The air in the hall had grown thicker as the priest’s speech settled, voices dipping into hushed clusters of conversations and doubt. Nobles leaned into their allies, traded whispers behind cups, and cast glances toward the hooded figure standing silent behind the priest.
Morena drifted to a corner of her own, cup in hand, yet not a sip taken from it; her face was emotionless, but her thoughts wandered everywhere. She let her eyes move from cluster to cluster, trying to read the emotions and lips of anyone she could.
Every noble here carried their own weight, their own schemes, and every word spoken would ripple through the city by morning.
It was then she caught sight of a man moving toward her. Older, his hair streaked gray at the temples, his face lined but still carrying the same sternness she remembered. His coat bore the sigil of his house, a narrow dagger crossing a stag’s antlers.
He greeted her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his voice smooth as he bowed his head lightly.
"Lady Ravenscroft. It has been some time."
He spoke with the respect a lower house held towards larger houses; however, she could tell from his face that he disliked having to call someone he saw as a failure, much like his son, with such respect.
Her tone was even, polite, but not warm.
"You and my son used to be inseparable. I can still remember the two of you filling our halls with laughter. He always spoke highly of you."
Morena’s lips pressed thin—utter bullshit.
The man was just making stuff up for the sake of it, lip service to try to flame some sort of relationship neither family had. She had been friendly with his son, that was true, but that was as far as the connection went.
She had never been on friendly terms with the Vale family as a whole; they had looked down on her when she was weak before. She didn’t blame them for that; she would’ve done the same.
But she wouldn’t stoop so low as to indulge their foolishness now.
Her words were cold, drawing a line between them almost instantly.
"I do hope he’s doing well. I haven’t seen him in a while. Since I’ve been busy."
Halden’s eyes gleamed faintly, completely ignoring the tone of her voice and instead pushing forward.
"Edric has matured quite a bit as of late. Less... distractions. He has taken more interest in his duties, in what lies ahead for our house. He understands now what is expected of him. Maybe he took some inspiration from you."
The man chuckled and praised his son like a proud father would, yet he was anything but. He was just happy that his troublesome son was no longer causing him a disgrace; he couldn’t care less what he did.
Morena tilted her head slightly, her face calm.
"I am glad to hear it. Duty is important. But growth comes in many forms, does it not?"
Halden gave a short laugh, low and dismissive.
"Perhaps. But one must walk straight if they wish to stand tall. Not everyone has the luxury of stumbling."
For a moment, silence lingered between them. Morena didn’t even feel the need to warrant a reply to such a statement; instead, she glanced to the side where the priest stood.
The meetings had already begun, one by one, people flowed into the chambers in the back and spoke with the cloaked figure. Thıs content belongs to 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦·𝘯𝘦𝘵
Then she simply set her cup down and offered a smile without being cruel.
"Then I suppose we will see how tall he stands, won’t we?"
Halden’s smile froze for a fraction before he bowed his head again.
"Of course. Lady Ravenscroft."
He excused himself, moving toward another group, his back as rigid as his words.
Morena exhaled softly through her nose, her eyes shifting back toward the hooded figure.
Each time a noble left, it took no more than a few minutes for them to return. Some returned pale, some silent, some forced smiles, but every single one of them held their tongue about what they were asked.
Morena stood alone and waited. Adolf stayed in his place by the wall, his eyes never leaving her. His steady presence was a reminder that she wasn’t here alone, even if the man couldn’t help her.
At last, her name was called.
She straightened without hesitation, set a cup aside, and crossed the floor with smooth steps. No one stopped her, but several eyes followed her as she entered the side chamber.
The chamber was bare.
A single table, two chairs, a candle burning low. There was no decoration or luxuries that stood out, just wood and flame.
The priest did not follow her inside. He remained outside the door, leaving only the hooded figure within. They sat opposite her, their cloak swallowing their frame, the candlelight refusing to catch even the faintest glimpse of their face.
Morena sat down, her movements calm, her posture controlled.
’Record everything. Scan their body. Focus on the energy fluctuations. Compare with mana and elemental energy.’
The hooded figure didn’t move for a long moment, the silence thick. Then they spoke.
The voice was low, steady. Feminine. It wasn’t loud, but the sound carried through the room, echoing faintly, as though it pressed directly into the mind rather than through the ears.
"You represent your house tonight."
"Then answer truthfully. Where were you when the heretic struck?"
Morena kept her eyes level.
"I was visiting the granary. I returned there after dusk. My house is already stretched thin with my father’s condition. My men are tied to securing our own grounds. I had no hand in any of this."
The figure tilted their head slightly, as though measuring the weight of her words.
"You didn’t meet anyone? Offer anyone help?"
Morena’s lips pressed into a thin line.
"I met many on my way there; one of my warriors was with me. But my house cannot afford to offer aid to some heretic when we struggle to keep our own walls strong."
Morena spoke in riddles; she kept her true actions twisted in false ones. That way her words would sound more believable, not just to the figure across from her, but to herself.
The figure was silent for a breath, then leaned back slightly.
"You speak no lie, but your words are not fully true either."
Morena let her expression soften, just slightly.
"Then tell me—why does this one man matter so much? Bandits cause more bloodshed at the gates than any lone criminal could. Yet you summon nobles, demand commitment, and ask all these questions. Why him?"
The figure did not answer immediately. Instead, the candle between them flickered, though there was no draft.
Finally, the voice returned.
"Because shadows feed on lies. And this one walks with a lie greater than most. If he is not stopped, the light will falter."
Morena tilted her head.
"Your words sound more like prophecy than reason. Which branch of the church do you serve?"
The hooded figure stilled, and the air around them seemed to tighten.
"Not all light is the same. Some burns, some guides. Some blinds. We serve the flame that reveals."
It was no answer, and yet it was.
[Unknown Energy Detected.]
The AI’s voice cut through her thoughts.
[It has been covering the room since earlier, and gathering at the ocular location of the body.]
’Can you figure out what it is based on existing data?’
[Inconclusive. Energy signature is completely unlike other energy.]
Morena’s eyes narrowed faintly, but her face remained calm. Inside, she felt a sense of danger. The energy had covered the room since early, and only now had she noticed any difference in the air, not to mention their eyes; she hadn’t even noticed that now.
She couldn’t tell what they were doing.
’Record it. Save it for later. We’ll study it.’
The hooded figure’s voice cut back in.
"You carry the burden of your house, with your father being ill, many have their eyes on what is yours. Tell me—when the time comes, will you choose loyalty to the church, or loyalty to your blood?"
Morena didn’t flinch.
"My house comes first."
The figure’s hood dipped slightly, as if acknowledging the answer.
Then they leaned forward, voice carrying like a whisper pressed into every corner of the room.
"That may be so for now, Lady Ravenscroft, but how long can that sentiment last if all those eyes come with fang?"
The candle flickered again, the flame bending sideways as though pushed by wind that wasn’t in the room.
Morena held the figure’s unseen gaze for a long moment, then slowly rose.
"If that is all, I will return to the hall."
The figure did not stop her.
"I look forward to seeing more of you, Lady Ravenscroft. I don’t believe this will be our last conversation."
She stepped from the room, her face calm, her steps steady. But inside, her mind raced.
Adolf caught her eye as she returned. He was curious about what had happened in the room, but now was not the place to discuss such a thing openly.
The faint tightening of her jaw, the narrowed line of her lips, was enough for him to know.
The meetings carried on, but Morena’s thoughts were elsewhere. She was over this entire situation; she wanted to return to her estate; however, she couldn’t do so just yet.
She had to wait for the meeting to be concluded.