Kael did not speak at once.
His gaze remained fixed on Serena Liorè, studying her with a quiet intensity—not suspicion, not awe, but the careful consideration of someone weighing truth against responsibility.
The room held its breath.
Serena shifted slightly under the attention, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves. She looked small standing there, out of place among nobles and warriors alike.
"…Me?" she asked softly, glancing once toward Niana, then back to Kael. "I—Your Highness, I think there's been some mistake."
Kael rose.
The movement alone commanded silence.
He stepped down from his seat, stopping a respectful distance in front of her, and inclined his head—formally, sincerely.
"Lady Serena Liorè," he said, voice steady, "there is no mistake."
Serena stiffened, clearly unsure whether she should bow or retreat.
Kael continued, "You have been named in the Divine Word as a Saintess—one whose presence brings guidance, protection, and balance. This campaign will place many lives at risk. I will not deny the truth simply because it is inconvenient."
Serena's eyes widened.
"I… I don't understand," she whispered. "I've never been trained. I don't wield a blade. I don't even know how I came to be here."
A murmur rippled faintly through the hall.
Eryx tilted his head, interest sharpening.
Sir Aurelian watched her like one would watch a fragile glass set too close to the edge of a table.
Kael did not waver.
"You are not being asked to fight," he said. "You are being asked to stand with us."
He extended a hand—not grasping, not forceful.
"Lady Serena Liorè," he said clearly, so all could hear, "I formally invite you to join my squad in the coming campaign. Not as a soldier… but as our Saintess."
Serena stared at his hand as if it might vanish.
"…If I say no?" she asked quietly.
Kael met her gaze.
"Then I will respect your choice," he replied. "But know this—whether you walk with us or not, the world will move. I would rather it move with you protected than alone."
Silence fell again.
Serena swallowed.
She looked overwhelmed, frightened—yet somewhere beneath it, something stirred. A faint warmth, a pull she didn't know how to name.
Her voice trembled. "…I need time."
Kael nodded immediately. "You shall have it."
Then, softer, "But I hope you will choose to walk with us."
Serena lowered her head, hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"I… I will consider it."
Niana watched from her seat, heart thudding.
Good.
They've met.
The invitation is made.
But for some reason—
This didn't feel like relief.
It felt like the moment before something went very, very wrong.
And from the corner of the room, Lucien watched it all in silence—his expression unreadable, eyes flicking once to Niana… then back to Serena.
As if measuring two fates at once.
---
Prince Kael and his companies have left. Lucien, guided them out.
The room they were given was small and tucked away from the noise of the hall, its windows open just enough to let in a soft breeze. The sounds of voices outside were distant now, muffled by stone walls and heavy curtains.
Serena stood near the window, hands folded tightly at her waist.
Niana closed the door behind them.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Serena turned, and before Niana could say anything—
She bowed.
Deep. Clumsy. Too earnest.
"Your Grace," Serena said, voice trembling, "I owe you my life."
Niana startled. "W–Wait—Serena, you don't have to—!"
"I do," Serena insisted, lifting her head. Her eyes shone, wide and honest. "If you hadn't intervened… I truly believed I would be sold to someone cruel. I was so sure that… that my life would end there."
Her hands tightened.
"I thought I was being bought by a wicked master," she admitted softly. "I prepared myself for that fate. But instead… I was saved. And now I'm standing here, being invited by the Crown Prince himself."
She let out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sob.
"It feels unreal."
Niana's chest ached.
She stepped closer. "Serena…"
Serena shook her head quickly. "Please—listen. I don't think I'm… worthy of this. Of the title they gave me. Saintess." She bit her lip. "I don't know how to heal, or bless, or guide anyone. I'm afraid that if I stand beside His Highness… I'll only slow him down. I might hinder everyone."
Her shoulders slumped, the weight of expectation already pressing down on her.
"I am considering joining him because I felt I have no right to refuse," she said quietly. "After what you did for me… after what the Crown Prince offered… but I'm scared."
Niana looked at her—really looked.
Serena Liorè wasn't glowing with divine confidence. She wasn't fearless or composed.
She was human.
And somehow, that made Niana smile.
Niana reached out, gently taking Serena's hands.
"Serena," she said, voice warm, steady. "Do you know what I see?"
Serena blinked. "W–What?"
"I see someone who was terrified… and still chose to stand up." Niana squeezed her hands lightly. "Someone who survived something horrible and still has the courage to worry about others instead of herself."
Serena's eyes trembled.
"That's not someone who hinders," Niana continued. "That's someone people will rely on."
"But I don't know anything..." Serena whispered.
Niana smiled, a little crooked. "Good. Neither do half the people pretending they do."
Serena let out a surprised, breathy laugh.
Niana leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to save the world tomorrow. Just… stay alive. Learn. Grow. The rest will come."
She paused, then added softly, "And you're not alone. I'll make sure of that."
Serena stared at her.
"…You will?"
Niana nodded. "I promise."
For a long moment, Serena didn't speak.
Then, slowly, she squeezed Niana's hands back.
"…Thank you, Your Grace." she said, voice steadier now. "If I can become even half as strong as you… I think I'll be okay."
Niana's smile faltered for a split second.
Strong, huh.
If only she knew.
But aloud, Niana only said, "You'll be stronger than you think."
Outside the room, footsteps passed by—measured, familiar.
Lucien.
And for reasons Niana couldn't quite name, she had the strange feeling that this quiet conversation—this promise—had just changed the story more than any dramatic scene ever could.