After Davian slash Levi was introduced, we all began making our way toward the Temple. The gravel path beneath our feet crunched faintly with every step, the towering structure of the Temple looming in the distance like a quiet sentinel.
As we walked behind the ladies, Davian leaned slightly toward , his voice lowered enough that only I could hear, "Why are you with the ladies of the Duke’s household?"
His tone held no malice, just quiet curiosity laced with an undertone I couldn’t quite place.
"I’m living in their house, so why not?" I replied lightly, offering a casual smile.
He didn’t respond imdiately. I could feel his gaze studying from the corner of my eye—calculating, as if weighing my words against sothing only he knew.
Lyall walked silently on my other side, his usual composed presence offering quiet reassurance.
We stepped through the grand archway into the Temple, where the air imdiately grew still, heavy with incense and the hum of sothing ancient. The marble floor echoed beneath our boots, and pillars lined the vast hall like sentries carved in stone. Majestic statues of Dragons stood between them—so coiled in protective poses, others with wings unfurled as if frozen mid-flight—each carved with breathtaking detail that seed to watch over the Temple in silent reverence. The ladies gracefully approached the altar, their footsteps soft as whispers.
A middle-aged Priest in ceremonial robes turned and bowed respectfully, first to the ladies, then to Davian and .
Beatrice adjusted the white lace veil delicately over Anastasia’s head, her fingers moving with practiced gentleness and both won turned to look at .
"Let us go ahead and pray, Lord Ace," Beatrice said with a serene smile.
I nodded, returning her smile and gesturing for them to proceed. "Please."
They moved forward, kneeling with quiet grace before the altar. I remained behind, letting the distance grow, eyes scanning the corners of the Temple, trying to sense any trace of Cesio’s presence.
"It feels ironic for a Dragon to co and pray in their own Temple," Davian murmured beside , the faintest edge of amusent in his voice.
I shrugged, folding my arms loosely. "I’m the youngest of the Dragons," I said simply. "I guess I do need their blessings at tis."
His athyst eyes flicked toward , narrowing just slightly. There was sothing unreadable in his gaze—not suspicion, but sothing older, deeper. Recognition, maybe. Or mory.
He wore a long, heavy cloak that shifted with his steps, the fabric whispering over the floor. A mask concealed the lower half of his face, lending an air of mystery to his sharp features. Only his eyes remained visible, glowing faintly beneath the soft light of the Temple’s chandeliers—cold, unreadable, yet oddly familiar.
"Besides, weren’t you here to see that statue?" he prompted, and I nodded before glancing at an old priest nearby—the other one was still with the ladies.
"Pardon , Father," I approached him with a respectful tone.
"Ah, yes, my Lord. How may I help you?" the old priest responded, voice gentle and eyes alight with quiet reverence.
"I wish to donate to the Temple. Will you allow to do so?" His lips parted in surprise before softening into a smile.
There was no trace of greed in his expression—only a calm radiance that suited the sacred space.
"I’m not the one in charge of such matters, my Lord, but I’m grateful for your wish to donate. I can escort you to the High Priest—he’ll guide you properly," he offered.
I returned the smile. "Sure."
Davian remained silent beside , and he and Lyall exchanged a curious glance.
I turned to where the ladies still stood, engaged in soft conversation with the other priest.
"Your Grace," I called out to Beatrice, and she turned toward .
"Why don’t you ladies take your ti and offer your prayers? I’ll look around a bit."
"Where are you going?" Anastasia asked.
"I wish to make a donation, so I’m heading to et the High Priest. I’ll be back shortly. Sir Zoro," I said, turning to Lyall, "could you please keep the ladies company while I’m gone?"
"As you say, Master," Lyall bowed slightly, then glanced once at Davian.
"Don’t worry, Sir Zoro. I’ll make sure our Master is protected," Davian chid in with a light smile.
"My Master can protect himself just fine," Lyall replied coolly. "If you insist on doing sothing, make sure he isn’t burdened by nuisances."
I had to admit—I was impressed by how sharply Lyall spoke.
Davian chuckled. "Fine, I’ll do that."
With a nod, Lyall turned back to the others, and I followed the old priest, Davian trailing behind.
We passed through large doors and into a long corridor; one side opened to a garden blooming with vibrant flowers and towering trees. The priest guided us around a corner and down another hallway, stopping at the last door before giving it a gentle knock.
A muffled voice responded from inside. The priest opened the door and gestured for us to enter.
"High Priest," he called out.
The man inside, likely in his fifties, looked up from the papers in front of him.
The current High Priest—Jasper Florence—had been appointed three years ago after the Temple was rebuilt.
"Father Yorg, who are these guests?" Jasper asked.
Father Yorg looked toward , and I stepped forward with a polite smile.
"My na is Ace D’Arc, High Priest. I am the founder and owner of the Azurlite Guild."
His brows rose slightly before his expression reset into neutrality.
"And what brings you to , my Lord?"
"I wish to donate," I replied.
His brows furrowed faintly. After a mont’s pause, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a docunt, laying it carefully on the table.
"These are the donation terms. Please review them. Once you agree, you may place whatever amount you wish here."
"Thank you, High Priest."
The terms were straightforward—no preferential treatnt in exchange for donations, and any request for healers would require either personal visitation or covering their travel expenses. If any priest or healer demanded paynt for services, a complaint would result in their imdiate removal.
It was clear they had tightened regulations to avoid corruption. I appreciated the transparency.
I signed the paper, then took out my checkbook, filled in the amount, signed it, and handed it over.
The High Priest’s eyes widened as he read the figure. "Are you sure you want to donate this amount, my Lord?"
"Yes, High Priest."
"Even after reading the terms?"
I nodded with a small smile. "Yes, High Priest."
He studied briefly, then sighed. "Very well. I accept your donation, Lord Ace," he said, placing the check into a file.
"I have a request, High Priest."
His gaze sharpened with caution. "What might that be?"
"I wish to pray in the inner sanctum."
He frowned imdiately. "I’m sorry, but I cannot allow that."
I chuckled lightly. "I understand your hesitation. I’m not asking for unrestricted access. I’ll be leaving Denril tomorrow and may not return for a long ti. I’d simply like to pray—earnestly—one last ti."
"Prayer is a matter of faith, my Lord. Even if you pray from ho, the divine hears a sincere heart," he replied.
Who would know that better than ?
"So, you won’t allow it?"
"I’m afraid I cannot."
"In that case, is His Holiness present?" I asked.
He frowned again. "Why do you ask?"
"If I can’t pray in the sanctum, I’d at least like to receive a blessing from His Holiness."
"The terms clearly state that no special services are to be granted—even with donation," he reminded.
"I’m aware. I only ask that you confirm it with him—just once. If he is willing, I’d be grateful."
Jasper sighed and turned to Father Yorg. "Please check if His Holiness is available to bless this Lord."
"Yes," Yorg nodded.
As he turned to leave, I added, "Tell him the person who t him during the parade has co again."
Father Yorg paused, gave a thoughtful glance, then departed.
We waited. Jasper kept eyeing warily.
"Why are you being so patient?" Davian asked in a low voice as we sat.
"What do you an?"
"You could just walk into the inner sanctum if you wanted. So why all this ceremony?"
I only shrugged in response.
Soon, Father Yorg returned—practically out of breath.
"H-His Holiness... has ordered to escort the Lord... to the inner sanctum... imdiately!" he panted, and Jasper stood from his seat in disbelief.
"What?"
"Yes... High Priest. His Holiness said the Lord must be escorted with respect. He’s waiting for him there."
Jasper turned sharply toward , stunned.
Within minutes, he was leading us himself. Davian walked beside , while Father Yorg was excused and sent back to the chapel.
"I don’t know what you said or did to earn His Holiness’ favor, but don’t expect such treatnt again," Jasper muttered.
"I understand, High Priest. But rest assured, I won’t plant seeds of corruption within these sacred walls."
He gave a sharp glance.
"He’s kind of rude for a Priest," Davian murmured.
I chuckled. "So Priests are fiery. I have one just like him back ho just younger."
Davian gave a curious look, but we soon arrived before the great double doors of the inner sanctum.
Jasper hesitated briefly, then pushed them open.
The sanctum opened up into a grand do. The walls were pristine white, the floors stone-grey. Marble steps led to a massive statue of Saintess Mirielle, the Water Dragon making a protective arc around her. And there—Cesio, the Pope himself—rushed forward the mont he sensed .
He clasped my hands, trembling slightly, I could see the moisture gathering at his eyes created the damp marks on his blindfold.
"My Lord!" he bead.
Jasper froze, stunned at the display of reverence.
"Your Holiness, please compose yourself!" Jasper said, alard.
Cesio turned to him with a warm smile. "Ah, so you’re the one who escorted my Lord. Thank you, High Priest."
"Your Holiness," Jasper said with unease, "please step away from that man."
Cesio laughed softly. "It is a blessing to be near him, High Priest. You do not see it, but you pray for his blessing too."
Jasper frowned. "Why would I want this man’s blessing?"
"He doesn’t know," Cesio said to with a smile.
"It’s fine," I replied. "I’m glad to see you well."
Cesio’s grip on my hands tightened slightly. "Did you co to see ?"
"Not exactly. I heard there was a statue here—of Saintess Mirielle and myself."
"You are mistaken. There is no such statue of any mortal!" Jasper snapped.
Cesio turned to him gently. "You’re the one who’s mistaken, High Priest. His statue is indeed here. It is to him that I pray, every single day."
Jasper gawked at . I smiled, then let my form shift—Ocean’s form erging into view.
Jasper reeled back in disbelief.
"Wh-What on earth...!"
"You are blessed, High Priest," Cesio said with glowing reverence. "The Dragon who saved our nation four years ago stands before you."
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