What do you mean you failed?

They rode the horse through the city gate and passed by rows of the same buildings. The only distinct feature was twelve hills, resembling white castles, scattered across the island.

The streets were so spotless, anyone who passed by was either a priest, priestess, or slave who had collar chains on.

Despite the lit windows and passing figures, the city lacked vitality. No joy filled their gazes—only the vacant obedience of those brainwashed to serve the church.

The envoy remained indifferent, believing the world to be just like their own.

They passed through with their horses, heading towards the castle in the middle of the island—here, the first pope resides and where meetings are conveyed with the others.

Flying was banned in the city; forcing them to travel on horseback, no matter the castle's distance.

Meanwhile, deep within the castle, inside a secret room adorned with whips and crosses.