An oppurtunity

The Cathedral of the church had grown quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Grand halls, while ago filled with hymns that were sang to the heavens, echoed now with the sound of footsteps that barely dared to tread its marble floors. The gilded statues of saints seemed dimmer in the flickering torchlight, their majestic visages dulled by dust and neglect. 

Outside, the streets told a grimmer story. 

Merchants laughed openly about the Church's "pious" greed, while commoners whispered of priests who sold blessings for coin and absolved sins in exchange for favors. 

Faith had not merely dwindled—it had curdled into disdain. 

But the Church endured, clinging to life through the steady flow of gold sent anonymously by one man: Prince Aric Valerian.

It was a bitter truth that only a few knew, and it was one he intended to use tonight.