadn’t, I could’ve seen even more of it.”
He said he had learned repentance for the first ti in his life. That recalling his past sins brought him to tears he could not hold back.
“I didn’t really understand God. But Isaiah Gospel—that man was like a god to . He saved my life, and in him, I saw the divine.”
A testimony of faith.
Now that was fitting for a man who had risen to the rank of Archbishop.
“I asked him to give a new na, erasing my past. But he refused. He said he didn’t na people.”
Isaiah, who never gave nas. It reminded of Mormor... not just her. Isaiah hadn’t nad his own half-fairy son either.
I’d thought it was just eccentricity.
But hearing this made it feel like there was a deeper reason.
I asked, out of sudden curiosity.
“Did he ever say why? Why he refused to na others?”
“A reason... Yes, I think I rember. He once said, ‘Nas are like magic—they hold great aning. That’s why they must be given not by others, but by oneself.’”
“Ah.”
It hit , all at once.
Mormor, abandoned at the fortress, hadn’t been insignificant to Isaiah. It was the opposite.
And I, the half-fairy, wasn’t discarded out of indifference either. I had nad myself Teo Gospel of Angmar. That had been his wish.
Thinking that way cleared my mind.
The man across from smiled faintly.
“Looks like you’ve co to so realization.”
“Thanks to you. Honestly, I was dreading this eting, but I’m glad I ca. Thank you, Archbishop Antiek.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“So, what did you an by ‘be our guiding light’?”
The smile on his face faded into a solemn expression. He spoke in a low but serious voice.
“I traveled with my master Isaiah for a long ti. And eventually, I realized—he was searching for sothing.”
“...Searching?”
“I never found out what it was. But one day, Isaiah discovered sothing at a ruin near Roman. He entrusted it to ... and vanished.”
Sssht.
Archbishop Antiek pulled sothing from his wide sleeve—a scroll. It looked stiff and pristine.
When he unfurled it, I was struck by confusion.
“What is this?”
“It’s what Isaiah was searching for. This is a copy, of course.”
“So this scroll...”
“So call it the truth beyond the gate. But I prefer another na. A star fallen from the void, or—”
His single blue eye glead.
“—a god.”
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