“Ah! There you are, boy!” Gaelius greeted as Rakna made his way further inside the hall. At his call, the therian turned toward him, approaching while his companions interacted with the people that had welcomed them.

Vera, Karin, Merlina, and even Kryas seemed to share a common curiosity for Ceresta. The crowd around her only seemed to be growing too. ‘…well, she’s already more popular than me,’ Rakna said in his mind.

He might as well let her get the attention. It would be a social experience for her. He did feel a bit guilty leaving her to the wolves, but he supposed Kaelith would shield her from anyone too pushy or threatening. Based on the glare she was giving any noble that dared to get in sight range of her, she would do a good job.

“Good morning, Gaelius. You as well, Master,” Rakna greeted with a small smile as he noticed Old Wang sitting next to the scientist.

The dwarf snorted as everyone in their current vicinity looked at him in interest. “Who told you to call me that?” He huffed. “I’m just a regular old man running a food stall.”

“Who would believe that, Faezi?” Gaelius deadpanned.

“Plenty of people.”

Rakna snickered quietly and then turned to the other people nearby; they seemed to have been chatting with his two acquaintances. He recognized one of them; Hybran Blacksteel.

Said individual nodded back with a smile. “Good to see you again. I suppose Obsidian is not coming along today?” The mayor of Blacksteel asked.

The therian smiled wryly. “No… let’s say he’s preoccupied.”

“Hm, I see. Well, if you’ll allow me, let me introduce you here to a friend of mine,” Hybran waved at a man to his right, older than himself by at least a few decades, ostensibly in his sixties. Despite that, the stranger was tall in stature and quite robust-looking from his posture alone.

His whitened hair was combed backward, with strands of black streaking through it. He had deep blue eyes and his facial hair was trimmed meticulously. He wore a dignified attire consisting of a red and black suit with a cape-like coat. An unused cane sat beside him and his expression was set into a firm but genuine smile.

‘Another of the greatest powers in this room,’ Rakna thought internally. Along with Kryas, Caer, and Merlina, this man’s presence strummed his every instinct.

“My name is Azheim Nringer Lophtzen,” the man said with a smile and stood up with his cane to address him properly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he added while extending his hand.

Rakna reciprocated the handshake and nodded respectfully. “Rakna Xiorra; likewise.”

“Haha, always leaving out the most important,” a new voice, one belonging to an elderly woman, sounded and the therian glanced at its source. Unassumingly, there sat an old woman with a warm smile in a wheelchair. She was dressed in the garbs of the Church and behind her stood a man of nearly the same age wearing a black and white uniform… adorned with a skull cross.

He shared similar facial features to the woman before him, including her light green eyes, and his whitened hair was long enough to reach the middle of his back but hung over his shoulders rather than down his back.

“Since you always seem to forget, let me fill in the blanks for you,” the old woman chuckled and waved at the Azheim. “This is Azheim Nringer Lophtzen, Administrator of Old Eden, Mediator of the Myth Council, Strongest Local, and one of the few bearing the Honor Rank of Ebene Diare.”

“…there was definitely a lot missing,” Rakna admitted with a twitch of his mouth.

Azheim laughed lightly in a placating manner. “Now, now, no need to intimidate the poor boy with all those titles. Though, he is not one to be lacking in that aspect either,” he added merrily.

The elderly woman shook her head and sighed. “Aah, how disheartening it is to know you are older than me,” she lamented and Rakna mentally noted the implication of that. “Anyway, I suppose it is our turn?” She continued and placed her palm over her chest in a saluting manner. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Rakna Xiorra. I am Gwenef De Croix, High Cardinal of the Church.”

“And I am Granolf De Croix,” the man behind complemented with a small grin. “This old stubborn woman’s brother; as well as a Cardinal of the Basilica.”

“Stubborn? Speak for yourself,” Gwenef scoffed and he cackled.

“As you can see, despite being siblings, we quite diverged in our paths,” Granolf stated by pointing at both his cross and the one his sister wore around her neck.

Rakna curiously regarded them, sensing their repressed power to be very high as well. He notably sent a puzzled look toward Granolf. “You’re a Cardinal as well… but you’re much more powerful than the last one I met,” he said in a slightly confused tone.

“Hm?” The man tilted his head for a moment. “Oh, yes. You met O’Gram, haven’t you? I don’t blame you for your confusion. In the Basilica, the rank of Cardinal is held in parallel with the Archbishops unlike the Church,” he said whilst waving at his sister.

“Us Cardinals can be powerful, such as I,” he nodded. “But we mostly deal with internal affairs. If you seek fighters in our midst, the Archbishops take the crown. Lacros Hortensia would be one of them and arguably the greatest. I’ve heard he’s on good terms with the Eternal Maiden; you might be aware of him.”

Rakna nodded, having indeed heard of the name from Nyx, and then thought of something. “Then do you have a Pope like the Church?”

Gwenef harrumphed at the question. “They don’t; as it should be. Their structure alone is already a mockery of our own. Regardless of my subjective respect for the Eternal Night God, if they dare to name a ‘Pope’ for themselves, I will personally raid their main quarters for the insult.”

Granolf hung his head in defeat. “Gwen… come on,” he sighed and she huffed as if challenging him to dispute her. “Aah, anyway, it’s as she says. We don’t have a Pope, nor do we have an equivalent. Our Basilica does not believe in a leading figure. The Kind Demon and our fighting prowess are all we need.”

“Which causes you to be severely lacking in terms of wealth and relations,” Rakna said with a nod while remembering the particular details of the organization. Granolf flinched backward as if he had just suffered a critical blow.

“You got us there…”

“Now that introductions are out of the way…” Azheim spoke up as he sat back down. “Tell me, how has your life been faring in the System?” He asked with an impish smile.

Rakna huffed in exasperation. “Eventful. Not necessarily bad; especially for my mental health. But I could have done without the life-or-death struggles,” he admitted truthfully.

“How paradoxical,” Azheim snorted in amusement. “That said, ‘eventful’ does not cut it even if we just refer to your endeavors in Zero,” he said in a slightly more serious tone. “The Nine-Tailed have already shared the word, by the way.”

The therian raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That fast, huh? Everyone here knows?” He asked while addressing the small group, as well as glancing at the people inside the hall.

Gwenef closed her eyes and answered, “Not all. Most of the guests here today do not have access to information of such confidentiality. That is unless they possess relevant connections. One such person would be Michael. The young man is well-liked.”

“I see…” Rakna nodded and turned toward Azheim. “Since you are the Council Mediator, I suppose it will be your job to introduce the topic at the next meeting?”

The older man hummed affirmatively. “Quite so. I was named Mediator by the System so that any topic discussed at the Myth Council remains relevant and under control. However, that does not mean a member isn’t capable of speaking out about an issue at their own prerogative.”

“But it makes things easier if it’s you who does it?”

Azheim nodded. “Going by your inquisitiveness, is there something you’d like to forward to me on top of your discoveries about this recent war?”

Instead of answering, Rakna stepped aside to give the man a direct view of his group. “Do you see the girl with emerald hair?” He asked calmly and Azheim raised an eyebrow.

“The one releasing the presence of a Cambion?”

“Yes.”

“What of her?”

“Her name is Evelyn Jill Malcanthet,” Rakna stated and Azheim’s expression soured for a split second. “As you seem to know, the Malcanthet are a family of alchemists that ‘disappeared’ a bit over 170 years ago from what I’ve gleaned.”

“…I am aware. I myself was a patron of theirs,” the admin of Old Eden said. “I’m a human through and through after all. I have no way to obtain a longevity trait or skill as a Local. Thus, the potions of the Malcanthet were what stopped me from growing too senile,” he snickered to himself. “Their rejuvenating concoctions were the best in the market and with no side effects.”

“Hm,” Rakna narrowed his eyes. “Then, it’ll make things easier. Evelyn is the last living member of that family. Her parents were assassinated by the Jill and her brother fell to Blackening, whom she had to seal along with herself until I found them around the time the seals were breaking.”

“…”

“She wants revenge,” Rakna declared simply. “I have no right to deny it from her. Nor do I want to in the slightest... The Chaos Witch in my Guild is the owner of the Wisdom of Ariv,” he added and a small hint of surprise appeared on everyone’s faces. “He’s going to be waking up today. So, if you are willing to be a witness for the answer he gives, I would appreciate it.”

Azheim silently mused before breathing out. “Understood. I will personally hear the proof of the crime committed against her and bring it up to the Council. As Mediator, I allow you to bring her to the Tower on the day of the meeting. On my side, I will call for the Jill’s presence as well. Both parties will be ordered to participate and be trialed.”

“Trialed, huh?” Rakna snorted.

“It’s the proper way of doing it,” the older man shrugged. “And… I am on your side,” he added with one eye closed as he gazed at Evelyn. “As far as her parents go, I don’t believe I have met them. But if I’m not incorrect about her ancestry, it’s another story for her grandfather. He was a rather good friend of mine.”

“Then, I’m counting on you,” the therian grunted and stretched his neck. “That’s one less thing to worry about, at least,” he hummed and since the topic was over, he switched focus to the center of the hall where Michael was currently about to step up to address everyone.

“Hm, he’s probably going to announce your presence to everyone,” Gaelius commented. “This was supposed to be a party celebrating your arrival if you decided to come after all.”

“Indeed,” Azheim agreed with a renewed smile. “Afterward, we will head to the Arena. You will be under even more scrutiny there,” he said toward Rakna. “As far as I know, due to insistence from other nobles, Michael had to move his party’s location to the largest public VIP room so that more than just his entourage could interact with you.”

“Lovely,” Rakna huffed sarcastically. “I knew there weren’t enough people glaring a hole into the back of my head in here.”

Gwenef chuckled softly. “Cheer up, boy. The hall we are relocating to is like a restaurant. Just like here, no one is going to risk walking up to you in front of so many people to avoid being seen as an opportunist. Only people like Kryas, who don’t care, and those elves you seem to be acquainted with, will be daring enough.”

“Additionally, a majority of the most powerful figures will use a private booth,” Granolf followed up. “If anything, the truly important ones won’t try to get close to you. They will only watch your showcase to profile you. That’s the whole reason for their presence in the Arena today.”

“…fantastic,” replying with one word again, the small group smiled at the therian.