Chapter 617

Chapter Two: The Beauty is Absent

In February of the year 1188 AD, in the Holy City of Alberetia.

This city, located in the southeastern part of the Valen Empire, situated at the intersection of three countries and almost at the heart of the Western Continent, had a permanent population of about 200,000, most of whom were clerical personnel. Within its walls stood the headquarters of the Holy Department, the Council, and the Knightly Order, making it the central hub of the sacred church’s power. As the archdiocese and the birthplace of religious belief, the oldest temple church in the world naturally stood here.

The Temple Church was the earliest known place where humans conducted religious activities, with its history dating back over 1800 years from the current calendar. It marked the beginning of the divine era, the starting point where the great deity first bestowed blessings, and it was from here that human civilization began to rise. After enduring long ages and the baptism of war, the Temple Church, after numerous renovations and expansions, became the largest and most magnificent religious structure in the world.

According to official church records, this place was the closest to the deities. Therefore, every year, pilgrims from various countries would enter the city to worship, pray, and admire the original grand holy relics of humanity, seeking divine blessings for themselves. Even if they could only glimpse the Pope or the Cardinal from afar, listening to their divine messages and basking in the holy light of the city, they might still catch a whiff of divine breath, thereby benefiting future generations and returning to the embrace of the great deity after death.

For ordinary people, this was the most glorious and blissful event.

But entering the holy city was not so easy. Not even common citizens, let alone priests who lacked sufficient cultivation, or priests who had mediocre talents and had not received more divine gifts, or even some bishops from peripheral towns, all of these insufficiently qualified clerics had to go through a very complicated process to obtain an entry permit on legitimate or special grounds. They needed to be verified layer by layer, with specific days and temporary residence locations restricted according to actual circumstances. Only after everything was confirmed would they be allowed in.

But this day was different.

On February 16, 1188 AD, it was the church’s once-every-nine-years pilgrimage day.

On this day, clerics with status and important responsibilities in various dioceses, regardless of where they were or how busy they were, had to put aside their work and make time to return to the holy city to participate in the thanksgiving ceremony hosted by the Pope and fast for the day, abstaining from meat and utensils, prohibiting any form of entertainment, to demonstrate to the great beings that humanity had never forgotten their blessings.

According to traditional teachings, during the nine days before and after the pilgrimage day, the holy city of Alberetia would lock all its gates, impose a curfew, and no one except the clerics participating in the ceremony would be allowed to enter, regardless of the importance of their affairs.

But this year was different.

This year, the holy city unprecedentedly opened all its gates. Anyone who had applied in advance and possessed certain identities, assets, and land jurisdiction rights in various countries and regions, regardless of who they were, would have the gates of the holy city open to them until the end of the month.

Because this year, in addition to the customary thanksgiving ceremony, the entire holy city would hold a grand funeral ceremony for a small hero.

The name of this hero was known to everyone.

She was none other than the Papal Knight Silviga.

Boom—

Boom! Boom! Boom—

Under the clear blue sky, dazzling holy light bloomed like fireworks across the vast street leading to the Temple Church. At the head of the procession formed by the faithful followers of the church, the Archbishop led the way, holding ceremonial instruments that emitted golden light. Behind them marched countless gold-armored knights, their eyes straight ahead, swords held diagonally against their chests, paying the highest tribute as soldiers of the church.

Behind the knights was a dense crowd stretching out of sight.

Thousands upon thousands of people gathered on the streets, squeezed into the narrow alleys, and filled the buildings, creating a situation where movement was nearly impossible. Yet, amidst such a crowd, no one made a sound.

A young man in luxurious attire, a middle-aged man with a noble brow, a wealthy woman, and children—people prayed from time to time, raised their heads to look at the bright lights in the sky, quietly awaiting the arrival of the hero.

Soon, Pope Angel, wearing a crown and robes, carrying a staff, slowly came into view from the end of the street.

He was enveloped in even more intense golden light, and behind him followed Lady Margaret, four Papal Knights in cloaks, the youngest and most outstanding clergy members, carrying a coffin covered with a cross flag. Beside the coffin, a black-robed lady with her mouth covered in tears and a young man with red-rimmed eyes walked.

Apart from those coming from the Valen Empire and Sandler Fortress, many people did not recognize the two individuals, but they vaguely understood that from their black hair and black eyes, they were likely Miss Silviga’s mother and brother.

Boom—

The splendid golden flowers bloomed again in the sky above the city.

The procession passed through many people’s eyes, moving further forward. In the spacious square in front of the cathedral, countless royal guards lined up silently, watching the departure of the young female hero.

At the forefront of the formation was Queen Elizabeth, her graceful figure wrapped in orthodox gold-embroidered Milanese armor. She rode a dark-haired unicorn, which had once been ridden by the deceased girl. She remembered that day was also a funeral ceremony; they rode the unicorn through the crowd, she held her in her arms, hearing children shouting, “Hero! Hero!” She remembered those innocent voices.

For a moment, that scene seemed to overlap with today’s.

Except, there was no longer a girl in her arms.

A breeze swept over the road, cool and gentle, slightly lifting Queen Elizabeth’s golden hair. Her face was stern, with little expression, which could easily lead people to misunderstand her purpose for being there. People speculated among themselves, and some recalled that the young female hero had once been awarded the Peace Medal in Isenbel, saving countless citizens of the kingdom, perhaps even saving the queen’s life at that time.

Or perhaps, there had been a

Deep emotions had been experienced.

Many people only then realized that today’s funeral ceremony seemed much more grand and solemn than they had imagined, something that hadn’t happened in centuries. Since the first Papal Knight, no one else had ever gathered so many remarkable figures to see her off.

For hundreds of years.

Only Miss Silvija alone.

The deceased heroic girl, up until now, was merely remembered by most as the image that appeared in the newspapers.

That image once caused a sensation across West Continent, but the discussions mostly revolved around her beauty and youth.

People back then didn’t have a clear impression of the young heroine. It wasn’t until this moment, until now, when they saw the Pope, the Holy Maiden, several of the oldest Papal Knights, and the Queen of Ethenbel, the Hunter of the Valen Empire, and the Prince of Xierjiya. Many people then suddenly understood: ah, she has accomplished so many great things.

She had done so much in just seventeen years, saving countless lives in such a short time.

Bang!

The golden flowers bloomed for the third time above the crowd. The coffin covered with white cloth was carried into the church. The streets were empty, but the people on both sides did not disperse. Queen Elizabeth descended from her beast. She had never shed a tear throughout, her eyes cold and terrifying. She looked at the backs of several people entering the church with the coffin, took a deep breath, and her pupils flickered in the golden light.

No one knew what she was thinking.

Soon, singing could be heard from afar.

In the magnificent hall of the church, Angel, wearing a crown, was solemn-faced. Amidst the flickering candles, he sang a heroic ode for the departed girl. Dozens of young novices stood on either side, holding candles, singing along in unison.

These girls were selected from various dioceses, with pure backgrounds and extraordinary talents, considered key training targets by the Church. In the near future, some might enter the Holy Maiden class as candidates, or be chosen for the choir or faith groups, becoming elite members of the Church.

Among them was a short-haired girl holding a candle, her voice choked with emotion. If Miss Silvija were still alive, she would recognize this girl as little Ellie, who had left the royal city without saying goodbye.

Little Ellie was trying hard not to go off-key.

Her eyes filled with tears as she stared blankly at the coffin in the center of the hall. She had learned of this news a month ago but still found it hard to believe, like a false dream.

She recalled everything from before, the nightmare-like blood night in the royal city, and how she had cried in the church. Many emotions from the past were difficult to recall now, but the image of that night in Valen Empire, when she and Lucas sneaked into the workshop, and the terrified look on her face when she first met Sister Peylo, whose smile was radiant.

“Here, it’s very delicious.”

Ellie remembered this as the first thing her sister said to her.

Her sister’s image remained in her heart forever.

And always will.

Bang!

Bang! Bang—

Outside the church, the sound of golden flowers continued to ring out.

The same sound echoed across the skies of various cities in the West Continent at the same time.

On this day, Miss Silvija’s funeral ceremony was held simultaneously in many cities. Many people, who simply felt sorry for the hero who had withered before blooming, with grateful hearts, wanted to attend the funeral in the holy city but lacked the qualifications. At this moment, in their respective cities, they watched the rising holy lights and silently prayed for her.

In the Royal Academy’s church, after the funeral prayers organized by Principal Melville ended, the students gradually dispersed. The flowers placed in the hall were numerous, making the roasted lamb legs, donuts, and honey cakes in the corner seem out of place. This was naturally the work of the three girls from 1504—Sarah, Sophia, and Daisy—who were now among the crowd, heading towards the training ground.

Streams of light shot across the sky, shining brightly on the girls’ faces. With a muffled “bang,” leaves fell from the trees overhead, swirling and landing on Daisy’s shoulder before being blown away by the wind. Sarah stopped and pointed to the road next to the training ground, saying abruptly, “I remember, she hit someone’s nose here…”

Sophia laughed, “She didn’t just hit someone’s nose here…”

“Tsk, the nose-smasher…”

“Pfft—”

The girls laughed. They began to talk about the unknown, strange yet interesting things about the girl, like how she moved in her dreams, slept restlessly, and ate incredibly despite her pride, always coming up with ways to get others to bring food back for her. At first, she even lied, saying it was for a little dog.

As they talked, the girls realized that even a great hero could be so ordinary, getting angry easily, sometimes being incredibly foolish, forgetting names, and having a small courage, often getting startled, never winning at tickling against Sarah, and having the lowest chest size among the four, truly not good at anything, just an immature little girl.

As the girls criticized the girl, they walked into the training ground, remembering that she actually feared the zebra beasts. Despite being a knight, she couldn’t ride well and even punched a teacher to skip class. They sat down on the long chairs by the sidelines. After a while, Sophia suddenly asked, “Do you think she still eats peas?”

Hahaha!

The girls laughed uncontrollably.

But as they laughed, someone, perhaps Sarah, suddenly said sadly, “What should we do? We’ll never see her again.”

Then all three of them started crying.

Their sobs gradually faded away in the wind.

And later, the girl’s name would eventually be inscribed on the heroes’ monument in the holy city, remembered forever by the world.