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The narrator first heard a Lateran sermon decades ago in a monastery; the passage read was an ancient scripture he could never find in any Lateran record afterward. He reflects that outsiders see Laterano in three phases: a solemn dogmatic nation, then a land of bold, pleasure-loving Sankta, and finally a place where freedom is a by-product of a near-spontaneous yet methodical order. History is compressed here; antiquities remain in use or on display, so archaeology was never needed—until 1042, when a saint statue was unearthed west of the city.
The finder was Killian Dugal, a Victorian Lateran believer and geological prospector, who spotted metal remnants and a stone gun in an exploratory tunnel. A Victorian archaeological team backed by a government seeking to usurp Laterano's Core position excavated a complete headless saint statue bearing a geometric shape where the face should be, fueling a theory that the first saints were abstract symbols of the Law later personified. The team hurried the statue toward Londinium, but they and their transport were destroyed by Originium explosives and the statue vanished. Killian, who had disappeared that night, reappeared two months later wounded, muttering that the statue, faith, and Holy City do not exist. He died after interrogation, accused of treason; only rough sketches of the statue survive, and Laterano never acknowledged its existence.
The section then surveys Laterano itself: a central, tropical-monsoon nation growing sugar crops; a free-trade hub of haloed caravans; a strong agricultural and precision-manufacturing base. The Law, fewer than a hundred regulatory words, is Laterano's "Lord," the source of public authority. The Pope—currently Yvangelista XL—solely interprets the Law, generating commandments, and is elected by the Sacred College of Cardinals in the Conclave. The Lateran Curia comprises seven Tribunals handling justice, coordination, industry, trade, safety and notarization, civil affairs, and intelligence and diplomacy. The gun is central to faith, obtained at twelve and strictly licensed. Laterano offers universal education and superb healthcare, but the Infected face permanent deportation. Sankta empathy binds society, though non-Sankta like the Liberi cannot share it, leaving them estranged. Laterano also shaped Iberia's Church, which became the Inquisition after the Profound Silence, and Siracusa's "Pistole e Ordine" doctrine under Signora Sicilia.
The author first heard a Lateran sermon decades ago in a monastery between Victoria and Laterano, on a dark autumn night lit only by the cleric's halo. The cleric read a passage he called ancient scripture, mostly unknown today, but the author could find no trace of it in Lateran governmental records, religious tomes, or popular art—it had vanished from Lateran's history. Sleepless over this, the author realized while watching the street-lights that they are lit by the very "stones of murder".
Outsiders' impressions of Laterano pass through three phases. First, its reputation suggests an inflexible, solemn nation of strict dogma. Second, actually knowing Sankta reveals boldness and imaginativeness, showing a nation that freely chases life's pleasures. Third, visiting in person reveals that this freedom is a by-product of order, a near-spontaneous yet methodical order that is the phenomenon most worth investigating in the Holy City.
The Tower of Revelations, the old bell tower, has seen millennia—its bricks possibly laid by the first saints—yet Laterans pass it daily without wonder. History's thickness is compressed within the city; the ancient deeds of the first saints are a commonplace part of modern Lateran faith and life. In this nation, archaeology was never needed: Laterano's prosperity has continued for thousands of years, and its antiques are displayed in cathedral exhibitions or still used in daily life. Yet in 1042, a statue assumed to be an ancient Lateran saint was unearthed in the wasteland west of Laterano, stirring the archaeological community.
Killian Dugal was born into a Victorian household following the Lateran faith; his father was a cleric in a small Taran village chapel. Killian became an excellent geological prospector during the War of the Four Nations, developing, testing, and using deep-vein exploration equipment. After the war, large-scale Originium extraction left many workers with Oripathy and destitution. Killian tried to help former colleagues return to work but received only court summons, interrogations, and demotions; most friends roamed until their deaths, with a few survivors scraping a living tilling barren soil at a remote village chapel.
In 1042, Killian's survey team followed the Targangils Prime Vein eastward seeking mining sites. In a shallow exploratory tunnel, he noticed tube-shaped perforated metal remnants encased in Originium crystal, whose form seemed to carry the grace of a Lateran gun; colleagues scoffed. Then they unearthed a huge ashen rock—clearly a stone carved into the shape of a gun. The news generated academic interest, and the curator of the Royal Museum of Londinium organized an experienced team. Killian's team was retained to "provide guidance and safety" but barred within five meters of the tunnel to prevent them damaging "important imperial treasures".
Excavation revealed a completely intact statue of a saint. Originium corrosion analysis suggested it might be older than most Terran relics. The elaborate stonework does not portray the saint's face: instead of a visage, a geometric shape like a puzzle cube sits atop the neck. A theory grew popular: the first saints did not truly exist but were at first abstract symbols of the Law, personified by later generations of Laterans. (One margin note claims the first saints did exist, retaining the appearance of the Teekaz—fangs, claws, horns, long tails, with halos and glowing wings—and that later Sankta erased their faces to invent an appearance matching their ideals of virtue; another unattributed margin note says this erasure was consistent with the Law's principles, as the Sankta needed to preserve themselves while Elders and Ancients hunted the Sarkaz.)
The excavation enjoyed direct Victorian government support. With Gaul and Iberia fallen, Victoria was awash with expansionist fervor and intended to usurp Laterano's pivotal position in the Core. A letter to the team declared the statue would shake the Holy City's prestige and encase Victoria's glory in everlasting radiance. The team hurried the statue toward Londinium—but was robbed en route. Responders found only the transport wrecked by Originium explosives and the team reduced to fragments of Originium; the statue was gone.
The night the letter arrived, no one noticed Killian disappear with an off-road vehicle. Police suspected him of leaking the itinerary and accused him of treason, claiming he hired Sarkaz mercenaries. Two months later he reappeared on the Victorian border, grievously wounded, muttering "the statue does not exist", "faith does not exist", "the Holy City does not exist". Dying under interrogation, he spoke only statements he had used years before to shield Infected he knew. The statue never appeared in the Lateran Basilica's showroom; today knowledge of it rests on a few rough sketches. The Lateran government never acknowledged its existence. The sketches became meaningless scribbles, the case an urban legend, and Laterano prospered as always, her foundations unshaken.
Laterano occupies a central location on known Terra: north and west are high in elevation, south and east low. Its tropical monsoon climate brings year-round heat and distinct dry and rainy seasons—perfect for sugar crops, perhaps why Laterans love dessert. To the northwest lies a yellow-green plateau bearing Originium and metals, source of most materials for Lateran firearms. To the southeast, regularly flooding mountain rivers create vast alluvial plains whose fertile soil underlies Laterano's long prosperity. Longstanding neutrality and pivotal location make Laterano a major free trade hub of the Core, its trade carried by a vast array of haloed caravans. Agriculture is strong—wheat plus high-value cash crops, chiefly sugar—while monasteries scattered among the fields process harvests into cheese, bread, beer, and other goods that are significant income sources. The storied firearm tradition makes Lateran gunsmiths proficient in precision Originium components; specialized processing and electronics manufacturing are its most prominent industries, granting extremely high intercity net penetration.
The faithful address the Law as their "Lord" and afford it the highest reverence; even the noisiest Laterans pray in silence. Though all rules and creeds fall under the vague banner of "the Law", it strictly comprises fewer than a hundred regulatory words in totality. Very few Laterans try to define it, yet several millennia ago the first saints used those words to establish Laterano's foundations. Broadly, the order of Lateran society is the Law itself, and within this order lies the appeal of the faith.
Asked what the Law is, Sankta give a thousand and one answers, but most mention one phenomenon: Empathy. Two Sankta meeting face-to-face feel like the best of friends for decades. Empathy is not mind reading, nor synchronization, but two empathizing Sankta are keenly aware of each other's emotional state, quickly reaching mutual understanding. Lateran society's order is partly built on this understanding; unlike orders involving external force, Lateran order shows unbelievable spontaneity. Even where the Law does not reach, Laterans consciously maintain harmony—"Two halos can solve any dispute," runs the proverb. Yet the author harbors misgivings: since Laterano cannot lack negative emotions entirely, would a Sankta perceiving such emotion suffer negative influence? (A margin note by mechanist argues empathy is not mysterious—like spectacles and hearing aids in a sick world, the Law merely helps the Sankta do well what everyone needs to do; another unattributed margin note says the Sankta naturally know how to manage emotions, turning empathy into sympathy instinctively.)
The Law's letters do not define political structures but are the source of public authority: government functionaries, the Pope included, exercise power in the Law's name. The Pope's interpretation of the Law is equivalent to enacting legislation, producing "commandments" and "rules" in the statute. The Pope is the sole interpreter, supported by the cardinals of each Tribunal in enforcement. The Law was once criticized for ruthlessly suppressing freedom, yet today Laterano is considered one of Terra's first nations; what crushed individuality historically has become the divine blessing sustaining Laterano's paradise.
The reigning Pope's full title is the Guardian, Keeper, and Executor of the Most Supreme Law Yvangelista XL—the first half denoting guarding, interpreting, implementing the Law and governing in its name; the second a name inherited from one of the first saints, associated with sacrifice and unity. When a Pope dies or steps down, any Sankta of the Sacred College of Cardinals may become a candidate, and all members vote in "the Conclave", one of Laterano's most important divine ceremonies—almost every Conclave broke the record for "most explosions in Laterano in a single day".
The central government is the Lateran Curia, or "the Church", comprising seven Tribunals, each headed by a cardinal appointed by the Pope. The First upholds the Law as the judiciary, empowered with judicial review over all departments. The other six are law enforcement agencies: the Second coordinates between departments; the Third handles agriculture, industry, and transportation; the Fourth oversees trade and the postal service; the Fifth, through the Lateran Notarial Hall, handles public safety, notarization, defense, and fire control, with field executors who can appear anywhere on Terra; the Sixth oversees civil administration, education, and healthcare; the Seventh handles intelligence, diplomacy, and national security. Laterano has long served as witness or mediator in international disputes; since the Legati's establishment in 1069, this role has become more normalized and institutionalized.
The gun, in the Lateran faith, is "the grace and care of the Law" and "the protection that the Law affords Laterano". Ancient records hold that the Law guided the Sankta to discover the gun and its technologies, and their talent for operating them is a gift. Gun and bullet motifs appear on prayer robes, saint statues, tome covers, and stained glass. "If you ever find yourself lost, hold tight your gun and regain your faith," a Pope once preached.
Untouched by war for nearly a thousand years, Laterano still maintains a well-trained military that exudes no terror. Gun-knights, or "Apostolic Knights", are appointed by the Curia and report directly to the Pope; typically Laterano's most skilled sharpshooters, they carry heavy firearms nearly as long as an average man's height. The Pontifica Cohors, the standing armed public security force, consists of squads each commanded by a gun-knight. In major hostility, all squad commanders form a Gun-Knight War Council for joint wartime command, while the Pope recruits citizens—every citizen who has obtained their guardian gun at twelve can, after examination and review, join a substantial garrison force.
Laterano holds approximately six million people, the vast majority within Lateran City. Its population is mainly Sankta, but a considerable proportion—most commonly Liberi—are non-Sankta. Over a thousand years ago the Sankta welcomed the first Liberi refugees, nomadic hunter-gatherers who yearned for city life's richness and stability. They established settlements in the fertile surrounding soils, imitating the Sankta way of life in goods, diet, language, and laws. The Sankta built churches there, offered education, healthcare, beer, pastries, and guard training—the birth of many monasteries. Today the hamlets are an inalienable part of Laterano. Despite the Sankta mark on everything, non-Sankta face no systematic discrimination (Sarkaz being voluntarily forbidden from entering the city at all); almost no post except perhaps the Pope is barred to non-Sankta, who appear in every position.
Yet one thing no resident can deny: other races cannot take part in Sankta empathy. As the Sankta laugh and weep together, others struggle to keep up in sharing joy and sorrow. This estrangement is mostly not malicious, so Lateran Liberi cannot blame gossips, spiteful officials, or knife-wielding patrolmen as Ursus people do; facing friendly Sankta smiles, the Liberi can only turn to self-doubt.
At a Lateran funeral the author attended with his old colleague Silas, an explosion signaled the Laterans lifting spirits—the Ecclesia Requietum sometimes uses explosives to dig graves per the deceased's wishes. Mourners raised wine, ice cream, and cupcakes, believing the dead became one with the Law. The author laughed—then abrupt silence. The Sankta kept their eyes down, dignified and silent: at an unpredictable moment between joy and laughter, relatives bid final farewells in their hearts, and empathy drowns every Sankta in that complex emotion. The author's cut-off laughter resounded, out of place, and he spiraled into doubt. The Sankta then returned to cheer. The author tried to laugh along but could no longer understand why. The Sankta formed a hand-in-hand circle, jumped as they spun, soared through the sky, and shone as though Lateran City herself were haloed. Chasing that halo, the author slipped and fell into the deceased's grave. That is when everyone laughed.
Laterano's most characteristic artform displays itself throughout the entire city: the indulgent, fantastical farces staged daily on its streets seem performance art to outsiders, but to Laterans this is merely how they have lived since childhood. Freedom and merriment, dessert and explosion, form Laterano's cultural milieu.
Guns are systematically managed: every gun's manufacture, sale, ownership, and user qualifications are filed with the Notarial Hall. At twelve, a Lateran is escorted by a Notarial executor to a registered workshop to choose any firearm. The child then undergoes four years of firearms training, graduates secondary school, and obtains a Lateran Firearms Operation License before official qualification, with periodic Notarial Hall inspections thereafter and possible license revocation for violations.
All citizens of sufficient age receive fourteen years of free education; hamlet residents may instead study at local monasteries. Schools and monasteries offer wide firearms-related curricula: "Commune cum Sclopetis" is popular among secondary schoolers; "Saints, Legacy, and Scholars" prepares antique gun specialists; "Greater Than Guns" teaches non-Sankta students long-range weapons. Secondary school sports fields rarely have ball courts, but shooting ranges and demolition trenches are nearly universal. Healthcare is of a quality enough to make one doubt he is still on Terra—each Pagus has a district hospital, every hamlet a clinic, and universal healthcare means no bankruptcy from illness.
Laterano boasts the highest penetration of Oripathy detection equipment among the nations: hospitals detect Blood Originium-Crystal Density to two decimal places, and offices nationwide carry portable detection bracelets. A citizen diagnosed with Oripathy faces permanent deportation—but aside from that, the Infected suffer no discrimination, remain citizens with guaranteed rights, and may receive regular subsidies and medication delivered by field executors who in turn urge their duties. Routine child inspections test halo stability and empathy capacity, with effective treatments now widespread.
In 1073, Pagus Stevonus Central Hospital admitted a young Sankta girl whose records a reputable doctor shared: at three, empathy data unstable but averaging standard; at six, stable but significantly off standard, requiring long-term observation; at eight and nine months, a tic was due to the doctor's white, curly hair. At eleven and three months, she could sense emotions but not express them. At fifteen, outstanding progress: she could perceive the "color" of emotions, and was discharged. She later found work and settled down with a husband called Silas or some such. But at twenty-eight, an emergency examination found her empathy data incredibly unstable; she refused hospitalization and requested confidentiality via codename. Her family reported the suicide of her close friend, the Liberi author Aratus, had caused severe mood swings. Later, all medical staff at her side felt sharp pain as though suffering laceration; she showed self-harming behavior and was moved to a padded room, displaying fear, grievance, remorse, anger, and despair before family—visitation suspended.
The Holy City has continually reshaped the author's perception: in decades wandering Terra, he never saw a nation as prosperous, stable, free, and forgiving, which is why he chose it to complete this tome. As Lateran-born residents say, the city is as the world once was; having read books describing suffering, they do not truly understand those words. Viewed from another angle, this near-perfect landscape deforms and exposes the disappointing reality behind the screen. For thousands of years, countless humans have torn through the divine screen of Laterano hoping to reveal oppression and violence behind the glory—but Lateran City prospered as always, her foundations unshaken. After all, that this land hosts such a holy city is a miracle in its own right.
From Iberia's founding, its royal family declared Lateran's teachings the state religion—a nation of believers wanting a golden city rivaling the Holy City. Devout Lateran Liberi preachers contributed significantly in its early years, so Iberian church statues integrate Liberi plumage. After the war of 1031, the royal family planned to support an Iberian Pope, but before advisors could convince the Church, the Profound Silence sunk Iberia into enduring stillness. The royals lost their ability to maintain order; under Saint Carmen I, the Church was reorganized into the Inquisition, becoming the highest authority and strongest bulwark against the ocean. It now revolves around Saint, High Inquisitor, and Inquisitor—Saint an honorific for the nine members who reorganized the church. Statues swapped guns for the Inquisitor's lamp and rapier; scripture went from praising the Law to upholding Iberia's lofty morality.
Sixty-odd years ago, the heir to Famiglia Sicilia returned from Laterano with a cleric and plans for a new Siracusan order. Signora Sicilia openly stated she did not hold faith in Lateran's teachings because the Law itself held no power—the Holy City's miracles were born from the devout who used the Law as their code of conduct, whatever their origin, Sankta or Liberi. She and the cleric Agenir re-interpreted the Lateran faith into "Pistole e Ordine" (Guns and Order): order constrains and tames violence into a precise "gun", while loyalty and obedience nourish the dying famiglia back to life. Agenir preached the Law alongside obedience to one's famiglia, birthing a faith whose true object is the famiglia itself—the faiths of Siracusa and Laterano are two completely different entities. famiglia leaders became godfathers and godmothers—hardly avatars of mercy, representing brute force whose laws manifest in violence; obeying the Law and submitting to violence are equal to them. The Grey Hall, comprising famiglia representatives, outwardly imitates the seven Tribunals, stamping out movement in the ranks—unrestrained violence cannot exist under this ordered society. For this subtle reinterpretation, Signora Sicilia is known to some as "la papissa della Siracusa" (the Madam Pope of Siracusa).
The first time I heard a Lateran sermon was a few decades ago, in a humble monastery nestled between Victoria and Laterano. It was a dark autumn night, and there were no lamps lit within the room. The cleric's halo was the only light by which to see. To this day, I have not forgotten the passage of scripture he read to us:
Life is matter shaped by order, yet among the living, devils are closest to death. Their presence blights fertile verdure and poisons the land with stones of murder. Thus, they are damned among all races to bear the blackstone pox with most ease. At their advent, the heavens themselves brewed black, heralding the first Catastrophe upon us. Since that dark hour, none have beheld the light of the sun. Only through the sacred guidance of the Law are the Sankta crowned in radiance.
The cleric described it as an ancient piece of scripture, mostly unknown to the people of today. Upon settling down in Laterano, I attempted to locate the provenance of this passage, but was unable to find it in any governmental records, ancient religious tomes, or in popular art of the time. There was no trace of it. It was as though it had disappeared from the history of Laterano. This conundrum left me sleepless, and so I pulled myself out of my bed to gaze at the street-lights outside my window, a most wondrous sight. It was then that a sudden realization dawned. Aren't the streetlights that line the streets lit by the very "stones of murder"?
When the people of other nations think of Laterano, they are likely to go through the following three phases: At first, the Holy City's reputation makes one picture an inflexible, solemn nation, one that adheres to strict dogma and admonishments in all aspects of life, a nation of believers whose every movement made or word spoken is cautious. However, if you ever have the pleasure of knowing a few Sankta, you will quickly realize their deeds are imbued with a certain boldness and imaginativeness—such as installing propellers atop their heads, or making statues that can be fed little cakes, or blowing up public buildings in the middle of the street—characteristics that do not conform to the stereotypical view of Laterano. Rather, it is a nation that enjoys a high degree of freedom when it comes to chasing the pleasures of life. While at last, once you set foot in Laterano in person, you will finally see this freedom and pleasure is a mere by-product of order. This near-spontaneous yet methodical order might be considered the phenomenon most worth investigating in the Holy City.
Laterans have no need of physical currency, but for the sake of "convenience", or rather, "amusement", the rather unusual Signa Creditorum is in general use across the city. Signa Creditorum can be exchanged for pure gold at a certain rate in Laterano.
The old bell tower, known as the Tower of Revelations, has seen several millennia worth of history. It is possible that its bricks were personally laid by the first saints themselves. And yet, Laterans pass by this incredible relic every day with barely a hint of wonder, as though they were walking past some newly constructed homes. The thickness of history is compressed down within this city. The ancient deeds of the first saints are a commonplace part of the modern Lateran's faith and life.
In this nation where the people and history walk side by side, there has never been a need for archaeology. The prosperity of Laterano has continued for thousands of years. Its antiques have never been consigned to the earth, so there is naturally no need to dig them up. They are either neatly displayed in the exhibition rooms of their cathedrals or still used by the people in their daily lives. However, in the year 1042, a statue of what is assumed to be an ancient Lateran saint was unearthed in the wasteland to the west of Laterano, causing a stir in the entire archaeological community.
Killian Dugal was born into a Victorian household that followed the Lateran faith. His father was a cleric in a small village chapel in the Taran region. Killian spent his youth in a time of war. The War of the Four Nations demanded Originium and other minerals in huge quantities, and amidst the wave of labor dedicated to national defense, Killian became an excellent geological prospector. He took part in developing, testing, and using deep-vein exploration equipment for prospecting purposes. After the war, large-scale Orignium extraction had left many workers and technical staff suffering from Oripathy and destitution. Killian did his best to assist his former colleagues in returning to work, but his efforts only resulted in many court summons, interrogations, and demotions. Most of his former friends simply roamed about until their untimely deaths. Only a handful of survivors managed to scrape a living in a remote village chapel, where they tilled the barren soil for the rest of their lives.
In 1042, the geological survey team that Killian was part of performed a survey following the Targangils Prime Vein eastwards in an attempt to find suitable mining sites. While in a shallow exploratory tunnel, Killian noticed some tube-shaped perforated metal remnants
encased within an Originium crystal. To the devout Killian, the form of this metal seemed to carry a rather similar grace to a Lateran gun, though his colleagues paid no attention to it and even scoffed at him. However, as they swung their pickaxes, it quickly became clear they have found a huge ashen-colored rock. This time Killian could clearly see they had unearthed a stone carved into the shape of a gun.
The news was relayed back on domestic channels, rapidly generating interest within academia. The curator of the Royal Museum of Londinium at the time swiftly organized an experienced archaeological team, among them some of the forefront academics who had once unearthed King Charles's Moving Castle blueprints in old Gaul. The first time the archaeological team arrived at the dig site, Killian's survey team were retained in name to "provide guidance and safety", but they were not allowed within five meters of the exploratory tunnel, the reason given being "to prevent them from inattentively damaging important imperial treasures".
After several days of excavation, there was more than just a stone gun found—A completely intact statue of a saint had been unearthed. According to Originium corrosion analysis, this statue might be older than most Terran relics, and the uniqueness of its features supports that theory. The stonework is elaborate and finely detailed, but it does not portray the saint's face. Unlike traditional saint statues with their amiable visages, this statue forgoes the head, instead displaying a geometric shape rather like a puzzle cube atop the neck. As such, a rather outrageous theory grew popular at the time: It was theorized that the first saints did not truly exist. Instead, they were at first abstract symbols of the Law, which became personified by later generations of Laterans.
This archaeological excavation enjoyed the direct support of the Victorian government. At the time, the consecutive falls of the splendor of Gaul and Iberia meant Victoria was awash with expansionist fervor. For the last hundred years, Laterano enjoyed a pivotal position in the Core, placing it at the heart of both commerce and diplomacy, a position that prideful Victoria intended to usurp.
A letter received by the archaeological team proceeds thusly: "A statue of a saint beyond Laterano's ken, one that might be its most ancient cultural legacy, would surely shake the foundations of the Holy City's prestige. This precious work of art will be a gift from Victorian archaeology to the Empire, and it shall encase the glory of Victoria in everlasting radiance." The archaeological team were beside themselves with glee, and they hurried the statue back to Londinium after two days, where merit and commendation awaited them.
Who could have foreseen that a team carrying nothing but stone would be robbed halfway through their journey? People arrived to find nothing but the remains of their transport wrecked by Originium explosives, and the entire team reduced to nothing but fragments of Originium. The statue of the saint was nowhere to be found.
The camp was bustling with activity the night the team received the letter, and none had noticed that Killian had disappeared alongside an off-road vehicle. After the incident, the police suspected him of leaking the schedule and itinerary of the archaeological team's trip, believing his devotion to a foreign faith had overcome his patriotism. Follow-up investigations yielded no clues, however, as his trail was lost on the Great Plains. In the end, the police could only accuse Killian of treason and claim that he had hired Sarkaz mercenaries to attack the archaeologists and plunder the statue.
Two months later, Killian unexpectedly reappeared on the Victorian border, covered
in grievous wounds and on the verge of collapse. He was found muttering nonsense to himself such as "the statue does not exist", "faith does not exist", "the Holy City does not exist", among other things. The doctor who arrived on the scene simply shook his head, and Killian spent the last moments of his life undergoing interrogation by two police officers. Upon seeing the officers, it was as though he had become another man, slowly sitting up straight and muttering on the topics of war, Originium, and Victoria. As the officers wrote their report afterwards, they realized that Killian had not spoken any new thoughts during his interrogation. They were all statements he had used years before to shield the Infected he knew from interrogations, repeated once more.
Over the next several decades, no eyes fell on this lost relic. The former curator of the Royal Museum of Londinium died before finding the treasure he so yearned for. And it never appeared in the showroom of the Lateran Basilica either. Nowadays, all the knowledge we have of this statue is based on a few rough sketches from the ill-fated archaeological team.
The deaths of the team members and the disappearance of the statue became an unsolved case, leading to no small amount of conspiracy theories accompanying an explosion of interest in the long-standing question of the fallen Sanktas. But the government of Laterano has never acknowledged the existence of this statue. As for the doubts and suspicions of the people, this ancient adage is the only silent response:
Life is matter shaped by order, yet among the living, devils are closest to death. At their advent, the heavens themselves brewed black, heralding the first Catastrophe upon us. Light sears their flesh, order pierces their skin. The Law watches over Laterano, and in turn the Sankta are people of order. Thus, of all the races, 'tis devils who most hate the Sankta of Laterano. ... If the people of order abandon that order, their crimes are unforgivable. They fall from the grace of the Law, adorned with a devil's horns and tail. These mark them as enemies of order, a brand they shall bear 'till their deaths.
It was not long before those few surviving sketches became meaningless scribbles, the case of the missing saint became a mere urban legend, and the various conjectures that stemmed from it became idle gossip. The city of Laterano prospered as it always did, her foundations unshaken.
Laterano occupies a central location on known Terra. Its northern and western regions have a high elevation while the south and east are low. This disparity in height is rather pronounced. The area is dominated by a tropical monsoon climate, enjoying high temperatures year-round and two distinct seasons, one dry and one rainy. These are perfect conditions for sugar crops. Perhaps it is thanks to these blissful geographic conditions that Laterans are so fond of dessert.
If one were to look from the city towards the northwest, one would see a yellow-green plateau. Beneath the short grasses swaying in the wind lies a bounty of Originium and metals. The vast majority of the materials used to make Lateran firearms come from mines here. To the southeast of Laterano is a field of gold and green. The mountain rivers flood at regular intervals, creating vast alluvial plains. Besides the grace of the Law, the fertile soil is another major source of Laterano's long-lived prosperity.
Its longstanding neutrality and pivotal geographic location make Laterano a major free trade hub of the Core. This flourishing trade network has not been monopolized by any large trading firms, but rather a vast array of haloed caravans weaving their way around the city.
Thanks to her bountiful geographical conditions, Laterano has a strong foundation in agriculture. Besides wheat, a large amount of high-value cash crops are grown in the southeast alluvial plains, chief among them sugar crops. The sugar from these fields ends up not only on the Lateran dinner table in myriad shapes and sizes, but an unending stream is sold to the nations surrounding Laterano. Monasteries scattered among the fields independently process their harvests into agricultural goods. Cheese, bread, beer, and many other goods have become significant sources of income for these institutions in the modern age.
Thanks to their storied tradition of firearm creation, most gunsmiths of Laterano are proficient in the design and manufacture of precision Originium components. Specialized processing and electronics manufacturing are Laterano's most prominent industries, which have granted the nation extremely high intercity net penetration.
Landen Monastery
■ The cystymilk bread I have for breakfast each morning is crafted by one such monastery, renowned for its time-honored reputation.
The faithful of Laterano address the Law as their "Lord", and they afford it the highest of reverence. Even the noisiest of Laterans will pray to the Law in silence. Despite all the rules, commandments and creeds of Laterano being collectively categorized under the vague banner of "the Law", the Law in its strictest sense only comprises less than a hundred regulatory words in its totality. It is hard to imagine how several rules could create such pious believers.
Our "Lord" is the Law, as are the "hundred regulatory words" you spoke of. In truth, there are very few Laterans who would try to define the Law, and even fewer who would try to delineate its range. The words used to display the Law are rather simple indeed, but several millennia ago, the first saints used them to establish the foundations of Laterano. It could be said that the Law is the most ancient and primary of Laterano's rules, and its influence can be felt on every aspect of her society. Broadly speaking, the order of Lateran society is the Law itself, and it is within this societal order that we see the appeal of the faith.
Comparatively, the Sankta will give a thousand and one different answers. Some say that the Law has molded the instinctive actions of the Sankta, while some say that the way that the Sankta think was preordained by the Law. Some say that the precepts of the Law are woven into the background of the Lateran language, while others say that its influence flows between the people of Laterano. However, the large majority of Sankta will mention the same phenomenon when they discuss the Law and faith: Empathy.
My wife Susanna and I began our relationship more than seven years ago, but I am still not particularly skilled in determining her mood, and I frequently find myself the unintentional target of her ire. But two Sankta need only meet face-to-face to feel as though they have been the best of friends for decades. I am not claiming that they would know each other well. Empathy is not mind reading, after all, and each person's thoughts and memories
■ A letter from an author to a Lateran publishing house. Within the letter, the author talks about the difficulty of choosing a title for their new cookbook, and asks the editors to help decide on one. The votes from the editorial department are as follows: Liber de Dulcedine et Gaudio: 2 votes Ars Magna de Texendo Hydrati Carbonii: 1 vote Pax et Amor in Pistrinis Patissériis: 3 votes Non Leniter Accipis Prostheses Dentariae: 4 votes Coquus, si Laterane Est: 1 vote De Re Legali Suprema et Re Artificii Socolatae: 4 votes Lexicon in Quo Dicuntur Torrendum de ex Coptis Alosum et ex Centum Bellariis Aliis: 0 votes
are still their own. I am also not attaining that their minds will synchronize. One needs only to look at the four haloed children next door to understand. While two of them cry, the other two will laugh. However, when two Sankta empathize with one another, they are keenly aware of the other party's state of emotion, and with this and as their foundation, the two can quickly understand one another, bringing about a mutual understanding.
The order of Laterano society is, to some extent, built upon this understanding and reporting. Representatives of diverse state forms may come across Terra, whether Kjerag's traditional customs or Columbia's federalist aristocracies, the janistocracies of the Sargonian Lords Amors or the Ursus Guard. The commonality is that they all involve some kind of external force. But the order of Laterano shows an unbelievable spontaneity, in comparison. Even in areas where the Law does not cover, Lateranans consciously maintain harmony. There is a common Lateran proverb: "Two halos can solve any dispute." Whether a look in the air conditioning, a scratch on a car, or an inadvertent detonation of personal property, it seems both parties need only meet and chat with one another to dissolve the conflict—in truth, it is also rather common for both parties to hit it off in conversation, leaving the damaged item forgotten by the side.
However, I will say that I always have some misgivings about Sankta empathy. While admittedly the Lateranans live in peace and harmony, it is hard for me to imagine all of them happy at all times. Not even the Holy City can boast a complete lack of negative emotions such as dismay, sorrow or anger within its walls. If a Sankta perceives such an emotion keenly, would this negative emotion not have an equally negative influence on the receiver?
The letters of the Law do not directly define Laterano's political or power structures, but it is without a doubt the source of its public authority: Functionaries of the Lateran government, the Pope include, exercise power in the name of the Law, and successive generations of Popes have added annotations and additions to the Lateran statute. The process of the Pope interpreting the Law setempat is equivalent to the process of enacting legislation, and these interpretations give rise to clauses in the statute known as "commandments" or "rules". The sole person with the authority to interpret the Law is the Pope, though the cardinals of each Tribunal provide all-important support to the process of enforcement. Unfortunately, [?] better lives. The Law was initially criticized for its ruthless suppression of freedom. Yet today, Laterano is considered one of the first nations in all of Terra. The Law that crushes individuality historically has become a divine blessing that sustains the paradise of Laterano. Perhaps this is the best we can learn from it.
The Pope is the supreme leader of Laterano. The full title of the reigning Pope, Yangvanlista XL, is the Guardian, Keeper, and Executor of the Most Supreme Law Yangvanlista XL. Depending on the situation, it may be simplified further or elaborated upon. The first half of the title refers to the Pope's roles of guarding the Law, interpreting the Law, and implementing the Law, as well as governing Laterano in its name. The second half is a name that the Pope inherits from one of the first saints—Yangvanlista, beside which—alongside the virtues that saint represents—sacrifice and unity.
When a Pope passes away or steps down from office, any Sankta within the Sacred College of Cardinals who wish to succeed him may become candidates, and all members of the College will come together to vote on which candidate will be elected the next Pope. This process is known as "the Conclave", and it is one of Laterano's most important divine
The parlor of the Lateran Basilica, where I was once fortunate enough to meet the Pope himself for a chat. Not only is the reigning Pope rather skilled in the sphere of politics, but he reveals an astonishing ingenuity in his choice of dishes.
ceremonies. Almost every single one of Conclave ceremonies broke the prior record for "creating most explosions in Laterano in a single day".
The central government of Laterano is the Lateran Curia, also commonly referred to as "the Church". The Curia consists of seven Tribunals, and the chief official of each Tribunal is a cardinal personally appointed by the Pope.
The First Tribunal upholds the Law. It is the judiciary of Laterano, and it has the power to perform judicial review on the administrative actions of all governmental departments. The other six Tribunals are all law enforcement agencies, dedicated to government affairs regarding different aspects of society. The Second Tribunal is responsible for coordination between various departments, while the Third Tribunal is focused on agriculture, industry, and transportation, among other things. The Fourth Tribunal oversees trade and the postal service.
In the Lateran faith, the gun is often considered "the grace and care of the Law" or "the protection that the Law affords Laterano". According to ancient records, it was under the guidance of the Law that the Sankta discovered the gun and its associated technologies. The innate talent of the Sankta for operating them is also considered a gift from the Law. The gun is a symbol of the Lateran faith. Design elements incorporating gun and bullet motifs can be found on prayer robes, on statues of saints, the covers of ancient tomes, and the stained glass windows of chapels. "If you ever find yourself lost, hold tight your gun and regain your faith,"—as a Pope once preached to his flock. When the faithful are frightened or at a loss, they will unconsciously clench the grip of their firearms, which brings a sense of relief.
The Fifth Tribunal is in charge of public safety and notary work. The Lateran Notarial Hall is under the jurisdiction of the Fifth, and the Hall itself oversees public security, defense, notarization, fire control, and many diverse affairs. If needed, the Notarial Hall's field executors can appear in any corner of Terra to ensure the rights of Lateran citizens abroad, and to urge them to fulfill their duties as citizens.
The Sixth Tribunal oversees the civil administration, education, and healthcare. Household registration and social welfare are also under the purview of the Sixth. Each city district, or Pagus, and hamlet contains a Sixth Tribunal office, and it is these representative offices that Lateran citizens first turn to during difficult times. In addition, the Ecclesia Requietum, which oversees funerals and all such related affairs, is part of the Sixth Tribunal too.
The Seventh Tribunal is the department of intelligence, diplomacy, and national security. Laterano has long maintained a neutral stance in diplomacy, serving as a witness or a mediator in many international disputes. Before Yvangelista XI was elected Pope, he was a Messenger himself for the Seventh Tribunal who witnessed the destruction of the Gaulish Empire. Following the establishment of the Legati in 1069, Laterano's role as international witness and mediator has become more normalized and institutionalized than ever before.
While she has not been touched by the fires of war for nearly a thousand years, Laterano maintains a well-trained military, though they do not always exude an aura of majesty or terror. If one were to bump into a pontifical guard sipping coffee at a street corner, or stumble across a dozing gun-knight on a monastery bench, a Lateran citizen would not feel the slightest bit of astonishment.
The gun-knights are also known as "Apostolic Knights", and as the name implies, they
"An etched bullet pendant. Handmade, customizable, 100% good quality. Can still be fired. Please select a caliber that matches your guardian gun." It has been proven that such a pendant can effectively alleviate negative emotions such as fear and restlessness, but not as effectively as an entire magazine.
are independently appointed by the Lateran Curia, and report directly to the Pope. The gun-knights are typically the most skilled sharpshooters in all of Laterano, and they are provided with heavy firearms nearly as long as an average man's height. As anyone who has attempted to operate a gun would understand, skillfully operating heavy weapons such as these can be considered a great feat in its own right.
The Pontifica Cohors, or Guards in Guard seal, are Laterano's standing armed public security force, in charge of the internal defense of Laterano. They consist of many squads, each commanded by a gun-knight. The members of the Pontifica Cohors rarely leave the sectors they guard, but when responding to sudden incidents, the gun-knights may select elite members of the Guards to form a special task force that can act as a flexible operational unit.
In times of major hostility, the commanders of all Pontifica Cohors squads will form a Gun-Knight War Council, who are jointly responsible for wartime command. At the same time, the Pope will begin to recruit troops from all across Laterano. Once passing a physical examination and a review, every citizen who has obtained their guardian gun at the age of twelve can become part of a substantial garrison force.
Laterano is home to approximately six million people, with the vast majority of them within the Lateran City. The rest reside in settlements scattered across the countryside.
Laterano's population mainly consists of Sankta, but a considerable proportion of residents are non-Sankta, the most common of which are the Liberi. More than a thousand years ago, the Sankta of the city welcomed the first Liberi refugees. As they crossed the breadths of the land to ease Catastrophe, the tall walls and white towers on the horizon seemed a godsend. As far as these tribes of hunter-gatherers were concerned, the concept of a city was vague and only existed in the most ancient of legends. Perhaps these Liberi nomads did not understand the order society of the Sankta, but some of them still harbored a simple yearning for the richness and stability of city life. These refugees established settlements in the fertile soils surrounding Lateran City. From the goods they produced and their diet in their languages and laws, they began to imitate the Sankta way of life. The Sankta constructed churches within these settlements to meet the needs of the local faithful wishing for a place of prayer. They also offered education, healthcare and other services, or goods such as beer and pastries. They even organized the training of guards to defend against enemy attack. This was the birth of many of Laterano's monasteries. Nowadays, the hamlets outside the city are considered an inalienable part of Laterano.
Despite the Sankta leaving their mark on the nation, even down to the hallowed street lamps, others rave will find no kind of systematic discrimination within the country (u.b. Sarkaze who voluntarily forbidden from entering the city at all). There is almost no most put within Laterano—perhaps except for the Pope—which is barred to non-Sankta, and no small amount of them can be seen in every position.
After residing in Laterano for several years, I am just like any local Liberi, having grown accustomed to how Sanktas communicate with others. No matter if it is my landlady, the administrative staff of the Sixth Tribunal, the bookstore proprietor, or Pope Yvangelistia XI himself, they care more about whether the dessert for lunch will be stuffed with apple or pineapple than whether their interlocutors spoke a halo over his head or feathers over his ears.
A gun-knight and a guard of the Pontifica Cohors. Guards stationed in the hamlets around the city often operate in the local monastery where they dwell. The locals pray while they work, because "the sound of shots echoing about the place helps to keep the mind concentrated, as on the mantra to devote the one with the Lord."
A street lamp made in the image of a Sankta's halo. It is especially tall and large, similar to the spotlights used in the arenas of the Kaizerlich Mayor. Many people believe that the lamp's light is a symbol of the Pope's brightness. The brightness of a Sankta's halo varies from person to person. Some are unusually bright, while others are unusually dim. It is said that a bright halo can be able to give a good night's sleep, while the latter any eternity home for the restless. The opposite is true during the day. It is a pity that a halo's brightness cannot be altered at will, and so the Sankta have no choice but to use the street lamps to compensate for their regrets. This is why these large street lamps turn on during the day, and turn off at night.
But there is one thing that no resident of Laterano can deny: While they enjoy near equal rights and opportunity, the other races are unable to take part in the empathy of the Sankta. As the Sankta laugh and weep together, the other races find it difficult to keep up in the sharing of joy and sorrow. Most of the time, this estrangement is not born of malice, and so the Lateran Liberi may not blame the unfamiliarity, alienation, and helplessness they feel on ruthless gossipmongers, uncaring and spiteful civil servants, or knife-wielding patrolmen like the people of Ursus do. When faced with the friendly smiles of the Sankta, oftentimes the only place the Liberi can turn is self-doubt.
...As I opened the car door, I was greeted by a loud rumble. This was the signal that the Laterans were lifting their spirits. My old colleague Silas was waiting by the road, his halo bright as ever. As we walked along the soft cemetery soil, we chatted about the explosion just prior. With his impressive technical expertise, he determined that it was the Eighth Generation of Caramel-Mint Flavor Flash Powder Bomb, but I, on the other hand, thought it was a newly-released "Halo M" Explosive Bundle. Although they do employ gravediggers, at times the Ecclesia Requietum will comply with the deceased and their relatives' wishes and use explosives to dig their graves. I didn't realize that the old Liberi in that coffin loved explosions so much.
The group of mourners buzzed with chatter. People believed that the dead had become one with the Law, and so they raised their wine glasses, buckets of ice cream, and cupcakes to express their wishes. When it came time to sing hymns, one old tone-deaf Sankta—apparently the sweetheart of the deceased—mumbled them with barely any melody to speak of, like a drunken metal crab. During the gun salute, Silas hit a nearby old tree, and its branches fell square on the head of the cleric overseeing the ceremony. Though he made no sound, the grimace on his face made his pain clear. I felt a tickle in my chest, and a string of sharp, high-pitched sounds leapt out of my throat.
An abrupt silence.
Only once I heard my laughter echo through the pale morning did I realize that the Sankta were all keeping their eyes down, their faces dignified and their voices silent, barely even breathing. Only my cut-off laughter resounded in the silence, out of place in all its indignity. I knew that Lateran funeral rites are as such: At an unpredictable moment between the joy and laughter, the friends and relatives of the deceased will bid their final farewells in their hearts, and the connection that empathy grants them means that every Sankta will be drowned in this complex emotion. Perhaps the mourning Sankta did not hear my laughter, but I still couldn't help but feel uneasy at my faux pas. I found myself entangled within thoughts about my shameful display: What if singing off-key or getting hit on the head by a tree branch just weren't funny at all? After all, at a Lateran funeral where solemnity is hardly emphasized, undignified showings do not mean that all sense has been lost, nor do they necessarily induce smiles of amusement...
While I was turned inwards, the Sankta had already returned to their cheery selves. I don't know what had come over him, but Silas was rocking back and forth with laughter as he leaned against a spade, to the point where he nearly flung his own halo off his head. I tried to return to the high spirits that I had when I had just stepped out of the car and laugh alongside them once more, but I found myself suddenly failing to understand why they were laughing. Silas joyously said something to me, but I couldn't hear him clearly, trapped in my train of thought. Through the haze of thoughts, I saw that the Sankta had formed a circle and started some sort of round dance. They stood hand in hand, forming a snug, closed loop. They jumped as they spun about, their feet leaving the ground, and they soared through the sky. Under the bright sunlight, the ring of Sankta let off a shining radiance of their own, as though Lateran City herself was haloed. I chased that halo, thinking of what questions I wanted to ask and how I would interpret the answers, but I had barely run two steps before I slipped and fell right into the deceased's grave. That is when everyone laughed.
-An excerpt from Liberi author Aratus's short story, Liberi in Sepulcro
■ Ecclesia Requietum. The vast majority of Lateran funerals are held in buildings such as this. Laterans believe that the dead have become one with the Law, and as the Law is one with Laterano, they rarely visit graves to pay their respects. When a funeral is not being held, the Ecclesia Requietum is among the most peaceful places in all Laterano. Many fowlbeasts that cannot handle the chaos of the city build their nests here. It is said that in the past, there were fowl-watching enthusiasts who studied day and night just to qualify for a position within the Ecclesia Requietum. Every day, they could see flocks of fowlbeasts circling the skies above the church.
The most characteristic artform of Laterano displays itself not at the theater or in the chapel, but throughout the entire city. To an outsider's eyes, the indulgent and fantastical farces that are staged daily on the streets of the city are a type of performance art. But if one were to ask a Lateran, this is merely the way they have done things since childhood, and it is where one finds the joy of life. Freedom and merriment, dessert and explosion, all come together to form Laterano's cultural milieu.
Guns are systematically managed in Laterano. Information on every gun's manufacture and sale, alongside what gun every citizen owns and their qualifications for use, are filed in the records of the Notarial Hall.
If one were to ask a Lateran about to reach their twelfth birthday, a trip to the firearm workshop might be the best birthday gift ever. On that day, they will be escorted to a registered and regulated workshop by an executor of the Notarial Hall, where they may choose any gun or other firearm that they so fancy.
A child who has obtained their guardian gun begins each day by joyfully opening its case and admiring their new partner. But, they will have to undergo a firearms hands-on training regimen over the next four years, graduate secondary school, and obtain a Lateran Firearms Operation License before they are officially qualified to operate it. After all this, young Laterans are still required to periodically report to the Notarial Hall for basic firearm inspections in order to keep their qualifications. If they violate firearm usage regulations too often, they may have the misfortune of the Notarial Hall revoking their license.
Laterano boasts a universal education system, divided into primary, secondary, and tertiary levels. Tertiary education can be further split into two branches, one focused on vocational and technical schools, while the other is based on a more standard university-based education. All Lateran citizens of sufficient age can enroll at any school within the city and receive free education for fourteen years. If the resident of a hamlet does not wish to travel to the city for their education, they may choose to study at a local monastery instead.
Food 18% 11% for Sweets Clothing 7% Housing 16% Living Services 8% Transportation & Communication 9% Culture & Entertainment 15% 9% for Ammunition Medical Care 8%
■ A breakdown of an average Lateran citizen's expenses in 1097.
■ Many gun workshops in Laterano will have a statue of a saint holding a gun at the entrance. Any child who has just received their first gun will excitedly recreate the statue's pose. This drawing comes from a student at Stevonus Secondary School in Lateran City.
The vast majority of schools and monasteries in Laterano offer a wide range of firearms-related courses, including ones such as Firearms and Explosives' Use, Mechanics, Manufacturing, Aesthetics and Design, Cultural History, Sociology, and so on and so forth. There are even courses focusing on niches for students with a keen interest. "Commune cum Sclopetis" is a fun course, very popular amongst secondary schoolers. "Saints, Legacy, and Scholars" is a preparatory course for students who wish to specialize in antique gun study. "Greater Than Guns" is a course tailored for non-Sankta students to teach them how to handle a range of common long-range weapons, such as automatic crossbows and grenade launchers. The sports fields of Lateran secondary schools rarely have courts for ball games, but shooting ranges and demolition trenches are nearly universal.
■ The "Commune cum Sclopetis" course comes with a set of "Nidus Sclopetorum" paraphernalia, said to be able to "placate a moody gun".
"So do you take your guns out for walks?"
"We ride them through the skies, if you can believe it."
The quality of Laterano's healthcare system is enough to make a man doubt that he is still on Terra. Each Pagus of the city has a district hospital, while every hamlet in its surroundings has a clinic. With the support of universal healthcare, a citizen need not fear bankruptcy in the face of illness.
Laterano boasts the highest penetration of Oripathy detection equipment among the nations. Each hospital has access to equipment that can detect Blood Originium-Crystal Density to an accuracy of two decimal places, while offices all across the country have portable detection bracelets. A citizen diagnosed with Oripathy will face permanent deportation from Laterano. But this one stipulation aside, the Infected suffer no discrimination or persecution. They continue to be considered citizens, and their rights as citizens are still guaranteed. Infected citizens who are forced to leave may still receive subsidies and medication at regular intervals. In return, the field executors who carry this welfare also urge these citizens to fulfill their duties.
It is worth mentioning that just like how other health systems across Terra have departments specialized in race-specific ailments, such as the department of Cerasurgery, Lateran hospitals also provide special services for Sankta-specific maladies. Routine health inspections for Sankta children include tests for halo stability and empathy capacity. Effective treatments for these traits are now widely available in Laterano after many years of development.
In 1073, Pagus Stevonus Central Hospital in Lateran City admitted a young Sankta girl. Over the next twenty years, her diagnosis and treatment were presided over by a doctor of quite some repute. This doctor has shared her medical history with me:
At three, during routine examinations, her empathy data was rather unstable over the course of many tests, but the average matched the basic standard. It was recommended to re-test her at the earliest possible opportunity.
At six, during routine examinations, her empathy data was stable over the course of many tests, but the average was significantly different from standard values. Long-term observation is required, alongside treatment for any related issues.
An official from the Curia has already checked over her parents' identities. There are no political concerns, so she can be hospitalized under normal procedures. A small bout of good luck amidst bad.
At eight and five months, progress during empathy treatment and rehabilitation has been slow. The patient found it difficult to concentrate, and repeated "cotton candy" during therapy. Traumatic stereotypic behavior suspected. Requires consultation with relatives to understand her circumstances.
At eight and nine months, progress during empathy treatment and rehabilitation has been slow. The patient's "cotton candy" verbal tic was thanks to the presiding doctor's white, curly hair, not stereotypic behavior. Considering changing treatment methods, perhaps adopting a reward-based system.
What flavor of cotton candy do children of this age prefer? Creamy pepper? Would it be too strong for her?
At eleven and three months, periodic progress has been made during empathy treatment and rehabilitation. The patient initially displayed the ability to sense emotions, but cannot express them very well. When she cannot find a suitable way to express them, the patient displays a notable agitation. Language delay is suspected. Post-treatment language education is needed.
At fifteen, there has been outstanding progress during empathy treatment and rehabilitation. The patient is able to accurately perceive the "color" of emotions, and can detect variations in mood promptly. We may discharge her very soon.
I hope that she will be able to live a happy life from now on. Given that it's Lateran City, that's almost a certainty.
"She would occasionally reach out to me after her discharge. At times, she would introduce other potential patients, or simply chat about her life via mail. So far, she has been in good health, has found work, and even settled down. Her husband is called Silas or some such, and by all accounts he is a good man, willing to do anything and everything for her.
"Have there been any... unexpected developments?"
"Best you see for yourself."
At twenty-eight, during an emergency examination, her empathy data was incredibly unstable over the course of many tests, and the average was significantly different from standard values. The patient refused to be admitted for immediate observation due to personal concerns. We still recommended hospitalization as soon as possible.
She persevered in her request for confidentiality. Remember to use the codename rather than the name of the disease in all subsequent examination reports.
At twenty-eight and four months, progress during empathy treatment and rehabilitation has been slow. According to her family, the suicide of her close friend, the Liberi author Aratus, had caused her to sink into abnormal and severe mood swings. The patient refused to discuss anything to do with Aratus, and we are unable to use this as a starting point for therapy.
Her husband has also been acting very abnormally, constantly asking if there are things that we've been hiding from him. Perhaps we should suspend family visitation.
At twenty-eight and four months, progress during empathy treatment and rehabilitation has been slow. All medical staff by the patient's side felt a sharp pain, as though suffering laceration. The patient has shown a certain degree of self-harming behavior, and must be moved to a padded room. When meeting with family, the patient displays a mix of fear, grievance, remorse, anger, and despair, a very complex set of emotions. Family visitation must be suspended.
A night in Londinium in the year 1034, crowds filed into movie theaters after having their fill of wining and dining all to appreciate the trendiest new artform of the time—color motion pictures. As the people of the time saw it, the scenes projected onto the silver screen were indistinguishable from reality, and there was no need for them to trek about the vast empire to experience all its wonders. At the climax of the movie, a sharp noise echoed through the cinema, and the screen began to tear apart from the middle as a trembling, wizened hand stretched through the ripped screen. The movie theater broke out into screams and uproar.
This was a social experiment plotted with utmost care, intended to treat an illness that was born alongside the rise of color film: "Screen Syndrome", a form of film addiction that left its sufferers unable to distinguish between cinema and reality. The outcome of this experiment was not ideal. The sufferers of the "syndrome" displayed some disenchantment with the medium of film for a few days after the experiment, but they quickly returned to wasting away, day after day, at the cinema.
Laterano—the Holy City has continually reshaped my perception. Over the decades that I have spent wandering Terra, never have I seen a nation as prosperous, stable, free, and forgiving as Laterano. That is perhaps why I have chosen here as the place where I will complete this tome.
As those who were born and raised in Laterano would say, the city is as the world once was, and while they may have read books that describe suffering in words, they do not truly understand what these words mean. One need only look at it from another angle for this near-perfect landscape to deform, distort, and expose the disappointing reality behind the screen. For thousands of years, there have been countless humans who would tear through the divine screen of Laterano, hoping to reveal what oppression and violence must lie behind the glory. But Lateran City prospered as she always did, her foundations unshaken.
After all, the fact that this great land plays host to such a holy city is a miracle in its own right.
EPIGRAPH
There is one clear upside to living in Laterano, but many downsides. One of those downsides is that, the closer you are to the geographic core of the Lateran faith, the harder it is to grasp every aspect of it. The Sankta of Laterano believe that dessert and explosions go hand in hand, while the statues of saints carrying guns turn a deaf ear to this particular belief. In reality, if the First Tribunal's records on the deeds of the saints are accurate, these saints spent much of their lives destroying urban infrastructure." Putting aside these complaints for a moment, the influence of the Lateran faith has long since soared over the white walls of the Church, having sowed itself far from the Holy City. The Lateran faith provides a vision of a harmonious life. This vision can unite people as one community, a weapon they can use to resist pain and suffering, just as firearms were passed down from the saints to their fellows. What converted the earliest Liberi to the faith was the miracle of the Holy City itself, and the peace and harmony that the Law brought with it. As His Holiness Yvangelista XI once told me, even if The Saints' Travels ceased to exist, the foundation of the Lateran faith would not waver. It is very clear that the Popes of the Holy City do not consider themselves the highest leaders of the faith. Whether spiritual or secular matters, they do not meddle in religious affairs outside of Laterano. In light of this, the varying interpretations of the Lateran faith by religious organizations in various regions of the land are no surprise. As part of our comparative study, we must cast our gaze to the Lateran faith outside of the Holy City.
—An excerpt from A Comparative Study of Regional Differences in Lateran Faith
From the very first moments of the founding of Iberia, the royal family had declared the teachings of Laterano as the state religion. It was a nation built by believers. They had wanted to build a golden city on a southern peninsula, one that could rival the Holy City in its grandeur. The Church of Iberia was born from the royal family's accurate foresight on the political value of this common vision—its clerics could serve as intermediaries between the royals and the nation's citizens, soothe conflict between local nobles, or use their status as faithful to act as diplomatic Messengers, fulfilling many crucial roles in Iberian society. In addition, the devout Lateran Liberi preachers contributed significantly to the Church of Iberia in its early years, and so statues in Iberian churches often integrate Liberi plumage into their design.
The Church of Iberia had once maintained close ties to Laterano, with its higher-ranked members often visiting the Holy City to accept the blessing of the Pope. But as Iberia grew in power and prosperity, the light of Laterano lost its sheen in the people's eyes, and the unshakable Holy City became no more than a small polity tucked away in its corner of Terra. Historical tradition had ebbed at that moment, yielding to the storm surge of the Golden Age. At the end of the war in 1031, the royal family officially placed support for an Iberian Pope on the agenda, hoping to spread the influence of the Church of Iberia across an even wider area. However, before their noble advisors could convince the Church of Iberia to accept this arrangement, the Profound Silence sunk Iberia into enduring stillness.
In its wake, the Iberian royal family completely lost their ability to maintain order within the nation. Under the leadership of the now Saint Carmen I Iberia, the Church of Iberia was reorganized into the Inquisition. It led a complete revision of the sacred texts and scriptures, and restructured the country's military might. The Inquisition replaced the Iberian royal family as the highest authority in the land, as well as its strongest bulwark against the threat of the ocean. The Inquisition of today does not retain the system of clergy that the Church of Iberia once had. Instead, it revolves around the three ranks of Saint, High Inquisitor, and Inquisitor. Saint of the Inquisition is not a true position, but rather an honorific title reserved for the nine high-level members who had reorganized the church. The statues of Iberia swapped their guns for the lamp and rapier of the Inquisitor, and scripture went from praising the Law to upholding the lofty morality of Iberia.
Iberia
Laterano
■ As Iberia's faith diverged from the norm during its inexorable march of progress, religious icons incorporating Liberi plumage became ever more common in the nation. These icons set aside the guns of Laterano and took up the rapier, symbolizing Iberia's martial tradition, along with the lantern, representing Iberia's maritime culture Once the Profound Silence cut ties between Iberia and Laterano, the Church of Iberia was reorganized into the Inquisition, and Carmen and the other reorganizers were conferred the title of Saint. The rapier and lantern became symbols of the new order, turning these icons into representatives of the Saints of Iberia in the truest sense.
Sixty or so years ago, the heir to Famiglia Sicilia returned from Laterano with a cleric in tow, alongside her plans for a new Siracusan order. The young Signora Sicilia once openly stated that she did not hold faith in the teachings of Laterano because the Law itself held no power. The miracles of the Holy City were born from the devout who used the Law as their code of conduct—no matter where they are from, or whether they are Sankta or Liberi.
After returning to Siracusa, the two of them re-interpreted the Lateran faith into the doctrine of "Pistole e Ordine" (Guns and Order), using it to sharpen
the famiglia's chipped fangs. Order would constrain violence and tame it into a precise "gun". Loyalty and obedience would nourish the dying famiglia, and allow it to be reborn. This doctrine has been implemented in Signora Sicilia's Grey Hall, dominating Siracusa's underground society with an iron fist. The cleric Agenir preached the Law to the famiglie, and also preached about obedience and loyalty to one's famiglia, leading to the birth of a new faith. Obviously, the object of this new devotion is not the Law of Laterano, but the famiglia itself. In other words, the faith of Siracusa and the faith of Laterano are two completely different entities.
On the one hand, under the influence of the Lateran faith, the leaders of the famiglie have become godfathers or godmothers, though this hardly turns them into avatars of mercy and justice. These godfathers and godmothers represent the brute force behind their famiglie, and their laws are made manifest in violence. Obeying the Law and submitting to violence are equal to them. On the other hand, the unified order of the Grey Hall, comprised of various representatives of the famiglie, outwardly imitate the seven Tribunals of Laterano. The establishment of the Grey Hall has stamped out any desire for movement in the ranks, and unrestrained violence cannot exist under this ordered society of famiglie. Due to her subtle reinterpretation of Laterano's teachings, Signora Sicilia is known to some as "la papissa della Siracusa" (the Madam Pope of Siracusa).