[Palace of Perpetual Rain]

*Mmm*

*MMM*

*-MMM-*

"Uh-Your Highness," Graves was slightly confused looking at the gagged prisoner in front of him.

Presumed as prisoner, because Ymir and Orochi brought this man all gagged up with hands and feet tied.

The only witness to the scene was the Priest that guided the

"Why is our prisoner wearing a Priest’s uniform?" Graves asked.

"Because he’s a Priest." Ymir replied.

The silence stretched for a moment as Orochi sat on the couch in the corner of the rain hall.

"Haha- You mean he’s some sort of impersonator that scams local villagers by claiming he’s a priest?" Graves tried to clarify that response.

He hoped that his hypothesis would be reality but...

"No, he is a Priest. Someone that serves the covenant, someone that worships the goddess and Violet," Ymir sighed, and sat on the sofa. Besides that sofa was a mountain lion, sleeping as usual.

"..." Graves didn’t know how to process that information. He wasn’t surprised, because going against the covenant has already been decided since the moment Ferrey tried to collude with the assassins, but this was just too sudden for him.

"Is he related to high priest Ferrey?" Graves asked.

"Circumstantially, not intentionally." Ymir’s answer was vague.

"What does that mean-"

"Oh and, Ferrey’s not high Priest anymore," he added.

"Not high Priest anymore?" Graves tilted his head. "Did the covenant punish him by stripping him off his title, Your Highness?"

"No, he’s dead."

"You killed him?"

"He killed himself."

"What?" Graves now turned his head towards Orochi who had been silent all the while.

"...Why are you looking at me?" Orochi asked.

"All of this happened in the span of what..." Graves took out a pocket watch from his coat. "...A few hours?"

"By morning, it’ll either be chaos or ..."

"Covenant wouldn’t make any move," Ymir cut off Graves’ words.

"He died because of the contract, a demonic contract. The covenant can either hide the fact that Ferrey is dead, or they would have cracks in the case they try to fabricate because the death of a high priest would attract the hunting dogs of the crown and ofcourse, the court officials. It wouldn’t just end as an internal matter."

Ymir leaned forward and placed his hand on the cloth that gagged the priest, and pulled it down.

"Haaahh--- Your Highness! I didn’t see anything—I didn’t even hear anything, no...I’m...I’m deaf. Yes I’m deaf," The Priest screamed, stumbling back and falling down to his hips.

"Relax, if I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have even bothered picking you up," Ymir said.

"Y-Yes. Forgive me for my...my...wait what’s that word...insu...insull..." the priest kept staggering, trying to remember the correct word.

"Insolent." Graves suggested.

"Yes---Insolent behavior."

"What’s your name?" Ymir asked.

"Josia." Priest replied in an instant.

"Josia? Sounds like a pretty general name. Why’d you choose to be a priest Josia?" Ymir asked, leaning forward with his hands clasped and elbows resting on knees.

"I wanted to devote myself to the goddess and do good---"

"Ah-ah-You expect me to believe that self-righteous good boy memorized line?" Ymir cut off his words.

"Uhm..." Josia darted his eyes left and right, all nervous.

"Come on, I’m not even interrogating you," Ymir leaned back.

"It’s because of...Sister Francesca," Josia mumbled.

"""..."""

Everyone looked at him like he was some brainless guy.

"You became a Priest because of a woman?" Ymir asked.

"S-sort of..." Josia replied.

"Aren’t you all supposed to be...all sane?" Ymir furrowed his brows.

"Sanity is just having a pure mind," Josia said it like he was really a devoted priest.

"So you left a good life behind leaving all the money or success you could achieve and became a priest just to look at a woman, and not even confess or have sex?" Ymir asked.

"Uh---"

Josia was now contemplating over his life choice rather than thinking about his current situation.

.-.-.-.-.-.

*Crash*

A bottle of wine filled with a fine scent of aged red berries crashed against the wall in the castle of Winifred.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD IS HAPPENING?" A man with bright blonde hair, and a black three piece suite screamed banging his fist on the table in Winifred’s office.

He was Cymbal Celestie of Lunar.

The shards of the glass made a small but fine cut on the right cheek of Winifred as a red blood line appeared on his face, but he remained calm and seated in his usual with a tea-cup in his hands.

"All you have to do is just create a diversion. A chaos big enough to diverge the forces of the crown, and all of your plans, literally all of them are failing right now."

"How hard is it to kill a purple haired slut that you HAVE SACRFICED TWO OF MY FINE PAWNS?" Cymbal growled.

"You call yourself a master strategist Winifred? Or have you already sided with the covenant, because now, I might be starting to lose my patience. From Krells incident, every single move you make is either disrupted or fucking backfired in some manner,"

Winifred touched his cheek with two fingers, looked at the blood, and said nothing.

Cymbal straightened his cuffs, taking in a deep breath.

He walked to the chair across from Winifred and sat down with deliberate composure.

"Let me tell you something," Cymbal spoke.

"Two of my assets are gone, one died by his own contract, the covenant is now internally compromised in ways that will attract crown’s attention, and the saintess is still alive."

Silence stayed for a moment.

"I gave you resources, I gave you time, I gave you access to things dukes and master strategists of the queen spend their careers hoping to find," his eyes were red from the growling but settled anger.

"What I did not give you was permission to make my name visible in the wreckage of your failures."

"Your name has not come up, Your highness," Winifred replied.

"But it will. Sooner or later, if things keep going the way your are driving the wrecked wagon, my name will evidently show up, and when it does, there will be nothing left," Cymbal said.

"So I’m going to ask you one question," Cymbal said. "And I want you to answer it the way you used to answer the questions for my mother. Not the way you’ve been answering them for me."

"Is the saintess still alive because you failed? Or because something changed that you haven’t told me about yet?"

"Variables keep changing, your highness, and I’ve got my mind swirling in a web of hypotheses." Winifred replied calmly.

"State your mind Winifred. Even baseless theories are backed by intuition, and a man would be smart enough to hear your thoughts out."

"It might be circumstantial, but I noticed something odd. His Highness, The fourth Prince Ymir Celestie of Lunar used to attend royal banquets, but then came a time where he started skipping a lot of these occasions," Winifred spoke.

Cymbal listened carefully, but then he furrowed his brows.

"Why does any of our situation hold relevance to Ymir’s attendance in a party?" he asked.

"Because the only banquets that the fifth Prince did not attend were the ones where Marcus Rile was present."

"And the only banquets that Marcus Rile did not attend were the ones where the fifth Prince was present."

"On surface it sounds as if both of them avoid each other, but then I heard what Marcus Rile was offered by the Duke of Krells in return for his help."

"What was it?" Cymbal asked.

"The head of the fifth Prince."

"Marcus Rile, and Ymir Celestie of Lunar are working together, your highness, but its just a speculation. But if they really are working together, then you’re not against just some mere strategists of the crown or covenant, you’re against the mind of Ymir Celestie of Lunar, and the powers of Marcus Rile."

"And I don’t find joy in telling you that Ymir has a mind that far surpasses those of strategists. Because he was able to deduce and stop the rebellion without contacting anyone from the crown or the covenant. He just simply used Krells against themselves, he baited your finest assassins, and he is the one who is protecting Violet."

"And in all of the situations that occurred up until now, his name was never revealed except for the fact that he stood by the Saintess in her trial as her spouse. And even right now, I have no evidence that it is Ymir Celestie who is behind countering all of our schemes without even using his own resources."

"Because as the fifth Prince he’s the master of Palace of Rain, and father of all the mountain Lions, and the magicians that live on the mountain. His forces enough measure to suppress a rebellion with sheer force, but he countered every single of my moves without utilizing a speck of his resources."

"If I were you, I wouldn’t be impatient and lose myself to anger, but I’d sit calmly, and think because now it’s a game of chess against someone who’s equally powerful, and far more cunning than we are, Your Highness."

Silence sustained for moments and Cymbal closed his eyes, calming himself down.

"Then stop treating him like a Prince," Cymbal spoke, opening his eyes.

"And start treating him like an enemy."