The walk to the Pope’s private dining hall was a quiet, tense procession. Julian kept a firm hand on Lucius’s shoulder, more for his own grounding than the boy’s, while Alaric walked on his other side like a silent, armored shadow. Beside them, Lucius walked with short, stiff steps, his small fingers curled tightly into the fabric of Julian’s robe, his eyes darting toward the silver-clad Purifiers with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Walking beside them were Elian and a few high-ranking Purifiers, as well as Knights. Their silver plate clinking softly against the polished marble of the corridor.

Julian had never been to this wing of the Spire before. While his own suite was luxurious, the Pope’s personal quarters were a different level of exquisite. The dining hall wasn’t overwhelmingly large, but every inch of it spoke of ancient, quiet power. The walls were lined with cream-colored silk, and the furniture was made of a dark, heavy wood that looked centuries old. A single, long table sat in the center, lit by a modest but elegant crystal chandelier.

The atmosphere wasn’t welcoming; it was stiff and a bit suffocating, even though the man who set up this dinner was ’kind’.

"Please, sit," Pope Clement said, gesturing to the table. He took his place at the head, his white robes stark against the dark wood.

Julian sat down, feeling the heavy exhaustion in his limbs. Lucius climbed into the chair beside him, looking small and overwhelmed by the row of silver cutlery and the silent servants moving in the shadows. The boy’s legs dangled, barely reaching the edge of the seat, and he sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Julian as if searching for a cue on how to breathe in this room. Alaric took the seat on Julian’s left, refusing to lean back. He sat on the edge of the chair, his hand never straying far from the table’s edge, his eyes tracking every movement in the room.

The servants placed simple, elegantly prepared dishes in front of them—clear broth, roasted vegetables, and white bread.

"It is a rare sight," Clement began, his voice calm and conversational as he picked up a spoon. "To have a Grand Duke of the Viremount Empire dining in this hall. I believe the last time a Northern Duke was hosted here, it was under far more... formal diplomatic circumstances."

"I’m not here for a social call, Pope," Alaric said. He hadn’t touched his spoon. He was staring at the Pope with a flat, cold gaze. "What are you going to do about the demons that are surging without warning?"

"That is for us to worry about and needs no intervention from you, Grand Duke," The Pope replied, his tone dismissive. "Or is it that you want to join our fight and fight for the Light?"

"Whether I want to join or not depends on how you plan to deal with it," Alaric shot back.

Julian felt the temperature in the room drop. He reached down beneath the table, his fingers finding Lucius’s small, cold hand and squeezing it.

He could feel the boy trembling, his wide eyes alternating between the two powerful men like he was watching a storm break. Julian took a slow, steadying breath, trying to keep his own expression neutral even as his heart hammered against his ribs.

"Just saying the problem is for you to worry about does not solve anything," Alaric continued. "Because if you fail, the demons will pour out to the rest of the world irrespective of continent or space." He narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping into a lethal tone. "So you have to be wise about this, Pope."

The Pope paused, his spoon hovering close to his mouth. "You sound very concerned, Grand Duke. If I didn’t know any better, I would have been under the impression that you had converted to the Light and are afraid of this empire falling into the hands of the demon because it is where the Light resides."

"Then I am glad you know better," Alaric said.

The comment was a jagged edge, an open display of his lack of faith in their ’Holy Land’, and an insult to the Pope.

Behind the Pope, the Holy knights shifted, their leather gloves creaking as they gripped their hilts. Lucius flinched at the sound, his breath hitching as he leaned closer into Julian’s side.

Julian shifted his weight subtly, half-shielding the boy with his shoulder, his gaze flicking to the knights with a silent, warning sharpness that spoke of his status as their Saint. He knew Alaric was purposely provoking the Pope, but if they did not do this, the Pope would not feel the pressure of what they were about to ask.

Clement raised his pale hand, and the knights went still.

The Pope’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward.

"You speak with a strange finality, Duke Alaric. What is it you are getting at? Why do you sound so convinced the Holy Land will fall? What exactly have you noticed?"

Alaric didn’t blink. He finally turned his head slightly toward the man at his side.

"Julian says he can feel your ’Holy Land’ is failing. He says the answers are likely in your archives. We’re here for the scripts of the first war. And not just the bedtime story, but the more detailed records."

"Failing?" Clement whispered the word as if it were a heresy. He turned his full attention to Julian, his spoon forgotten. "Is that what you feel, Saint?"

Julian didn’t flinch. He felt a hot pressure pooling in the center of his chest. It felt like a physical weight, pulling his gaze toward the floor—as if the ground would open up and swallow him in a moment.

"It’s not a feeling, Your Holiness," Julian said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. "It’s a fact. The first war scripts... I can tell they’re the only lead we have, even if I have never read them before. If you keep them locked, you’re just waiting for the demons to knock down these very doors. We cannot stay idle while we have a chance to fight back."

The Pope studied him for a long beat, the silence stretching until the only sound was Lucius’s shaky breathing. The boy was staring at Julian’s face, his eyes filling with tears as he noticed the violet in Julian’s left eye pulsing faintly in the dim light. It was glowing in a way that seemed to feed on the tension in the room.