The Patriarch De' Miglian 's gaze was like blades—cold, sharp, and merciless.
He stared at the old man who had emerged from the shadows Saint Orlahan
who appeared without warning, as if birthed by the void itself.
At the ends of the grand table, Horus and Migelan sat frozen like stone.
How had this old man concealed his presence so completely?
To slip through the guards unnoticed... That alone was proof enough:
He truly deserved his title—the Saint of Blood and Raging Flame—a pillar of the old, blood-soaked era.
Patriarch De' Miglian finally broke the silence, his voice calm but laced with venom:
"To what do I owe this visit, great saint? I doubt you came here to congratulate me on my latest victory."
He gestured toward a seat.
Orlahan sat slowly, as though a thousand years weighed down upon his shoulders, and spoke in a hollow voice tinged with grim nostalgia:
"I haven't seen you in a long time, Victor."
Patriarch De' Miglian glanced at his reflection in the deep red wine, as if seeing another face one long buried.
"Nor I you, old man. Though oddly enough, I don't see that little raven of yours."
Orlahan chuckled softly, like laughter echoing from an open grave:
"Ah, you mean Mathos? He's a good boy… trying hard to live up to his brother's name."
The patriarch let out a sardonic laugh, his voice like an axe carving through bone:
"Of course… how could I forget 'Saint Thadeus' Saint of the Eternal Phoenix Blood?"
A heavy silence hung over them for a moment.
Orlahan looked down at the table and spoke with a voice caught between remembrance and restrained fury:
"Those were good days… you and Thadeus always competing, always clashing…
back when I was still training you both.
But I didn't come to relive old memories, Victor…
I came for answers."
Patriarch De' Miglian took a long sip of wine, the liquid seeming to burn down his throat before he whispered:
"Go on."
The saint's gaze hardened:
"I lost ten thousand men… and three of my best commanders…
in the Ossuary of Kings.
And then Rahigh and Henrik intervened.
This isn't random."
Patriarch De' Miglian straightened in his chair, the golden frame creaking beneath his weight.
He spoke in a low, measured tone:
"Yes… and that is why I am here as well.
What I found was... minimal. Fragments. All I know is that the Blood Bishops took a relic from the tomb of a king— from the ancient ruling bloodline… the one cursed a thousand years ago."
Orlahan paused for a moment, then whispered, his voice laced with fury:
"That's not enough, Victor.
I know Grayson is planning something far greater.
Why else would he demand the presence of the Celestial Blades… and yours… within the capital?
This isn't defense.
This is containment."
Patriarch De' Miglian met his gaze, unflinching. Then he spoke, his words heavy with unspoken meaning:
"I believe I know where we might find answers…
Rahigh That lunatic is many things, but he is no fool.
He wouldn't strike without purpose.
We must find him…
before the dawn of a new age
an age of blood and ash."