The rest of my jaunt was mind-numbingly boring. I was forced to slow my pace to accommodate Marissa and Peter, especially Marissa, who lagged behind constantly.

We passed a handful of injured residents who recognized Peter. Despite my grumblings, they ended up trailing me as I led them toward the war front. At a certain point, the number of residents following in my shadow made entering any combat zone a tactical error—not because they might die, which would have lightened my burdens at the moment, but because it would brand me as an incompetent ruler leading civilians to their deaths.

Reputation would be everything moving forward, at least until I reached a core level that couldn’t be defied. If I built a reputation for heroism and strength, attacks on my territories would be seen as attacks on the people themselves. But if I was seen as incompetent or tyrannical, any assault on my domain would be viewed as a righteous act on behalf of the people. My advisors and father had always stressed the importance of reputation.

Once I’d become Queen of Aedronir, it had become something of a nuisance, and I chose to ignore it. Only when I was betrayed and the entire country turned on me due to false allegations did I realize my mistake. By then, it was far too late—the damage had been done.

I wouldn't let myself fall into the same trap.

This time, I would build a reputation so solid it would never waver under the pressure and whispers of conniving snakes.

I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder at the group of fifteen or so individuals trailing behind me. What in Ashwash’s name was I going to do with all of them? They had further slowed my pace and we were practically not moving at all through the city's ruins. After I'd taken a handful of random turns we'd long since passed the upper residential sections and seemed to be in some sort of slums. The area was similar to all the others in terms of the ruins and dilapidated status, though there was a stench now. And loads of garbage scattered over the ground that made an occasional noise whenever someone kicked it.

Leaning toward Marissa, I whispered, “Why are they following us? Shouldn’t they go home?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, giving me such a motherly expression that I had to fight the urge to scowl. “Truly, Lady Silverwater, just how young are you?” When I didn’t answer, she sighed. “They have no home left. You are their lord now. What else would they do but hope you help them?”

“They should start rebuilding. Following me around like lost dogs does nothing for them.”

Marissa shrugged. “They are peasants. Following their lord has been ingrained in them since birth.”

“Do they hold no loyalty to the Marquess?” I asked.

“Some, perhaps. But the Marquess wasn’t the most accommodating man. Even among the nobility, he was mostly referred to as the Mad Scholar. The council managed daily issues since he was rarely present.”

I nodded, understanding now. “What about the council members?”

She stared at me again with that same look my mother used to give me. I pushed down the emotion bubbling up inside me. How was this woman evoking such feelings in me? Was it because she was the mother of a Lunari? “Most of the council members left with Marquess Sharma when he was called away. Only a few, including Peter, stayed behind. As for the others, they likely died or remained in Darh’am when the Marquess returned with his wyverns.”

“Darh’am?”

“The capital of Cael,” she responded with that same look.

I scowled. “I didn’t have time to study Cael’s cities after I was stolen and forced into slavery in the arenas,” I snapped, momentarily forgetting myself. It hardly mattered if people knew what had happened to me, but I would have preferred to establish myself first. There was no need to broadcast my having been enslaved.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Fortunately, the knowledge seemed to have the opposite effect on Marissa than I’d expected. Instead of looking repulsed or ashamed, she appeared absolutely furious.

“They kept a daughter of nobility in a cage to fight for entertainment?” she shouted, her brows drawn and eyes narrowed into slits. “For the entertainment of commoners?” Marissa stared ahead, seemingly cooling down, but then her gaze snapped back to me so fast that I nearly flinched. “Surely the royal family would have pulled you from those cages?”

I twirled a strand of my hair as we walked through another block of ruined buildings. “I met the King of Cael, but he chose to keep me with the slaves. Likely because I killed his son-in-law.”

She gaped at me, and I noticed Peter’s eyes had grown as wide as saucers. Marissa recovered first and smirked. “He never did like Damien. I doubt it was for that reason.”

The way she said that made it sound as if I should know who Damien was. I racked my brain trying to place the name. Damien. Damien. The scream of a princess came to mind, and I snapped my fingers, cutting off whatever Marissa had been saying.

“Ah. Yes, Gideon. I remember the princess calling him Damien.” I chuckled as the memories returned. It was true that the King hadn’t seemed overly fond of the son-in-law.

That’s when Peter’s eyes widened, and he stopped walking. The others behind him paused as well. Everyone stared at him as he raised a trembling hand toward me, then knelt on the ground. He hadn’t done that even under my intimidation, so what…

“I beg your forgiveness for my behavior earlier, Saintess. I hadn’t realized you were the messenger of the Light Goddess from the Arenas. I-I’d heard you’d died,” he said, his voice a stark contrast to what it had been. Where it had once been stilted and formally respectful, it was now submissive, each word filled with reverence.

Saintess? Like the name Damien, the title felt distant, and it took me a moment to recall what he was talking about.

I tried to wave off his words and pulled him back to his feet. “I never finished the church’s tests, so I believe I’m only a candidate.”

Unfortunately, even as I spoke and attempted to help the worshipping Peter to his feet, the other dozen or so people followed his lead. Marissa stayed on her feet, but by the look in her eyes, I knew it was more due to her pregnancy than any lack of desire to kneel.

“Your Eminence, those of us who witnessed you bring that man back to life have no doubt of your divinity. It was a miracle of the heavens that left no doubts,” Peter declared. There was a murmuring of assent. “Lilliana Silverwater,” Peter murmured under his breath, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Saintess of Light, Duchess of House Alistar, and our Lord. Please lead us to the Light. I am ever grateful that you have chosen my daughter as one of your own.” The man dropped his other knee and kowtowed, placing his forehead on the ground.

Then, as if by some unseen command, all at once, the entire group of kneeling worshippers began to chant, “Oh Goddess of Light, we thank thee for your blessing. For your disciples. For your Saintess. We bow before Your Light. You are infinite. She is infinite.”

It wasn’t my first time experiencing kowtows, nor was it the first time I was spoken to with reverence, but I had never been worshipped before. I was not a god or some great hero. But as the last person touched their head to the cold dirt ground, my breath caught.

A wave of unease coursed through me as I struggled not to flinch at the sound of their chanting. It was eerie, chilling, and disturbing all at once. Though I could sense no foreign energy or magic in the area, each repetition of the chorus felt like something was gripping me. As if an actual god were trying to persuade me to become something more than just a queen.

I glanced around, unsure what to do. I couldn’t give them a moving speech or tell them to stop, especially since I doubted they would. For the first time in ages, I was at a complete loss. Even my hands felt awkward, and I couldn’t figure out what to do with them. I ended up stuffing them into my pockets. I took a hesitant step back, heart pounding as I locked eyes with Marissa, who only offered a small smile before redirecting her gaze to the ground.

My stomach dropped. I couldn’t explain why, but it did. I knew I'd been on the verge of... something and that I'd instantly lost it. Again.

In the end, I remained silent and bore their collective deference as I came to a decision.

It didn’t matter if divinity existed or was involved in my life. Its existence didn’t change my goals. And if I could gather more support for those goals by playing Saintess, then so be it. Tools, after all, were meant to be used.

When the chanting finally stopped, leaving a deafening silence, I cleared my throat and lied outright. “You are correct, Peter of House Rish’ah. I am the Saintess of the Goddess Dhalia, who has bestowed upon me the limited ability of life.” At that moment, an idea took shape in my mind, and I gave the fifteen before me a toothy smile. “Come. We have yet to reach our destination.”

Which was no longer the war front.

No. I had other plans now. Better plans.

My core surged to life as adrenaline coursed through me, and I began to circulate my heart energy in preparation for the upcoming light show.

If they wanted a divine leader, that’s what I would give them. In return, they would follow me to their deaths.

And beyond.