Prologue
The Sovereign and Apostolic City of Geneva of the Holy Cross
Under the liege of His Holiness Pope John Paul III
Daeron woke slowly from a long sleep filled with strange and vivid dreams feeling more tired and exhausted than ever before in his ninety four year long life. Every part of his old body ached and throbbed painfully and death seemed closer than ever before. Yet Daeron felt neither fear nor discomfiture. The pain, the weakness it all seemed separate from his person, something irrelevant and immaterial. As he slowly emerged from his sleep the old man felt a serenity and a sense of purpose the extent of which he had never before experienced. He felt touched by the divine.
As he, very very slowly, became aware of his surroundings he began wondering where he was. The bed he was lying in was not his own and the room it was in looked more like a hospital room than the cell in which he usually slept. Confused Daeron noticed a recognizable figure, seemingly slumbering in a chair just next to the bed in which Daeron lied. The figure, clad all in red, was a man he had known for the better part of his life, yet it took Daeron's slowly activating mind a moment to identify him. "Celdrahil." Daeron spoke, thinking for a moment that he was deaf before realizing that his voice was simply to weak to be heard. Trying again he repeated the red clad man's name. "Daeron!"
This time the red clad man reacted. He almost jumped from his chair in shock. "Holy Father?" He asked, before kneeling to plant a relieved kiss on Daeron's hand on which sat his fisherman's ring. Daeron, who found the sight of seeing his seventy six year old colleague and former student, in the full regalia of a cardinal, practically jump onto is bed in excitement. "Celdrahil where are we? Why am I not in the Palace of Nations? I feel rather tired and shouldn't be doing house calls at such an unchristian hour, I have lessons tomorrow remember." Judging by the look of confusion in Celdrahil's eyes Daeron suspected that something was of and truth be told he couldn't remember teaching theology at the Seminary of Yôzâyan for some time. "Holy Father." Celdrahil spoke slowly. "You do not teach anymore, remember? You are the Bishop of Geneva and the Holy Father of all Christendom."
Daeron pondered this for a moment, moving his large voluminous body around a little in the hospital bed. "Yes ... John Paul III, I remember. Quite a responsibility wouldn't you say so my son?" Daeron, Pope of Geneva, spoke his voice at once papal and a little timid. Celdrahil VII, Patriarch of Yôzâyan and Primate of all Aman chuckled at this, letting his anxiety and fear for his treasured teacher's well-being be vented through humor. "Just so your Holiness." He conceded patting the wrinkly hand of John Paul III with an assuring smile. The Pope nodded sagely at this for several moments but offered no reply.
Then; "Celdrahil where am I?" John Paul looked around with some confusion. The smile immediately faded from Celdrahil's lips. "Geneva General Hospital Holy Father. You suffered a stroke after giving mass. For a moment we thought God would take you from this world." The patriarch spoke, squeezing the pope's hand comfortingly; but for whose comfort it was could no doubt be question John Paul III thought.
Thinking back John Paul III had no recollection of the event but he remembered what had followed. He remembered his mind floating through the clouds free of constraints while his body was rushed to the hospital by nervous clergymen and doctors. He remembered being touched by God; and he remembered what God had wanted from him. "Had I been taken from this world would my passing have caused much sorrow I wonder?" John Paul III asked regretfully. Predicting the response of his students he waved his hand as much as he in his weakened state could, dismissing the response. "Oh I do not doubt that you would be devastated my son but what of Christendom as a whole think? For fourteen years I have reigned as Pope and what have I accomplished? A few largely unanswered calls for ecumenical cooperation, a crackdown on that horrible sin of pedophilia within the Church and a few organizational improvements of the administration of the Church." The pope attempted to shake his head in displeasure. "No impressive accomplishment in a time when the Church needed real leadership and definition of our doctrines."
Celdrahil, to no surprise but secret pleasure of John Paul III, strongly disagreed. "You brought stability to the Church during time of crises, during your pontificate the brutal suppression of Thrinians that plagued the early years was brought to a halt, and those "few organizational improvements" you speak of where some of the most sweeping reforms to church administration in centuries, not to mention the reestablishment of a papal state. The people of Geneva call you "le Grand" for good reason Holy Father; and when that time come the rest of the world will name you thus as well." Celdrahil countered. "That epithet is largely sarcastic and you know that Celdrahil; they are referring to my physique and the size of the Archbasilica of St. Catherine when using it. A bit unkind to talk that way about a fat old man." John Paul III jested.
For a moment neither men spoke any further, each contemplating the pontificate of John Paul III and how it would be viewed by the coming generations. "The greatest accomplishment of my pontificate, indeed the very thing I intended to be measured on, was the Council of Jerusalem, and how hard did I not fail there." John Paul III sighed. Celdrahil shrugged sympathetically, he too remembered Jerusalem with much regret. "We did our best, Holy Father."
The Pope shook his head in disagreement. "No Celdrahil, or if we did then our best was not sufficient. You speak of stability as the accomplishment of my papacy; but a pope must provide more than just stability. He must lead the faithful, move the church forward and make visionary decisions. I failed to do so after the defeat at Jerusalem. I made this city my project. I founded it and began filling it with churches towering over those of Rome in size and splendor. I established a Papal Court to rival those of the Renaissance Popes. I made the humble church of Innocent XIV into the most glorious church ever known before. But that is not enough; not good enough and this stroke I have suffered is a reminder from God of that." The Pope spoke, all traces of humor and humility gone from his voice that suddenly filled with passionate and unwavering conviction.
Looking at his student with piercing eyes John Paul III continued in a softer and more gentle tone. "Do you believe in miracles Celdrahil?" He asked rhetorically. "You know I have always found it difficult. In the religion of my people miracles does not feature prominently and I have always had difficulty seeing miracles as more than a thing of biblical times that ordinary people in our day and age can neither grasp nor comprehend." The pope shook his head, his strength recovering. "Yet today I experienced a miracle. An epiphany from God."
Celdrahil, unaccustomed to so mystical a side of his intellectual and rational teacher, nodded slowly. "What did God tell you Holy Father?" He whispered. "That the time has come for me to complete what I began at Jerusalem; God does it so command. That shall be my final legacy for our Church. When it is done, and my God preserve those who would prevent me from do his bidding this time, my papacy shall come to an end and soon thereafter my life. The day approaches when I shall meet my beloved wife in Heaven. But first comes the day when the representatives from the Thrinian Catholic Church all over the world shall convene here in Geneva to settle on issues that has been left unsettled for far too long. God does it so command Celdrahil; go now and make the preparations." The Pope roared, the booming voice that would have made him an excellent fire and brimstone preacher had he not in temperament been far to tender, manifesting itself as all the weariness of the world passed him by. He sat up in his bed removing his covers to get up. "Convene them Celdrahil." He ordered.
The patriarch of Yôzâyan was utterly shocked by the sudden jolt of energy emanating from his master and could offer no objection to the charismatic figure suddenly giving orders with more confidence than generals and kings. "Yes Holy Father." He meekly replied bowing towards the pope who now stepped onto the floor of the hospital room. Leaving to do his master's bidding Celdrahil heard John Paul mumble to himself. "But one thing must be done first; a thing that has been left ignored for too long, if I fail again then this at least I will do right."
Stepping out of the hospital room Celdrahil was delayed by a softer plea from the pope. "And Celdrahil, before you do anything else please inform my daughter that I am alive."
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The recurring theme of the entire Council is the establish a Thrinian Catholic Doctrine and issues relating to this subject will take precedence to everything else. Do also note that matters of administration will largely be decided by the Pope himself and if they are raised at the council will simply to hear some advise on the matter.
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