The Lunar Kingdom was divided into four great regions, each ruled by a noble family, with the Archbishop presiding over them all from the kingdom's heart. Divine power coursed through the blood of the noble houses, shaping both their bodies and their fate—stronger heirs were born from the most sacred lineages, and the weak seldom rose above their station.
Among the four noble families, the Argenthex stood as one of the pillars of the kingdom, alongside the Lyckans of the North, Selvaris, and Felora. The head of the Argenthex family, Third Bishop Morpheus Argenthex, wielded both spiritual and political authority over his domain.
The land was further divided into sub-sects, each governed by a priest or high priest who answered directly to him. Even the small and isolated Moon Hill Village fell under his jurisdiction, its priest subject to his decree.
Though Izikel's family was granted a degree of autonomy, they, too, bowed before the Bishop's will.
'Is it possible that someone from that family wants me dead? But why?'
As these uneasy thoughts swirled in Izikel's mind, the solemn voice of the Legion Commander cut through the silence.
"Now, Lord Izikel," Flavius began, his piercing gaze settled upon the boy. "With the passing of your father, the time has come to ask if you are ready to assume his mantle as Priest of the Lunar Moon."
Izikel blinked. I thought I was already the Priest?
"No," Flavius corrected, as though sensing his thoughts. "Your title must be officially acknowledged by the Crown. As her herald, I have the authority to bestow it upon you, just as I did for your father." He leaned back slightly, studying Izikel's reaction.
"Tradition dictates that I may withhold my acknowledgment until you reach the mature age of sixteen, but before I decide, I wish to hear it from you—do you believe yourself ready for such a great responsibility?"
Izikel's lips parted, but no words came. A heavy silence stretched between them.
They expect so much from a mere child.
A Priest, to actually become the leader of these people. At first glance, it seemed like a generous proposition. As Priest, he would enjoy comfort, luxury, and unwavering loyalty—fine food, servants at his beck and call, and guards to enforce his will. But that privilege came at a price.
The moment he accepted, he would bear the weight of twenty thousand lives upon his shoulders. Every struggle, every hardship, every desperate plea for aid would become his burden to bear.
That sounds like an awful lot of work…
'but still, I'll get to be in the forefront of everything. That's where I'll get to make a bigger impact,'
But if I do that, I'll be making everybody's problems mine.
'but isn't that not what a hero would do?'
…Of course that is what I want to do, but if I take my current age and strength into consideration, I'll have to wait for a while…
'but being a priest hardly has anything to do with strength and when it comes to age I am already a fully grown man,'
With a painful sigh he admitted the truth, he was just being lazy. Heroes weren't lazy, they always chose the path of hardship, carrying responsibilities that weren't theirs and solving everyone's problems. Always standing at the front against any obstacle,"
I have to be a hero!
He steeled himself, his lips curving into a determined smile. He had made his decision.
"I—"
The words died in his throat.
His expression darkened in an instant, all warmth stripped away. His face became a cold, unreadable mask.
"I am sorry," he said, voice flat, "but I don't think I'm ready to become the Priest."
He bowed briefly.
Flavius did not mask his disappointment. His silver eyes dimmed, his posture subtly stiffening. The Silver Sword Saint had clearly expected a different answer.
"That's… disappointing." He exhaled slowly, his voice heavy with disapproval.
Izikel studied him. Why does it matter so much to him?
The unease that had settled in his chest deepened. His sixth sense remained silent, offering no premonition, no warning but he suspected that If Flavius was pushing him toward this path, then it likely wasn't for his benefit.
'Good thing I realized it in time… I was about to play right into their hands.'
Even if his suspicions were nothing more than paranoia, wouldn't it be wiser to keep his distance? If they believed him weak and unambitious, they might even leave him alone.
Flavius was silent for a moment, contemplating his next move. Then, he spoke.
"Very well. But know this—your grandfather assumed this mantle at the age of nine. He bore this responsibility and thrived. You are already eleven."
Izikel stiffened.
Nine?
A nine-year-old had accepted this weight without hesitation, yet here he was, debating whether or not it was worth the trouble.
I need to do better...
Flavius continued, his voice measured. "I understand that the role of Priest is not an easy one, and I'm just as pleased that you understand this too, but by the grace of the Lunar Goddess, I will be here to guide you."
With the way the Silver Sword saint spoke, Izikel couldn't tell his intentions. The man sounded like he indeed wanted to help, but Izikel suspected that it was probably all a façade.
Izikel bowed his head. "Thank you, Legion Commander Flavius. But I have made my decision."
The Argenthex were after something—that much was clear. Until he knew what, he would keep his distance.
Flavius regarded him for another long moment before sighing. "Very well. I will inform the Bishop."
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "In a few months, the Citadel will send someone to manage the village in your stead."
A pause.
"But until then, I will be overseeing the village's daily affairs."
Izikel barely had time to process that statement before Flavius turned to Raynoel, his tone shifting.
"This means I will not be joining you on the Crusade in two weeks. Sophia will go in my stead."
"Yes, sir," They both responded without hesitation.
Izikel's breath caught. Sophia? Leaving?
What does that mean?
His heart pounded. If Flavius was sending Sophia away…
Where does that leave me?