The tension in the square had turned sharp.
The Deacon stood tall, flanked by his attendants, one hand still raised like he were delivering divine judgment.
Riku, ever composed, wiped his hands on a cloth and looked up at the man with a pleasant, almost curious expression.
"You say this food is a blessing of the light," he said calmly.
The Deacon smirked. "Clearly. Any fool with a tongue can taste it."
"And you say that, because it is a blessing," Riku continued, "it must belong to the Church?"
"Yes," the Deacon said firmly. "All miracles are meant to serve the divine. That which uplifts the spirit must be sanctified and shared by those who shepherd faith."
Riku tilted his head thoughtfully. "Interesting."
He stepped out from behind the cart, hands behind his back.
"But tell me, good Deacon—if a man shares his bread with his neighbor, does it stop being his bread the moment it warms another?"
The Deacon frowned. "What are you implying?"
Riku smiled slightly. "You see, I thought blessings were meant to be shared, not seized."
The crowd murmured, quietly emboldened.
"And I always believed that the light of the divine shines brightest when it is given, not taken."
The Deacon's jaw clenched.
"I suggest," Riku went on gently, "that if this food brings comfort, then perhaps it is already doing the work of the divine. Without needing walls. Or titles."
A few nobles near the back began to nod. Even some commoners shifted forward.
The Deacon narrowed his eyes. "Enough of this poetic defiance. You speak cleverly, boy. But you do not speak for the Church."
He snapped his fingers.
Two robed attendants surged forward and began shoving aside the crowd, barking orders.
"Stand back! This cart is now the property of the Church! Move aside!"
Hearing the Deacon's orders, the lackeys immediately moved, shoving the people near the cart without mercy. A man shielding his wife was shoved aside. The city folks not wanting to resist, gave way.
"Excuse me, can you let me and my siblings have 1 bun, we all pooled our savings for this." Suddenly, a young boy, no older than ten, stood in front of the church lackeys. There were many kids behind him as well, who looked at the church lackeys in a tense stare.
"Shut up and get lost, you maggot."
"Ah—!"
A burly man forcefully shoved the young boy, who fell hard onto the cobblestones, landing with a sickening thud. His forehead hit the stone, and blood began to trail down his brow.
The square went utterly still.
Riku froze. His hands clenched at his sides.
For a moment—just a moment—his eyes darkened. After all these peaceful days, he felt an emotion that he had not experienced in a long time.
Anger. Raw, unadulterated anger.
The glow behind his eyes flickered, murderously furious.
He took a step forward—
But before he could speak—
A sharp voice sliced through the air.
"Enough!"
All eyes turned.
Lysaria had stepped forward as she removed her robe, her vestal robe sleeves fluttering with sudden purpose. She reached into her satchel and unfurled a golden scroll — the sigil of the Inner Flame gleamed like fire in the sun.
"By the grace of the divine and the weight of the vestal seal," she declared, "I, Lysaria of the Inner Flame, demand an immediate explanation."
The Deacon recoiled. "W-What?"
"You claim divine authority," she said coldly. "Yet you do not recognize one of your own?"
The crowd gasped.
"I watched your men shove aside faithful citizens. I watched a child bleed on stone—in the name of the Light. Is it the same church that we serve, or have you completely abandoned your teachings?"
The Deacon stammered. "I-I didn't—We thought—"
"Silence," Lysaria snapped. "You have presumed. You have abused. You will face the consequences."
Her gaze moved to the boy, who now sat cradled by his siblings, clutching his bloodied brow. Lila was already near them, applying first aid.
She turned back, voice low but fierce.
"I demand you kneel, Deacon. Not to me. To the people you've wounded. To the Light you claim to serve."
The square was silent.
"Bur Lady..."
"I said, KNEEL." Lysaria said, fully releasing her aura that came crashing down at the Deacon and his attendants.
Only the flutter of her robes and the boy's quiet sniffles echoed through the still air.
The Deacon stared at her — at the seal, the fire in her eyes — and his pride visibly crumbled.
He fell to one knee.
His attendants followed a heartbeat later.
The crowd held its breath.
The Deacon and his attendants knelt in the dust, heads bowed, the vestal seal in Lysaria's hand still glowing with righteous fury.
"I.... am sorry. I shouldn't have done that." The Deacon said softly.
"I will be reporting this incident," she said coldly. "To the Central Council. To the Order of Ascended Flame. All of you—" she pointed to the Deacon's two aides "—will face review and suspension for abusing your robes, probably imprisonment as well."
The Deacon opened his mouth, but Lysaria cut him off with a glare.
"You struck a child," she said, voice low and dangerous. "In broad daylight. For no reason whatsoever. Do not think that you can get away from this."
Then—
A new voice echoed from the edge of the square.
"…Lysaria."
The tone was soft. Familiar.
Lysaria froze.
A tall man in white and silver robes stepped through the parting crowd, his gait steady and commanding, his mantle clasped with a polished obsidian sigil.
He bore the same insignia of the Inner Flame, though his sash was braided with dual threads — one white, one gold — a mark of higher ecclesiastical standing.
"Vestarch Elian Veris," Lysaria said sharply, her voice tight. "You… I didn't expect to see you here."
"Nor did I expect to be pulled into a dispute at a food stall," Elian replied mildly, his silver eyes scanning the kneeling Deacon and the crowd.
"Do not think that you can save these men from the punishment for what they have done, Vestarch. The Inner Flame will not tolerate such blatant disregard of the law and abuse of authority."
"Nor should you, Lysaria. Don't get me wrong, I am not here to defend anyone."
Hearing Vestarch Elian's words, the deacon's face, which had regained some color, froze in terror again.
"I just want to propose a different solution," Vestarch Elian said slowly as he looked towards the injured boy.