The woman leading us wasn't so much walking as she was hopping.
Though the action was childish it was executed gracefully, strolling through the Cloisters with a lively, vivid energy.
She skipped ahead of me and the pope, with her smaller stature of a body complemented by a plump, adorable figure you could hardly called childlike.
While her body was undeniably soft looking and inviting, a closer look revealed no excess fat to speak of.
Clothed in a churches' garments that covered her modest yet tantalizing body, eccentuating it just enough for it to attracts unwanted flies.
She exuded an air of innocence that felt almost childlike, contrasted by a charisma that made it tempting to admire her, even negatively.
Each of her movement was infused with a charm that would arouse a protective instinc even from the coldest of Ice, if at all what was shown was an act, I would gladly be fooled.
She walked carelessly and comfortably, as if the very act of walking were a dance, drawing attention without ever demanding it.
All said and done, she, saintess Jenica, glanced around like a curious cat, even though she probably have walked to and fro this place hundreds of times already.
Well, I could not blame her exactly, the place was absolutely phenomenal.
"So, Mr., would you give me your name, or shall we, I call you 'Hero candidate'?"
I smiled wryly, "You can call me Chris Comfortably."
She pivoted on her right heel, her short, silvery hair and clothing swirling gracefully around her.
"Well, I certainly shall!" she declared, infusing her voice with a playful, dramatic flair, while her expression and finger gesture follow suit.
√(＾∇＾)ﾉ♪
"Eric?"
"Mmm." The pope nodded, his smile barely visible but present.
"Indeed. It feels more personal to call you by name rather than simply 'hero candidate,'" he remarked, casting me a sidelong glance.
"'Mr. Hero' or 'Hero candidate' sounds a bit too grandiose for everyday conversation."
"We can't have him walking around with a title that makes you sound like you're about to slay a dragon every five minutes... Ksu Ksu Ksu." The saintess giggled.
"Though, if you do come across one, do let me know. I'd love to see that."
I gave her a gentle smile. "I'll be sure to keep you in the loop. But no promises on the dragon front though." She giggled again.
As we pressed onward, the saintess's steps grew slower, her movement becoming more deliberate, as she subtly positioned herself beside the pope.
"You know, little brother, not even the other gets to meet the saintess and the pope on their first day you know? Chris here is pretty special."
"Because he is the most handsome of the five." The pope chimed in with a little chuckle.
The saintess gave him a sidelong glance, her lips quirking into a smile. "Oh, is that so?" Her tone just now... sounds kinda weird.
The pope cough twice and snap his finger, with it accompanied a small amount of golden hued, divine power, lighting it subtly.
"I, I prefer to think of it as efficient," he replied, his throat dry and his voice somewhat desperate.
"Efficient, huh?" She teased, her tone returning to that teasing one, bumping her shoulder lightly against his.
"Is that what you call it when you make me wait for hours because you're 'busy' with your books?"
The pope's smile widened imperceptibly.
"I value thoroughness. Besides, someone has to make sure everything runs smoothly. A very handsome, very manly, very kind and very popular guy."
Hearing his response, the saintess rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to her expression.
Eventually, we arrived at a smaller, more intimate hallway, where the bricks of the walls emitted a soft, bluish light that illuminated our surroundings.
"Yes, yes, Mr. Thorough. One of these days, you'll have to join me in one of my 'inefficient' adventures. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about spontaneity."
While they were speaking, I look around the area, specifically the grand mural sprawled across the wall.
It captured my full attention for reasons I couldn't quite fathom.
Perhaps it was the ambiance or perhaps it was the depth of the image I suppose, it drew me in nonetheless.
—"I'll consider it...."
The image on the wall itself was nothing extraordinary, simply a knight in resplendent armor who stood at the center.
His expression though, it was far from lively, to say the least, but it was definitely of someone who was profoundly proud.
He wore no helmet, though there was one rested beside his right leg which was absent from his thigh to the foot, from where blood dripped ominously.
I stepped closer to admire the painting, then I come to realize—whether by design or by other occurrence—the wall has cracks all over, spreading out delicately and thinly like the web of a spider.
I wonder if it would be rude to ask the reason.
"Isn't this too—"
—CLACK, CLACK.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted me.
"Do you think it doesn't belong here?" the pope interjected.
Turning my gaze back to the mural, I noticed the knight's left arm was also missing, the overall image was a bit traumatizing, to say the least.
I nodded silently.
Looking back, I noticed the knight's left arm was also detached, and absent from his body entirely.
The ambiance of the painting leaned toward the dark side, enhancing its unsettling nature.
His sword was stabbed onto the soil, and he leaned heavily against it.
Upon a closer inspection, I could see a gaping hole in his ribs, stretching from the first bone to the last.
He might have fallen, should the painting was real.
But, despite his awkward and unsteady stance, the golden crown upon his head remained poised and steady, as if the painter had intentionally rendered it as an additional limb.
He had a fierce smile painted across his face, of which was entirely soaked by blood, some of which dripped from his mouth, with eyes full of condescention.
Before him was a swirling mass of shadows, dark and menacing, with tendrils reaching out like grasping hands, threatening to envelop him.
"Mmm... This painting is of King Melchizedeck." The pope stated as he position himself beside me.
The saintess also came beside me and pointed at something that was written below the painting.
[ So long as my arms have not detached, I can wield my sword. If one should fall, the one remaining shall carry it till every last citizen escaped. ]
What I realized, clearly in that moment was that the air was cold, the realization was promptly followed by a goosebumps all across my body, and a sense of respect.
I believed that every man have the masculine urge to die in battle while holding off an enemy you can't possibly defeat.
The masculine urge for a last stand against an overwhelming force, in the meanwhile our loved ones escape to live. Whilst you are entirely aware you shalt not breathe tomorrow with them.
Truly I don't know who this man is, but it is instinctual, and for every man out there I believed it would be similar.
"I gave you my respect Lord Melchizedek."
"As the story goes," Said the Pope. "The King suffered the misfortune of having his Kingdom selected as a target attacked during the period of calamity, it was one of the first to fall on this continent.
It is recorded that he and his elite soldiers halted the marches of the Demons until all the civillians manage to escaped safely.
According to the accounts, he was last seen to be facing against the Commander of the Demons without both of his arms and his Left foot."
The saintess chided, "He was also one of the first Men to be Canonized,"
"So the painting is a dramatized version?" I asked.
"Not exactly the same, but I don't think it is drmatized either. Surely, little brother, I think the real situation would have been more melodramatic?"
"...True." I finally responded.
"Forgive me, should we continue on our way?"
"Mmm. No, It's fine, St. Melchizedek is my patron saint," Said the Pope, "So it's flattering when someone else also admire him."
Hmm... Is that how that thing works? I don't even know what does patron saint even means.
"I see..."
Now that I think, wasn't elevating a living person to be a saint considered heresy by the Roman Catholics? Or was I remembering it wrong.
Interrupting my thought, "Well, it has become late," Remarked the pope, as he walk away.