As the clock tower chid ten tis, it signaled the start of the trial regarding Mostima. Jeanne, acting as the sole observer, walked in alongside the Pope's staff.
Outside, Fiamtta continued to watch Mostima's retreating back with a gaze full of worry. Her heart was a tangled ss of emotions, and she found herself at a loss for words.
"Don't worry. Since the Notarial Hall sought out Mostima to coordinate this action, it ans that in their eyes, she is the one most likely to be granted clency." Lemuen spoke softly, gently stroking Fiamtta's hair as she looked at her friend, whose expression of concern had not faded in the slightest.
In truth, Lemuen was also worried. She wasn't worried that Mostima would be disappointed if she failed to return to being a Sankta—knowing her, she likely didn't care—but rather she feared that an accident might occur. After all, such a thing had never happened before; Mostima could be considered the first Fallen Angel in all these years to attempt such a move.
Though she knew there would be no danger with the Pope presiding, facing an attempt that had never been made before made it impossible not to worry about the specifics. However, if Mostima could recover, it would indeed be a good thing. Now, the two of them could only wait here to see what the result would be.
anwhile, Jeanne and Mostima walked toward their destination together. The reason Jeanne participated was to prevent any accidents. When dealing with things never experienced before, it was better to be cautious than anything else. If sothing did go wrong, she could at least use her Revelation to do sothing.
However, was Mostima beside her perhaps a bit too calm? No matter how one looked at it, it felt as though this matter had nothing to do with her. After walking in silence for a while, Jeanne couldn't help but ask:
"Looking at your expression, it's as if you don't care about this at all. Do you really not mind whether you can change back or not?"
Mostima still wore that faint smile. Jeanne wondered if it was just her imagination, but she always felt that Mostima was... a bit off? Thinking carefully, she had seemingly never seen Mostima have any emotional fluctuations; she was like a pool of water that would never ripple. It gave the impression that she had seen through the world, and nothing could produce even a sliver of influence on her heart anymore.
"Actually, I'm fairly happy about it. Although I don't mind whether I recover or not, the identity of a Sankta is a bit more convenient."
Despite what she said, there wasn't a hint of change in her facial expression or the tone of her voice. It was as if she were rely describing a factual event.
"However, I have so issues with my personality now—or perhaps it has sothing to do with this thing. It's very difficult for to show any overly obvious emotions."
As she spoke, Mostima gestured toward the staff she carried on her back. In fact, her personality had undergone so changes under the influence of this staff. Most notably, her emotions had beco increasingly stable, and she beca less and less likely to get excited about anything, like a bystander in this world.
It wasn't that she didn't have emotions; they were still generated normally, but it was as if she were simultaneously affected by the ti-related power within the staff. This thing brought her far more trouble than it did power. If she weren't burdened with the task of guarding it, she would have thrown it away long ago.
Jeanne nodded, only half-understanding. She couldn't quite grasp the specific aning behind Mostima's words, only that it was related to the staff.
"We're here. This is the place."
Mostima called out to remind Jeanne. She was much more familiar with this place than Jeanne was, as the proceedings for her "Falling" had taken place right here. Back then, they weren't nearly as polite as they were today; that purple-haired woman had nearly executed her on the spot. She rembered that quite clearly.
The two pushed open the doors and walked in. The seats above were already filled with people, as if they were all waiting for their arrival. The room possessed a sense of solemnity, as if there were a mysterious field that forced anyone who entered to wear a serious expression.
...Except for that pair of angel statues holding shotguns. To a Sankta, it looked normal, but to Jeanne, it felt completely out of place. Its presence jumped the atmosphere of the room from serious to cheerful in an instant, as strange as a Transforr suddenly popping up in the middle of a zoo.
"Is everyone here? There's no need to worry. We already have an idea about your situation; we just want to give it a try."
Sitting in the very center, as expected, was the current Pope, Yvangelista XI.V. To his left and right sat Sankta dressed in various styles of clothing.
So wore clothes that were quite strange; one person had even covered their entire head, as if they didn't want others to see their face. Jeanne wondered to herself—she didn't see any holes cut into the hood! Could they really walk like that without crashing into a wall?
Despite the variety of odd attire, the red robes draped over them revealed their identities: they were the Cardinals of Laterano. These people could be called the most important group in Laterano; if anything were to happen to them here, the city would likely fall into total chaos!
Hearing the Pope's words, Mostima nodded to the Cardinals in greeting, then walked to the defendant's seat in the center to wait for the court to open. Directly in front of her was the object Jeanne had retrieved from the secret chamber—the one that looked like a re decoration.
"Since everyone has arrived, let us begin! The matter we are adjudicating today is simple: it concerns the pardon of Mostima's cri of Falling!"
Seeing everyone seated, the Pope announced the reason for the gathering with a serious face. Although everyone knew why they were there, their expressions still shifted slightly upon hearing the Pope say it. Good grief, this was an event that would go down in history! And it was falling right into their laps!
None of this had much to do with Jeanne, though. She just sat to the side, observing this fascinating and exciting debate. After the Pope finished speaking, Mostima recounted the events leading up to her Falling once more. The Cardinals' attitudes split into two camps.
One group believed that although Mostima had a reason for firing on her own kind, it didn't an her cri should be pardoned—after all, the fact that she fired on her own kind was an indisputable reality! Among them were even Cardinals who had previously spoken up for Mostima; their opposition wasn't for any other reason than the fact that this was "Tradition."
The other side argued that Mostima's actions were excusable. Furthermore, it was Andoain who had first ambushed his teammate; if anyone should have Fallen, it should have been Andoain.
The two sides argued incessantly over this point. Later, it devolved into a massive debate involving everyone except the Pope, Mostima, and Jeanne. Sitting there, Jeanne couldn't help but marvel—these Sankta really could talk! In any other city, a matter like this would have been settled with a simple show of hands.
But Jeanne didn't know how long this debate would last. It had been nearly two hours, and these people were still droning on. She wondered if they even served lunch here. But it had to be said, watching people argue was indeed a hobby that cultivated one's temperant; in this environnt, Jeanne actually found it quite interesting to listen to.
After an unknown amount of ti, the sound of discussion on both sides finally ceased. The Pope looked around and asked:
"It seems the disagreents among everyone have been mostly resolved. It is ti for everyone to make a decision on this matter. Therefore, please cast your votes."
Following the Pope's words, everyone began to vote. The result was obvious: the final verdict was that Mostima would not have to bear the punishnt of Falling.
After the Pope announced the decision, the old man just sat there, not knowing what to do next. After all, he didn't know what the next step was either! So, he looked toward Jeanne with a pleading gaze, hoping to learn the next procedure from her.
Even if you look at like that, I don't know either! Jeanne thought, seeing the Pope's look. She was suddenly at a loss for words.
And just at that mont, the dim halo above Mostima's head suddenly lit up again. At the sa ti, the Sarkaz horns and tail on her body vanished without a trace in that instant.
So... this thing is an automated program?
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