This was the branch stronghold of the Corrupt Abyss Cult located in the Silver Moon Duchy. The flickering candlelight cast twisted and eerie murals onto the walls like ghostly shadows, and the air was filled with thick incense and a faint, lingering scent of blood.
An elderly man with a gaunt face, dressed in deep purple robes, sat upon a high-backed chair carved from black bone. He held an intelligence scroll just presented by a subordinate, his withered fingers trembling slightly from the force of his grip. He slowly set the scroll down and let out a deep sigh. The sound echoed through the silent hall, causing his subordinates to lower their heads slightly.
"The Clear Water Lake stronghold... wiped out. Even Priest Carlos... Sigh..."
The body of a black-robed figure kneeling below trembled as he stuttered. "Y-yes, Elder. According to the final message sent back by our sacrificed informant, it is confirmed that Priest Carlos and all members under his command have... been martyred."
The Elder's cloudy eyes shifted, looking down at the black-robed figure. "Do we know who did it? Was it the Royal Mage Corps of the Silver Moon Duchy? Or those fellows from the Sun Thunder Knight Order?"
The black-robed figure hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. "Reporting to the Elder... according to reliable information... the one leading this operation was not a formal force of the Duchy. It was... the young lady of the Lafa Family."
"The Lafa Family's... young lady?" The Elder's pupils constricted suddenly, a look of disbelief flashing across his face. He sighed deeply once more, his tone filled with confusion. "Katerina Lafa? The successor of the Flame Sword... Why would she appear in a borderland like White Thorn City? Shouldn't she be staying in the capital?"
He furrowed his brows, pressing his withered fingers hard against his forehead, seemingly contemplating this sudden variable. The presence of Katerina Lafa had completely disrupted his plans. The Lafa Family was one of the top influential families in the Silver Moon Duchy. Every member of the family possessed formidable strength, especially this young lady, whose name resounded throughout the Duchy as the 'Flame Sword' and who was a standout among the younger generation.
With her in White Thorn City, many things would become troublesome.
After a long silence, the Elder suddenly looked up, a flash of decisiveness and ruthlessness in his eyes. He waved his hand and commanded the subordinate below.
"Pass down the order for Her Highness the 'Saintess' to prepare herself to lead a team personally to White Thorn City."
The black-robed figure looked up sharply, his face beneath the hood filled with shock. "Elder?! Sending Her Highness the Saintess personally? Isn't this... too risky? Katerina Lafa is currently in White Thorn City..."
"It is precisely because she is there that we need the Saintess to act personally!" The Elder interrupted him, his tone brooking no argument. "Ordinary cultists and Priests are nothing more than clay chickens and pottery dogs before her. Only Her Highness the Saintess, who possesses the great power bestowed by Our Lord, has a chance of dealing with the threat of the Flame Sword."
He paused, his eyes gleaming with a dark light. "Furthermore... it is currently the Harvest Festival, and White Thorn City is a melting pot of people, making it the perfect time for us to act. Let the Saintess blend into the festival crowds and act as she sees fit. The primary objective is to confirm the whereabouts of the holy relic fragment carried by Priest Carlos; it would be best if it can be recovered. Secondly... if there is an opportunity..."
The Elder's voice dropped, carrying a chilling coldness. "Let the people of White Thorn City feel the majesty of Our Lord's Abyss at their most joyous moment. Consider this a... small return gift for them destroying our stronghold."
"This subordinate understands!" The black-robed figure trembled and quickly accepted the order. "I will go inform Her Highness the Saintess immediately!"
Watching the subordinate's retreating back as he left the hall, the Elder leaned back into the cold bone chair, closed his eyes, and muttered to himself. "Katerina Lafa... I hope you like the festival surprise the Saintess has prepared for White Thorn City..."
The black-robed figure bowed and exited the main hall, which was thick with an oppressive atmosphere, and walked down the winding stone steps toward the depths of the stronghold. The torches on the walls stretched and twisted his shadow like a lurking monster. He finally stopped before a door that blended into the surrounding stone walls. This door was not made of rough black stone, but of dark warm wood, its surface polished so smooth that it could even vaguely reflect his figure.
He took a deep breath, raised his hand, and knocked three times lightly on the wooden door with his knuckles.
"Knock... knock... knock."
After a brief silence, a crisp girl's voice came from inside the room, like a clear spring in a secluded valley, instantly dispelling the gloom in the corridor. "Who is it? Is something the matter?"
The black-robed figure quickly lowered his head. Even though the other party could not see him through the door, he maintained a respectful posture. "Your Highness the Saintess, it is I. I have come to deliver instructions by order of the Elder."
"The Elder?" The girl's voice inside paused. "What did he say?"
"The Elder commands that Your Highness the Saintess prepare immediately to lead a team to White Thorn City personally." The black-robed figure cautiously repeated the instructions, explaining the fall of Priest Carlos and the mission to recover the lost holy relic fragment while giving the city a "warning" during the Harvest Festival.
A longer silence fell within the room. After a long while, that spring-like voice rang out again, its tone calm and rippleless. "I understand. Go back and report that I have understood."
As if granted a great amnesty, the black-robed figure vanished into the dim corridor. Only when the sounds outside had completely faded did a barely audible sigh of helplessness come from within.
Completely different from the grim style of the rest of the stronghold, the room behind the door looked as if one had accidentally entered the cozy bedroom of some ordinary noble girl. The room was spacious and bright, the walls painted a soft cream-white and hung with landscape paintings. Soft down duvets and fluffy pillows were stacked neatly on a four-poster bed. Beside the bed was a round table with a porcelain tea set and fresh flowers.
At this moment, the girl known as the 'Saintess' was sitting on the bed with its soft cushions, hugging her knees...