The capital lay quiet as a painting before dawn, broken only by the low chirping of night birds and the steady steps of distant watchmen. Evelyn and Lucien, weary yet sleepless, pored over reports from across the realm in the royal study. Since the second act of the "Dialogue Between Holy Light and Public Will," ripples of change had spread through the capital—old nobles grumbled incessantly, the Holy See's internal schism deepened, and in the three council chambers, the people's voices grew ever louder.
Evelyn lifted her eyes to the palace walls emerging from the morning mist, speaking softly to Lucien: "This morning, I will host the third act of the dialogue at Holy Light Square—'The Fusion of Faith and Law.' Alongside Holy See representatives, I've invited local elders and civilian delegates to co-draft the new Charter of Holy Light Participation." Her voice held the unshakable warmth of the rising sun.
Lucien clasped her hand, responding firmly: "With me by your side, we'll guard the capital's dawn no matter how our opponents obstruct." He turned to order the captain of the guard: "Deploy the Silver Oath Shadows and Fire Riders around the square at once to ensure no troublemakers disrupt the dialogue."
As afternoon bells rang, Holy Light Square was lined with long tables draped in moon-white silk, bearing the draft Charter. Ministers, Holy See masters, noble elders, and elected delegates stood in rows, the air abuzz with tension and expectation. Evelyn ascended the stage, her gaze as calm and profound as starlight: "The third act of the dialogue begins now. Let us forge new kingdom laws together, guided by the light of faith and the measure of law."
She first read the charter's core clauses: Church tribunals would establish a "Holy-Civil Judgment Court" to jointly handle heresy and civil disputes with elected law courts; church property transparency would increase, with all hearing records open to the public; clergy would also face fair elections, with patriarch terms aligned with civilian officials. Each sentence drew applause, but also suspicion.
When a Holy See elder objected that "patriarch elections might destabilize doctrine," Evelyn tapped the table, her tone reassuring yet unyielding: "Faith that does not heed the people is not eternal; divinity that refuses challenge cannot endure. Let us uphold faith through law and guide law through faith, together safeguarding the kingdom's peace." Her words settled the matter, winning nods from most delegates.
Yet around the square, several robed figures stirred. They held torn secret letters marked "Seven Circles Ablaze," their expressions as if they had foreseen all. Suddenly, a clerical student raised his hand to demand: "If church and crown stand equal, if the Holy-Civil Court and civil law court hold equal sway, who then decides faith's verdicts?" A figure in black robes murmured agreement, exchanging a glance with the student that confirmed their next move.
Lucien sensed the disturbance from the audience, tapping the table to signal hidden guards. Mecia immediately intercepted the student, escorting him to a side gate to prevent further unrest. Evelyn's gaze remained steady as she nodded: "This is a good thing—including dissent in the dialogue only strengthens the running-in of faith and law." As her words fell, the square erupted in applause again.
When the final discussion ended and the crowd dispersed, only a few trusted allies and moderate Holy See members stayed to finalize the charter. Evelyn and Lucien walked side by side across the empty square, moonlight and bonfire light intertwining. She turned to him: "Another test passed, but the people's smiles tell me we're on the right path."
Lucien stroked the nape of her neck, pulling her close as he said in a low voice: "Your Highness, you lead them out of the shadows. I vow to share every dawn and night by your side." He gently kissed the royal blood mark on her neck, his tongue trailing over it, making her shiver.
Back in the Fountain Pavilion, they remained half-dressed, yet their hearts had shed their armor. Lucien took a flame-inscribed cufflink from his breast, fastening it to her cloak: "This emblem represents the spark of our new alliance—both a mark of faith and law, and a vow of our united hearts."
Evelyn ran her fingers over the warm metal, her voice soft: "With you beside me, this spark will never die." She tilted her head to kiss his lips, her tongue slipping into his warm mouth. He returned the kiss deeply, his hands roaming her back and waist, freeing her from the weight of politics.
Silk slid to the ground as the fountain's melody and dying embers composed their most passionate private anthem. Lucien's form looked even more imposing in the candlelight, while Evelyn bloomed like a night-blooming golden lotus, unfolding at the intersection of desire and tenderness. Her pants and whispers pierced the night: "Grow old with you, ally with the flame—let us protect the kingdom and each other's hearts."
He kissed her back: "In this night, every call of 'Your Highness' is my unchanging vow." They embraced, their skin touching in silent covenant.
As the night wind swept through the Fountain Pavilion again, carrying faint fragrance of flowers and the tune of a flute, they slept in each other's arms. The capital's future, forged in the fusion of faith and law, shone brighter thanks to the deep love and courage of this monarch and her war god.