The Red Lamp of Lacorinto
Sunlight poured down over the stream.
Roberta squinted against the brightness and spoke.
"Why bring up his name?"
Facing her, Beatrice replied,
"Because Armin—no, Ulrich—is him."
"Am I wrong?"
Roberta hesitated, as if at a loss for words.
"…You're saying Lord Ulrich is Hestio?"
"Given the circumstances, he's one of the possible candidates."
"What circumstances?"
Beatrice looked steadily at Roberta, studying her reaction.
But Roberta did not panic. She had expected to be questioned, so she feigned disbelief.
"You heard it too, didn't you? The conversation that fairy spirit—Erelbur—had with him."
"I did. But I don't think it's enough to be certain that Lord Ulrich is him."
Instead of asking why, Beatrice's brow twitched slightly.
"There's nothing that directly connects him to Hestio."
What had convinced Roberta of Ulrich's identity?
Various circumstances—but above all, it was his power.
The ability to reclaim sacraments, to alter the heavenly registry—having witnessed such authority, she had become certain.
But Beatrice had not seen that.
She had only witnessed him reassigning the duty given to the fairies as the proxy of Ophilus, and heard hints that he had lived since before the human era.
"It seems you're testing my reaction, Lady Beatrice."
"Of course. That's part of it."
Beatrice nodded readily.
"If we're being precise, isn't there someone whose circumstances are even more certain than his?"
She subtly brought up someone more certain.
That person had appeared after Hestio vanished, bore his divinity, founded the human empire, and ruled for nearly a thousand years—the Emperor.
"Yes, that's true. It would be more fitting to consider the Emperor."
"Then—what if the Emperor is Hestio?"
Beatrice cut in.
"You mean they are actually the same person?"
"Think about it. Why is our era called the age of humans? Because there are so many humans?"
No.
It was because the founders of each empire had always been human.
At times, rulers with mixed blood ascended the throne—but the three founders were all pure humans.
"Among the founders of each era, was there anyone—aside from the first Emperor—who ruled for a thousand years? No—even for a hundred? What about the other Emperors? Did even the Blood Emperor ever surpass five hundred years?"
"…No."
"Exactly. No one did. Only the first Emperor—the one we call the first—lived that long. And we've always explained it away as being due to Hestio's divinity. But is that really true? What if they were the same person?"
"That sounds… rather dangerous."
Even within the Church, there were many interpretations of Hestio's disappearance.
The official doctrine stated that Hestio fulfilled his duty and departed with the heavenly gods. If he still remained in this world, questions would arise—why did he leave, and why does he not reveal himself? Thus, it was said he had left this world entirely.
However, within the Church, interpretations varied.
Since it was a collection of sects united under Kormilius, doctrine had never been fully unified.
One such interpretation claimed that Hestio had not left for another world, but continued to act within this one under a hidden identity.
And in that interpretation, one of his identities was the Emperor.
It was not widely supported.
Hestio was seen as a benevolent father, while the Emperor was a stern ruler. The idea that they were the same person felt contradictory, and many considered it heretical.
"I didn't expect to hear such words from you. You're an inquisitor, yet you're proposing a view that contradicts Kormilius."
For a moment, Beatrice's eyes trembled.
"…It's just a hypothesis. But with this one idea, all the questions we've never been able to answer fall into place."
Why the Emperor appeared after Hestio vanished.
What it meant to inherit divinity.
How someone could live so long.
Everything.
"If someone could live for thousands of years without aging or dying, is it really so hard to believe they lived even longer? The proxy of Ophilus—how do you think that qualification is obtained? Was it granted directly by a god? And someone who doesn't die even when their heart is pierced—has such a person ever existed?"
As her voice rose, Beatrice's face flushed red.
"Why Kormilius intervened in Osnover, why Bishop Vinicio was so intent on meeting the Duke of Dithmarschen, why you were so certain about the withdrawal…"
Roberta remained silent.
Beatrice took a breath, then continued.
"Who else could make all of this possible?"
"There's no need to ask me. You've already found your answer."
Beatrice smiled at her.
But there was no joy in that smile. Though her lips curved upward, it lacked strength—there was no sense of accomplishment or satisfaction.
"If my hypothesis is correct… why would he live while hiding himself?"
"Because of the burden."
After a brief pause, Roberta answered.
"No one dislikes being revered. But if one lives for an extremely long time, it wouldn't always feel satisfying. An ordinary person might, at times, feel burdened by their own achievements and wish to cast them aside."
An ordinary person.
Beatrice repeated the words silently.
Then she lifted her head and looked up at the sky.
The morning sky was clear and blue, without a single cloud. Sunlight fell across her face, and she closed her eyes.
"Sister… I heard that you were abandoned at a temple as well."
As well?
Roberta narrowed her eyes.
"What was it like there?"
"Not… a very good place."
Beatrice nodded.
"In a place like that, the only thing you can cling to is faith. Clinging to the Father in hopes of blessings in this life or the next… and as a result, I've come this far."
"..."
"Bishop Vinicio taught me that our lives follow the guidance of Hestio, and that suffering and trials come because of it."
Then she added:
"But… what if that isn't true? What if the Father isn't guiding our world—but is simply one human living within it?"
"Then we accept it."
Beatrice frowned slightly, as if that was not the answer she expected.
"You would want an ordinary human to guide you?"
"I haven't thought that far. What about you? Don't you wish for Hestio to return and guide us again?"
Roberta brought up the Church's orthodox stance.
"Yes. Even now, I do. I wish for Hestio to guide us."
But then, Beatrice continued:
"If the man called Ulrich is truly him… then I do not."
"Why? His deeds aren't false."
"Because, as you said—Lord Ulrich is just an ordinary human."
Roberta was about to reply—
But she stopped.
Because she understood what Beatrice truly meant.
"Our world is already moving forward without him. And now, if we ask him to guide us again—imagine he agrees. Would paradise truly come?"
Letting out a hollow laugh, Beatrice muttered that it wouldn't.
"Humans are not perfect. We always make mistakes. A human—not a god—returning as Hestio would only bring more chaos. Some would try to tear down this era and rebuild it anew. Others would reject him because they cannot believe."
The past is important—yet not.
It sounds contradictory, but it is true.
Those who live today cannot survive on faith, honor, and belief alone. No matter how great one's past achievements, the return of a father who is not omnipotent would inevitably create dissonance.
The scriptures of the Church do not depict Hestio as an omnipotent being.
They tell of him being persecuted, of his sorrow when he could not protect his descendants.
But that was during his lifetime—before the name Hestio disappeared from history.
Before he left, he was a being caught between human and god, burdened with limitations.
After he left, however, he became the god of humans.
That was how the Church of Kormilius portrayed him.
They taught that when Hestio returned alongside the other gods, he would appear as the god of humanity who would lead mankind into paradise.
That is why people still worship him today.
But what if that was false?
"And if the reason he left us… was, as you said, because of the burden—then once again…"
Beatrice trailed off.
A brief silence fell.
***
"Which side are you on, Lady Beatrice?"
"I… am on neither side."
Roberta tilted her head.
"You mean you won't do anything?"
"That's right. I won't ask. I'll leave it as speculation."
"You questioned me so persistently—why change your mind now?"
"I haven't changed it."
Beatrice replied calmly.
"Even if I ask, you won't answer. And I don't think you know the exact truth either. That's why you travel with him… isn't it?"
For a brief moment, a faint smile appeared on Beatrice's lips—her surprise showing through.
"…Yes. That's right."
It was exactly as she said.
Roberta was certain that Ulrich was Hestio.
But that certainty was not the full truth.
He had once said:
"That is indeed my name. But beyond the connection between that name and myself, you know nothing."
Roberta did not know—and wanted to know—the true relationship between the Hestio of scripture and the name Hestio as Ulrich's past.
"I envy you. You're a strong person, Sister."
"It's just that my faith is weak."
"That's not true."
Beatrice shook her head.
"If you had no faith, you would reject it more strongly. You would fear it. You wouldn't try to dig deeper like you do. The fact that you are not afraid of the truth—and that you are willing to bear the responsibility it brings—that's what makes you strong."
Unlike me…
She lowered her head, murmuring softly.
If she asked Ulrich about his identity and he revealed the truth—how should she respond?
She did not know.
She was devout. If the one she worshipped was truly him, then she should follow him.
But the one she believed in and the man before her were the same—yet also different.
On the other hand, if she did not ask—if he did not answer—then it would remain only speculation.
A speculation very close to certainty… but one she could still hide from.
"What… should I do now?"
Roberta had no answer.
She wanted to tell her not to run away.
But Beatrice was an inquisitor—the most devout among the Church. And the thing shaking her faith was an undeniable truth.
All Roberta could do was watch.
***
At that moment, someone approached through the forest.
It was Ulrich.
He walked toward them.
Had he heard their conversation?
Probably not. Though their voices had risen, the campsite was some distance away.
Yet somehow, it felt as though he already knew.
Perhaps he had even led things to this point.
No—he had.
Just as he had led Vermelani into the Wandering Swamp, there must have been a reason he brought the inquisitor along.
And that reason was not simply to break her faith.
"Have you finished your conversation?"
At Ulrich's words, Beatrice raised her head.
"Were you looking for us?" Roberta asked.
"Mm. I have something to discuss."
Beatrice's eyes trembled slightly, then she turned her gaze away.
"I'm sorry, but could you step away for a moment?"
Roberta nodded and walked back the way Ulrich had come.
After a short distance, she turned back.
By the stream, Beatrice was looking up at Ulrich.
She had dropped to her knees, clutching his hand.
"..."
They seemed to be speaking, but from this distance, no sound reached her.
Only one thing was clear—
At the end of their conversation, Ulrich bent one knee and looked at Beatrice.
Roberta watched them for a moment longer.
Then she turned away and returned to the campsite.
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