Glenn, the chairman of the meeting, spoke with a strained expression, trying to hide his discomfort.

“Normally, even if you weren’t expected to attend, a seat would have been prepared, wouldn’t it?”

In the Pope’s absence, Tilda was of course the most senior figure present.

In principle, a seat should have been reserved for her, regardless of her attendance.

“Well, never mind. You can give up your seat.”

Glenn opened and closed his mouth in shock, but he had no choice. The hierarchy within the Grand Temple was strictly observed.

He simply couldn’t accept that this woman – who had only just decided to act like the Pope’s successor – was taking such liberties.

‘Did she get struck by lightning or something during her disappearance?’
Glenn muttered to himself as he moved to the head of the table.

Then he glanced at Tilda sitting beside him and studied her: perfect posture, immaculate robes, expressionless face and calm, steady eyes – nothing about her had changed.

Yet here she was, suddenly taking her place as the Pope’s heir. It was startling.

Was it because her husband had deserted her? Was she clinging to the only title she had left?

Glenn scoffed to himself, silently mocking her in his mind.

If she really wanted this position, she should have consolidated it long ago.

Now it was far too late.

She had neither the divine power to win over the priests, nor the political skills to manoeuvre in such terrain – how could she expect to be recognised?

“What’s on the agenda for today?”

Tilda’s voice cut through Glenn’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

“We were going to discuss the case of the priests taken hostage by the pirates.”

“They were the ones sent to help the shipwrecked sailors, correct?”

‘She knows that? Even though it happened while she was missing?’

Glenn continued reluctantly.

“The pirates have taken her hostage and are demanding control of Dumfries Island.”

“Dumfries Island…”

Tilda muttered, lowering her eyes. Though small, the island was located in the southern region, known for its fertile land and mild climate throughout the year.

It was a pleasant place to live – and the salt harvested there was considered to be of the highest quality, providing a substantial income.

“If we give it up, the islanders will lose their home. We’ll also lose the only port of call in the south. It’s a serious dilemma.”

“How many priests are being held hostage?”

“Two.”

If one were to weigh the greater good, sacrificing the lives of two priests might seem like the logical choice.

However, these priests had been sent by the Grand Temple to aid shipwrecked sailors.

This tragedy had occurred while they were trying to save lives – so to give up their lives now would be a deeply contradictory act.

But it wasn’t a simple matter of putting the lives of two people on one side of a scale and the value of an entire island on the other.

“What do you think?”

Tilda asked as she looked around the room.

Faced with such a difficult dilemma, the priests exchanged uneasy glances.

Tilda’s eyes swept over them, one by one, as silence filled the room.

Calles, in particular, remained silent – almost as if observing how she would deal with this problem.

And sitting next to him was –Ross Port.

He was the only remaining Archpriest besides Calles and Glenn.

With quiet brown hair and deep blue eyes so dark they almost seemed black, Ross was known for his striking features and gentle demeanour, which made him popular wherever he went.

Tilda had exchanged a few words with him in the past, but they had never had a long conversation.

Now, as he sat in silence, his expression was serious – clearly he was deeply troubled by the situation.

‘Well, it’s not exactly the sort of thing you can give a quick opinion on.’

It was then that Glenn finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

“In matters so difficult to decide, I believe it’s best to follow doctrine.”

“Doctrine?”

“Scripture, chapter 202, verse 21. ‘Though the safety of the few is important, the world cannot exist for the few. If there is no other way, give priority to the good of the many. This is what the Goddess teaches us.”

It was a fundamental principle for the priests to refer to the scriptures in order to make decisions on complex issues.

So even if the decision meant sacrificing human life, it wouldn’t necessarily be condemned.

For it wasn’t a matter of personal judgement – it was the word of the Goddess who embraced the world with compassion.

The priests slowly began to nod in agreement.

The Vallinea scriptures are known to be incredibly long and thick.

There’s even a legend that any priest who can memorise them in their entirety will reach a level of enlightenment and become one of the archangels who serve at the side of the Goddess.

That’s why no one dared openly disagree with Glenn when he quoted it so confidently.

He was the only priest known to have memorised the entirety of the scriptures.

Not only had he graduated first in his seminary class, but he was considered the most knowledgeable theologian in the Empire.

Without further ado, Glenn smiled to himself.

Even if Tilda Vallinea sat at the head of the table, the meeting would always revolve around him.

He was the only one who had memorised the Goddess’ teachings in their entirety.

Sometimes Calles Moin or Ross Port would raise objections and pester him with their opinions, but when it came to tiresome matters like this, they usually kept to themselves.

Calles Moin… seemed to find it all a bit tiresome, and Ross Port seemed to overthink everything.

In any case, Glenn believed that even if Tilda Vallinea attended future meetings, nothing would change.

Until Tilda opened her mouth.

“You seem to have misunderstood the words of the Goddess.”

Glenn’s face immediately hardened.

Even though she was the Pope’s successor, at least in name, and even though many priests were watching, he couldn’t stand it – a child, much younger than himself, daring to correct his interpretation.

His insides were boiling.

‘Did she just try to correct me on the scriptures?’

Glenn, struggling to release the tension in his jaw, finally forced an answer.

“…And what exactly do you think I misunderstood?”

Tilda replied calmly,

“Chapter 202, verse 21 of the scriptures does indeed say that ‘it is wise to put the good of the many before the good of the few’. But it also has an addendum: ‘If the cost of that minority is human life, then the few must take precedence.'”

The priests began to murmur among themselves.

Until now, none had bothered to check, but now some were casting doubtful glances – wondering if Glenn, who had always boasted of his mastery of the doctrine, might have been wrong.

Feeling the eyes on him, Glenn furrowed his brow.

“Impossible. There is no such addition!”

He was sure of it. There was no such passage. He knew the scripture by heart.

It was the book he had carried with him all his life.

Back when he was just an insignificant third son of a noble family, he had spent countless sleepless nights reading it over and over again, desperate to rise above his status.

And now a woman who wasn’t even a fully ordained priest dared to tell him that his knowledge was wrong?

He wanted nothing more than to storm out, grab the scroll and shove it in the woman’s face.

“The goddess Vallinea loved and cherished humanity. That’s why she valued life above all else.”

“I’m well aware of that, but telling us to give priority to the many was also an act of love for humanity.”

She let out a small sigh.

The sound of it made Glenn’s neck tingle uncomfortably.

‘Who’s the one twisting the doctrine now?’

In the end, Glenn couldn’t contain himself.

“Since our interpretations differ, why don’t we bring the scriptures and check them?”

It was childish, perhaps – but the only definitive solution.

“That sounds reasonable.”

Tilda agreed without hesitation, seemingly realising that there was no better way to settle this debate.

Finally regaining some composure, Glenn turned to a junior priest and gave an order.

“Go to the temple library immediately and bring the scrolls…”

“That won’t do.”

Tilda cut him off sharply.

“Do not bring the standard edition. Get permission from the librarian and have the scripture recorded by Drogheda – one of the eight priests of the Goddess.”

‘The Drogheda Scroll…?’

Glenn’s lips parted, but no words came out.

The Drogheda Scroll was a special edition – twice as long as the standard version – containing every word the Goddess was said to have spoken, transcribed in full.

A wave of murmurs swept through the room.

No doubt not a single person present had ever read the Drogheda Scroll from beginning to end.

It was that long, and the content was just as difficult.

So it was hard to believe that Tilda Vallinea, who wasn’t even a priest, had not only read the entire Drogheda Scripture, but could recite it as if she’d learnt it by heart.

“What are you waiting for? Go and get it.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The young priest hurried out of the room.

Glenn began to feel uneasy.

‘Could this young woman really have read the entire Drogheda scriptures?’

No. It had to be an act. Just bluster.

Soon the priest returned, carrying the massive tome.

“In the Drogheda Scriptures, the passage you’re referring to is not in chapter 202, verse 21 – it’s in chapter 312, verse 25.”

The priest turned the pages quickly.

Despite the thickness of the book, the pages were wafer thin – delicate, like slices of fish shaved by a master craftsman.