Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 13 St. Lawrence
“Is there anyone skilled in herding, who can expertly identify the characteristics of livestock? Come before me!” Xilun shouted.

There was a brief commotion, but nothing happened.

Xiren called out again, and the crowd began to whisper among themselves.

Siren reiterated, "I need some herders to help me. Is anyone willing?"

Finally, a woman stepped forward: "May I... give it a try?"

Xilun was somewhat surprised.

She seemed uneasy, rubbing her hands on the dirty hem of her skirt: "I...I used to herd sheep for a while, and I also used oxen to plow the fields."

“Of course, brave lady,” Celen readily agreed. “Come to me, I need two more.”

Suddenly, someone in the crowd shouted, "She's a witch!"

A commotion broke out, and someone shouted, "She's a widow! She killed her husband!"

"She doesn't get married; she stays at home every day studying witchcraft!"

"She used the cattle and sheep left by her husband as materials for witchcraft!"

Xiren frowned, and the peasant woman's face instantly turned pale. She kept apologizing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'll leave right away..."

“God said, ‘Let there be light.’” Siron held his shepherd’s staff, and a dazzling ball of holy light fell on the peasant woman, making her feel warm.

People quieted down.

“There are no witches in God’s church,” Celen said coldly.

The restless crowd quieted down, and the few who had been talking tried to hide behind the crowd, but Xilun had already memorized their faces and made a mental note of them; these people were not first-time offenders.

He asked several more times, and a couple, both shepherds, came up.

So the three of them were assigned to help Mathilde and the others, and four quill pens quickly recorded and wrote under the frescoes on the church's dome.

Those who had finished recording hurried to the lit fire, enjoying the hard-won warmth. They took off their boots, revealing their toes, which were blue and bruised from the cold. The stench and the smell of blood filled the church, and painful groans and cries echoed through the air.

The burning campfire seemed to symbolize the end of their wandering, but they had lost their homes, their families, and little property. Many of the livestock and poultry they had brought with them had died, and some people's feet were frozen and rotten, and it looked like they would have to be amputated.

They dared not cry before; the immense pressure made these numb people obey orders. But when the flames were lit, their defenses crumbled and tears streamed down their faces.

Siren tirelessly walked between the campfires, continuously performing "holy healing" until his divine power was exhausted.

Mathilde stood to the side, her eyes filled with hesitation and conflict.

Exhausted, Xilun slumped down beside the campfire and said, "There are still a few people with frostbite. I really don't have the strength anymore. Can you help them?"

Mathilde walked over to the group of wounded men who were groaning and rubbing their numb feet.

Seeing the nun approaching, they seemed to find hope and rushed over to kneel down: "Please, save us! For God's sake, save us..."

Mathilde lowered her head and sighed. She raised the crucifix and, as if resigned, murmured, "Jehovah... Rapha."

In an instant, a dazzling golden light burst forth from the church, spreading behind her and revealing some blurry images. It seemed to depict countless heads thronging together, or perhaps cheers and a brawl, but it was not very clear.

The foot of an injured person in front of me was recovering rapidly. He began to writhe on the ground in pain, but for someone with frostbite and necrosis, feeling pain meant there was still hope.

Mathilde stared at the man for a moment, then turned and gave Siren a thumbs up.

Xilun smiled slightly and put away the cross she had just been holding: "As expected of the Abbess, the first holy relic is about to materialize."

Mathilde quickly healed the remaining people, and a wave of exhaustion and drowsiness washed over her. She sat down next to Xilun in a daze and saw Xilun organizing the villager information she had just recorded.

"Aren't you sleepy?" she asked.

"I'll watch for a little longer," Xilun said softly, his voice heavy with weariness.

“Are these… really that important?” Mathilde looked at the papers, her eyes slowly closing with sleep. “Isn’t it just to prevent them from mistaking property…”

Xilun smiled and looked up.

The smoke from the six bonfires blackened the pristine white walls of the cathedral's exquisite murals—a truly blasphemous act. The Assumption of Mary and the Last Judgment on the dome were completely obscured by the smoke, and the works of those artistic giants would never again be admired by posterity.

However, compared to the loss to the art world, Siren felt that the lives at hand were more important. If these masters knew that their paintings had to give way to hundreds of lives, they would probably agree.

“One hundred and seventy-six people,” Xiren said softly, “from all over the world, who placed their faith in me and entrusted their lives to me.”

Mathilde was fast asleep, leaning on his shoulder, while Siron was also drowsy, the "St. Lawrence on Wealth" painting above his head shimmering in the smoke.

“Have you heard that story?” Siren recounted softly. “Legend has it that Lawrence was in charge of helping the poor and managing church property—I think that’s the effect of redistribution, but the emperor at the time ordered Lawrence to hand over all the treasures.”

"Lawrence asked him to give him three days to prepare. Three days later, he brought the poor, sick, disabled and orphans supported by the church to the emperor and said that this was the church's greatest wealth."

Mathilde was already asleep, only making faint humming sounds, as if responding to him.

"Human thought creates knowledge and scholarship, human labor creates cities and machines, human ideas create churches and nations. As long as there are people, there is hope; without people, there is nothing."

"What is the Church? Is it the Iron Angel Knights, or Florence and the Cardinals? But what use is a pile of steel shells if there are no believers left in the Church?"

“I only have two guards left, the militia is under Ryan’s control, and the intellectuals, the people, and the resources are all in his hands,” Siren murmured. “But as long as I have these 176 men, I can stand here, and the church will still have a pillar.”

"It is the believers who uphold the church, just as it is the people who build the church."

He closed his eyes in a daze, and suddenly saw a letter fall from Mathilde's arms, bearing the sealing wax seal of the College of Cardinals.

"Having carefully examined and witnessed her piety, virtue, and talent, the College of Cardinals and the Pastoral Sisters confirm that Madam Mathilde de Clermont is of noble birth, steadfast in her faith, adheres to the precepts of St. Benedict in her monastic life, and possesses exceptional administrative wisdom. Therefore, in this holy year (1901 AD), in accordance with the canon law and tradition, she is hereby appointed as the Abbey of the Speyside Convent, in charge of the convent's spiritual and secular affairs..."

Siren paused for a moment, then tucked it back into Mathilde's arms.

(End of this chapter)