I had stepped into the great hall of Westminster Abbey. Perhaps it was only an illusion, but it felt vastly larger than anything I had ever seen in the real world—much, much larger.
The weight of the crowd's whispers and stares finally eased once I was inside. Yet judging by the number of people gathered within these walls, the pressure here was heavier than anything outside.
People quietly stepped aside as I passed. Whispers still drifted through the air, as though silence itself were a sin to them.
But the House of Montagu had always stood apart from Senry and the other gods and goddesses—except, of course, for Uire and Ueis.
Calling it a "problem" wasn't quite right. It was simply the creed of the Montagu family—not a conflict.
At last we reached the foot of the steps leading up to the great statue of Senry. The Dean stood on the stairs, his back to the congregation, reading aloud from the sacred text of Senry.
But something else was burning in my mind.
The statue stood like all the others—majestic, solemn—but three books hovered around it, each forged from a different metal.
That much I had read about.
Judging by their colours, I could make an educated guess at their composition.
One was golden yellow—likely solid gold.
Another was dull grey—I had no idea what that might be.
The third was pure white—equally mysterious.
I was still lost in silent analysis of the statue, cross-referencing everything I had read in books about Britain's churches, when the Dean suddenly murmured,
"A devil walks among us…"
Then he calmly resumed reading from the sacred text.
The moment those words left his lips, a ripple of murmurs spread through the hall—louder at the far end.
I was certain no officially sanctioned sacred text of the archbishops contained such a phrase.
So either the Dean was reading from an unapproved scripture… or he had simply tossed out a casual, pointed remark.
I turned to leave the abbey entirely—when the Dean abruptly closed the book and spoke.
"Your Grace the Duke… why not stay a while longer?"
Stay longer? Why the hell should I stay longer?
I gave him a polite smile.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but I have somewhere else to be."
Yet the Dean answered with an odd, knowing smile.
"Still… your presence here today—against every custom and belief of your family—is deeply meaningful to us."
Every eye in the hall seemed locked on me.
Or perhaps it only felt that way.
I needed the people's respect if I wanted real control—so I gave a small nod of acceptance.
The moment I did, the Dean murmured something to the canons behind him, then bowed slightly and gestured for me to follow.
The canons announced in loud voices that the service had concluded.
And yes—I hadn't even known there was a service today.
I still didn't understand why neither Frederick nor William Helms had said a word about it.
Their silence made me uneasy in a way I couldn't quite name.
People began to leave. Some lingered to pray on their own.
Watching them gossip and whisper simply because they had seen me enter this church felt disgusting.
Perhaps I was just irritated.
Or perhaps I was tired and wanted to sleep.
In my mind I muttered to myself,
*How much sleep does this body even need?*
Lost in that thought, William Helms suddenly spoke.
"My lord… why did you come here today?"
I glanced at him.
"No… I came to check something. And now I've fallen into this mess."
At last the Dean opened the massive doors that had been closed.
Light poured in from beyond. A cool breeze drifted through.
He stopped the doors from opening any wider and said,
"Your Grace… please follow me."
I looked back at William and Frederick, then stepped forward after the Dean.
William and Frederick followed close behind.
As we passed through the doors, the sudden brightness forced me to shield my eyes with one hand.
When I lowered it again, I saw something I never expected inside Westminster Abbey.
A vast, elongated corridor. Towering columns. Glass cubes containing relics—or something else—lined the walls and stood behind the pillars.
Frederick, William, and I were all stunned—though I doubt my face gave much away.
I had to fight the urge to run down the corridor from sheer excitement.
But Frederick and William were openly gaping, mouths slightly open as they looked around.
The Dean, however, continued walking toward the far end without pause.
I hurried after him.
Was something important waiting at the end of this corridor?
What a stupid question—of course there was.
Frederick and William suddenly jogged to catch up—probably because I had pulled ahead.
As we walked I asked William,
"How long have we been walking in this corridor?"
He glanced at his pocket watch.
"About five minutes, my lord."
Time passed.
We kept walking.
Finally, in the distance, I saw two crescent-shaped staircases curving upward to meet at a single point.
I asked again.
"So… how long now?"
William gave a nervous smile.
"Exactly twenty-two minutes, my lord."
Twenty-two minutes?
I coughed in disbelief.
"Twenty-two minutes… walking in this corridor?"
I drew a deep breath and continued following the Dean.
Not long after, my eye caught a plaque fixed to one of the columns.
I stepped off the central red carpet and approached it.
When I drew close enough to read, most of the words seemed to shift and blur—as though they refused to be read.
But a few remained fixed.
And those few sent a shiver down my spine.
I whispered them under my breath.
"Celestia… House of Angels… The White Sky…"
Suddenly the floor beneath me shattered.
I was falling—plummeting through an endless sky filled with enormous clouds and a distant, blinding light.
Nothing was clear. The light swallowed everything.
I thought I heard a voice—
Then William's hand landed firmly on my shoulder, snapping me back to reality.
I blinked and looked around.
The Dean was waiting ahead.
Frederick stood a few steps behind.
William was directly behind me, hand still on my shoulder.
I forced a smile.
"Let's go… I'm fine."
William clearly didn't believe me—his expression was deadly serious.
Still, we continued.
A short while later we reached the crescent staircases.
The Dean and I took the right-hand stairs; Frederick and William took the left.
As we climbed, I noticed the empty space between the two curving stairways.
Nothing occupied that gap—except a single, perfectly transparent floating orb.
I saw nothing inside it.
I asked the Dean,
"Why… is the space between these staircases empty?"
He answered with perfect calm.
"Do not dwell on it, my lord. The structure of the hall simply requires it."
I felt he was hiding something—but I had no way to prove it.
Keeping my outward composure, I asked,
"And what about that floating orb?"
The Dean paused for half a heartbeat, then smiled.
"That is called The Legend of Idris. I know very little about it—only that it comes from Celestia. Perhaps the bishop or archbishop knows more."
He resumed climbing.
I followed and pressed,
"So you truly don't know what The Legend of Idris is?"
Still ascending, the Dean answered,
"I only know it is a fountain pen…"
I thought again of the words I had glimpsed on the plaque.
One more question.
"Another thing, Dean—where exactly are we going?"
He replied without hesitation.
"We are going to the Celestial Conclave."
The more I asked, the less I understood.
So I fell silent and followed him up the stairs.
Before long we reached a grand, empty chamber at the top—opulent, glittering, vast.
At the far end stood two enormous doors.
But these were not the wooden ones we had passed earlier.
They were white, adorned with intricate carvings: golden roots winding up and down the frame, a prominent green tree embossed across the surface, turquoise orbs set into the tree's design.
Frederick, William, and I all stared at the doors with the same foolish hope—that perhaps a miracle would occur and they would open on their own.
Perhaps that hope belonged only to me.
The Dean approached the doors, placed his hand on one, and began to murmur.
We stood a few paces back.
All eyes were fixed on the doors.
Suddenly light poured through the cracks.
The great white doors swung outward.
I stepped forward slowly and peered beyond.
Turbulent clouds. Sunlight. A narrow path of quartz stone leading to a wide circular platform—without railing or any kind of guard.
I stared at the Dean.
"Where… is this place?"
He answered simply.
"The Celestial Conclave, Your Grace."
My eyes—along with Frederick's and William's—widened in shock.
I managed,
"What?"
The Dean replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Did you not come to Westminster Abbey in secret to profess your faith in Senry, Ruler of Heavenly Principles?"
I coughed violently.
"N-no?! Who said such a thing?"
The Dean's eyes narrowed.
"Are you telling me you came here to spy?"
I opened my mouth to respond—but William spoke first.
"We apologise if we have caused a misunderstanding, Dean. We came only to visit the abbey—nothing more. Neither to convert nor to spy."
A smile spread across the Dean's face—one that was almost unbearable.
Before he could speak again I cut in.
"Honourable Dean… we are not responsible for your misunderstanding. Perhaps you should reconsider your assumptions."
Without waiting for a reply I turned and began descending the stairs.
It was the only way to escape this mess—because I no longer knew how to answer whatever he might say next.
I ignored whatever the Dean was saying behind me.
For the same reason Frederick ignored it—his voice didn't reach us.
When we reached the bottom, I took one step forward—and suddenly found myself standing before the original wooden doors we had entered through earlier.
Frederick and William appeared beside or just behind me in the same instant.
I turned my head slightly and muttered under my breath,
"Didn't we walk this corridor for thirty minutes…? So why did it take so little time to come back…"
William asked quietly,
"Did you say something, my lord?"
I gave a helpless smile and said nothing.
I grasped the handles, pulled the doors open with help from Frederick and William—and hurried out into the main hall of Westminster Abbey, heading straight for the exit.
Frederick and William followed as always.
Nothing else of note happened.
Or perhaps I simply don't remember.
A few minutes later we were back in the carriage.
One question rose in my mind.
I turned to Frederick.
"Old man… do you know what Celestia is?"
He looked at me in surprise.
"I knew you had little interest in religious studies, my lord… but even that was taught in first-year lessons."
I leaned back, resting my head against my hand.
"Repeating it isn't so bad."
But William—who had bought a newspaper from a boy hawker just after we left the abbey—spoke up.
"This morning a ship sank in the docks due to an explosion…"
Frederick opened his mouth to reply, but I frowned.
"What does that have to do with my question right now?"
William quietly lowered the newspaper.
"Forgive me, my lord. I thought I was reading silently."
I closed my eyes.
"Head Butler… did you tell the coachman to head to the Duke of Liverpool's residence?"
Frederick gave a measured nod and a small smile.
"Yes, my lord."
I exhaled deeply, crossed one leg over the other, and closed my eyes again—hoping for a little sleep.
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The great hall of Westminster Abbey had fallen into a long, heavy silence.
Then a whisper drifted through the entire chamber.
"A strange human has come."