For many years, the great cross bore witness to her dedication in serving the Church of Thallerion. There, she discovered true joy—a joy emanating from her heart as she worked alongside the union of women, praying for and healing the wounded soldiers of Thallerion.
Inside the convent, a bishop stood at the pulpit, folding an ancient, thick, and massive Cyprioxian Bible embossed with a golden cross sigil. His white robes, draped over his elbows, seemed to dance as he descended the pulpit stairs. He approached Xurien, clutching a scroll bound with silver thread. Xurien noticed that a timeless, unchanging smile remained etched upon the priest's face.
"I am pleased, Xurien, by your fortitude," the priest greeted her first. He took a seat on the row of chairs near her, eliciting a faint groan from the old wooden seat. To Xurien, the priest appeared to be in his forties; his arms were thick with muscle, and his breathing was deep, as if his entire body carried a great weight, yet his face constantly shone with delight. "Once, I used to see you mourning in a corner of the shrine." The priest's green, circular eyes were strikingly soft. "Your perseverance reveals how much you care for the heroes who sacrificed their lives for the peace of Thallerion."
He was Hendrick Gomenzer Deveör, a new priest from the country of Cypriox—a missionary sent to spread the teachings of the Crux religion in the nation of Thallerion. "But now... look at yourself—you have become their pillar of strength."
"For the sake of Thallerion..." Xurien replied softly, her hands tightly squeezing the small white cross of her rosary. "I will help bless the soldiers before they march to war." Xurien's eyes fell upon the scroll he held; it was clearly of noble origin, carrying the scent of expensive wood. "And I will heal their wounds, for the sake of our country's peace."
A comforted smile crossed Hendrick's face as he untied the cord of the scroll, which bore a special seal—the emblem of Herzthroven. Father Hendrick scanned the contents with his eyes alone, his gentle, thick eyebrows arching with every line he read. "Perfect timing. The Prince is arriving today," he told Xurien. He heard the sound of Xurien's nail scraping against her cross. Then, he turned his gaze to the women behind them.
"Listen, everyone! The Prince of Thallerion is arriving today. I require your full participation," he announced, clapping his hands loudly. His divine, sweet voice echoed throughout the convent, bringing all activity to a sudden halt.
"The Prince!?" the women exclaimed, popping up like mushrooms behind Xurien. Many were visibly giddy, acting as if they were being teased. Their cheeks flushed, and the once-sacred silence of the convent turned into the bustling noise of a marketplace. "Is it true, Father?"
"Yes, he comes to seek a blessing from our church." The priest's eyes crinkled at the reactions of the women, who were twitching like restless larvae. "This is the first time the Prince has come here to seek a blessing—not to admire your beauty," he joked. He watched the women behind him, who seemed delirious with excitement, some already busy fixing their hair. It was a far cry from the stillness Xurien maintained. The priest let out a quiet, subtle sigh.
"Isn't this an exciting day, Xurien?" The priest's gaze remained fixed on Xurien's face. She managed a simple, forced smile, yet beneath it, her lingering anxiety was still clearly visible.
The Prince's Arrival
The midday heat was sweltering in front of the cathedral. The dusty thundering of horse hooves echoed, accompanied by the clanking of shimmering steel, followed by soldiers clad in armor. They held iron shields bearing the sigil of Thallerion—an insignia of two lions standing on either side of a rook, topped with a crown, and an upright sword at the center of the rook.
They marched slowly along the sacred cobblestone road of the cathedral, red banners hanging from spears pointed toward the sky. Their steel helmets glistened under the sun.
Meanwhile, waiting in the shade of the cathedral's corridor were the women, holding smoking censers of incense. Leading them was Xurien Wrez, clutching a black cross twelve inches tall, pressing it against her chest. Her long white blouse reached her ankles, cinched tightly at the waist. Her pearlescent hair was tied back like vines hanging down her back, but her cheeks were pale, and her fingers trembled every time the rhythmic trampling of horses grew louder.
She could hear her companions whispering, their conversation filled with nothing but the heroic deeds of the prince. Their chatter only ceased when the group of gallant soldiers appeared at the cathedral gate. The prince stood at the front of the host—tall and arrayed in magnificent armor. His voice was a deep baritone, and his hand moved with an authority that the soldiers followed like law.
"Prince Cerceux, please come inside. The priest awaits for the sacred blessing," the guard said, pointing the way with a sword—the symbol of Thallerion bravery.
"Then, let us go, my comrades," he commanded, gesturing with a gloved hand toward the horse's reins, but he suddenly clenched his fist in the air, halting the movement and the very breath of every soldier. "We did not come here for war, so do not cause a scandal in this place. I know the women here are kind—Sacred."
A respectful smile drew across the soldiers' faces at his words, as if a king had issued a new decree. They met the women standing by the side of the cathedral, who looked like frozen ice slowly melting upon seeing the prince's handsome smile. The fragrance of incense met the steam of horse sweat.
The prince's grip on the reins tightened when he saw Xurien. He immediately dismounted his white horse. His boots struck the rough floor with a thud, the armor at his waist clashing. The others followed Prince Cerceux's lead.
The wind seemed to shift during their first encounter. "My lady... are you the one who will bless us?" Prince Cerceux asked. His soulful, iridescent gray eyes fixed on the obsidian cross before rising to the woman's face. Cerceux froze when he saw Xurien's face, which bloomed like a flower; he tried to remain composed as if every second were made of gold. "I am Cerceux Herzthroven." He removed his black glove and offered his hand to Xurien, revealing a ring engraved with the words: Awakened-Hunter.
"I am ready for the blessing." Xurien's fingers trembled slightly as she took the prince's hand. Her eyes widened a fraction as she felt the softness of his palm. A bittersweet smile touched her lips, trying to calm her stiffened breath. But to Cerceux, it was the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his life. For five seconds, their clasped hands remained suspended as a faint spark of electricity flickered between their palms—a tingle that crawled through their veins. They quickly averted their gaze, cheeks flushing, hearts leaping like birds desperate to escape a cage.
Prince Cerceux felt as though his soul, seasoned by fate and trials, had been mercilessly pierced by Sagittari. He stared at Xurien's face again as if time had stopped when their eyes met, only for the moment to be broken by a soldier stepping between them.
"Wait, dear Prince... is it not the duty of a Cyprioxian priest to give the blessing?" The soldier's gun glinted at his waist, and a cigar was tucked into his pocket. "I thought that was a sacred task performed inside the cathedral." Xurien noticed him scratching his arm.
"Alexuther Escaniel," the prince called out coldly. "There is plenty of time—why not converse with them first? It would be rude to ignore their presence," Cerceux said calmly. Xurien laughed softly when she saw Cerceux's face look as if he had eaten bitter melon, annoyed by the soldier's interruption. But to Xurien, the prince seemed to be joking.
"He is right. We are not the ones to give you the blessing," Xurien said, feeling a bit awkward as time seemed to stand still in their gaze. "But my only advice... horses are not allowed inside."
"No problem." With a single signal from the prince, the guards took the horses' reins until the sound of their hooves faded into the distance.
"Come, Father Gomenzer is waiting," Xurien said seriously, clearly controlling herself in front of the prince as she turned to lead the way.
But Cerceux's voice was like a tether, pulling her back. "Wait a moment. Your eyes are beautiful, but they are not the eyes of a Thallerion."
Cerceux could hear Xurien catch her breath. "What is your name, my lady?" Her warm cheeks turned red like a thorny rose. Xurien slowly turned after taking a deep breath. Facing him, a forced smile appeared on her lips.
"I am Xurien Wrez. I am from the country of Cypriox, but my father is of Thallerion descent. As a believer, my mission is to help those in need," Xurien introduced herself. She noticed a wound on Alexuther's arm that looked like a crab bite. Xurien momentarily handed the black cross to a companion, then stepped closer and took the soldier's hand. Xurien's green eyes glowed, and a white light like warm fire emerged from her hand, crawling over Alexuther's wound—the sting of venom, even from a small injury. "We also heal wounds using the power of the Crux entity, through prayer and faith—we women who serve the church of Thallerion were sent by the Cyprioxians to fulfill this sacred responsibility. The cleansing of sickness and curses in Thallerion."
Alexuther's eyes widened. He rubbed his skin and laughed with joy. "What the soldiers say is true... the women of the Thallerion church are great healers." The foul smell and the itching were gone. "Ever since I was wounded by a monster's claw... the wound never healed. But now, look, dear prince... it's gone—my arm is healed." Alexuther flexed his arm in front of the soldiers to show off Xurien's skill, while the women behind Xurien watched with quiet amusement. Xurien immediately took the cross back and stood before the women.
"Is that so? Won't you thank Xurien for her kindness?" Cerceux said, his brow furrowing slightly. Alexuther immediately placed his fist over his chest with a sharp thud. The prince cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. He stared at Xurien once more.
"Are the prayers of the Thallerions also heard by the Crux entity, even when our surroundings are filled with the clashing of steel?" Alexuther and the others paused, their eyes observing the women intently. "Can it be said... that the Crux of the Cyprioxians brings victory, or is it the Thallerion race itself that changes fate?" Prince Cerceux asked, the soldiers nodding firmly; they knew he was seriously testing Xurien. "Tell me truly, do the Constellar Entities hold everyone's destiny, or do humans create their own fate?"
Hearing the prince's challenge, Xurien stood tall. "My dear prince, those who believe and truly pray are heard by the Crux."
"But if the people of the world, the leaders who play the roulette of war—those people live on the bribes of darkness. The curse of exploitative entities will not stop because of their greed." Xurien looked up, her shoulders squared. "If you believe that man dictates his own fate and is merely a tool of war, how will people understand the meaning of peace and hope when every bite of war... leaves so many orphans behind? Kings celebrate—but it is the blood of heroes that is sacrificed. Why does war still live?"
"God alone knows the destiny of each person, and no one can change the course of the world. But can steel or kings change the logic of life and fate if it is already written in the book of God?"
Prince Cerceux fell silent, his eyes fixed on the maiden's face, and he suddenly felt a surge of joy. He admired her; he hadn't expected Xurien to think so deeply. "You impress me... if it is God's fate for Thallerion to succeed in the war—does a flower still bloom in the middle of bloody soil? Will a white dove still lose its way in the middle of a forest turned to ash by the fires of war? Or is there still a home to shelter a hero after the ceaseless pulling of his weapon?"
"Why does a hero bind himself if time runs in circles? The heart always beats, but steel rusts no matter how sharp it is," Xurien replied.
"When the hero returns, he will seek the half of the heart that war carved away." The prince seemed to leave a promise, silencing his soldiers and the clinking of their swords. On the other side, the women behind Xurien gasped at the prince's metaphorical words. "I hope that peace is no longer sought through fire and steel, where the church and the kingdom unite in a single vow." The women almost prayed for it to come true, while the soldiers remained quiet at Cerceux's words.
Xurien Wrez did not speak, but she looked at the prince gently, remembering the prophecy of the Great Orion as she raised the cross toward her waist. Then, she smiled with hope.
"And may it be that upon that hero's return, his eyes meet the flower that waits and hopes in God's promise," Xurien Wrez said seriously, though fear flickered across her face, for the truth outside Thallerion's borders was violent.
"This cathedral is witness, and in the name of Great Orion, I am Cerceux Herzthroven, Prince of Thallerion... I promise that hero will return—I promise." That was the first time the maiden met and knew the prince from the Herzthroven clan, Prince Cerceux Herzthroven. After the blessing, the prince left with his soldiers toward the northern part of Rigil, where the Military Headquarters were located.