It was early in the evening in the Grand Duchy of Bellevue, in one of the church's most prominent edifices across the kingdom.

A man stood at the base of an altar, atop which stood a large golden statue of a man, holding in his arms a little girl that was innocently pointing forward. The statues were not of just anyone; they were of the Djeem, the accursed, the apostle, and his daughter.

The man, Paul was contemplating the said statues when the sound of footsteps entering the large room snapped him out of his contemplative trance.

Without leaving the statues of the eyes, Paul knew who these steps belonged to, at first slow and careful, but as they got closer, they became more boastful and confident, giving him the impression that the person to whom they belonged was at first wary of his surroundings but then came to the realization that there was no need to.

Finally leaving Djeem's statue of the eyes, Paul faced the person who'd just arrived and whose red eyes were akin to those of a beast ready to jump onto its prey at any given moment.

"Good evening, Prince Ymir." Paul smiled, reaching out his arm for a simple handshake.

But the man to whom Paul was speaking remained blind to his held-out arm and deaf to his greetings.

Paul, unsurprised, withdrew his hands and went on, "I hope you won’t take too much offense at my early blunt." As I had come earlier and my prince seemed to have taken, understandably, his time, I inadvertently found myself lost in thought while admiring those beautiful statues in your church. "It's beautiful, don’t you think, my prince?"

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"What do you want? Why did you summon me here?" Paul was brutally cut by the prince.

Interrupted, Paul remained silent for a moment before engaging in a deep staring contest with the man, and it was only moments later, as the contest came to an end, that he announced, "I'm sure my Prince knows what I sought of him," glancing toward the golden statues. We both know the Royal family has "the mo—," a collaborator of mine needs it, and my family is willing to pay whatever price or concession is needed for its acquisition."

To use Paul’s words, the man inquisitively stared at him, as though he had committed blasphemy.

"For a man who was begging to be sparred just a few months ago, you've grown quite bold."

"It was my prince who suggested I get straight to the point. I am very sorry if I have misinterpreted your words, my prince."

"Cut your crap already. Your answer is no."

"Is that a final answer or a bargainable one, my prince?"

"The Royal family does not make bargains, and neither do I. Certainly not to a man like you," said the man, closing the gap between himself and Paul as though to appear more intimidating, which, to be fair, he already was, yet it simply was not enough to make Paul bat an eye.

"I see..." Paul seemingly concluded.

"What a waste of time."

The man then distanced himself, seemingly ready to leave, only to be asked, a few steps toward the exit, by Paul, "May I ask, when you said "I," was it the Prince Ymir who made that claim, or was it the Holy Paladin Ymir Altair?"

With no pause whatsoever, the man answered, "Both."

"I see. It is noted, my prince," Paul said, to mumble later, once the Holy Paladin was gone, "it truly is. Such a shame. Truly."