Bianca stared at me. I could see the doubt in her eyes, the resistance to doing this. But it was necessary. She knew it too.
"I don't understand why you insist on suffering over a name and a pair of eyes from bastards who tried to kill you," Bianca said, clear anger bleeding into her voice.
"What does my name have to do with anything?"
"Everything. You don't see it because you refuse to let go of it. As long as you cling to that name, you'll never break the chains tying you to the theocracy. Do you think it's a coincidence we've never even tried to move our headquarters out of this city? You know very well there are more powerful cities within the Theocracy."
Bianca was breathing hard. I stayed silent.
I understand that my chains are part of my name. The name of the Pope. The royal family of the great Theocracy. A legacy granted by my eyes.
But I can't abandon them. To renounce them would mean abandoning my mother, abandoning my grudges. I can't allow that. Never.
I took a deep breath, enough to steady myself.
"My chains, Bianca, have fused into my ankles. Flesh no longer separates from iron. The mark of heresy I carry won't disappear. I'll always be marked. But I can't keep swinging blindly at new threats just because my past is a little tragic."
Bianca scoffed, clearly frustrated.
"You know perfectly well the Inquisition is the least of it, Severin. You know exactly what those eyes will do to you."
Silence stretched between us, until a knock at the door cut through the tension.
"Come in," I said.
Samantha stepped inside. Like her sister, she had the same green eyes, but her blonde hair, tied into a refined braid, showed a different sense of style.
Wearing a casual dress that fit her in all the right places, Samantha approached the desk after closing the door.
"Boss, sis… I've got bad news," she said with a sigh.
"What is it now, Sammy?" Bianca asked calmly, her earlier anger completely gone.
"The archbishop of the city has been mobilizing inquisitorial troops in different directions. Looks like they're hunting specific targets. Mostly young people, from what my girls are telling me."
"I thought you'd lost control of the brothels," I said, recalling the power struggle with a viscount's family two months ago.
"That was only temporary. Thanks to Bianca diverting a few resources so a couple of that noble family's harvests 'accidentally' went missing, I was able to take back control," Samantha said with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes.
I breathed deeply. The past few months, chasing every report of beings resembling the players, had made me neglect my responsibilities within Crow's Nest. I'd overloaded both of them with work, and they were clearly at their limit—dark lines beneath their eyes barely hidden under makeup.
"I'm sorry about that, girls," I said quietly.
They both waved it off like it was nothing, and we continued.
"Sammy," Bianca said, more tense now, "they've arrived. The players. Can your girls confirm whether the Holy Inquisition is hunting them?"
"They can try, but that kind of information doesn't slip even from the drunkest cardinal," Samantha replied.
A collective sigh filled the room.
"Then there's no other choice, Bianca. We can't let the Church control the players."
Bianca looked at me, then, resigned, activated a communication device reserved for high-ranking members of the organization.
A man in a three-piece suit entered the room. A professional smile rested on his face, but something sharp and dangerous radiated from him.
"Jon, prepare safehouse number three for private use," Bianca ordered. The softness from before was gone.
Jon bowed deeply. "It will be done, Lady Bianca."
Then he disappeared through the door.
"This is still a bad idea, but we'll move you far enough that they won't have time to reach you during the ritual," Bianca said.
Samantha blinked between the two of us, confused. Then understanding hit her as she looked at me.
"You're going to activate them? Have you lost your mind?" she snapped.
These sisters are going to make me go bald.
"No. There's just no other option. I'm sorry, Sammy," I said as I stood.
"We still need you there, Sammy," Bianca added.
She only nodded, fear and the shadow of old memories in her eyes.
Silence returned.
The room, lit only by candles, reflected faces that were far from pleased with the situation.
Maybe there was a better way.
But I wasn't strong enough to take it.
Minutes turned into hours.
Until the door sounded again.
Jon entered, still immaculate in his suit, a stiletto ready in his hand.
"Lady Bianca, Lady Samantha, Lord Severin. Everything is ready," he said, bowing.
"Jon, you know formalities aren't necessary in private," I said, waving a hand.
"Lord Severin, we may be brothers in arms, but you are still my superior," he replied calmly.
Understanding it was time to move, I stood.
Before leaving, I bowed deeply to the people who had stood by me all these years.
"That's not necessary, Severin," Bianca said, though the faint smile on her lips betrayed her words.
The four of us left the office together.
Before stepping out, we all used my master's appearance-altering ritual. It was necessary. If we ran into enemies, killing openly in the city was the last thing we could afford.
We moved slowly through the lobby. Destiny weighed on my shoulders as I convinced myself the risk was necessary.
I didn't have the power to face the Holy Church alone. This was the only way to find a path to victory.
We continued until we reached the streets of the Middle District.
Maybe it was fear, but I was noticing everything in sharper detail. The mansions weren't small, and nobles and merchants laughed among themselves.
"They laugh, and then they're the first to stab each other in the back," Samantha said with contempt.
"It's always been that way. It always will be," I replied, a trace of disappointment in my voice. "They don't know any other way. Not that we're any better. We protect our interests. Everyone does."
"Yeah, but our interests are our family. Theirs… pff. They'd stab fathers, sons, brothers, sisters, all for a bit of political power," Bianca said, disgust in her eyes.
"The sword always prevails, Lady Bianca. Except against those children," Jon added, ever the fanatic for combat.
"Not everyone betrays. Not everyone hates. Maybe most do. But there are still people you can trust," Samantha said, her voice carrying a quiet wisdom born from experience.
"I can agree with that," I said, turning my gaze away from the nobles and toward my destination.
To look upon the world itself.
And the world does not like to be watched.