Livia smiled contentedly within her helmet.

Many would call her smile beatific, which from an outsider's perspective was understandable. She had been called beautiful when she was younger.

Well, after the first century of puberty anyway. She was eternally grateful for God's blessings, but beginning his work in her teens had come at that unfortunate cost.

'case in point…' she subtly glanced down at the little boy in her arms. They had been falling for a couple of hundred feet now, and he still didn't seem scared so much as shocked by her abrupt maneuver.

Phooey, she had hoped to see his scared face. He was so very cute, it wasn't fair at all. She was sure it must come from his mother. Eugene was never this cute…

Well, she never met him as a kid, so maybe that wasn't true. Regardless though, his son was cute. Cute enough to make dropping the Spring festival Mass on archbishop Reikan's lap and running straight down here from the other side of the continent worthwhile. Even before she had known all this mess with the curse was happening.

She only wished that she had done the same for Eugene before he passed on. The letter that had detailed his death was like a knife to the heart. He had always been older than her, and physically stronger too, well, at least in those early days. He had served as her champion and herald and been the truest of companions. Even if he had been friends with that dirty old fertility god…

She was glad her armor hid her frown as her feet crunched down heavily into the bone floor of this stupid charnel pit of Nevan, and a bit of regret struck her. After the initial attempts to dispel it had failed, she had assumed the curse on the city was irremovable, yet now it seemed this place would be inhabited again. If it was as easy as killing the dragon then wasn't she at fault for letting it stay cursed more than nine hundred years?

Well, not that dragons were so easy to kill, but she was sure she'd had more than a couple of knights in her service up to the task, Especially with some magical support. Certainly the boy, Sir Karsten now, had a much easier time than most dragonslayers, what with the squirming child in her arms growing a veritable cage of wood around the beast.

Ah, she must be holding him too tightly. She forgot how hard her armor was. Easing up, she glanced around the charnel pit she had jumped them into, more out of curiosity than fear.

"T-this place was the center of the curse." The boy mumbled, though his statement was plain to see for anyone with eyes.

Well, perhaps that was a tad too harsh, he didn't have any other priests in his party, did he?

"Yes, the darkness should linger heavily here, even with the curse proper dispelled. Curious that it doesn't." She glanced about towards the altar, leaving unsaid what they both could feel. While natural darkness was certainly present, save for the light filtering in through the pit in the middle of the temple, this place was devoid of any magical darkness. Despite literally walking on the bones of sacrificed innocents, not to mention the bleached skeleton on the altar at the center, gouged through with a sword that Livia recognized all too well.

"I… I don't think killing the dragon would do this."

"No," Livia said firmly, marching towards the impaled skeleton. "It wouldn't. Something is afoot here." She placed her hand in the air, just above the holy of the blade, sensing if there was any lingering evil in it. Nothing responded, a full thrum of magic, but no feeling of evil or hatred lingered in its shape.

The sword of Nevan, a cursed artifact if there ever was one, had seen the deaths of thousands upon its edge. That it felt so… grey, so normal, was wrong, and alarm was ringing in her head as she tore the blade from the skeleton of what was probably its owner, given the shape of the skull. She just knew it was the tyrant himself.

With a steady hand, she lifted the sword up in front of her, cradling Eugene's son in the other arm. "Hmm, it's still got some power to it." She watched the swirling black pattern of metal with a critical eye, though out of the corner of her vision she saw the wonder the child was staring at it with. It was clear that he wanted the sword, his eyes shining faintly with light.

Ah, he was just too cute, she wanted to tease him some more.

"Do you think your friend would like it?" She asked, a little mischief slipping into her tone despite herself. "A dragonslayer needs a fine weapon doesn't he?"

Ah and there it was, that pouting face he got when she praised his follower. So cute! It was half of why she had laid it on so thick up top.

Of course, she knew that the kid was a bigger part of slaying the dragon than possibly the rest of them combined. Anyone with any magic at all could feel the veritable fountain of natural magic that flowed around the boy, and pinning a full-grown dragon under a forest was the type of feat normally reserved for archdruids, what few there were around. She knew as well that he had used one of the true magica of God, technically qualifying the little pouting boy to be a bishop.

She could still feel the residual Holyness and see the blasted trench Syrrax had made around the impact after all.

Still, that same power was why he needed to be humbled. It was why she had shown off so much with the demon and the healing. To show the boy he wasn't at the top yet. She had seen far too many bishops get comfortable with their power and sit around for… well centuries. She didn't want to see the same happened to Eugene's son. Why he might as well be her Nephew.

The Life magic… that was another matter entirely, and a potentially dangerous one for the boy. With his mother being what she was…

She would have to sit down and talk to him about that later. Worst came to worst she would send him to the academy in Izalla to learn magic for a while… That would give him time to grow up a little bit more, away from that-

"I… I think he would love it. Karsten loves his weapons." The boy said at last, and Livia felt a perhaps unearned sense of pride swell in her heart as the boy replied. Still, let's see if he really meant it.

"Are you sure you don't want it? You could have it yourself if you want." Livia stated, watching his little face.

His brow scrunched for just a moment as his rosy lips took on a frown, and he shut his eyes, but then he shook his head. "N-no, I do want it, and… um… I do feel like I've earned it, but Karsten will use it better." The boy seemed to deflate slightly, and she shifted her arm to let him lean into her if he wanted. "I… my body just means I can't fight like that, no matter how much I want to." Abbott scratched his head. "Besides, I've already got a couple of magic items from dad, but Karsten doesn't have any."

Livia felt the smile split her face beneath her helmet as she put the sword back onto her shoulder.

'Eugene raised a good kid.'

She would have to make sure the boy knew she didn't have it in for him, later, but right now it was time to get out of this pit. There was nothing else here, just an empty cave full of bones, drained of the evil that had made its home here.

"Don't spread the word of what was down here," Livia instructed firmly as she gathered her strength in her legs once again. "As far as the world needs to know, the dragon-slaying broke the curse. The church will be launching its own investigation into the circumstances as to what happened, but for now, your party should take the credit."

"That's kind of dishonest…" the boy mumbled before she kicked off the ground with enough force to shatter the bones there, propelling the both of them up into the main levels of the temple.

"Yes. In this case, it's probably better though, whoever did it won't be sure we're after them for a while in all" the words died on her tongue as she saw Anne on the side of the hall, a deadset grim look on her assistant's face. "One moment."

She kicked off of a supporting column to land beside the stern woman she had known for what… four hundred years now?

"What's wrong?" Livia asked, from the look in Anne's eyes it was no laughing matter.

"The Silver Prince. He needs your attention, Holyness." The woman said curtly, her face set in a dark frown. No time for teasing then if it was that bad. Livia followed behind Anne as the woman turned and walked at a swift pace, soon they were out of the building, and Livia felt her blood run cold as she saw what had become of the Silver Prince, and his current form, at least.

"Publius…" She approached the tattered body. Robes and finery were torn by a dozen large gashes, and burned in places, and worse… far worse, nearly the entire top left side of the mask was severed off with a clean diagonal slash. The young girl's body Publius had been possessing was less injured, but still wounded in places, and shuddering in the cool morning air. "Who did this?" Livia asked, righteous indignation filling her voice as she saw what had been done to her old, old friend.

"I-I*-d*:";@lt t$ sp)-+#" a mess of garbled syllables were all that escaped his mouth, and Livia felt hot rage fill her body.

The light must have been intense enough to scare Abbott, as the boy let out a sound of surprise, nearly falling from her arms as she knelt down to the Silver Prince's side, throwing Nevan's sword away for now.

"Abbott. I'm going to need you to get off my arm for a moment." She said forcefully as the little boy hurried to obey. "I'm going to need both hands for this."

The boy hopped off, and Livia's lips began to move.

In the long experience of her life, Livia had learned that all forms of magic were essentially different. While they all might have superficial similarities, chants, words of power, that sort of thing, there were far greater differences in their practical usage.

Life for instance was highly instinctual, tied to things like the symbology of animals, and the state of the natural world around you.

Comparatively, Light was the magic of order. Most of her followers understood this to be the nature of adding modifiers to spells, empowering them. One could even reach Bishop level by developing enough skill with that alone.

However, for her, that had never been enough.

From her mouth spewed words faster than the canniest bard could talk, pushing on by a millennia of experience and practice, she built contingencies and nodes into her spell through her language, every body part was specifically addressed, every property of the Silver Prince's soul. Every healing magic she knew that could prevent Publius from passing on with his spirit shattered. Each word was anchored together into a greater whole, a triangle, a square, a pyramid, an octahedron, and beyond. Her magic formed into a structure and order built on top of itself.

If only this had been a known threat! She could have brought reagents, Artifacts! If it meant saving just one of her old friend's she would empty all the damn vaults in the Holy Territories! Money and items could be replaced in time, but people like Publius couldn't!

She hadn't used magic this extreme in centuries, and she even felt a tiny drain on her will as the light physically began to manifest between her hands, and she pushed it into the young girl’s bosom.

At once it began to rise and fall… rise and fall until it was broken by a tinny, coughing, sputtering sound.

"K-k-C-K-K-c" echoed out through the broken mask. "Got t*, the#e. [email protected] c0n you und#$and me?"

She nodded, reaching down to hold Publius' hand in hers. "Yes, I can understand you. Don't worry, I'm going to get you through this."

"N-n* :se" Publius replied, and she felt her heart drop like a boulder. "Mask i$ alr34dy disentangling from… soul" his voice seemed to stabilize as he spoke, but it only got fainter. "Listen, this is my last… Agamemnon my father, they raised him, snuck in…" Livia felt confusion push through her system as Publius seemed to be losing track of thoughts, but then the anger and worry came boiling back as she realized just what he had said.

"They dared?" She snarled within her helmet. "Which way did they go?"

"East-Revenge later." Publius forced out, though his body gasped, entirely separate to the mask and his fading voice. "Listen, Augusta… she has great potential… a good host but… not trained." The voice began to bleed over from Publius into that of his host, and Livia felt herself squeezing the hand she held with every passing moment, holding on to every word. "T-take care of her for me" the last words came out little more than a whisper, but Livia heard them nonetheless, as the girl's body slumped, the silver mask clattering to the floor, no longer possessed with her friend's spirit.

Livia had long ago learned how not to cry over the passing of her friends, but the hand was pale as a bedsheet by the time she let go of it.

"Anne… get this girl somewhere safe." She ordered, beating down the anger, and worse, the loneliness that grew in her heart. Sometimes it felt like she would soon have no old friends at all, and what's worse, this one was taken by treachery. To Raise his father from the grave, and then turn him against his son? There would be fire and light to pay when she found who had done it.

As she turned away, she felt something light impact her leg, like a half-full sack of potatoes.

"I-it'll be alright."

She looked down at the little boy who had decided to latch on like a lamprey. She hadn't thought her emotions were that obvious, maybe her armor wasn't as good at hiding the quivering as she thought, or maybe the boy was just really good at feeling out others. Either way, she reached down to pat his head.

"God has his soul now, it's fine." She said quietly. "I'll have to arrange a funeral… and this mess. With him gone this city is an international incident waiting to happen." She spoke the words even as her mind raced through the thought. Venitia would take any weakness from the church as an opportunity not to mention the Velucans… Brindon would be caught in the middle as usual.

'Ugh.' She'd have to call a meeting of the college of cardinals, figure out some way to diplomatically handle the situation. Use the right levers, and on top of that all, Publius was gone. Her best ally, and only real friend in the courts of the South. Well, only real friend not part of the Church.

She kept rubbing Eugene's son's head as she thought over the consequences of all this, piling up with the loss of her friend. It had the chance to spiral into a real war, and with… whoever raised Agamemnon, and cleared the curse still around, it would be an ill time for any sort of open hostilities.

Still, this wasn't the first time Livia had faced dilemmas. She was the Prophetess, God was with her, always. She placed her palm on her bosom and prayed.

The light, as always, gave her an answer.

"Alright. Let's go try to find your friend. I'm sure… Augusta will be ok with Anne for now." Livia said, at last, talking to the little boy beside her. "Your Dragonslayer will need his sword after all."

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