LIII ※ Just One Wrong Answer and the Gods Will Have a Field Day

If I ended up answering this question wrong, I would anger the Gods' Temple, and that would definitely be a disaster for me. The Gods' Temple was not something to be taken lightly. It wasn't just a place of worship—it was a monument of power, an institution with immense sway over the entire Kingdom, and the Gods themselves, revered as the ultimate authorities in the land. Their wrath was not something anyone wanted to incur. It could destroy entire lives in a single moment, unraveling the carefully woven fabric of power that kept us all in check. Even the most influential among us—the most powerful Houses—were subject to their judgment, and no one was truly safe from their will. Everyone knew this, and everyone respected it, even if the respect was laced with fear. It was a necessary respect, the kind that kept people obedient and in line, even if it wasn't always given willingly. So, when I faced this test, the pressure was immense. The weight of this moment felt suffocating, knowing that a single wrong answer could lead to dire consequences.

The oracles, as I had learned from the oracle in the D'Arcy territory, were said to be the closest to the Gods. Their powers were unparalleled, their ability to see the future—a gift bestowed upon them by the Gods themselves. The oracles were not just diviners of fate, but living Saints, their powers setting them apart from ordinary mortals. They could glimpse not only the future of individuals but of the entire world, an all-seeing vision that made them indispensable to the Kingdom. Their role was sacred, and they were revered in ways that no ordinary person could ever hope to be. And yet, despite their connection to the divine, the oracles were not exempt from the politics of the Kingdom. They were protected by the Gods' Temple, yes, but they were also kept under the watchful eye of the rulers. Their knowledge was both a blessing and a curse, for it made them the most powerful, and at times, the most dangerous beings in the Kingdom.

I spoke confidently, drawing upon the memory of the oracle's words. "The oracles were once humans, but when the Gods bestowed them their power to see the future of anyone and of the world, they became Saints protected by the Gods' Temple!" The words felt right as they left my lips, a certainty I held onto as I delivered my answer. After all, I was almost certain it was correct, and I had heard it directly from the oracle in D'Arcy. His words had stayed with me ever since, like a whispered secret shared in the quiet of the night.

I could feel Rai let out a soft breath of relief behind me, a small exhale that brought a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn't that I was pleased for him, but that I had avoided making the mistake he seemed to expect. He had hoped for a misstep, and I hadn't provided it. Daisuke, on the other hand, was clearly annoyed. I could sense his frustration; his plan had failed, and he was visibly irritated by it. He had expected me to stumble—he had set the trap, believing I wouldn't be able to navigate the complex web of questions, but I had disappointed him. And that was something I didn't mind in the slightest.

"To whom do they answer?" Daisuke's voice rang out, breaking the silence with its sharp edge. It was almost as if he were daring me to make a mistake. The question seemed simple, yet there was a weight to it, a certain depth that required careful consideration. He was testing not just my knowledge, but my understanding of the intricacies of the political landscape.

The right answer would be: Only to the Gods. But that wasn't what the Royal family wanted to believe, it would mean the church is too powerful, and they need the false sense of control. So, I kept the real answer to myself and said what they wanted to hear.

"To the Gods through the Gods' Temple, and to the rulers of the Kingdom!" I answered, my words flowing easily now. I had anticipated this—this was the answer they wanted, the politically correct one that maintained the illusion of autonomy. The oracles needed to give the appearance that they weren't directly beholden to the Gods' Temple, even though they were. It was a carefully crafted lie, a necessary falsehood to maintain the delicate balance of power between the Temple and the Kingdom's rulers. It was all about appearances, about keeping the right people in control while still appeasing the Gods.

"Last question," Daisuke continued, his voice softening ever so slightly. "What is the Houses' ranking in power in the Maximillian Kingdom?" It was clear now that we were nearing the end of this round of questions. The stakes were still high, but the tension had shifted, becoming more about testing my basic knowledge. This wasn't a question meant to trip me up—it was a simple one. At least, it should have been.

"From top to bottom, in power. House Maximillian, House D'Arcy, House Erebus, House Rhory, and last but not least, House Nyra," I answered without hesitation. I knew this without a doubt. The five most powerful Houses were always at the forefront of the political landscape, and their influence reached into every facet of life in the Kingdom. House Maximillian, naturally, sat at the top, the ruling House that held dominion over all the others. Below them were House D'Arcy, House Erebus, House Rhory, and then House Nyra. Each House had its own area of influence—military, economy, or law—but Maximillian was the one that held it all together. House Nyra, while powerful, was the lowest, but even they had a significant impact on the Kingdom. I could hear a soft cheer from one of the girls in the room. I knew it was Rebekka. She always showed her support for me, and I could feel her pride radiating from her.

The Queen stepped forward, her regal presence commanding attention as the room fell silent. "Now, the second test. It's for you to draw something of your choice," she announced. Her voice was calm, yet there was something more beneath it—a sense of expectation. The shift in the atmosphere was immediate, as if the world itself had changed gears. I could sense movement around me, a flurry of activity as someone brought forward a painting frame and placed it in front of me. I didn't have to look to know what was happening; I could hear the sounds, the shuffle of footsteps, the quiet rustling of fabric. People were getting into position, and I could feel their eyes on me.

"So, what can you draw?" The Queen's question came again, though this time there was an added weight to it, a quiet challenge.

"Anything," I replied confidently, though I could hear the faint scoffs around me. I could feel the doubt in the room, the disbelief that I could truly pull off what I was promising. They didn't think I had the skill to do it, but I wasn't about to back down. "Just name it and I'll draw it!" I added, forcing my voice to carry the full weight of my conviction. I could feel their judgment, but I wasn't going to let it shake me. I would prove them wrong.

Out of nowhere, Rai's voice broke the tension. "Can you draw me?" His words caught everyone off guard, and I could feel the sudden stillness in the air. His request was unexpected, yet it seemed almost inevitable—Rai knew my abilities, he knew what I could do, and he was pushing me to my limits. "You've already seen how I'll die, so, you can look in my eyes and draw me. Can you do it?" It wasn't just a request; it was a challenge. Rai was testing me, seeing how far I would go, how much control I had over my power. I didn't hesitate.

"Yes!" I answered immediately, my voice firm and without doubt. I turned to the Queen, seeking her permission. "Any objections, Your Majesty?"

"Hm, no," she replied with a slight nod, her eyes not leaving me for a second. She then turned to the rest of the room, her gaze sweeping over them like a queen surveying her court. "I suggest you all avoid looking in the Princess' eyes, you all know what can happen," she warned. There was no need for her to elaborate; everyone in the room knew the consequences. There was a collective shudder, an understanding that ran through the crowd, as if they all instinctively knew the danger of staring into my eyes.

"And you," the Queen continued, her voice firm but calm, "only look at your brother, no one else, okay?" I nodded obediently, knowing that this was for the best.

"Your wish is my command, my Queen. I'll take my blindfold now," I said, my voice steady, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. I reached up and touched the knot that Sohan had tied for me earlier, carefully undoing it. The action felt almost ceremonial, as though I were preparing for something far greater than just a drawing. Once the blindfold was off, I folded it neatly and placed it in my lap, blinking several times as my eyes adjusted to the light again.

I could hear the soft gasps from the room. Most of them had never seen my eyes before, and they were all stunned by what they saw. The awe, the wonder, and yes, the fear—it was something I had grown accustomed to over the years. They couldn't help themselves. My eyes weren't just eyes; they were something else entirely, something otherworldly. And I knew they were all staring, mesmerized.

When my eyes finally settled on Rai, I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate how striking he looked. He was dressed in a fancy navy blue and gold suit, every inch the prince he was meant to be. His golden locks, identical to mine, were slightly messy but still perfect, and his eyes—the same ruby red as mine—seemed to glow under the sunlight. He nodded at me, sitting in a chair that was taller than mine, his gaze steady and calm. I took a deep breath and looked at the materials they had given me, holding the thin brush with black paint. And then, I began.