The carriage jolted violently over the cobblestone road, its wheels grinding through potholes with dull thuds.
Liz was thrown forward by the bumps, then caught by a priest. She leaned weakly against the carriage wall, her face pale as paper.
Edmund's Divine Robe of the Holy Seat glimmered coldly in the dim carriage. His eyes remained fixed on the opposite side, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Last night—did nothing really happen?"
Liz unconsciously clutched the hem of her skirt, where damp stains from her incontinence still remained.
She slowly raised her head. Strands of messy hair clung to her forehead, yet her eyes were unexpectedly calm. "Holy Seat... if something had truly been wrong, would you have failed to notice?"
Edmund's pupils contracted slightly. This timid, submissive believer had become calm instead.
As though she had calmly accepted what was about to happen to her.
"What did you dream about?" Edmund leaned forward, the hem of his Divine Robe draping over his knees.
Liz looked at the passing scenery outside the window and softly said, "I dreamed... that I went to a harbor. The lights were bright, and everyone on the streets was smiling."
"What else?"
"There were also many bards reciting poetry aloud. The streets were very lively." Liz lowered her head, her body swaying with the carriage as she quietly recalled it.
She spoke for a while.
Then Liz suddenly began coughing, a thin line of blood spilling from the corner of her mouth.
She lowered her head and looked at the vivid blood in her palm. "Holy Seat, how much longer... do I have to live?"
Edmund fell silent for a moment. "Long enough for you to see His Holiness the Pope."
The carriage fell into brief silence.
Just as Edmund was about to continue speaking.