The morning sun crept over the horizon, painting the sea in molten gold, its light spilling across Kim City like a blessing. Yet what it touched was not a city merely waking after a festival's revelry, it was a city reborn.

The aftermath of the Festival of Lust always carried a peculiar quiet, an intimacy that hung over the streets. Young men and women, their hair still tousled, their cheeks flushed from indulgence, leaned against balcony railings in their inn rooms, their family homes, or the ritual chambers of the Herptian Church. They watched the dawn together, fingers still laced from the night before, their first timid embraces now replaced with the confidence of those who had crossed a threshold.

It was tradition, as ancient as the festival itself: the morning after marked the transition from innocence to indulgence, a shared memory that bound one generation of citizens to the next. Normally, that alone would have left the city in a haze of warmth and satisfaction.

But this year was not normal.

This year, The Saintess had been revealed.

Every street corner buzzed with the words "Did you see her? Did you see the light?" Vender leaned over their stalls, recounting in breathless detail the moment Marie Leon's body had erupted with holy brilliance. Children chased each other through the alleys, pretending to wield swords of light, shouting, "I'll slay the Absolute Being!" in voices that cracked with excitement. Old women clutched prayer beads, muttering blessings under their breath, while hardened dockworkers raised their mugs in salute to Ravenna, their Duchess, who had housed and trained such a figure under their very noses.

For the citizens of Kim Dukedom, there was no doubt. Their island, already a beacon of progress and prosperity under Ravenna's rule, was now destined for even greater heights.

But woven into the joy was a thread of unease. History was a cruel tutor, and everyone knew its lessons. Wherever the Saintess appeared, war followed. Her existence was both salvation and damnation, a blessing to the faithful, and a curse that drew the eyes of empires and cults alike.

A Saintess was never local. A Saintess belonged to the world. And now the world's gaze would fix upon Kim Island.

Within the walls of the Lord's Castle, the weight of that truth was already making itself felt. The corridors hummed with hurried footsteps, couriers rushing with sealed missives, guards stood straighter at their posts, their armor polished brighter, as though aware that foreign eyes might already be upon them.

In the grand reception hall, beneath banners that stirred faintly in the morning breeze, a single man waited. His presence was a storm in quiet clothing, his eyes sharp as drawn steel.

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Eugene.

He sat calmly in the hall, though every line of his body was coiled with patience stretched taut. His time had come at last. As per their deal, he would finally meet with the Saintess herself. The city outside might have been basking in anticipation, caught between joy and fear of what the future would bring, but inside these walls, games are already beginning.

The heavy doors creaked open with ceremony. A knight in polished armor stepped forward, his voice resounding through the chamber: "Lady Marie and Her Highness Ravenna are here!"

All at once the atmosphere shifted.

Ravenna entered first, her stride sharp and unhurried, her presence commanding the room like a Raven descending upon prey. Her revealing gown swept across the polished stone floor, and though the morning light framed her in brilliance, her eyes glimmered cold and predatory. Behind her followed Marie, nervous yet radiant, her hands brushing nervously at her skirts as though to smooth her nerves along with the fabric.

"I expected you, Ser Eugene," Ravenna remarked, her lips curving into something between a smirk and a sneer, her voice low but cutting like the edge of a dagger. "But I did not expect you to arrive at the crack of dawn. Do you rise with the sun to unsettle me, or are you simply that eager?"

Her gaze landed on him like twin blades, sharp enough to pierce steel.

Eugene inclined his head, didn't even flinch beneath her stare. "I apologize, Your Highness," he replied with measured calm, though the weight of her disdain pressed heavily upon him. "But as you must know, I am due to return today. My time here is brief, and this audience is too important to delay."

Ravenna gave a short, dismissive scoff, flicking her hand as though brushing away an insect. "Then have your chat and be gone. My island has no use for lingering debts." Her heels clicked against the stone as she turned on her heel, her gown trailing like the sweep of a raven's wing as she made for the door.

Just before she passed through the threshold, her voice rang out: clear, cold, and deliberate. "I have preparations to make for my journey to the Free Cities."

She did not glance back, but the weight of her words hung in the chamber like a thrown gauntlet, meant for Eugene's ears. Then she was gone, leaving only the faint echo of her footsteps and the subtle trace of her perfume in the hall.

Marie hesitated for a moment, as though unsure if she should follow, but at last she obeyed the silent command that Ravenna had left her. She crossed the room, her steps careful, and lowered herself onto the sofa opposite Eugene's. The morning sun poured through the high windows, catching in her chestnut hair and setting it aglow like amber.

Eugene straightened, his throat tightening despite the calm mask he wore. For all his confidence on the battlefield, this moment was something altogether different. He drew a steadying breath, then spoke, his voice softer now, respectful in a way that carried its own weight. "It is an honor to meet you at last… Your Divinity Marie."

Marie fidgeted, her fingers twisting in her lap as her cheeks flushed with nervous color. She shifted slightly in her seat, the edge of the sofa suddenly feeling too vast for her small frame. Finally, she nodded, her voice quiet but sincere, fragile as glass. "P-pleasure to meet you too… Ser Eugene."

Her words trembled, but there was no mistaking the gravity of the moment. For the first time, the Saintess of this era and one of the apostles destined to fight beside her sat face to face.

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