Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 206

Chapter 206: Of Blood, Faith, and Fire
Seraphine walked a little ahead now, her hands clasped behind her back. The torchlight danced along her polished armor as she moved, her voice quiet when it came again.

“Tell me, High Priestess…” she began, not looking at Isode directly, “is it… righteous, in the eyes of the Goddess… for a priestess of the Holy Church to sully herself? To be taken… in the flesh?”

Isode paused.

Just one step.

She recovered quickly, her steps resuming with grace, though her hands folded more tightly now, hidden in the sleeves of her robes.

“…That is quite the question, Imperial Marshal,” she said carefully.

Seraphine’s tone remained level, even casual—though there was something beneath it. Smoke under silk.

“Aye,” she said, still not facing Isode. “I ask because my soul burns to know. It scorches me with the wondering.”

At last, she turned—just enough for her gaze to meet Isode’s.

“I have fought beside clergy. I’ve seen the strength your blessings grant us. I’ve seen the discipline you hold. But I wonder—” her voice dipped slightly, “—what becomes of a woman of the cloth when her body stirs as all women’s do? When her heart beats faster in the presence of a man… Does she cast herself to ash in prayer? Or is she permitted… to feel?”

Isode’s expression remained composed, though her gaze had sharpened slightly.

Her voice came soft and smooth, like cool water poured over hot coals.

“There are… many schools of thought within the faith,” she began. “Some say to touch the flesh is to risk losing the spirit. Others claim the Goddess crafted us with passion, and to deny it wholly is to deny her gift.”

She let her eyes wander toward the stars as they walked.

“But the truth, Marshal, is that we serve in different ways. Some are called to be pure vessels of light—untouched, unshaken. Others… serve through compassion. Through connection. Through knowing love, and even desire.”

She glanced sidelong at Seraphine.

“But such things are not done lightly. Especially not for one like me.”

Seraphine’s brow arched ever so slightly, as if intrigued.

“And what of you, then? Which sort of priestess are you, Lady Isode?”

That finally made the High Priestess stop walking.

She turned to face the armored woman fully now, purple eyes unreadable.

“I…” her voice softened further, “…am sworn. I am devoted. I carry burdens both holy and heavy.”

A beat passed. Then she added, more quietly,

“And yet…”

Her eyes met Seraphine’s again.

“I am still a woman. The blood in me runs warm as yours.”

Seraphine gave a low, warm laugh—not mocking, but amused in that knowing way of a woman who had danced around politics and words her whole life and had just grown tired of the steps.

“Well then,” she said, chuckling under her breath, “it seems I was not direct enough.”

She stopped walking now too, turning fully to Isode.

Her eyes—ocean-blue and sharp—held a glint of mischief behind their question.

“Allow me to be plainer,” she said, her tone still light, but edged with curiosity. “What is your relationship with our Emperor… High Priestess?”

The air between them shifted.

Not in some grand way—no lightning or drums—but like the quiet stillness before a storm.

Isode stood perfectly still.

Her hands remained folded neatly before her, her expression composed. But there was a faint pause. A drawing-in. The kind of silence where a woman chose her words very, very carefully.

“My relationship with His Imperial Majesty,” she said at last, voice smooth as polished glass, “is sacred. It is one of divine alignment. I bless his armies. I serve as a beacon for his cause.”

Seraphine leaned in slightly, her voice lower now, softer—but it carried a peculiar warmth. A teasing sort of heat behind her words.

“Nay, Lady Isode… what is your true relationship with him?” she asked, her tone rich and honeyed. “Are you… his mistress?”

That word hung in the air like incense—sweet, lingering, and far too bold.

Isode blinked once.

Then her voice came—gentle, disbelieving, laced with the proper layers of holy dignity.

“I’ve no clue what you speak of, Marshal.”

Seraphine chuckled, light and musical, a knowing glint in her eye.

“Oh, come now,” she said. “The High Priestess, caught in a lie? Is that not blasphemy in the eyes of the Goddess Herself?”

That struck a nerve.

Isode stopped walking altogether, her expression hardening like a mask forged in fire. Her eyes—once calm pools of violet—now narrowed, sharp as daggers.

The grace she carried faded in a blink, replaced by something colder. Sharper. Regal, yes—but dangerous.

“You saw us,” she said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

Seraphine didn’t answer at first. She didn’t need to. The curl of her lips—the faint flicker of mischief in her eyes—was reply enough.

“I did,” she said, finally.

Isode took a slow breath. Her expression softened, but only just—still stern, but more composed now, like a queen choosing to grace a guest with truth.

“There is no need to speak in riddles now,” she said quietly, folding her arms beneath her robes. “Since you already know… then I see no reason to hide myself.”

She took a step forward, torchlight catching faintly on the golden embroidery of her sash.

“I am not merely the High Priestess of Bloodbane,” she said, voice calm but proud. “I am Isode Threshia… First Daughter of Valess Threnah, and rightful heir to Threshia’s throne.”

Seraphine blinked.

That one landed.

“You… You’re the Princess of Threshia?” she asked, brows lifting, the sharpness in her voice edged with genuine surprise now. “What in the name of the Goddess are you doing this far from your lands?”

Isode gave a faint smile—measured, knowing.

“I left Threshia under the will of divine vision,” she said. “My mother, Queen-Matriarch Sirelle, spoke of a prophecy before her death. A vision granted by the Goddess herself. One that told of a man—a ruler not yet crowned by the heavens, a warrior who would unite what had been broken… who would bring flame and light in equal measure.”

Her gaze drifted toward the sky for a breath.

“I was to find him,” she continued. “To test him. To walk beside him if he proved worthy.”

She turned back to Seraphine, her purple eyes glinting with quiet purpose.

“And I have found him. In your Emperor. In Arkanos.”

Seraphine took a half-step back, her mouth parting slightly.

She blinked again, almost in disbelief.

“You… You truly believe Arkanos is the one? The holy emperor from your prophecy?”

Isode’s answer came without hesitation.

“I do not believe, Marshal. I know.”

A silence passed between them. The wind stirred a curtain on a high window of the manor behind them. Somewhere nearby, a wolf howled.

“And does he know this?” Seraphine asked softly.

Isode gave a slight nod.

“Of course. I have told him everything. Of who I am. Of what I was sent to do. Of what he is destined to become.”

The silence grew heavier now, but not in an unpleasant way—more like the kind that comes when one realizes they’ve stepped into something far deeper than they expected.

“So you see, I am no mere mistress, Seraphine,” Isode said at last, her voice firm but gentle. “I am a holy empress, crowned not by gold, but by divine will. And he… he shall be my Emperor.”