Intrigued by my words, Father Doverie scratched his chin in thought. "Learning about faith, eh? Now that's a little vague. Do you mean the dictionary definition of faith, or the religious practice of faith?"
His question confused me. "Both, I think?"
"Urgh! Children! Always so indecisive on the answers they want." He groaned dramatically before hoisting himself up from the bench with an audible grunt. "Come, Miss Firefly! Let's talk while we walk."
I quickly stood and followed him down the cathedral's grand aisle. The stained glass above bathed the polished floor in shifting hues of blue and gold, casting fragmented patterns over Father Doverie's robes as he strode forward.
We stepped into the cathedral's inner courtyard—a serene, gardened space with paved walkways weaving between flower beds and trimmed hedges. The priest meandered along the path, eyes scanning the scenery as if searching for something.
"So, tell me, as a soldier—what do you believe faith is, Miss Firefly?"
I hesitated, then admitted, "I... I'm not sure. But it seems like something fragile."
"Mm? I wouldn't expect such an answer from a soldier. And yet, you're correct." He nodded, raising a wrinkled finger. "Faith is a coin, Miss Firefly, with hope and trust on its two sides—an emotion we cannot fully comprehend."
His voice carried the weight of a well-rehearsed lecture as we walked beneath the shaded pathway. "As a group, people naturally believe in one another—for their own sake or for each other's. Soldiers, for example, *must* trust that their superiors' orders won't lead them to slaughter. And even then, they must *hope* that what they're doing is right. That, too, is faith, wouldn't you say?"
I stopped in my tracks, something in his words not sitting right with me.
"Soldiers give themselves to the Nymphas Empire," I corrected. "Not to the leaders who direct them. We serve the Empress's will out of duty."
"Yes, you do. However—" Father Doverie broke into a sudden coughing fit, his frame shuddering with each harsh breath. Alarmed, I reached out, catching him before he could collapse.
"Father Doverie!" I tightened my grip as he nearly buckled.
He weakly patted his chest, wheezing through his words. "I'm fine! Just fucking old." Groaning, he straightened slightly. "Ah, boy... my damn ribs..."
"Are you sure?" I asked, still concerned.
"Yes!" He snapped, recoiling me back with his sharp voice. "Stop fussing over me! You're young—you should be worrying about your life, not mine. Soldiers... pah! Senseless fools, all of you, giving yourselves to something you don't even understand." He huffed before nearly shoving his cane at my face. "And then there's your kind—the ones who know nothing beyond the orders they're given and the masters they serve."
My body stiffened at his words.
"Listen," he continued, eyes burning with a strange mix of frustration and wisdom. "You asked me what faith is—but you don't even understand the weight on your shoulders, missy. You don't understand what duty truly is. It's more than what you know, more than what you're told. It's your duty to fight so that people like me never have to. It's your job to get your hands dirty because of that. And when you inevitably fail—when you crumble beneath the weight of your precious duty... have faith. When your duty shatters, when there's no path forward, when all seems lost... have faith that you can piece it together somehow." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "Even when you know there's no way to fulfil it anymore. Have faith in yourself."
There was something deeper in his words than I'd first realized. It wasn't just advice—it was experience. "...Were you a soldier?" I asked quietly.
"No~. Goodness, no." He chuckled, the tension easing as he leaned back on the bench. "As if my brittle spine could handle any fighting. Hah! No, no... but my brother was. And you can imagine what sorry state he's in now."
"I... I'm sorry for asking."
Images of the evacuation on Sorfex flashed in my mind. The chaos. The screams. The soldiers, desperate, fleeing after failing to hold the line against the Dream Swarm. They had *hope*, even as their comrades fell by the hundreds.
"No promises in war," I murmured. "I already know that."
Father Doverie spat onto the ground. "As if my dead brother could be anything other than an idiot."
Silence hung between us. Then I turned slightly, walking toward a nearby bush of white-and-green roses. As I reached out, lifting one between my fingers, I felt something click into place in my mind.
Faith is an uncertain promise. To come home, or not. To do what we believe is right—or to fall into ambiguity. Faith to a citizen is protection. Faith to a soldier is duty. Faith to a wild animal is survival. It's an invisible force, something we create to keep ourselves from breaking when the world crumbles around us.
But what is faith to the Empress? The ruler of a galaxy—of tens of billions of people?
The answer came to me in a quiet revelation. Faith to a ruler is hope. A hope that the unknown future will unfold in a way that can be cherished. That's what all faith is, in the end. A wish and a belief that the future will be kind to us.
"...Perhaps all I can be is a fool," I admitted, still gazing at the flower in my hand. "But if that's the case... I'll be a fool protecting what I believe is beautiful—when I die."
I felt Father Doverie's gaze on me, watching carefully.
"I don't know if I'll have any regrets when I reach that point. I probably will." I exhaled slowly. "I've yet to learn what it means to be me, after all. My teacher always got annoyed with me—told me I could learn anything he taught, but I never once questioned who I was." I finally turned to meet the priest's eyes. "...Now, I think I'm starting to understand."
A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. As if this, this realization, was exactly what he had hoped I would reach. "So~ Miss Firefly," he said. "What is it that's beautiful enough for you to dedicate yourself to protecting it?"
I looked up, watching the sunlight break through the passing clouds, its golden glow warming my skin. The answer came naturally. "...A flower. Clear skies. And the future, I think."
A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, lifting my hair in a gentle caress.
Father Doverie tilted his head, curious.
And then, I surprised even myself with my next words. "I still have yet to see all that is beautiful in this galaxy," I admitted. "And yet, I've already seen so much of it. People. Simple flowers like this one. So if I must have faith in anything... it will be myself—that no matter what, I'll be there to protect the most beautiful parts of the Nymphas Empire in the future." I lifted my gaze skyward. "As the stars watch over me, hopefully."
Father Doverie's expression remained frozen in astonishment before he let out a long, weary sigh—almost as if he had failed in whatever lesson he intended to teach. "What a simple girl you are," he muttered. "You shine too brightly for this dark galaxy. Do you truly believe your words?"
"I do." I affirmed with a soft smile.
He studied me, then exhaled through his nose. "Then you understand the lesson I've taught. Do you?"
"That without faith in myself, I'll be nothing more than an empty husk on a dark path, right?" I lifted my hand from the flower and pressed it against my chest. "I never knew it before, but I think I've had faith in myself long before I even knew what this emotion was called. Whenever I fell and hated my weakness, when I despised the things I lacked—faith might have been the one thing that kept me from staying down in the mud." My clear eyes looked at him with newfound certainty. "Thank you for your guidance, Father Doverie."
He grumbled, shaking his head. "You're the one who walked the path. This old man just helped you see it a little clearer."
I chuckled. "Hehe. I can't tell if you're obstinate or just too kind to admit it."
Father Doverie rolled his eyes before groaning in exaggerated annoyance—this time much louder than before.
I smiled but grew more serious. "There are two last questions I have, Father Doverie—three, actually."
"Hmph! Say them, and I will help you however I can, Miss Firefly," he said, though he sounded reluctant.
I hesitated for a moment before asking, "What is this religion called? And what exactly are people like you—and the citizens—hoping for from it?"
His gaze turned sharp, filled with judgment, as if questioning why I had come here to learn about faith before even understanding what its faith was about. "...Seems like a rather late question, doesn't it?"
I could only laugh nervously, looking away in embarrassment. I really should have asked Andromeda or one of the commanders before coming here. All I knew before was that this place was a church.
"It's called Astrologia Gnosticism," he said at last. "We worship the stars and pray that the monarch's bloodline will always honour the Ten Pacts of the Knight King—the doctrine left behind by the creator of the first knight." Father Doverie's voice grew heavier as he asked, "Do you know of the Ten Pacts of the Knight King?"
I tried to think back to my training. The Ten Pacts of the Knight King... but nothing came to mind.
All I was ever taught was military strategy—how to kill efficiently and survive the battlefield. Basic language comprehension and arithmetic were already downloaded into my psyche during production. The most I knew about the Empire's history was that it had existed for three thousand years, with interstellar exploration beginning a few centuries before the Dream Swarm was first encountered a thousand years ago.
But the Knight King's Ten Pacts? I had never been taught anything about them.
"...I see," Father Doverie murmured, studying me as if re-evaluating my very existence. Then, with a slow sigh, he sat back down on the bench. "Well then, let me start you off with the founder." His voice turned measured, steady—as though he were reciting something sacred. "In the dark age of history, before mankind left its home, the palace-world Vistella, men fought endless wars against themselves with sticks and stones. Blood and savagery were all they had ever known." He tapped his cane against the ground. "That was... until he arrived. The founder of Nymphas—the unifier of mankind—Edward Var Trigrata."
His name alone carried a weight I hadn't expected.
"He led crusades across Vistella, bringing all of humanity under his banner. With unity came peace, and with peace came rapid advancements. For the first time in history, humanity worked together—and in two thousand years, we not only mastered war but tamed the very suns themselves to become our civilization's power source."
Father Doverie exhaled slowly. "But humanity's golden era did not last forever." A coldness seeped into his voice. "A thousand years ago, the Horizon Anomaly appeared—and with it came the Dream Swarm, ravaging our galaxy. In our darkest hour, as mankind fought for survival... he arrived. The Knight King. Damian Lordfall."
The name alone sent a strange shiver down my spine.
"The creator of the first weapon capable of crushing the nightmares of the Swarm—the Constellation Knight," Father Doverie continued. "It was Damian Lordfall who turned the tide of war. It was his genius, his knight's, that allowed mankind to stand its ground. Because of him, the war with the Dream Swarm became a stalemate. Because of him, man began to push back against the swarm."
I listened intently as the old priest spoke.
"In recognition of his achievements, achievements equal to those of the Empire's founder—Damian Lordfall was granted the highest honour." Father Doverie leaned forward. "He married into the royal family. And after securing his place in history, he created the Ten Pacts of the Knight King—a doctrine to uphold and protect the honour of the knights and the pilots who wield them." His gaze darkened. "The first and most important pact: All who give themselves to the Empire are awarded the chance to rise—no matter their past, lineage, or character—until their death."
A sudden realization struck me. My breath caught in my throat.
The first pact of the Knight King... It's the reason I was never scrapped for being a defect. It had to be. Why else would they have kept me alive? It would have been far more efficient to discard a defective tool like me—to kill me and produce a better version for the next generation. But they hadn't. They couldn't. Because of this pact. I felt my hands go cold.
Father Doverie snapped his fingers in front of my face, jolting me from my thoughts. "Miss Firefly? You seem to be in shock."
I swallowed hard. "Oh, um... sorry. It's just... I never learned much about the history of the Knights or the Empire before. I was just... s-surprised to find out about the Knight King's Ten Pacts." My voice wavered slightly. "I think... I owe my life to them."
"Of course you do." Father Doverie's tone sharpened. "You are a pilot of a Knight. Damian Lordfall created the Ten Pacts specifically to protect the dignity of the Knights and their pilots. Any who trespass upon them can face crippling punishment. Or worse—death."
Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a thin, navy-blue book and thrust it into my hands before I could even think to refuse. The leather felt worn beneath my fingers as I studied the object forced into my possession.
"Here," he said, tapping the book's cover with his cane. "A copy of The Ten Pacts of the Knight King."
I stared down at it, almost reverently.
"Read it," he ordered. "You'll learn what you should have already known. And you'll avoid making foolish mistakes in the future."
"Thank you..." I murmured, tucking the book under my arm. I wanted to ask what he meant by foolish mistakes, especially considering all the trouble I had gotten into on Helios Station, but I decided not to push my luck. My ears were already starting to ache from his harsh voice.
Father Doverie let out a loud breath, his chest deflating as he slumped slightly against the bench. "Now, that was your last question, wasn't it?"
"J-just one more," I admitted, regretting it the moment I spoke. "Why is your first name 'Father'?"
"Pahahaha!!" His sudden guffaw echoed across the courtyard, loud and thunderous, startling the birds nesting in the towers and making the nearby priests jump. I stiffened as Father Doverie rocked with laughter, slapping his own knee and gasping for air. "You—haha! Ahaha~! Oh, that's great. That's just absolutely great! Hahaha!"
Realizing I was the one being laughed at, I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. "Was that a dumb question...?"
"No, no, not at all," he said between chuckles, wiping a happy tear from his wrinkled cheek. "It's just that compared to all your deep, serious questions about faith and religion, this one completely lacks that same weight—it caught me off guard! Hehe. It's something only a child like you would ask."
His smile lingered, the deep lines in his face crinkling with amusement.
"The answer is simple," he continued. "Just as a father must guide and listen to his child, a priest must guide and listen to spiritual children. It is a title of respect, given in our tradition."
"Oh, I-I see..." Slowly inching away, I bowed politely. "Thank you for your counsel, Father Doverie. I'll come back if I ever have more questions."
"How annoying." He groaned, waving me off. "Alright, alright, you can leave now. I can tell you've had enough of this old man. Shoo! Go! Out with you, you brat!" Before I could step away, he suddenly tossed his cane at me. I barely caught it before it hit my shoulder with a negligible impact.
Instead of running, I picked it up and handed it back to him making Father Doverie confounded. Offering a small wave, I turned to leave, and as soon as I left I saw movement out of the corner of my eye—several priests hurriedly swarming him.
"Cardinal Doverie, you cannot treat a Star Pilot so rudely!"
"We are fortunate she is so forgiving, Cardinal!"
"You're late for your medicine! We must hurry now!"
"You can all buzz right off!" Father Doverie barked, his patience snapping. "I'm going back to my room, alright?!"
I giggled at the chaos, watching the old man scowl as the flustered priests scurried around him. For someone his age, I had expected him to be more fragile—but the way they feared him told me otherwise.
Still smiling, I continued my way out of the cathedral. As I stepped past the grand entrance, I asked aloud, "Andy, what rank is a Cardinal in the Astrologia Gnosticism?"
[Answer: Second in command under the religious leader, the Archon. They are equal in authority within the church to a General—similar to General Tony Gregoria of Rogue Raven Battalion.]
I froze. "W-wait..." My voice trembled slightly. "You're telling me that that cranky old man was basically a General in the church?"
[Correct.]
"A-a-am I going to get reprimanded for thinking he was just a regular priest this whole time?" I asked, panic creeping in. "He didn't seem that important—just... old. And grumpy."
[Unlikely.] Andromeda's voice was calm, efficient. [While the church holds sway over the Empire to some degree, they cannot interfere too much with Constellation Knights. Additionally, Cardinal Doverie appeared to like you, judging by his relaxed demeanour and lack of formalities. No punishment will come from not knowing his identity, Pilot.]
I let out a long breath. "Phew..."
The weight on my chest eased, and I slumped in relief. Coming here had been the right decision. I had arrived believing I knew the right questions to ask—only to have them chiselled away until I realized I had been asking the wrong ones all along.
But thanks to Father Doverie's guidance, I had learned so much. Including the form my path would take. ...Even if his stories about the Empire's Founder and the Knight King had dragged on well past lunch.
I sighed, rubbing my empty stomach. "It's too late to grab lunch now... but dinner is only a few hours away. I should have just enough money for a snack. If I can figure out how to purchase one, that is..."