The tightly furrowed brows trembled slightly; the word "father" touched the softest part of Marshal Laco Aber's heart.

"Loyalty is the cornerstone of the Empire, whether it's loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor, the Empire, our forefathers, our family, or the people we protect... This young man named Roxey Colin is a nobleman worthy of respect."

Unlike those beasts in the Council of Elders disguised in human skin.

Those who clamored about tradition have long forgotten what tradition truly is, leaving only a hollow façade and a core that has been long decayed.

Saint Sis will not save them.

The great storm is their punishment!

On the contrary—

A truly reliable young man has been released from his "cage," right at this precarious moment.

No matter what outrageous deeds the Colin family did 500 years ago to deserve the abandonment of the Divine, at least at this moment, Saint Sis has chosen him.

Laco is willing to believe this is the will of the Divine.

Even if he doesn't yet understand this person's character, he is willing to give the young man a chance—the Colin family can ride in the Empire's chariot, become loyal warriors of His Majesty the Emperor, and a reliable shoulder for the "Officer Faction" to balance the old nobility and clergy!

The sound of the wind outside grew louder, branches gently tapping against the glass window.

Laco stood up, walked to the display shelf, and took down a sword bearing the Black Iron eagle-wing crest. This sword was his sidearm used back when he galloped across battlefields; though long unused, it remained sharp as new, exuding a faint holy aura.

He gently rubbed the eagle crest on the sword hilt with his thumb, as if he had made some decision.

"You draft a letter," he instructed Marcos with his back facing him, "I wish to invite the prince to my son's coming-of-age ceremony... There should still be time."

If the prince indeed proves to be a desirable ally for the Aber family, this sword could be given to him as a gift!

Marcos, his expression shifting, immediately understood the marshal's intention, nodding respectfully.

"Yes, sir!"

The wind outside grew ever more frantic, just like the undercurrents brewing beneath the prosperity of the Holy City, growing more turbulent as the tides approached.

The Purple Moon of Prince Colin had yet to dock at the Holy City's port, but two of the Empire's three major factions had already shown intentions to court him.

Though the Holy Sissi Church Court, representing the interests of the clergy, hadn't taken explicit action, it didn't mean those clergy were indifferent.

Spreading the faith of Saint Sis is their lifelong mission.

The landscape of faith in the Old World no longer had room for expansion, and the lands of the New World had long since sown the seeds of Holy Light.

In contrast, the Gana continent was an undeveloped land.

Since Saint Sis presented this land before them, it was surely to save those flesh-eating lizards with His children.

The Cardinal Court had argued over whom to send there to proselytize for several rounds.

Though it wasn't fertile soil, developing pagans there could accumulate immense merit, enough "points" for the soul's ascension in the next life.

Those "cardinals" themselves may not ascend further, but their clans and apprentices still had such needs.

In the secret chamber behind Saint Clement Cathedral, the sacred stone hall was filled with the scent of dragon's incense, wisps of purple smoke drifting above the censer.

This is the stronghold of the Saint Clement Church and the sacred place where His Holiness the Pope Gregory IX communicates with the Divine and receives oracles.

At this very moment, the esteemed His Holiness the Pope sat on a bench in a platinum-embroidered robe, hands clasped together, bathed in golden candlelight.

The Holy Candles, priceless in the Campbell Duchy, were as abundant here as stalactites in a cavern.

"I heard his prayer in the Holy Light..." Gregory IX's voice was as soft as silk, like the ethereal Holy Light itself, "Before everyone, he did not cite the oracle, but whispered—'May Saint Sis have mercy on those who perished in the storm,' and then saved people stranded in the floods with his own hands."

The Referee Chief sat silently behind him, offering no opinion on that poetically expressed oracle, even doubting whether this was truly what the Pope saw in the divine message.

Generally speaking—

Oracles predict future events and rarely speak of things already occurred.

Unless a greater storm follows after the first great storm...

He sincerely hoped this wouldn't be the case.

Gregory IX's eyes slowly opened, as if seeing far-off places: "He's not a shepherd, but understands faith better than many wolves in sheep's clothing. You should drop your bias, at least... since he's returned on his own, we should treat him with courtesy."

"But he's been mingling with pagans for so long..." the Referee Chief said in a hoarse, low voice, "You know what those Lizardmen are, they are descendants of the Dragon God, and there's no reason for the Dragon God to let His servants live."

Pausing, he added.

"I'm concerned there's an unspeakable secret behind this."

It's true that the Dragon God was once an ally of Saint Sis, but their relationship could never be described as close, especially critical times, that vile reptile even betrayed Him.

According to secret church dossiers and mural records, the Dragon God was moody and capricious, as crafty and cunning as Novel, the "Deceitful Fog" among the Four Chaotic Evil Gods, and His offspring entirely inherited from Him in this regard.

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