A dangerous game.

The faint aroma of incense wafted through the dimly lit chamber as Aric read the letter once more. 

The parchment bore the delicate handwriting of Father Loris, one of the priests who had recently begun preaching reformist ideas. His words were carefully chosen, a delicate blend of loyalty to the Church and a yearning for a return to its uncorrupted origins. It was a balancing act, one Aric had encouraged, and now, it was time to push the pieces further across the board.

Serina stood by the window, the faint glow of moonlight framing her silhouette. "This is the sixth one this month," she said, her voice even. "The clergy is bending faster than I expected."

Aric set the letter down and leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. "They're desperate. Public trust in the Church is waning, and with Valen's warmongering and Sylas's shadows at play, they're looking for a savior. We'll give them one."