November of the Sainted Year (First Civil Month) - Present Day

(Georgie with Glamourie on)

Georgie walked along the paved streets of the Slums' Outskirts, her steps light despite the weight of recent days. The night was still young, and she had just completed the task her mother Sylia had assigned her. Yet she remained uncertain why Saint Sylia had insisted she come in person this evening. The task could easily have been delegated to anyone else. Was this some hidden test or trick of her mother's design?

By now, Georgie knew well that being the daughter of such a formidable Saint was never easy. She had learned this through painful experience.

Forced to accept her uncle, Keylion Siresiel, as her adoptive father, Georgie had long struggled with all the decisions made for her by her mother. Saint Sylia had categorically refused to acknowledge the paternal rights of Georgie's biological father, Jonathan Siresiel, claiming he was too irresponsible and far too disloyal to be worthy of such a privilege.

Back then, Georgie had not understood her mother's reasoning. After much pleading, she had managed to secure a symbolic link to Jonathan through her adoption by Keylion. She would have preferred Perristel Kyzameri as her adoptive father, but her mother had once more denied her wish, claiming cryptically that such a choice would not bring her any closer to Jonathan's family. Georgie had not comprehended the logic, but she had obeyed, as she always had. Who could ever defy Saint Sylia and remain unscathed? Even Gods who dared to say "no" had not lived long enough to recount their defiance. For her mother was a God Slayer who was ruthless and swift to strike the moment resistance was voiced.

Neither of Georgie's fathers, adoptive or natural, had ever spoken fondly of Sylia. And yet, Georgie trusted her mother, at least to a certain extent. She knew all too well that her Mortal father could never grasp the ways of the Lords and Divinities. It was a world far beyond even her own comprehension. And she bore the blood of a Half-Celestial.

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One day, she would pledge her loyalty to the Supreme God Izranaga and enter his service as one who served the very Lords he himself obeyed. But for now, she still had the freedom to wander, to spend time as she wished to.

She loathed the demands of mundane life, the formal gowns, the courtly etiquette, and the burdens of duty.

Her true dream was to become a renowned Adventurer.

She had already joined the Adventurer Guild, though she had been assigned few missions, likely due to her mother's overbearing influence, and perhaps a touch of interference from her siblings, who controlled much of the Guild's affairs in the Region.

Georgie had long since cast aside her fine dresses, her gleaming jewelry, and elegant shoes in favor of the worn, rugged gear of an Adventurer.

She had even cut her hair short and taken to wearing a Glamourie to better blend in and shed the image of a pampered Noble. She only activated the Glamourie during the rare missions or assignments she received, though.

Her adoptive father, Keylion, had objected to her life choices, fearing it would diminish her prospects for a favorable marriage, but she had cared little for such concerns. Her natural father had said nothing, as always. How could he? He no longer even remembered that she was his daughter. Saint Sylia had erased most of his memories of her after he had sided with Masha and publicly opposed the Saints.

Georgie had found that cruel, perhaps excessively so. She had never held many ties to Jonathan, but Sylia had severed the last ones. In time, though, Georgie had come to understand her mother's cruel choices. Had Jonathan retained knowledge of certain truths concerning her, Georgie might have become an easy pawn or worse, a sacrifice to Masha and her Goddesses.

It was disquieting, to realize after such a long time that her mother was always right. However cruel Saint Sylia's methods seemed, they had protected them time and again.

Georgie smiled faintly to herself. She did not wish to dwell on such thoughts tonight. The past few weeks had been a waking nightmare. She had been haunted by the shadows of her father's actions, leaving her with barely a moment's peace. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would face the question of his fate and his role in the plot against her mother. But tonight, she wanted something else. Tonight, she wished to play.

But first… food.

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