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Sant’Angelo, the holy city and headquarters of the Saintess’ Church, is a vast and rationally designed urban complex, built in concentric circles with a magnificent cathedral at its center. Within its grounds are not only religious facilities but also a full array of institutions, such as seminaries, dormitories, specialized workshops, stores, stables, ranches, farms, and fish-rearing ponds.

In fact, the entire compound is completely cut off from the outside world by a surrounding wall roughly twenty mertes high. According to the priests and templar knights who guided us, the city is capable of sustaining itself almost indefinitely if need be—something they proudly declared in unison.

Entry and exit are limited to the main north gate, which is wide enough for three to four carriages to pass through side by side, and two smaller service gates to the east and west, each less than half that width. Once the appointed time arrives, the drawbridges rise, and no one can go in or out.

Interestingly, there is a local saying: “Evil comes from the south.” This is likely because monsters from the dungeons and past invaders tended to arrive from the south. In contrast, the north is guarded by a chain of steep mountain ranges. Thus, there is no southern gate. Still, from a structural standpoint, it would be strange for there to be nothing at all in that direction, so it’s likely there are hidden doors or underground passages meant for emergencies. If I ever get the chance, I’d love to investigate.

In any case, one could say that Sant’Angelo is, despite some vestiges of formality, a traditional city-state preserved from an older era.

In short, it serves as the nerve center of the Holy Capital Thera Maryth, and simultaneously functions as an entirely separate nation within the city, enjoying full extraterritorial rights. As someone who originally hails from another country, I can’t help but feel this is a rather distorted dual structure—but since the residents and affiliated individuals accept it as natural and the system operates smoothly, I see no need to raise objections.

While a system of nobility still remains, the Eunice Theocracy does not have a king. Instead, the figurehead of the nation is the “Saintess,” and the one who supports her—nominally, though in reality the one holding the highest authority—is the Pope, head of the Church. Given that arrangement, it should be obvious which hierarchy—or perhaps one should call it a caste?—takes precedence: the nobility or the clergy.

Of course, there are truly virtuous people among the clergy as well, and the fact that this country, which lacks any notable industries or special products, is held in high regard not only by the northern nations but across the continent, is due to the Church’s achievements and value—mainly its monopoly on Healing Art practitioners such as shrine maidens and advanced techniques of said art. So, I’m not trying to outright criticize the structure of this nation. Still, I can’t help but feel, time and again, that life would be much more pleasant if I remained ignorant of what goes on behind the scenes.

Now then, one of the many research institutions within Sant’Angelo—

As I was led through with Coppelia, who accompanied me as a maid, a strange humanoid figure—a roughly two mertes tall…doll? A golem? Something shaped like a human but clumsy and hard to classify—was clunking around, walking awkwardly and lifting a box off the floor.

“Ooooooooooh! It moved! Look, Lady Clara! This thing is actually moving!”

Coppelia’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she watched.

“Fufufu. This here is our Church’s research institute’s proud creation: Autonomous Golem Type-Kou No. 27, a project thirty years in the making. Up until now, golems could only carry out commands mechanically, but this one—”

Edward, a magical tool craftsman affiliated with the Church—apparently granted the rank of deacon, though he didn’t give off even the faintest impression of a clergyman—was a man in his thirties, wore glasses, and had that unmistakable “researcher” look about him. In high spirits, he began explaining the golem.

“Nice to meet you, Lady Shrine Maiden. I am Autonomous Golem, Type-Kou No. 27.”

“It spoke! Amazing! So the Church’s alchemy has advanced this far!!”

Coppelia cheered in delight, and Edward seemed rather pleased by her reaction. On paper, it looked like she was showering him with unreserved praise—but really, it was Coppelia’s classic flowery sarcasm, wasn’t it?

I mean, before we even came here, I had firmly reminded her not to offend anyone…

♢♦♢♦♢

“So basically, you want me to play nice with those degenerate priests?”

During last night’s strategy meeting, Coppelia had tried to grab the winged cat (Sechs) curled up on the sofa and plop it on her head, only to be warned off with a swift paw slap from the cat. Clicking her tongue and tilting her head, she bluntly blurted out my roundabout request in the most tactless way possible.

“That’s about the size of it. After all, the only things we learned from spending more than half a day at the slave dealer’s estate were: Maria Lou was picked up in the slums, she was mistaken for a scrawny vagrant child and tossed into a bargain sale, and that the editor-in-chief—the journalist in question—bought her. Those three things. Which is to say, we’ve learned virtually nothing.”

I counted them off on my fingers with a sigh.

I’d expected as much, but the trail to uncovering her past had been completely severed.

“I got pretty much the same result on my mission with the plebeian. That gossip rag’s editor-in-chief clammed up the second he realized I was affiliated with the Church. Wouldn’t say a word. We left because it was going nowhere, but he’s definitely hiding something.”

Oh my? Coppelia backing off just because the other party turned hostile? That’s unusually restrained for her. Normally, she’s all about charging headfirst, zero hesitation, punishing first and asking questions never—a complete menace who couldn’t read the room if it were printed in bold letters.

Maybe after spending a year out of that underground dungeon of hers, she’s finally starting to grasp human emotions and social norms.

“Well, I was ready to cut an ear and gouge an eye and threaten to castrate him if he doesn’t want to talk, then I might consider granting him a quick death, a proper step-by-step interrogation. If not for the pleb freezing me with his talisman spell.”
“…Right. I understand now. Hoping for common sense from you is a pipe dream.”

Also—bravo, Cestlavie.

“Why are you weeping, Lady Clara? —Anyway, I got carried out of the house like luggage, but managed to analyze the spell and break free. Then the plebeian said, ‘This kind of person won’t crack under threats or brute force. We’ll need to take a more roundabout approach,’ so we left the area. He stayed at a nearby cheap inn and released a simple familiar using talisman magic—I think it’s called ‘shikigami’ in the archipelagos—to keep him under surveillance.”

I see—that explains why Cestlavie still hasn’t returned.

“Well done. At this point, we have no choice but to take some risks and try to uncover the Church’s hidden ‘Artificial Saint’ project. But only high-ranking clergy and their affiliates can enter the depths of Sant’Angelo Sanctuarium, so either way, we’ll be acting separately from Cestlavie and the others tomorrow.”

Thankfully, I’ll be able to bring Coppelia along, since she’s officially registered as my lady’s maid. But the rest… Even if Cestlavie is originally a priest of the Church, access will be impossible. It’s not the most reassuring lineup, to be honest.

For now, I’ll ask Kaisa and the others who are cooperating with us to continue gathering intel and keep in contact with both the slave dealer and Cestlavie, who’s still observing things. Then I turn back to Coppelia and firmly remind her:

“Listen. Tomorrow, absolutely no speaking rudely to Church officials, no rocket punches if something annoys you, and definitely no vaporizing obstacles with a death beam, understood!?”

…Why must I go over such insane things so seriously?

“I got it, Lady Clara. I’m a capable woman, you know? I am equipped with proper TPO-awareness and at least a basic function for flattery. Back in the day, I made full use of that skill to butter up Master Victor—‘You genius!’ ‘What a looker!’ ‘Absolutely perfect!’—I used to praise him to high heaven.”

“…”

To think that Victor was satisfied being flattered by an automaton he made himself… Honestly, how much happier would we all be if we could go through life without ever seeing the backstage of the world?

“By the way, do you know the trick to buttering up men? It’s the ‘Sa-Shi-Su-Se-So’ rule.”
“Sugar, salt, mayo, back fat, and gravy.”
“That’s the seasoning ‘sa-shi-su-se-so,’ Lady Clara. And actually, the second half’s kind of wrong. Back fat isn’t a condiment.”
“What? It’s not!?”
“Wait—that wasn’t a joke!?”

We exchanged puzzled looks. On the sofa, Sechs let out a wide yawn, looking bored out of his mind, as if to say, “A conversation between two jokers without a straight man has no punchline.”

Mab’s explanation corner!

The “Sa Shi Su Se So” rule is a standard seasoning/cooking rule in Japanese cuisine! Sa refers to Satou (sugar), Shi refers to Shio (salt), Su refers to Su (vinegar), Se refers to Seuyu (old writing for soy sauce), and So refers to Miso (miso). However, it has also become a meme that it is the seasoning for praises towards men.

Sasuga desu ne! (As expected of you!) / Saikou! (you’re the best!)
Shiranakatta (Wow, I didn’t know that)
Sugoi (That’s amazing) / Suteki (you’re amazing) / subarashii (how amazing)
Sense aru ne (You have a knack for this)
Sounanda (So that’s how it is) / sou nano? (is that how it is?) / sonkei suru (i’m amazed)

Btw, what Jill said is

Satou (sugar), shio (salt), mayoneesu (mayonnaise), seabura (fatty upper part of roast pork), and soosu (worcestershire sauce/any kind of sauce/gravy)

Well, you’ll see the application in the rest of the chapter.

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