Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

Chapter 105 Ashen Convenant

The Cathedral still ticked with murmurs of whispered prayers and the soft shuffling of robes as Aric and the priest sat side by side. The priest, eyes keen beneath his humble hood, watched Aric for a moment before breaking the silence.

"what is it you think you have to offer us?" he asked again, voice thick with both curiosity and skepticism.

Aric's reply was as calm as it was direct.

"Wealth. More than any of you have ever known."

The priest's brows lifted, a faint smile playing at his lips, skepticism writ plainly on his face.

"The pockets of the fourth prince, deep as they may be, are hardly as vast as those of your brothers or other nobles. Why should I believe you could offer us anything more?"

"Just tell me a price," Aric replied, unfazed.

The priest chuckled, his eyes slipping from Aric to the bronze statues along the cathedral walls. "The church has become divided, boy," he said, voice dropping to a grave murmur.

"The Council of Saints, as we call them—each of them backs a different power, each saint swayed by a different benefactor." He glanced sidelong at Aric, almost pitying. "If you want even a single saint under your thumb, you'll need to send a fortune."

"I don't want just one saint," Aric replied, his voice steady and clear. "I want all of them."

The priest looked at him, then barked a short, humorless laugh. "That cost, Your Highness, would be immense. Beyond anything you could imagine."

Aric's gaze remained steady, unflinching. "I am aware," he said. "And it's no problem for me."

They locked eyes for a short moment, and something in Aric's unwavering confidence seemed to chip away at the priest's skepticism. With a slow nod, the priest conceded, his tone shifting to something more respectful.

"Very well. I'll arrange a meeting with the Council of Saints. Word will reach you soon, Prince."

Aric nodded, stood, and left the quiet of the cathedral behind, his cloak swirling softly around him as he passed through the massive iron doors and out into the bustling streets of the imperial city.

---

Aric moved through the city like a fugitive—now he was far too famous and could easily be spotted on such errands, his form was cloaked and inconspicuous among the crowds. The streets was busy around him—the merchants' calls, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the hum of hundreds of voices.

Ivy choked the walls, and the windows were either broken or smeared with years of grime. Aric took in the crumbling stone, the balconies that sagged under their own weight, and the roof where several tiles had long fallen away, leaving dark gaps like missing teeth.

His escorts led him through the weed-choked path and up the cracked stone steps. Inside, the ruin was even more pronounced. The grand hall had high ceilings, with remnants of ornate moldings that had all but crumbled away. Experience exclusive tales on empire

Faded paintings hung loosely from the walls, their images unrecognizable, mere shadows of whatever glory they once portrayed. The floor creaked beneath their footsteps, and the scent of damp and decay filled the air.

They led him through dim corridors until they reached a pair of grand doors, one of which was missing entirely, revealing the shadowed room beyond. Stepping through, Aric found himself in what must have been a grand receiving hall at one time.

The remains of a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, now only a rusted frame with a few crystal shards clinging to it like barnacles.

Seated at the far end of the room was a man dressed in fine, though worn, clothes. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and though his face was lined with age, his eyes sparkled with a shrewd intelligence.

He rose as Aric entered, a smile spreading across his face, though it held an edge of something hard, like a dagger concealed beneath a velvet sheath.

"Prince," he said, his voice rich and smooth, carrying across the room as though it were filled with an audience. "I've dreamed of this moment."

Aric gave him a curt nod, his expression unreadable as he took in the man's posture, his subtle gestures of respect, and the flicker of anticipation in his gaze. "Viscount Kael, I presume?"

The man inclined his head, his smile deepening. "You presume correctly. Welcome to my humble estate. Or rather, what remains of it."

Aric's gaze swept the decaying room around them. "I see the Covenant has been flourishing," he remarked, his tone laced with irony.

Kael chuckled, the sound low and dark. "Ah, yes, appearances can be misleading. We have our resources, though we choose to appear... unassuming. Keeps the empire's eyes from prying too deeply into our affairs."

Aric gave a slight nod, the flicker of a smirk crossing his face as he folded his arms. "Then tell me, Viscount, what is it you want from me?"

Kael's smile faded slightly, his expression growing serious.

"It's not about what we want from you, Prince Aric. It's what we can offer you—alliances, resources, information." He paused, letting his words hang in the air, his gaze steady. "The Ashen Covenant is more than willing to stand behind a prince who shares our... ambitions."

Aric's eyes met the viscount's, a silent understanding passing between them. Here, in the shadowed ruin of a once-grand estate, he saw the glint of loyalty—a loyalty forged not out of duty but of shared disdain, of mutual dissatisfaction with an empire that had failed them both.

And though he said nothing, Aric knew that this, perhaps, was the support he had been searching for.