"I missed you, Lucien," Julian breathed out into the cloak, and Alaric stiffened.

He could say the word’s back. Write a poem if he had to, about how much he missed Julian, how many times he stared at the empty space in his bed, and how many times he visited the library to touch the books Julian always read.

He could sing a song about it if he had to, but no words came out.

Nothing could express how much he had longed for his scholar but the actions that came next.

​Alaric pulled back just enough to look at him, his thumb tracing the line under the corroding violet of Julian’s eye.

His jaw was set so tight it looked like it might snap. Then, without a word, he leaned down and claimed Julian’s mouth.

​It wasn’t a gentle reunion that spoke of his affection and how much he missed him. It was a hard, possessive kiss that tasted of the road and raw hunger. He told him how much he desired to hold him, keep him close, and never let anyone else have him from just this kiss alone.

In front of the stunned priests and the silent guards, Alaric kissed Julian as if he were trying to breathe his own life back into his lover’s lungs.

He didn’t care about the scandal or the ’sanctity’ of the room. He was marking what was his, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

Julian felt it too. Felt the fire, felt the heart, and felt the intentions... And he responded by kissing back.

How many times had he dreamt of these lips claiming his? How long had he waited to be held by these strong arms again?

The gods knew he was drawing towards his limit before he even realized he was.

​When Alaric finally broke the kiss, he didn’t pull away. He kept his forehead pressed against Julian’s, his breathing ragged and hot.

​"I’ve come for you, Julian," Alaric growled, his voice vibrating against Julian’s skin. "We’re leaving. Now."

​He finally glanced down at Lucius, who was looking up from the rug with wide, tearful eyes.

Alaric reached out a hand, resting it briefly on his son’s head, but his focus snapped right back to Julian. He looked at the violet eye again, his expression darkening into something truly lethal.

​"Purifier Elian," Alaric said, not even bothering to turn around. "I let Julian go with you because you claimed there was no danger in the Holy Empire, and yet I hear word that demons have surged on this ’Holy Land’?" He asked with a lethal fire in his eyes, and Elian had no words to defend himself. He simply kept his head bowed.

Maybe it was for the best that the Duke had yet to hear that Julian had overexerted himself and slept for two days. If he heard now, all hell would break loose.

It would be ten times the damage Castor had dealt to the morale of the other priests.

"Since you broke your promise first, I don’t need to keep mine either," Alaric claimed. "This marks the end of the two-month diplomatic visit. Go tell the Pope. I am taking my son and my scholar. If anyone tries to stop us at the gate, I’ll burn this entire mountain to the ground."

Julian was relieved. They could finally go home. But that relief disappeared as soon as he recalled that there was nowhere safe from the demons. Home? The demon would still come find them there.

And among all the fighters in this world, the ones who are the most effective against demons were ones with Holy Power.

So, they could not leave the Holy Empire and let the demons swallow them.

Without the priests and holy knights, their chances of winning this coming war were practically zero.

"Lucien," Julian called softly, dropping his hand on the arm Alaric held him firmly with. "I’m afraid we... we can’t leave."

​Alaric froze. He looked back at Julian, his eyes wide and struck with a sudden, sharp confusion that quickly morphed into suspicion. He looked at the priests in the hallway, then back at Julian’s violet-streaked eye.

​"What?" Alaric’s voice was a low growl. "You... You want to stay? Did they brainwash you? Did they do something to your head while you were under?" He asked, and his eyes fell on the corroding violet eye. "That eye... was it their brainwashing effect?"

​"No, no, it’s not like that, but..." Julian took a shaky breath, his legs feeling like they might give out again. He couldn’t explain the ’Creator’ while Elian was standing there like a statue of judgment.

He couldn’t talk about the system, but the fact that he was not from this world and someone had brought his soul here... Alaric knew that fact well.

Other than him, no one else could hear it.

​Julian turned his head toward the Purifier.

​"Elian," Julian said, his voice gaining a sliver of its old scholarly authority. "Can you leave us for a while? I need to talk to the Duke alone."

​Elian looked at Alaric’s hand on his sword, then at the strange, bruised color of Julian’s eyes.

He seemed to weigh the danger of leaving a ’Saint’ alone with a ’Wolf’. What if they jumped out the window and disappeared in a flash? But he eventually had no choice but to agree.

Elian gave a curt, stiff nod. They were on the highest floor. There was no way they would be that careless.

He gestured for the guards to clear the doorway and stepped out himself, pulling the heavy oak doors shut with a dull thud.

​The room fell into a heavy, flickering silence, save for the crackle of the fire.

​Alaric didn’t wait for the latch to click. He grabbed Julian’s shoulders again, his grip firm but careful.

"Julian, look at me. I have horses waiting. I have men at the base of this building. We can be out of this border by dawn. Why are you telling me we can’t leave?"

​Julian leaned his forehead against Alaric’s chest, the scent of the road and the Duke’s heat making his eyes sting.

​"It’s not for the Pope, and it’s not for the Church either," Julian whispered into the dark fur of Alaric’s cloak. "It’s... It’s me. Something happened two days ago when the demons surged, Lucien. I met... the one who brought my soul into this world. It was a fallen god... who is now a demon."