The Rite of Visitation

[Holy See]

It was a scene that few at the Capitoline had expected to see so soon, with so young a pope, and yet there it was. Pope Stephanus IV, with a stoic demeanor that can only come from death, lay atop the soft platform with his head propped on three pillows so that his face would be easier to see by those who would enter the Clementine Hall. Not far from the body was a wooden crucifix along with a paschal candle, already lit and having been lit for some time. Around the body was the Saxon Guard, looking more regal than ever in their traditional garments. Though not armed with guns, there was no doubt any one desiring to desecrate Stephanus's body would meet with stiff resistance and swift justice.

Cardinal Pietro Accolti, the Camerlengo, stood quietly as the Papal Gentleman, decked in their black coats, marched past him, having already attended the body of his holiness. Accolti was himself a tall and slender man, featuring a prominent nose typical of those from the region of Potenza which he hailed. As Stephanus lay still in the fanciful cloak and miter of the papal office, Accolti couldn't help but muse about what a reminder of our own mortality this all was. A few days ago, this man had been the pope, and now he lay as dead as any other bishop buried on the grounds of the See. In Accolti's pocket, under his cloak, was the Fisherman's Ring that Stephanus had worn, and although he had not worn it often, Accolti believed it was only proper for him, as part of his duty, to secure it from forgers. In any case, Stephanus no longer had use for it. He had passed on from this world, and his world no longer held any power.

Now was the time of visitation, for all the Tiburan Catholic faithful from across the world who would come and pay their respects - including prominent world leaders. Already hundreds - perhaps thousands - had gathered outside the shut doors of the Capitoline to view the resting body of Pope Stephanus IV. Everything seemed ready and prepared, and so Accolti motioned towards one of the Saxon Guard nearby. With a nod in response, the guardsman walked over and opened the door to permit people in.

The visitation had begun.

 

[Potenza]

Thousands of Potenzan pilgrims had come to view the body of the former pope, of varying ages and classes. Rich and poor, old and young, politician and commoner - all the nation had come out to see Stephanus IV in his last public viewing before he was interned to rest. The older among them wept and embraced one another, crying as much as they would as if they were at the funeral of one of their own family members. The younger shed no tears, but they showed a grim expression and upheld a solemn, respectable demeanor as they walked by, casting brief glances as they stepped away and out of the room.

With the group of Potenzan pilgrims, mixed in among the others, were the two leaders of Potenza. Prime Minister Gaetano Merlino, by himself, walked by the pope's body, casting a view to the floor and doing the sign of the cross before continuing on. Behind him were Grand Duke Eldizio I and his wife, the Duchess Aldone, stopping momentarily and doing the sign of the cross themselves. Aldone, the more faithful of the two, was wiping away a steady stream of tears from her eyes, clutching to her husband's arm. The grand duke held his gaze on the pope, stroking the side of his wife's head, showing a stern expression but finally turning away, as if unable to bear the reality any longer.

Accolti took notice of his countrymen and observed the different reactions of his home nation's leaders. No doubt some of the others would ask him about them, or inquire if he had noticed anyone he happened to recognized. At this moment Accolti had little care for what was happening at home - his concern, first and foremost, was to the See of Peter, and whether or not Christ would uphold and continue to maintain his church against the very gates of hell.

 

[Breotonia]

Clementine Hall
Apostolic Palace
Holy See

Prime Minister Harold Wilson walked slowly and politely behind King Gregory V as they approached the former vessel of Stephanus' soul. Wilson, of course, gave little credence to the supernatural or the sanctimonious preachings of the Church which held a majority of his nation's population in varying levels of captivation. A normally secular people, the Breotish had reacted with a surprising level of sorrow at the news of the pontiff's death. Never missing an opportunity to further reinforce his control over the country he filed the knowledge of these passions away for later possible use. It was a matter of public record that Wilson was an atheist, though the more politically appeasing terms of "non-religious" or "secular" were more often used. Some suggested employing "humanist" but even a masterful deceiver like Wilson could not keep a straight face were he to utter such a falsity. He had now wasted hours of his life making public statements and giving speeches about the pope's demise which had to be peppered with untruths he was expected to spout. "A great peacemaker and example to all leaders of all religions." And so on. Boring. Now a whole day wasted in the, admittedly, beautiful and ornate city of marble and gold that headquartered to the present day decedents of gentle Jesus meek and mild. Gregory had observed the body as it lay in state, presumably paying some quite last respects or saying a prayer before performing the signum crucis. Wilson followed. He made a sorrowful and thoughtful expression, let his eyes water ever so slightly as if fighting back tears, and then closed them in a moment of what would appear to be prayer or silent reflection. He and his public relations team talked extensively about whether he should also cross himself. Wondering whether it would be more disrespectful to do it and thus not show proper respect for the symbol as he was a known unbeliever or to not do it. In the end it seemed better to not do it and so after that little tearjerker of a moment he solemnly continued on allowing the procession to continue. It was going to be a very long day and, for an instant, true sorrow did descend upon him when he considered that it might be difficult to procure a proper drink.

 

[Ashkelon]

Stukov watched as the Pravadir paid his last respects to the sleeping Pope. It was a simple gesture, that even behind that gas mask, behind the veil that concealed all of his charred flesh, this dark entity coated in black was still a man. He was a man with convictions, and a man with ideals. Ideals that continued to live in him... or perhaps ideals that kept him alive despite his injuries. The security here was tight, and it was a nightmare negotiating to allow the Pravadir to keep his mask, and whatever remaining dignity it protected. However, Stukov was a professional at negotiations, able to use what leverage he could to protect himself and his end of any deals from compromises too great.

At the end of the day, the mask stayed on.

Stukov himself had already paid his respects, and the Primate, certainly, had already done so, being the first of the three, in fact. But the idea was still somewhat vague to him, in the same way that the Unity itself was very vague. As a denomination, one could, if they squinted hard enough, and studied the precepts for enough sleepless nights, conclude that Unitarianism was an extremely tangential offshoot of Orthodox Christianity. They weren't even Catholic. Indeed, the Premier had many more important things to do back in Zalonarus, things that most certainly took priority above losing several dozen hours to visiting a man who had already departed to meet his Maker. The Pravadir could afford to come here. He didn't have to deal with day-to-day executive decisions. Needless to say, it struck Stukov as a serious waste of his time. And yet, they were here.

It wasn't that he was hostile to the Catholic Church, or did not respect their wayward western brethren. He simply believed in pragmatism, that it was enough to send a message and their condolences online. But the Unity had already spoken. Indeed, when he asked the Primate about the theological basis for this visit, the latter simply chalked up some long-winded explanation - that sounded more like a sermon, really - about how this was an ecumenical matter.

Ecumenism, he thought. Such a pretty little word.

If the Almighty wanted something as impractical as ecumenism, He would have said so. Instead, He allowed the creation of many, many denominations. This, to Stukov, was a message saying that ecumenism wasn't a particularly meaningful thing to attend to.

The Premier looked around the hall. It was gorgeously decorated, as only the Catholic Church could do. Briefly, he wondered how he was going to spend the rest of these two days. Hopefully, he would have time to sit down with his pipTab and get some work done. Otherwise, this was just another waste of time that would throw his schedule out of whack, thanks to the Unity's unexpected short notice decision to send him over.

What a bother.

 

[Rheinbund]

Does God exist? The people representing Eiffelland thought He does. Most Eiffellandians thought He does. The Primate of Eiffelland, Archbishop Strelecki, didn't complain about the number of people in the Eiffellandian churches. There were not many people who went to church every Sunday, but most went once a month at least. And if not on Sunday morning, then on Saturday evening. The only thing Strelecki could complain about was the fact that Eiffellandians were extremely good at selective shopping in God's teachings. Eiffelland was the only secularist country in the region of which all the citizens believed in God. This was phrased pithily in the party constitution of Eiffelland’s most important political party (the Christiandemocrats): “We want to rule according to the spirit behind the Bible.” And the Christiandemocrats often went against the written text of the Bible if they thought that the written text of the Bible went against the spirit behind the Bible. And even used that phrase to base their support for gay marriage on. This was the country that the Primate of Eiffelland represented. A very modern country ruled efficiently, but with its anachronisms.

The most important question in Eiffelland was: Who is the most powerful person? The Chancellor? He was the political head of the country. In the end, he led the government, all the public servants, and the army. He led the process of law‑making. Eiffelland was a decentralised country, but provincial and communal decisions could still be overruled by the national government, so in the end by the Chancellor. But he didn’t have the final say.
The King? He didn’t have the right to make laws. But all the laws had to be signed by him. A law could not become effective if the King refused to sign it. This happened very rarely, but not never. The previous King had refused to sign two laws that had been approved by the Staatstag and Staatsrat in 1989. He continued to refuse to sign them until he resigned, despite the fact that successive Chancellors put those laws under his nose every week. Furthermore, the King was the person that appointed and fired ministers, so he also had the final say in who became minister or Chancellor. Or province governor, or mayor. And indirectly, he could also block the appointment of state secretaries and the highest public servants at the ministries just by refusing to receive them as guests. Someone the King didn’t want to receive could not work as a state secretary or a high public servant at a ministry, because occasional visits to the King were part of those jobs. And finally, the King had a widespread informal network throughout Eiffelland, and that was his most powerful tool. Of course, the King could not block all the laws he disagreed with, or fire people really at will. Althoug officially not needed, in reality also he needed a mandate of the people for his actions. But in the end, nothing happened in Eiffelland that did not have the King’s unofficial approval.
But who crowned the King? The Archbishop of Weissenfels, who was also the Primate of Eiffelland. Currently Archbishop Strelecki. In theory, he could refuse to crown the new King. In theory, he could say that he would not crown the Crown‑Prince, but his brother, or his sister, or his child. In earlier days, the Church could steer policy quite a lot in this way. But nowadays, also the Primate’s hands were tied. Like the King, he could not do much without approval of the people. Refusing to crown a popular Crown‑Prince would turn the public opinion against the Church. In spite of that, the Primate of Eiffelland was a factor to count with. He could determine who becomes King, if he had enough power behind him. He could exercise that power only when the succession of the King was an issue, but in theory that could always happen.

Now this triumvirate was standing before the deceased Pope: Archbishop Strelecki, King Albrecht and Chancellor Graf von Seydewitz. Also Queen Mafalda and the Chancellor’s wife were there to fulfil the Rite of Visitation. They were accompanied by pilgrims from Eiffelland. The death of the Pope was a shock to many Eiffellandians, although they would never burst out in crying in public. The sad faces of the Primate, the King and Queen, and the Chancellor and his wife told enough. Also did the sad faces of the Eiffellandian pilgrims. They all softly mumbled words of last respect, said a prayer and made the signum crucis before making way for the next person in line.