Chapter Text
THE morning rain hasn’t ceased pouring since, flooding and rendering the vacant streets of Löddeköpinge, compelling the citizens to abandon their vehicles and venture on foot, though merely when the necessity is demanded. Doors were securely fastened, but the soft glow of candlelights continued to flicker, giving light within their homestead. The town of Löddeköpinge is said to harbor irritable, sullen inhabitants– its temperament luring away newcomers and even occasional visitors. Those who remained within the village– by repute– were deemed defiant, yet also stroppy. Yet, a mere individual, who embraces a peculiar delight in traveling upon his tricycle, even beneath the relentless downpour, contradicts the reputation.
His name was Cardinal Copia. Though, among the townsfolk, he was also familiarly addressed as Cardinal, or, on occasion, Cardi. Sometimes– rarely– Copia.
With the envelope firmly held in his grasp, Copia arrives in his tricycle, hastily dismounting himself off of his three-wheeled vehicle, and rushing towards the great set of doors looming before him, the puddles of water splashing beneath his every hurried step. He briefly rapped at the door, raising his arm in a vain attempt to shield his visage from the relentless downpour, though his efforts did little to spare him from the thunderstorm.
Eventually, the great door swings open, and one of the Sisters of Sin– a nun– greets Copia at the door. Though she strives to compose herself with dignity, her countenance betrays her. “Oh, dear Lucifer– Cardinal Copia, what’s the meaning of this? To appear at such a time? Amidst this dreadful storm?”
Copia hastily straightened his posture, a faint smile creeping across his countenance. He extends the envelope before the Sister, he respectfully bows his head, and says, “I have come to deliver this– directly from the clergy. I am well aware that it is rather late– yet Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator were insistent that it gets delivered without delay.” The envelope, still being held by Copia’s damp grasp, dripped with water, the droplets darkening the stone beneath Copia’s feet.
“I am– also– well aware,” the Sister responds with a strained smile, reaching out with careful fingers, taking the sodden envelope from Copia’s grasp. “Might I inquire beforehand the nature of the envelope's contents?”
Lifting his head with a measured composure, Copia speaks, “I fear you must open and read it. Sister Imperator has expressly forbidden me from spoiling its contents.”
“Very well,” the Sister retorts with a nod. Stepping aside, she gestures for Copia to enter, shutting the great door behind it, muffling the sound of the storm. “Pray, or take a seat. I’ll fetch some tea.”
Watching as the Sister vanishes through an archway, Copia eases himself onto a couch, his gaze wandering over the elegant decor of the nun’s monastery. He’s not a stranger to these halls, but it surely has been a considerable time since his last visit. Sister Imperator has rarely asked him to run errands for the nuns. Except, of course, for the envelope.
After a while, the Sister returns bearing the promised tea, setting the steaming cup upon the low table before Copia. Sitting across from him onto another couch, the Sister deliberately unfolds the damped envelope, her eyes– intent and unblinking– scan the contents of the page. Copia’s eyes never waver from her, involuntarily grasping the tea cup, and bringing it up to his lips.
The Sister slowly brings the envelope down from her view, her gaze falling upon Copia. “You mean to say. . . that the Clergy is anointing a new Papa?” There’s a hint of disbelief laced into her voice.
Copia remains silent for several moments before snapping back into the present. “Why, yes– yes, I believe that is precisely what is transpiring. A new Papa. . . Nihil and Sister have been speaking of it for some time now. Not that they confided in me directly, nor that I was eavesdropping, I can assure you. You see– I happen to overhear from another Ghoul–”
“What of Secondo?” The Sister sets the damp envelope carefully on the low table. “Has he grown weary of the clergy? Come to realize that he's worth more than what the ministry has to offer?”
Taking a long sip from his tea, Copia draws the mug back, his eyes wavering away from the Sister. “He said he’s retired,” he says slowly. “Won’t offer any explanation.”
“I see,” the Sister responds, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the drenched envelope, Copia following her gaze.
The change of Papa’s throughout the era of the clergy was by no means trivial to Cardinal Copia. Indeed, he had performed the solemn act of anointing each in turn as the new Papa, following Sister Imperator’s judgement that they were suitably vicious and powerful for the role. Copia has anointed Primo, and then Secondo, but nothing about this man struck a chord of familiarity. Who, then, is this new Papa? What name does he bear? Does he carry any relation to the clergy?
The Cardinal does not know.
“Anywho, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil hope that you will maintain your patronage of the Clergy despite the. . . rather abrupt change of Papa,” Copia remarks, placing his teacup upon the saucer. Wiping his hands on his lap, he rises to his feet.
Emerging with a smile, Sister inclines her head. “We shall continue our patronage of the Clergy,” she declares. She, too, rises to her feet, curiously untouched by the faint tension clinging in the room, drowning them both.
Making his way towards the great doors of the cathedral, Cardinal Copia finds himself once more descending into the relentless rain down a treacherous path. He’s somewhat delighted to hear that the Sisters of Sin, it seems, will maintain their patronage of the Clergy– relieving him of the disagreeable duty of bearing ill news to Sister and Nihil.