Pale Moonlight veiled the room as the white-haired Saintess cast a heavy gaze at the relaxed Mel, unsure of her next words.
"So..." Mel's lips curled to a confident smirk. "Nyrel planned to capture me after we had landed. I assume an ambush is being prepared then?"
The Saintess blinked, meeting Mel's golden eyes, glimmering with pure trust and sincerity, just a shade too bright compared to hers.
She let out a tired chuckle.
"I'd rather bait Nyrel's troops with perfect opportunities," she continued. "Given our forces, Nyrel will likely send an Archon-ranked executive, maybe even a cult archbishop, to work with the insider. Are you sure you're not overwhelmed?"
"Not really?" Mel tilted away from the rail, her gaze smiling. "You and Saria are here to protect me, right?"
A strange burden weighed heavily on the Saintess as she silently clenched a fist.
Taking a deep breath, she stood from the bed. "Mel. I'm asking something a little unreasonable for you here."
