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  Herptian Church, Moments After Ravenna’s Departure,

  James leaned back heavily against his chair, releasing a long, shuddering sigh. His hands were trembling, betraying the tension he had held throughout the meeting. The memory of Ravenna’s pierg gaze lingered in his mind, a stark reminder of the sheer authority the young duchess wielded.

  “How does someone so young carry herself like a high pope or a battle-hardened duke?” he muttered to himself. The room, once filled with the quiet reverence of clergy, now felt almost suffog in her absence.

  The title of “Unruly Princess” wasn’t just a baseless moniker, James realized. She had more than ear. He had struggled to maintain his posure during their versation, and now, away from her intimidating presehe strain was all too apparent.

  Gathering his thoughts, he called for a junior priest. “Bring me a letter kit,” he instructed, his voice steady but low. “I o write to the headquarters in the Western ti. Inform them that the Herptian Church will not be withdrawing from the Eastern ti.”

  The young priest’s face brighte the news, and he hurried to fulfill the request. Many of the junior priests had lived their entire lives in Jo, dedig themselves to spreading the Herptian faith despite dwindling support. The possibility of retreating had felt like a personal defeat. But now, Ravenna’s intervention had reigheir hope.

  Wheems arrived, James carefully drafted the letter, summarizing the meeting with the princess and emphasizing her promises of funding and structural support for the church. Satisfied, he sealed the letter using a ceremonial process uo the Herptian faith. He gathered petals of tiger lilies and white lilies, tying them together to form a floral seal. Then, burning a single rose petal over the letter, he ihe encryption spell.

  The part ignited in ahereal blue fme and vanished into thin air—a secure method of unication used only for messages of the utmost importance.

  James leaned back, exhaling again, this time with a small smile. “A new era begins for the Herptian Chur Jo,” he said quietly, his words a solemn promise to himself and his faith.

  Imperial Capital of the Ana Empire – The Underground Bck Market, Sve Au,

  The stage of the au house was a se of age. Bodies y sprawled in grotesque stillness—each victim bearing a single, precise wound. Some had been felled by a sword, others charred by fire, but all shared the same fate: they had been overwhelmed without a ce to resist.

  The once-rowdy atmosphere of the au had dissolved into chaos. Nobles and patrons scrambled over one another in their desperation to flee, their elegant garments torn in their panic. The opules of the au hall, once filled with iial figures, were now abandoned or overturheir octs more ed with preserving their reputations than their possessions.

  Backstage, two men worked swiftly amidst the cages and s that had imprisoned tless souls. Eugene and Prince William moved with deadly efficy, freeing the sves and dismantling the infrastructure of the operation. Most of the captives had already fled, but one figure remained—a wounded member of the sve-trading ring, writhing on the floor uheir interrogation.

  Eugeepped closer, pulling back his hood to reveal his golden hair, which gleamed like molten light uhe dim illumination of the blood moon flower mps. Prince William did the same, his sharp features and pierg gaze radiating authority.

  Eugene held up a rough sketch, its lines betraying the urgency with which it had been drawn. It depicted a young woman, her face etched with a blend of serenity and power—the saintess from Eugene’s past life.

  “This is your only ce,” Eugene said, his voice cold and unyielding. “Where is she? The saintess was supposed to be aued here tonight!”

  The sve trader coughed weakly, clutg his stomach where William’s fire spell had left a searing wound. “I-I don’t know!” he stammered, his voice thick with pain. “She... she was with one of the sves we pre-sold! Some men in white cloaks—they paid a fortune and took her just an hour before the au!”

  William’s expression darkened. “It seems we’ve hit a dead end, Eugene,” he said grimly. “Someone else has already taken the saintess.”

  Eugene’s face twisted with frustration, his usual posure crag uhe weight of his desperation. Without warning, he drew his sword and sshed at the trader’s leg, elig a bloodcurdling scream.

  “Who were they?” Eugene demanded, his voice a dangerous growl. “Where did they go? Answer me!”

  “Eugeop!” William intervened, grabbing his panion’s arm and pulling him back. “We need him alive. He’s the only one who testify to our as here. Killing him won’t bring us praise from the imperial court!”

  Meanwhile on Jo Isnd,

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, its st golden rays illumihe rugged coastline of Jo Isnd. The air, thick with the st of salt and sand, seemed to carry the murmurs of a restless popuce.. A modest bar stood as a gathering point. Once a lively establishment frequented by peasants during the nobility's reign, it now served as a pce for heated debates and quiet iseration.

  The bar was a shadow of its former self. With water scard alcohol a distant memory, the cracked wooden tables and dim nterns bore silent wito the struggles of its patrons. Still, the citizens gathered here, driven by the o vent their frustrations, share news, and today, specute about the sweeping ges introduced by their ruler, Princess Ravenna.

  “This is madness! Pure insanity!” A bald man smmed his fist onto the table, his voice eg through the otherwise subdued room. His sunburnt skin glistened with sweat, and his eyes darted around as if searg for allies in his e. “She wants to owhing! Every single business, every field, every trade! And what does she offer iurn? Saries? Barely enough to survive!”

  A man across from him, his face etched with deep wrinkles and a lifetime of hardship, raised a hand to quiet him. “Keep your voice down,” the older man muttered, his tone a mix of caution and exasperation. “Even if that’s true, it’s not like you’ve been making a fortune. You barely scrape by as it is. You’re feeding your children thanks thness’s food distribution system.”

  “Read the procmation again!” the bald man snapped, waving a crumpled paper in his hand as if it were eviden a courtroom.

  He cleared his throat and began to recite the text, his voice ced with disdain:

  Ownership and Business Model

  All major businesses are state-owned.Small-scale operations (e.g., farmers selling small portions) are allowed privately but are capped at a threshold.Busihat grow beyond the threshold must sell their products to the state at fixed prices determined by produ costs, market trends, and gover policies.The state sells goods in state-run stores at reguted prices, ensuring affordability and fairness.Saries and Profits

  The gover collects all profits from state-owned businesses.Saries are distributed to citizens based on their roles, qualifications, and performano taxes are levied as the gover directly manages all eic resources.“You see?” he said, jabbing a fi the text. “She’ll trol everything! We’ll own nothing a her mercy!”

  A woman with long, u hair spoke up from a nearby table. Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned with quiet vi. “And what’s wrong with that? Look around you. There isn’t a sihriving business on this isnd. Half of us would be dead from hunger if not for her foram. She’s going to pay us saries even when nothing’s making money. Isn’t that better than starving?”

  The bald man turo her, his face reddening with anger. “Maybe now it seems fine, but what about ter? When the crops grow, won’t this system rob us of profits? This is authoritarianism, pin and simple!”

  The woman crossed her arms, unfazed. “Authoritarian or not, those crops you’re talking about would without her iment. She’s the one funding the irrigation projects, imp seeds, and training us on new farmihods. Are you suggesting you’d rather take her efforts franted and pocket the profits for yourself?”

  The older man nodded in agreement. “She’s building something out of nothing here. Jo’s been a wastend for years. If this system gives us even a ce to rebuild, I say it’s worth it.”

  The argument rippled through the room, drawing more voices into the fray. Some defended Ravenna’s policies, g the immediate relief they brought to the struggling isnd. Others decried them as oppressive and shhted, worried about the long-term implications.

  The debates grew heated, with chairs scraping against the floor and fists pounding on tables. Yet, for all the anger and frustration, no one spoke of rebellion or protest. Their words were heavy with distent, but beh them y an unspoken aowledgment: Ravenna was their best—and perhaps only—hope for survival.

  As the night deepehe bar settled into a tense quiet. The citizens drifted back to their homes, their arguments unresolved but their spirits oddly steadied. The stars above Jo Isnd shone brightly, indifferent to the struggles below, as the people braced themselves for the uain future Ravenna’s reforms promised t.

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