"So he hasn't requested an audience yet?" Ravenna asked, her voice calm but edged with curiosity as she leaned back in her chair, one finger tapping idly against the polished wood of her desk.

Alice stood opposite her, spine straight, expression steady in the way only she could manage in Ravenna's presence. "No, Your Highness. Knight Eugene has spent the past two days wandering the city. He hasn't sent word to the castle, nor made any formal request to meet the Saintess."

"Hmm." Ravenna's lips curled into the faintest smirk, her eyes narrowing with thought. "He's a smart one. That much I've always known. Which means…" she paused, tapping her finger once more, "…he's already realized we'll reveal Marie as the Saintess on the last day of the festival. So he waits. Patient."

"That could very well be the case," Alice admitted, her tone reluctant but agreeing.

"Regardless, have the militia keep an eye on him," Ravenna ordered, her dark black eyes locking on Alice's face. She let the silence linger, studying her most trusted companion for several seconds before adding, "Though tell me: why are you here at all? It's already the fifth day of the Festival of Lust. Shouldn't you, Hughes, and Mina be out in the city enjoying yourselves as a family?"

Alice raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. "And leave you unsupervised in the middle of all this chaos?"

Ravenna scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, come now. Me? Ravenna Solarius? Do you truly think I'm so dependent that I can't manage without you for a single day—"

"You can't even find your own pen without me," Alice cut in, her voice sharp as a whip.

"As if!" Ravenna protested, her smirk twitching with indignation. "I'm sure I could manage just fine. You were gone for months on maternity leave, and yet I survived perfectly well."

Alice folded her arms across her chest, her gaze like iron. "Survived? Manage Fine?, you say?" She stepped closer, eyes locked onto Ravenna's without so much as a flinch. Very few in the world would dare hold her gaze like that: Alice was one of them.

"If I recall correctly," Alice began, her tone deceptively calm, "while I was on maternity leave you were cornered by Prince William, lost nearly every financial ledger for your faction, were stripped of your standing in the imperial court, abandoned by your allies, blamed for the empress's death, and finally exiled to this desert island."

Ravenna's smirk faltered, her jaw tightening as Alice delivered the blows one after another like precise strikes of a dagger.

"So no, Ravenna," Alice finished letting go of any formality with a weary sigh. "Fine isn't the word I'd use. The proper description would be: a horrendous disaster."

"Oh, come on!" Ravenna roared, half indignant and half defensive, slamming her palm lightly against the desk. Her sharpness faltered as her voice softened, almost slipping into something vulnerable. "I just want you to enjoy your life with your family too. I don't want little Mina to grow up not seeing her mother every day…" Her tone trailed off, the weight of sorrow creeping in against her will. "…too."

The room fell into silence, the kind that carried far more meaning than words ever could. Ravenna lowered her gaze for a moment, black eyes shadowed by unspoken grief.

Alice didn't move at first. Then, after a long pause, she exhaled softly and placed the reports she had brought onto the desk. Her expression, usually sharp as steel, softened, just slightly. "We'll go around the city on the last day, while you're occupied with the Saintess's reveal at the Herptian Church," she said.

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Turning toward the door, Alice placed her hand on the handle, then paused. Without looking back, she added in a low, steady voice: "You're not the only one who misses Her Majesty, Ravenna. She was like a mother to me too."

And with that, Alice left, the door closing with a muted click that echoed in the stillness of the room.

Ravenna sat there alone, staring at the reports on her desk, the words Alice had spoken cutting deeper than she cared to admit.

Outside the Lord's Castle, Kim City, Kim Island, Kim Dukedom, Ancorna Empire

The plaza outside the Lord's Castle was alive with the hum of festival chaos, assigned sellers calling their wares, laughter spilling from bars, banners fluttering in the desert wind. Carriages came and went in a steady stream, eager to pay their respects to the woman who had reshaped an island.

But at one of the narrow intersections leading toward the castle's gates, the stream had come to a halt. Two carriages stood locked head to head, neither budging.

"I arrived first, so move your carriage, mister," Earl Taylor Hessman barked, stepping down from his ornate, silk-draped carriage with a huff. His thin mustache twitched as his irritation mounted, and his rings glittered as he gestured sharply toward the other vehicle.

From the opposite carriage emerged a younger man, tall, broad-shouldered, and smiling with the calm ease of one who thrived in tension. Eugene dusted off his cloak as he stepped into the sun. "I don't think that's quite right," he said smoothly, his tone pleasant yet edged with amusement. "I was here when you arrived. In fact, I'd wager I was waiting before you even noticed."

The Earl scowled, his hand tugging on the cuff of his sleeve. His eyes darted to Eugene's wrist, where a pale armband of the festival marked him clearly. "That armband shows you're no native of this dukedom," Hessman said with barely concealed disdain even though he was the same. "I was personally invited by Her Highness to discuss pressing matters of trade. Important business that cannot be delayed. So, if you don't mind, step aside and let me through."

Eugene chuckled softly, reaching into his cloak. "Ah, but you see, Mister…" he let the honorific hang pointedly, "I have a prior claim. Her Highness owes me a meeting, as per this." He unfolded a parchment, crisp and official, sealed with Ravenna's signature from the capital. A contract, binding, undeniable.

The Earl's lip curled. He could not reveal his true identity, not here, not now, so his bluster was limited. "Be that as it may, this is not about contracts. It is about traffic. And at this intersection, my carriage has the right of way."

Eugene tilted his head, his smile widening. "You seem a man of order. And yet… this is a festival, isn't it?" He gestured toward the streets around them where couples kissed openly on balconies, laughter rang as dice clattered against makeshift boards, and street performers juggled torches in the sultry air. "On this island as a Herptian Faith stronghold, they don't waste time with petty squabbles during festivals. They settle matters quickly.."

Hessman narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

"Why don't we resolve this the way the natives do?" Eugene asked, his voice dropping to a playful challenge. "Simple. Fair. No titles. No contracts. Just fortune's favor."

The Earl hesitated, his pride stung but his path blocked. After a long pause, he straightened, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "Fair enough. Let's play."

With a nod, Eugene reached into his carriage and withdrew a familiar object: the board of Ascend to Celestia. A game of dice, chance, it was beloved across the dukedom and western continent. Its premise was simple, roll, ascend, indulge but during the festival it served another purpose: a way to end disputes before fists or blades were drawn.

They set the small board on a carriage step, the dice gleaming in the sunlight. A small crowd had already gathered, festival-goers eager to watch two finely dressed strangers settle their pride the "Herptian way."

"We roll once," Hessman declared stiffly. "Whoever has the higher number wins. The victor moves on to the castle gates first. Agreed?"

Eugene smirked and extended his hand. "Agreed."

The Earl seized the dice, his jaw clenched, and rolled first. The odd shaped Herptian cubes tumbled, clicking against the wood before coming to rest. A respectable number: 8. Murmurs rippled through the small crowd.

Eugene took the dice without hurry, rolling them with a flick of his wrist. The cubes spun, danced, then settled— 25.

The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter, clapping and whistling at the clean victory.

Eugene bowed mockingly toward Hessman, his smile polite but tinged with amusement. "That settles it, doesn't it? By festival custom, I go first."

The Earl's face darkened, his jaw tightening, but he could do nothing. Tradition had spoken as such he left Eugene first.

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