In Your Vulgar Paradise - Chapter 8
Was the conversation with the Pope that shocking?
“…”
Azniel’s soundless steps led her to the dining hall on the first floor of the Palace.
It felt awkward to step in after a long time. With Azniel meeting beggars at the sanctuary every day, she no longer had a reason to grab a meal in the dining hall, and more importantly…
“What’s going on? The Saint of Beggars.”
“Did you come out for an inspection, afraid we might steal your earned coins?”
“Gather as much as you can, even if it’s just a small change. It’s just for a scrap of bread anyway.”
It was because of such remarks that constantly echoed in her ears, not knowing when or where they would come from.
They were administrative officials working in the Palace. Even though they knew well that the offerings from those beggars sustained the expenses of the temple, they often made such comments.
“Who would have thought that things would become so rare, especially eggs. They say Saint Ecaella has performed a miracle, expanding two loaves of bread into ten baskets.”
“Is that all? Saint Geniel reportedly filled all the fields of the Gerund Plains with golden waves, even during a drought.”
“And yet, this time…”
The attention of the chattering crowd turned towards her side. The deteriorating state of the temple was solely attributed to Azniel, whose abilities supposedly fell short of the legendary saints.
Ignoring everything, Azniel continued to chew on her wheat bread, pretending not to hear anything.
The basic wheat bread served in the dining hall was tough and dry compared to the white bread that the novices specially provided for Azniel.
Yes, if she had the same abilities as the saints in history, everyone might have eaten white bread. She could have even shared a piece of bread with the pilgrims who came to the temple at night. No, in the first place, the authority of the temple would never have fallen so low, no matter what inventions were made in the secular world.
But.
‘Perhaps, the power given to me by Dara was meant for healing more beggars. The wealthy can now be healed with potions.’ Azniel tried hard to affirm herself, chewing more than ten times what she would normally chew and swallow. If she didn’t think this way, it felt like she would be stained by their contempt.
Of course, now the situation was such that she couldn’t even do that anymore.
‘Ah, the miracle of prosperity seems to be difficult….’
The disappointed gaze of the Pope, who peeked through the pages, came to mind. Although he disguised it with compassion, even in the eyes of a street urchin, they could see through the true identity.
Even so, before the development of magic potions, during the time when they collected substantial donations from prominent figures of the international alliance through the healing blessing, there was no occasion where she met that gaze.
But now, suspicious glances followed her everywhere in the empire.
Despite being a saint who appeared after several generations, she was criticized for having only the healing blessing. She was blamed for not performing more glamorous and impressive miracles to deceive the masses. Her incompetence supposedly ruined the temple.
“Healing abilities were nothing more than inferior miracles that could be replaced by human power…”
“Who among us can’t heal wounds?”
“Ah, why did it have to be like this in our generation…”
Those born with even a bit of divine power all turned to the temple in their early years, but except for a few high-ranking officials like the Pope, their divine power was not particularly remarkable. It was just healing minor wounds that would soon get better even if left alone.
Until the appearance of potions, even that could pass for the blessing of Dara, but now it has become entirely useless.
For those whose divine power as priests had diminished, all they could do was resent those who took on more responsibility than them.
‘Yes, their harsh words are not just because I lack something.’
Perhaps everyone was too preoccupied to have peace of mind. It was around this time that she self-affirmed, soothing her guilt.
“Sister! Have you finished your audience already?”
“When you didn’t come to the monastery, we were worried and came to check…”
“The Pope mentioned something about tomorrow’s affairs, didn’t he?”
“Ah…?”
The enthusiastic novice girls approached Azniel.
“Did His Holiness talk to you about something related to tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow Baron Gehsturn is coming from Antagon, right. Did His Holiness really mention that?”
“Ah…?”
In the stiffened face of the saint, the girls realized that she had tried to keep it a secret. The pitiable saint, who never undertook anything lightly, naturally treated the words she heard in the audience with the Pope as confidential.
“All day today, we’ve been cleaning and preparing everywhere in the Holy Empire to welcome guests.”
“The Saint will be there too, right?”
As the girls chattered about the Pope, the priests on the other side showed signs of restlessness.
“Even before I came to the Holy Empire, there were rumors about Klaus Geshturn, the director of Antagon, being a really handsome man, but I wonder what he’s like in person…”
“In your country, too? In our country, when there’s a new product presentation in the capital, noble ladies all rush over.”
Excitement filled the young girls as they anticipated the possibility of getting close to a famous figure, overshadowing the diminished aura of Dara’s blessing due to the magic potions he had developed.
