The Saint convoy’s ship finally arrived in Avignon. From the lofty balcony of his palace, Cardinal Faust watched as the vessel docked in the harbor. The timing, he thought bitterly, could not have been worse. For several days now, his head had throbbed with the persistent ache of unrest—the riot still raging in the outer city. He had ordered the gates sealed between the middle and outer districts, effectively cutting off all land routes into the city. Now, with that decision in place, the only means of entry was by sea, and the port had become more crowded than ever.

  By his command, the city guard had been denying entry to every immigrant or foreigner who arrived by boat. Until the situation was brought under control, no outsiders were to be permitted into the city walls.

  “We have sent a carriage and prepared a banquet for tonight’s reception. Do you have any additional requests, my lord?” asked his head butler, bowing with deferential calm.

  Faust scowled at the man. Why must he ask about everything? Could he not simply act on his own initiative?

  Taking a slow sip of wine, Faust waved him off. “Just make sure our guests hear nothing unpleasant while they’re here. They’ll remain in the palace and nowhere else. Notify me if they request to leave. Now get out of my sight—your voice is making my headache worse.”

  “As you wish, my lord. Forgive the intrusion.”

  The butler withdrew, leaving Faust alone with his thoughts and the taste of bitter red on his tongue. He sighed heavily. Perhaps it was time he donned the holy appearance expected of a Cardinal, if only for the Saints’ benefit. Despite his reputation, he could not afford to present himself in his usual excess. These were Saints, after all. And one of them was just a boy, hardly fit for the sort of entertainment Faust had grown accustomed to.

  Only a week ago, he had hosted a lavish banquet, renting out the entire inner-city brothel, constructing a swimming pool filled with wine, and importing musicians from across Francia. Guests had arrived from noble houses near and far, and the revelry had continued until men were too drunk to walk and women danced until dawn. Cleaning up after such a debauch had taken a small army of servants, working day and night before the Saints’ scheduled arrival. He had even been forced to sleep in a spare chamber while the palace was scoured.

  “Ugh. I hope these Saints leave as soon as possible,” he muttered, slipping into the seldom-worn robes of his office.

  As the ship was unloaded and the guards moved crates and baggage, the Saints were escorted by the Avignon watch toward a waiting carriage. Sebastian observed the port with sharp eyes. Beggars huddled in alleyways, ragged families loitered in the sun, and long queues stretched before what appeared to be immigration offices. The whole place bustled, crowded and restless—he could hardly move without brushing shoulders with strangers.

  “I apologize, my Saints,” said one of the escorting guards. “Today has been rather busy. Many have come from across Francia just to see you.”

  “Oh really?” Dalia replied with a bright smile. “Then I must prepare to greet them properly!”

  “I’m sure they’ll be delighted,” the guard said as he opened the carriage door. “Now please, enter slowly.”

  But Sebastian narrowed his eyes. These people didn’t look like pilgrims or spectators. They carried everything they owned, wore threadbare clothing, and clung to the hope of safe entry. Immigrants. The guards were lying—but why? It was a trivial thing to lie about, and that made it all the more suspicious.

  Just as he was about to step into the carriage, one of the guards reached instinctively toward the blue torch hanging at his hip.

  “I’m sorry, Saint, but you can’t bring flammable objects like that into the carriage—”

  Crack.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  The guard fell to the ground, clutching his broken nose. Sebastian’s hand hovered in the air, tense with fury. The other guards froze, staring in disbelief. Dalia closed her eyes with a sigh, trying to keep composed. Carlos, by contrast, looked about ready to explode.

  “Can you please stop causing a scene everywhere we go?!” he snapped.

  Sebastian met Carlos’s glare, and the air in the carriage grew thick with tension. Neither looked away. Carlos no longer flinched as he once had—something in him had changed. He had grown more irritable, more brash, even arrogant. Dalia had seen the shift. She didn’t know the cause, but perhaps it was fatigue, or the strain of their recent journey.

  The Corsican forest had left scars on them all. Sebastian had grown more withdrawn. Carlos, more volatile. Dalia, too, could feel the weight pressing on her chest. Perhaps, she thought, a few days’ rest would bring them back to who they were.

  “Please, that’s enough,” she said, casting a firm look at them both.

  She gently ushered Sebastian inside and leaned out to speak with the guards. “Forgive us. That torch is no ordinary flame, and Saint Sebastian is… particular about his personal space.”

  “Ah, I see. Apologies, my Saint,” said the bewildered guard, glancing at his injured companion. “It won’t happen again.”

  Dalia closed the Carriage door without saying anything. She’s just too tired to deal with everyone right now, all she wants from this world is just to get a good rest. Sebastian and Carlos on the other hand won't even look at each other. They both averted their gaze towards the carriage window and just sat there in silence. This was a small gift for Dalia as she finally could relax for a bit after dealing with tense situations over and over again.

  During their way towards the Avignon Palace. Sebastian noticed that there’s a lot of Guards roaming the street. Every five meters he could see a group of guards that was on patrol or just standing around watching the area. This amount of guard in the open, raises even more suspicion inside Sebastian's head. Are they a part of the welcoming ceremony shown by Cardinal Faust to show that he will make sure that the Saints are safe? Or there’s something happening outside that warrants this much guard roaming the street? Maybe he needs to roam around the city to gather information and see what's happening around, but with this blue torch relic he’s been holding, he finds it hard to just go into the city bringing this unholy relic around.

  Eventually, the carriage passed through towering gates and into the palace grounds. A trumpet blared to mark their arrival. Verdant gardens stretched in every direction, filled with rare blossoms and trimmed hedges. The palace grounds rivaled, even surpassed, the grandeur of Latinum itself. Servants bustled about, guards stood at every corner, and the entire estate had the air of a fortress cloaked in luxury.

  Dalia looked in awe at what she’s seeing right now and Carlos' mood even lifted by the sheer admiration that he felt right now.

  But Sebastian saw it for what it was.

  A dragon's hoard.

  And there’s a Dragon living inside that palace.

  No matter what the Dragon tries to disguise itself with, it is still evil and a tyrant. This whole thing sickens Sebastian. He doesn't know how this Cardinal managed to hoard this much wealth for himself, but one thing is sure, that he’s not that much different from Valentinus. He couldn't wait to meet the dragon itself, he wanted to see what kind of person who managed to conquer this city and enslave everyone like this.

  The carriage stopped and the coachman opened the carriage door revealing many servants bowing their heads toward the Saints. Dalia was the first to come out from the carriage, followed by Carlos and lastly Sebastian.

  The palace front itself is another beauty entirely. The red carpet that was laid down is very soft even the Saints could feel it while wearing their shoes. Hundreds of different colored flowers are being shown as a welcome gift for each of them. Then lastly, there’s an engraving on the palace door with the word :

  “God blesses all who are devout with riches and fulfillment.”

  Then the door opened revealing a lavish and well decorated palace. Saying this palace is the pinnacle of luxury is an understatement. This whole place's beauty is out of this world. Even the richest people in the world would be shamed if they compare this palace to one of their own. While Dalia and Carlos are busy admiring the sight, Sebastian's eyes are fixed the person who was standing on the top of the stairs.

  The Dragon. Cardinal Faust.

  “Welcome to my palace, my dear Saints!” Faust called, spreading his arms in welcome, his smile gleaming.

  Faust walks down the stairs towards the Saints as he smiles and brimming with kindness. He took Dalia's hands and kissed it to show his respect and he did the same towards Carlos. While Faust approaches Sebastian. Sebastian noticed the many pieces of jewelry that were hanging on Faust's body as he came closer. The extravagant gold and jewel encrusted necklace, the ring that filled each of his fingers and the heavy gold amulet that he wore.

  This person's wealth is beyond measure. As Faust tries to kiss Sebastian's hand, Sebastian recoils in disgust. Faust and Sebastian's eyes meet and they both acknowledge immediately that they’re not compatible with each other, but Faust feigns a smile to defuse the situation.

  “I’m sorry, Cardinal Faust,” Dalia interjected quickly. “Saint Sebastian is not accustomed to formalities.”

  “No offense taken, my Saint,” Faust replied, bowing again. The clatter of his ornaments was the only honest sound he made.

  Sebastian looked at Faust with disgust and contempt. He felt like Valentinus just manifested himself right in front of him. He wondered bitterly—was this what all Cardinals became, once they amassed enough power? He shuddered at the thought of it.

  ““My servants will show you to your rooms,” Faust said smoothly. “I hope you find them comfortable. Tonight, I have prepared a banquet in your honor.”

  “Thank you, Cardinal. We’re grateful for your hospitality,” Dalia replied with a gentle nod.

  “Then I must excuse myself,” Faust said, turning away. “There is church business I must attend to.”

  Faust climbs the stairs to his room, then suddenly Sebastian can be heard asking a question.

  “There are a great many guards in the city and around the palace, Cardinal. Is something wrong outside?”

  Cardinal? This is the first time he was asked like a Servant by anyone for twenty long years. He does not dare to show his face right now because it’ll show how angry he is. However he shows a slit of his face as a kind gesture towards Sebastian. But even then, Sebastian knew exactly what Faust is feeling right now.

  “There is nothing to concern yourself with, my Saint. Please, enjoy your rest. We shall speak again this evening.”