The next morning, Linus woke with a rare sense of satisfaction. Early sunlight seeped through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden hue. He glanced at Eliza beside him, her breath steady, her face calm in sleep. The memory of the previous night surfaced, bringing with it a quiet triumph.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering for a moment too long. Eliza stirred, her lips curling faintly in a half-smile. “Eliza,” he said firmly as he nudged her shoulder. “It’s time to wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, their sleepy confusion giving way to clarity—and then a hint of unease. Linus watched her closely as recognition settled, the apprehension flickering across her face like a shadow.

“Good morning,” Linus said with a faint smile. “We have a busy day ahead.”

Eliza sat up slowly, pulling the sheet close around her. “What time is it?” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Early,” he replied. “But we need to prepare for the priestess’s visit. Today is important—for both of us.”

Eliza nodded without speaking, her eyes dropping as she gathered her thoughts. Linus studied her, noticing the vulnerability behind her composed exterior. He stepped closer, his fingers gently tilting her chin until her eyes met his.

“It’s time to step into your role,” he said purposefully. “The Princess must see you as her ally—and you need to believe it yourself.”

Eliza inhaled deeply, her posture straightening. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft yet determined. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Linus said, his smile sharpening with approval. “Now, get dressed. We have work to do.”

As Eliza prepared, Linus considered the day ahead. The priestess’s visit was pivotal—a chance to solidify Eliza’s position and, by extension, his grip on the town. It would demand precision, subtlety, and an unflinching determination to control the narrative.

When she emerged, Linus met her at the door, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “Remember,” he said, his voice a quiet command. “You represent the Princess. Show them your strength and your capability. Let them see you as someone deserving of their respect.”

Eliza’s gaze was controlled now, her earlier hesitation replaced by resolve. "I will," she declared, her voice unwavering and filled with a confident determination, even as a brief flicker of fear danced behind her eyes.

After a muted breakfast tinged with unspoken anticipation, a servant entered the dining room, bowing respectfully. “The priestess has arrived,” he announced. “Shall I escort them to the living room?”

Eliza nodded, her hand gripping the table’s edge. Linus’s sharp eyes caught the slight tremor in her fingers—a fleeting sign of nerves she tried to mask. “Yes, please do,” she said, her voice firm yet instantly hinting at an underlying tension that Linus could sense.

As they made their way to the receiving room, their silence crackled with unspoken plans and shared determination.

The soft tread of footsteps echoed through the grand hallway as the priestess entered, her white robes gleaming in the morning light. Behind her, two young aides followed, their eyes wide as they took in the grandeur of the manor—the intricate tapestries and the polished marble floors that reflected every step.

Linus recognized the priestess immediately. Athena was strikingly young, far younger than he had anticipated. Her serene face and piercing blue eyes seemed to hold an inner calm, framed by cascades of golden hair. Her white robe, trimmed with understated gold embroidery, exuded an ethereal elegance as though she belonged to another realm.

Athena carried a staff carved from pale ash wood, its delicate crystal tip catching the light. The staff, the mark of an channeled, rested lightly in her grip, hinting at both authority and strength. Beside her stood her aides—one with long, dark hair and a warm, open expression, the other with short auburn locks and a quiet air of confidence.

Linus observed the two young women carefully. The one with dark hair—Camila—was clearly awestruck, her wide eyes drinking in the opulent furnishings and intricate decor. Isla, the auburn-haired aide, appeared similarly captivated, her eyes darting between the tapestries and paintings that adorned the walls. Their youthful curiosity was unmistakable.

Eliza stepped forward, her posture composed, her voice warm but formal. “Welcome, Priestess Athena. Thank you for coming.”

Athena inclined her head gracefully. “Thank you for having us, Lady Eliza. These are my aides, Camila and Isla,” she said, her tone carrying a note of hesitation that belied her position. Linus recalled hearing of her unexpected rise to the role after the previous priest’s untimely death. The uncertainty in her speech and mannerisms reflected her inexperience.

Taking a steadying breath, Athena continued, “I’ll get straight to the point. We need a solution for the orphanage. The temple of the Order of Radiant Light is sheltering the children for now, but their numbers keep growing—largely due to the Prince’s ongoing campaign. We are at a breaking point and desperately need help.”

Eliza’s brow furrowed as she considered Athena’s words. She averted her gaze momentarily before looking up again. Her voice, though gentle, resonated with a steely determination. “How many children are we talking about?”

Athena exchanged a glance with her aides, drawing strength from their presence. “About fifty,” she replied. “They range in age, and we lack the resources to care for them properly. We need financial support to provide for their well-being.”

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Eliza turned to Linus, her face seeking his guidance. Linus stepped forward, his tone calm and measured. “We understand the gravity of your situation, Priestess. Caring for these children is vital. However, we need specifics—how much funding you require, the type of facilities you envision, and any additional logistical needs.”

Athena’s grip on her staff tightened slightly as she spoke again, her voice steady yet subdued. “We need funds for food, clothing, and educational materials.” She paused, glancing at her aides before continuing. “And space. A larger, permanent space for the children. The temple grounds… they’re no longer sufficient.”

Linus exhaled slowly, his voice shifting to a pragmatic calm. “The current state of affairs—the war and the recent mine issue—makes substantial financial support difficult. Our resources are already stretched thin.”

Athena’s shoulders sagged, her composure faltering for a moment. Linus’s words echoed the responses she had faced so many times before. “I understand,” she said, her voice subdued. “We’ve heard similar answers elsewhere. Everyone acknowledges the problem, but they have their own burdens.”

Linus leaned back slightly, the faint creak of his chair punctuating the heavy silence. He let the tension settle, his calculating gaze locked on Athena. Watching uncertainty flicker in her eyes, he finally leaned forward, his voice deliberate and smooth. “There is a way we can make this work,” he said, his words carefully measured. “But it will require adjustments—and forward-thinking from all of us.”

He let his statement hang in the air, its weight drawing Athena’s attention entirely. Her furrowed brow relaxed, curiosity replacing her initial doubt. “What do you suggest?” she asked with a mix of caution and hope.

Athena’s hesitance was expected; it was the natural response to an uncomfortable truth. The key was framing his proposal just right. He let the silence stretch, his eyes fixed on Athena, reading the subtle shifts in her expression.

Finally, he spoke, calm and commanding. “We can provide the financial support and facilities you need. But this isn’t charity—it’s an investment. These orphans can become a valuable resource for the future. Once they reach a certain age, they can serve the community in structured roles. Mandatory service, if you will. This will help build a stronger infrastructure and provide them with discipline, skills, and purpose.”

Athena’s brows knit together. “Mandatory service? Are you proposing to turn them into soldiers?”

Linus nodded, his tone measured. “Not just soldiers. Some can serve in administrative, logistical, or medical roles. This program would equip them with training and experience for adulthood. In return, we ensure their well-being and education now.”

Athena hesitated, unease flickering across her face. “These are children, not tools for war. They deserve futures free from obligation.”

Linus lowered his voice, yet he stayed firm in his stance. “I understand your concern, but this is more than obligation—it’s opportunity. We offer them stability and a safe environment now in exchange for their eventual contribution to the community. A partnership, if you will. It ensures they grow up with purpose, while the town benefits from their service.”

Athena sighed, her gaze falling as she weighed his words. After a moment, she nodded reluctantly. “It’s not ideal, but if it’s the only way to secure help for them... I agree.”

Linus’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. “We’ll ensure the program prioritizes their best interests. They’ll be cared for and given every opportunity to thrive.”

Feeling the tension in the air, Eliza moved closer, her voice laced with understanding and warmth. “Priestess Athena, you have our word—the well-being of these children will always come first. We will work closely with you to ensure they’re prepared for a bright future.”

Athena’s lips tightened into a thin line, doubt still lingering in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders as if bracing herself. “Very well. I will hold you to that promise. These children deserve every chance at life.”

Linus extended his hand to her, sealing the agreement. “You have our word. Together, we’ll make this a reality.”

Athena clasped his hand, her grip firm despite her hesitation. “Thank you. This means a great deal—to us and the children.”

Linus released her hand, his focus shifting. “Who will manage the orphanage?”

Athena gestured to the two young women at her side. “I’ll oversee it personally, but Priestess Camila and Priestess Isla will handle day-to-day operations. Both were orphans themselves and have dedicated their lives to helping others.”

Isla, caught off guard by the mention of her name, startled slightly. Her wide-eyed gaze was fixed on the ornate furnishings. Linus noticed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Camila, more composed, nudged Isla gently to bring her back to the moment. Linus turned to both of them, his voice with a blend of warmth and authority instantly drawing their attention. “You’ll be working closely with Eliza and myself. We’ll ensure you have the resources and support you need.”

The young women nodded, a mixture of gratitude and nerves flickering across their faces.

As the group prepared to leave, a solemn shift crossed Linus's face, transforming his usual demeanor into deep contemplation. “Before you go, I have one more question. Can you tell me about Father Matthias’s death—the ‘Cleansing’?”

Athena’s face darkened, her voice heavy with grief. “Father Matthias’s murder was brutal. It wasn’t just a killing; it was a message. The term ‘Cleansing’ arose because the act was framed as purification—targeting those deemed corrupt or sinful by some unknown group. We have suspicions but no solid leads.”

Linus tilted his head back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Do you have any theories on who might be responsible?”

Athena shook her head. “There are whispers of a clandestine group tied to dark magic and political ambitions, but nothing concrete. The city guard has been investigating, but so far, they’ve found nothing.”

She hesitated, her features gradually melting into an expression of deep sorrow. “Father Matthias devoted his life to the orphanage and helping the needy. He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Linus gave a thoughtful nod, his expression a mask of calm contemplation, revealing nothing of the swirling thoughts beneath. “Thank you for sharing this. We’ll ensure the orphanage becomes a haven for the children, safe from any such dangers.”

Athena gave a final nod before leaving with her aides. Linus’s look lingered on the door as it closed, a faint smile on his lips.

Once the priestess and her aides were gone, Linus placed a hand on Eliza’s shoulder, his touch light but deliberate. Her shoulders tensed under his hand—a subtle but telling reaction. Her trust in him was still fragile, an unspoken reminder that their alliance remained tenuous. He allowed a faint smile to cross his lips, carefully masking his awareness of her unease. “You did well,” he said, his voice laced with a deliberate warmth. She needed to hear it, to believe it.

Eliza lifted her eyes to his, reflecting a blend of relief and determination. “Thank you, Linus. I couldn’t have done it without your guidance.”

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand fall. “Good. Now, let’s focus on what’s next. I’ll send Marcus to you—he’ll guide you through the next steps. He’s one of mine, and you can trust him.”

Eliza nodded, her breathing steadying as she straightened her posture. A deep breath seemed to ground her, her resolve becoming tangible. “I understand,” she said simply, her voice firmer now.

Linus observed her closely, watching as she regained her composure. A quiet satisfaction stirred within him, the kind born of meticulous planning falling into place. With each passing moment, her dependence on him deepened—and with it, his hold over Thornfield tightened.