May 31, 1027 of the New Calendar, Monday.
Plymouth, Mitra Palace.
King Arthur VI stood atop a high tower of the palace, gazing at the crowds gathered in the square. "History... has turned to a brand-new page. What a pity Sodoma is not the protagonist!"
"Invis will grow stronger, and more stable as well. This is the glory of the royal family."
The Prime Minister bowed.
Nicholas, dressed in the scarlet robes of an archbishop, stood behind the newly appointed Pope of the Church of the Holy Spirit—Cicero Murdoch, a pitiful fellow pushed forward by every faction to serve as both balance and scapegoat—and said nothing.
"Let's go. Today... we are all spectators."
Arthur VI smiled.
The group slowly entered the venue. Clad in the noble, magnificent robes of the Pope, wearing a triple crown of sun, moon, and stars and holding a scepter, Cicero ascended the platform and began his speech into a microphone with amplification effects:
"First, let us observe a moment of silence for the dead and wounded of the 'Podium Massacre.' May the Holy Spirit receive their souls..."
"Lambs of the Holy Spirit, the great Holy Spirit has bestowed His miracle, allowing His three allies to descend into the mortal world and guide lost souls..."
The people below began to stir. After all, the Church of the Holy Spirit had always been the State Church, and its faith ran deep.
Now the Pope himself was suddenly leading a split. Even devout believers found it utterly bewildering.
The confusion spread further, turning into uproar, with signs of a riot brewing...
Nicholas watched the scene and lowered his head alongside the other archbishops, mourning the decline of the Church of the Holy Spirit.
No matter how vast the faith, without power, it is ultimately nothing but an illusion!