After her brief meeting with the three clan masters, Saintess Enya was "escorted" back to her private quarters by those present. Her role in this entire affair was simply to show her face when required, and nothing more.
Such was her existence. Though nominal Saintess of this snow-bound nation, she possessed little real authority during times like these. The lords merely offered reverence to her title, not her voice.
By her side, only a single person treated her as a genuine friend—her devoted maid, Kjera.
"You seem in high spirits today," Enya remarked softly. "Did something wonderful happen?"
Having spent practically every day together, Enya easily picked up on the subtle spark of joy in Kjera's expression, though she found herself puzzled by its source.
"I simply heard that guests have arrived in our nation," Kjera replied with a warm smile. "If travelers are willing to visit Kjerag at a time like this, it means our land is becoming far more welcoming to the outside world, doesn't it?"
It was a gentle white lie, and Enya saw right through it. Yet, she chose not to expose her maid, settling instead for a quiet nod as she sat in serene silence.
Enya was naturally reserved, rarely starting conversations. Usually, it fell on her to hunt for topics to break the quiet, leaving them in tranquil silence whenever her mind ran dry.
"I heard these visitors are distinguished guests of your brother's," Kjera offered, breaking the silence on her own accord to spark a conversation. "Supposedly, the legendary Saintess of Laterano is among them. I can't help but wonder what a Laterano Saintess is like... Do you think she's as lovely as our Enya?"
Saintess?
The word landed like a tiny pebble in the quiet pond of Enya's heart, sending subtle ripples across her spirit.
Those ripples reflected deep in her eyes. For the first time since arriving on the sacred mountain, the Saintess displayed a noticeable flicker of emotion—a reaction far more pronounced than when she had faced her own brother earlier.
"I really am curious," Kjera murmured softly, watching her closely. "Why is that Saintess allowed to walk freely across this vast land? Tell me, Enya... have you been wondering the same thing?"
Enya froze for a brief second. Her gaze faltered, shifting away in silent evasion. Kjera had struck the exact chord she kept buried deep within her chest.
Why? If they were both Saintesses, why was that girl blessed with complete freedom?
It was a question born from a young woman trapped inside the gilded cage known as the Vine-Bear Court—a Saintess forced to watch her years blur into a repetitive, unchanging routine, with decades more stretching out before her in identical isolation.
"Don't you think... this is a failing on Kjeragandr's part?" Kjera continued lightly. "If the deity were to grant a divine revelation, perhaps you wouldn't have to—mmph?!"
Before Kjera could finish, Enya slapped a hand over her maid's mouth, her expression instantly darkening into a severe, anxious reprimand.
"Never speak ill of Lord Kjeragandr on the sacred mountain!" Enya scolded in a hushed, trembling voice. "Every word spoken here—every word uttered across the snowbound domain—is carried straight to Kjeragandr's ears by the mountain breeze! You must never say such reckless things!"
Enya cast a nervous glance toward the closed door. She terrified herself with the thought that someone might be eavesdropping, ready to carry such sacrilege straight to the High Elder and bring heavy punishment down upon her maid.
"Rest easy, there is no one around," Kjera reassured her, gently easing Enya's hand away with a soft, confident smile. "Naturally, no one can hear our words. Don't tell me you doubt my abilities?"
Recognizing her maid's unusual talents in such matters, Enya let out a long, quiet sigh, her shoulders slumping. A heavy silence settled between them before she finally voiced the truth hidden deep in her heart.
"I don't believe Lord Kjeragandr's choices are wrong. Perhaps the deity of Laterano simply views the world differently than ours does. Still... if only I could step outside and see the world with my own eyes, just once."
Despite all her discipline, she could not suppress her envy for a Saintess she had never met—a girl she hadn't even known existed until moments ago. She envied her simply because that girl held the freedom Enya craved above all else.
"Perhaps an opportunity will come sooner than you think..." Kjera murmured, wrapping her arms around Enya in a gentle, comforting embrace.
In truth, Kjera had caught a glimpse of that visiting Saintess earlier—an existence utterly distinct from Enya. She had never imagined this land held a presence so miraculous, so profoundly beyond ordinary comprehension.
It felt as though an incomprehensible deity had poured its entire divine focus into that single girl, bestowing upon her wonders that defied explanation.
A deity beyond her understanding, and a Saintess who defied all logic... Kjera couldn't help but feel that such a visitor arriving in Kjerag might prove to be quite a captivating affair.
Perhaps their arrival here will turn out to be a blessing after all.
"They certainly didn't come here out of the goodness of their hearts! You had better explain their true motives right now!"
Back inside the grand council hall, Arctosz was the first to bark out, his booming voice shattering the quiet. The heavy Ursus warrior looked upon Enciodes's so-called "distinguished guests" with intense suspicion, practically itching to throw them out of the country on the spot.
Enciodes, faced with such a blunt demand, rejected it out of hand. He calmly reiterated that the visitors were his personal guests and that he had no intention of turning them away like common trespassers.
"If you insist on deporting them, so be it," Enciodes added, his tone smooth yet biting. "But the Paleroches family will personally explain to them that their expulsion is due to your own clan's appalling lack of manners."
Arctosz ground his teeth, clearly unwilling to take the blame for such a diplomatic insult. Slamming the butt of his heavy battleaxe against the floorboards, he snarled, "Who knows what your guests are really after? The first time your foreign contacts arrived, a modern factory rose in our valley. The second time, you started tearing open our mountains for ore! Both times gave you the leverage to reach your hands toward the sacred mountain! So what is your target this time—is it our families, or the Vine-Bear Court itself?"
"Everything I have done has been for the future of this nation!" Enciodes's voice sharpened, a rare flicker of heat rising in his eyes. "If not for the brainless actions of the Paleroches family, I would never have been forced to take such extreme measures!"
He leaned forward, fixing Arctosz with a piercing gaze. "Your men took it upon themselves to sabotage operational machinery at the worksite, exposing scores of workers to the risk of Oripathy infection! It drained every scrap of medical supplies my house had stored just to resolve that crisis safely. I invited these guests here specifically to secure a stable, low-cost supply of medicine..."
Arctosz fell silent, his fierce posture deflating slightly. Suspicious as the original sabotage had been, he could not deny the core facts.
It was indeed his hot-headed subordinates who had stormed the facility and triggered the containment breach. Though the root cause remained murky, the Silverash family had undeniably shouldered the burden of clearing up his clan's mess.
"Are you saying... these distinguished guests are medical merchants?"
Ratatos, who had been quietly watching the fiery exchange, finally chimed in. Her sharp eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked between the two men.
"Precisely," Enciodes replied, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "One of them is a long-standing partner of mine—the Doctor, who manages the pharmaceutical company known as Rhodes Island."
Calling Rhodes Island a simple "pharmaceutical company" felt surreal even to him. Before making contact with them, he would never have believed a medical firm could operate out of a massive landship. What kind of hospital needed a roaming fortress for a headquarter?
Kjerag didn't even possess a small landship of its own, yet Rhodes Island commanded a colossal steel leviathan. The sheer disparity had delivered quite a shock to his pragmatic mind.
"Rhodes Island..." Ratatos feigned a look of sudden realization, clasping her hands together. "Ah, isn't that where your sick little sister was sent for treatment? My, what a remarkable coincidence..."
"You can drop the act, Ratatos," Enciodes said plainly. "Ensia's medical treatment is hardly a secret within the Silverash family. Your spies undoubtedly delivered that file to your desk months ago."
"Oh, goodness me, how could you accuse me of such a thing?" Ratatos smiled sweetly, entirely unbothered. "I would never dare plant spies inside the Silverash household. A few of my subordinates simply happen to have very... talkative friends among your staff."
None of the leaders present believed a word of her denial. As a Zalak, she was easily the most cunning strategist among them, making it nearly impossible to squeeze an honest confession from her lips.
"Since these guests were invited for the good of Kjerag, it is only proper that the other two families assist in hosting them," Ratatos proposed, glancing toward Arctosz. "While the Silverash family focuses on resolving its internal matters and offering us a proper explanation, how about the Paleroches and Browntail families handle their reception together?"
Arctosz grunted in agreement, nodding his heavy head. With the two families aligned, the matter was effectively settled.
"If that is your decision, I shall acquiesce," Enciodes conceded smoothly, though a subtle glint flashed in his eyes. "However, I strongly suggest the Vine-Bear Court send a representative as well. Among the visitors is a particularly unique individual..."
He paused deliberately, letting the tension build in the quiet hall before delivering the punchline.
"She is the Saintess... of Laterano, the greatest religious power on this land."
Standing silently at the center of the chamber, the High Elder slowly raised his gaze, his withered hands tightening imperceptibly around his wooden staff.