Lemuen

[Code Name] Lemuen

[Gender] Female

[Combat Experience] 12 years

[Place of Birth] Laterano

[Date of Birth] May 21

[Race] Sankta

[Height] 169 cm

[Infection Status]

Medical tests have confirmed that no infection is present.

[Physical Strength] Flawed

[Mobility] Standard

[Physical Resilience] Flawed

[Tactical Acumen] Outstanding

[Combat Skill] Excellent

[Originium Arts Assimilation] Standard

Lemuen is a citizen of Laterano entitled to the rights listed in Clauses 1 through 13 of the Laterano Constitution. She is currently a cardinal of the Lateran Curia's Seventh Tribunal.

While Lemuen claims to be visiting Rhodes Island as the family of an operator, her presence here must be treated as an official visit by a representative of Laterano. During her visit, she will provide us assistance in accordance with our agreement.

Imaging tests reveal clear, normal outlines of internal organs, and no abnormal shadows have been detected. Originium granules have not been detected in the circulatory system and there is no sign of infection. At this time, this operator is confirmed to be uninfected.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 0%

Lemuen shows no signs of Originium infection.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.12u/L

Lemuen submitted her full patient records from Stevonus Central Hospital. We agree with their conclusion that continued rehabilitation and avoidance of secondary injury may allow her to regain the ability to walk, but it is a process that could take years or even decades. There is no guarantee that she will walk normally again in her lifetime.

Lemuen was very calm when we explained this to her, as though she had expected it. That afternoon, she brought us desserts, calling them a token of gratitude for the care we showed during the examination.

I know what she was truly thanking us for, though... It was for telling her the truth.

After being created cardinal, Lemuen gave the Seventh Tribunal's office a complete makeover, connecting several floors and making a rest space in the atrium. Office areas were rearranged based on function and interaction, and a dedicated channel for transferring physical documents was created in order to address the inefficiency and risks of human delivery.

She also set up suggestion boxes for various areas in the atrium that cover a wide range of issues, from the Seventh Tribunal's policies to the cafeteria menu. She reads and responds to each suggestion personally.

Yes, the office building of the Seventh Tribunal has been completely rebuilt. It is now more like a computer than an office, with Cardinal Lemuen as the central processing unit. It is fortunate to have a colleague who understands the value of efficiency and has successfully implemented such a system. If only she were allowed to hold positions across multiple tribunals.

—Executor Federico, in his report after a joint project

[Report on Renovation of the Seventh Tribunal's Office Area]

...The renovation of the Seventh Tribunal's office is now complete. Expenses were within budget, and quality checks are complete. The new office area is now ready for use.

Note: A minor incident occurred during renovation, but has been properly resolved and did not result in any material impact on the project.

[Review Committee Meeting Minutes]

'This 'minor incident' she mentions was a chain explosion caused by stray fireworks from a passing procession. Numerous unauthorized personnel entered the scene and held an impromptu explosion party with the construction team, resulting in a scene of extreme chaos. How's that a 'minor incident'?'

'It occurred on the afternoon of the 23rd? But the inspection report on the morning of the 24th said 'No issues', right?'

'Cardinal Lemuen must have dealt with it on her own. Should we have a talk with her? She could have requested our assistance for accidents like these.'

'She used to report them, but all our response officers could do once they arrived was stare at the spotless scene after everything was already dealt with.'

'...Send an announcement to remind the other departments and teams. As for Cardinal Lemuen... well, I guess that's who she is.'

That's what my sister was like at home too. Not just the suggestion boxes—she always has everything figured out, from how we decide where to go on a trip, how we make up after a fight, and how we treat each other at home.

As for the trouble I used to cause when I was little... Heh, I've lost count of how many times she's smoothed things over for me.

—Exusiai

The first time I observed my biological father, he did not know I was watching him. The moment our eyes met, he frantically made my powdered milk and changed my diapers. For a long time, he seemed to believe that I only looked at him when I was hungry, sleepy, or needed my diaper changed.

After my grandmother died and he separated from my biological mother, something seemed to change in him. He would come to my crib every day to talk to me, telling me about his loneliness and helplessness. I understood very little of what he said at the time, but it was more interesting listening to him than staring at the ceiling. As I listened to him talk, I started to imagine strange things, picturing him shrinking until he was smaller than I was, lying on a bed, unable to move. That was how I understood the concept of 'growing old' at the time, and in my imagination I would be sitting by his bedside talking to him.

That was when I first said the word 'papà', and this light appeared above my head.

The first time I observed our parents, they didn't know I was watching them either. They stood for a long time at the door to my room, playing rubber-bullet roulette to decide what was for supper as they peeked into my room. When they left, I saw them high-five each other for opening the car door at the exact same time, like two little kids. I started imagining them taking me to a lake outside the city, with me in-between them, making footprints both shallow and deep on the shores, and walking over each other's. When the sun set, we'd look back and see that we'd only left a single row of footprints, and we'd high-five each other like three little kids.

That was when I told the Notarial Hall officer that I liked that family.

The first time I observed you, you were lying in your crib, but I had a feeling that you knew I was watching you. Do you remember how you grabbed my hair and tried to eat it? You called me 'sis' before I could react.

That was when I truly began to treat you as a sister.

Yes, I started treating you as my dear sister because I pictured us being with each other.

What exactly did I see? That's a secret. But I'm not telling you this as a riddle. I just wanted you to know that what I see in my head aren't predictions or even expectations for the future. I've never decided to get along with somebody simply because I predicted that I'd be happy with them... Besides, none of those images ever come true. I never had the chance to care for my biological father in his old age, and I doubt our parents and I will ever walk on a lake shore together.

But I feel like if you're going to be spending a lot of time with someone, you should be able to clearly imagine what that would look like. Only then can I be confident in us building that relationship.

So, those Rhodes Island operators you've been introducing me to, the ones who can use prophetic Arts... Maybe we'll become friends, but I won't ask them to predict my future. If I really could tell the future, and everything I pictured came true... That's when I would stop trying to get along with anyone.

[Relic Inquiry Request]

To whom it may concern, Notarial Hall:

We did not find Lemuen's baby handprints and footprints among the effects of her biological parents after we adopted her.

She has expressed a strong desire for them, and we consider it very important for her mental health. We would like to ask whether they are currently in your possession, and whether it is possible to transfer them to us.

July 19, 1073

[Complaint letter, Family Suggestion Box]

Why does sis always take so long in the shower?

She's in the bathroom for like half an hour after the sound of water stops! What's she doing in there?

Can we at least make it so she's always the last to shower at night?

—El, 1085-08-02

[Audio Log, 1101/09/23]

They cut out a shot with blood in this scene, didn't they?

No, I'm not complaining, I just happened to notice.

Most people don't notice? Yes, I know. No, I'm not thirsting for more bloodshed in the movies I watch, although I guess I HAVE made you watch quite a few splatter films with me.

You're curious why I pay attention to these things?

Unlike a lot of critics, I don't think blood and gore are sacrilegious... They mean something to me.

When I was little, I took a lot time in the shower. No, I wasn't obsessed with cleanliness, but I would observe myself in the mirror after turning off the water, just like I observed everyone else.

Just as I see in others the possibility of getting along with them, I saw my own possibilities in myself. I would imagine the places this body could take me, the things we could do together. It began at a very young age, maybe as early as when my biological father bought my baby handprints and footprints... Isn't it amazing that my hands and feet could permanently leave their mark somewhere?

I imagined a lot of things. The more I imagined, the more I got along comfortably with myself. But you know what happened next.

When I was bedridden, I didn't dare look in a mirror for a long time. I knew I didn't have any scars, and I wasn't worried about being ugly... I just feared that I wouldn't be able get along with myself like I used to.

That is, until Mostima started playing movies in my ward. It was a B-movie like we used to see in theaters, one with more than its fair share of gore. But when I saw that blood on screen, instead of making me uneasy, I felt a strange sense of... comfort.

Because that's all there is to the human body, this body I'd observed for so long, isn't it? A bag of blood and meat that could fall apart at any time.

It's not really logical, but when I saw all that gore, I suddenly felt foolish for entrusting all of my possibilities to this sack of meat. And even if it no longer listens to me, perhaps I was still in charge of my own future.

I spent a few more years in the hospital, but I used that time to accomplish something quite impressive.

You want to know what it was? It's this wheelchair I'm sitting in, most of which I designed from the hospital bed.

Would you like to hear everything it can do?

Why do you see the reinstitution of mercenary guards, as exemplified by Landen, as a step back for Laterano?

Whether you admit it or not, the sanctity of Laterano is fading. Can you picture the couriers of Leithanien proclaiming the revelation that the Sankta come from the same roots as the Sarkaz? Have you thought about how many times the Maylander Foundation has updated its report on the military value of the Law?

A more formal organization? Do not forget that every Sankta, from the moment they obtain their patron firearm, is de facto part of a formal military organization. Laterano does not want for military strength, yet the best we can protect is this city beneath our feet, as well as an area of several hundred square kilometers around it.

But the protection the Lateran faith once offered extends far beyond that, and as such we must rely on the strength of the mercenary guards beyond its borders. You have already perused the proposal on accommodating the war refugees seeking sanctuary in Laterano. Did you ever stop to consider why it was not a town or a castle that protected them from the wars of Bolívar for a decade, but a monastery built to serve our Law?

It may be arrogant, but it cannot be denied that our monasteries across Terra, numbering more than a hundred, have provided sanctuary to believers who have never even once seen the white walls of Laterano—believers who may be even more devout than we are—on the strength of their sanctity alone. After our First Saint revealed the truth to all, however, this sanctity has become a curse, an excuse for those with ulterior motives to justify pillage and murder in the name of justice.

Yes, it is the Seventh Tribunal's duty to protect and restore Laterano's international reputation. How do you intend to achieve that, then? Another summit? In the previous summit, we at least offered a reason and a venue for peaceful dialogue between nations. Today, we have few if any chips to bargain with.

Before we can demonstrate our innocence to nonbelievers, we must first demonstrate to our believers that Laterano still offers salvation.

This is the duty of the Seventh Tribunal, and of myself, Lemuen.

I ask you, assembled cardinals, for your cooperation.

—Lemuen, Cardinal of the Seventh Tribunal, addressing the college of cardinals

The first time I saw her was on an old wall on the edge of the city, abandoned and forgotten because of plate rearrangements. Aside from my garage, there were only a few retired folks in this old district, soon to be demolished. There shouldn't have been anyone I didn't know.

It was a windy night. She sat on the wall, her legs like two dried branches, swaying stiffly in the wind. A wheelchair was parked behind her, reflecting the pale moonlight. I kept an eye on her as I searched the address book for the Notarial Hall's number, afraid that she would do something stupid if I looked away.

She did nothing, except look at me with a gaze so sharp I could not shake it even if I shed my whole skin. She raised a finger to her lips in a gesture to shush me. I put away my terminal, and by the time I looked back at her, her gaze had turned towards the night sky.

I don't know why she climbed that old wall, or how, but I was relieved that she didn't intend to take her own life.

After that, I saw her on the wall from time to time. I would wave at her, and she would wave back. I began to suspect she sat there for the same reason I wandered the old district at night. Laterano's days belonged to the noisy, happy crowds. Its nights belonged to the homeless vagabonds, to the angels whose empathy had gone awry, even to hooded Sarkaz—the ones who don't fit in, the ones who are broken.

The night before the old district was scheduled to be demolished, she appeared on the wall again, and I approached her for the first time. I told her I had a little toy in my garage that I made when I was young, a glider that fulfilled the dreams of many children before it was forgotten. Perhaps a little flight would make up for some regrets... if she wanted.

She gazed at me for a long time, before eventually declining.

'Running away has no meaning if I'm not running away on my own,' she said.

'Besides, I can fly without a glider.'

When I looked up at the wall again, she was gone. The empty wheelchair drove back down the path I had come up on its own. On the other side, she sank towards the night beneath the walls, a massive umbrella in her hands.