As they viewed it as an Angel, no one was particularly surprised by her words. Only, it was just jarring on how leisurely should utter that confess. Randol had just wanted to urge his case. Now though... He was a little scared too. Least he'd the reason this Angel play with his country like it was some pass-time.

"Surely a Prince wouldn't skimp on finding you a reward," Priscilla stepped in to help Randol. "Maybe a nice villa in the capital, or a bit of land with a cottage in a forest."

"Ooh," Cyril cooed at that thought, "I was thinking maybe a few gold coins, or maybe a fancy sword, or a bit of information - but I like this idea much more. Maybe a house on a cliff, overlooking the sea?"

"Maybe be lord of one of the port cities?" Priscilla's eyes sparkled as her mind began to think up possibilities.

"Nah, way too much work," Cyril hook her lovely finger in the air. "Maybe... A nice castle on a cliff?

"A nice castle out in a forest?" Priscilla jumped in again. "And there'll be a lovely rose garden, and have a cute bear waiter!"

"Okay, okay!" Randol through up his hands in defeat. "I'll build you a cottage on a cliff, and I'll hand the land over to you, so you'll own it; but please, don't make me build a castle!"

"Deal!" Cyril agreed.

She flipped over onto her stomach with the agility of a cat, then clamored off the feather bed. She then stood before Randol and held out her pinky to him.

"Do we have to do that again?" Randol looked apprehensively to the pinky, feeling it was too childish for something so major.

"Yes." Cyril beamed as her chest trembled with a repressed giggle.

"Fine..." Randol sighed. "I promise, cross my heart and hope to die."

Like previously, shadowing Cyril, both of them ran their finger over their hearts in the shape of an "X". To finish it off, each pointed to their eye. However, unlike before, he felt the skin over his heart sing - as if bitten by something.

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— ⊥ —

At the behest of Randol, Cyril had changed back into more... appropriate clothing. She had drawn out the clothing selection, killing nearly two hours of the day; just to annoy him. While some may call it malicious, it was just her way of being playful. Rather, if she hated him, she wouldn't have entertained him at all. Randol may have been hard-headed, stubborn in odd ways, but wasn't everyone?

He hadn't lied to her yet, and that was all she could ask in something. The truth.

Cyril strode down the up the Lord's Way, dressed in an olive green oversized modern zip-up jacket that stopped mid-thigh. Its insides lined brown fur, with its hood over her head.

"You wouldn't happen to have another one of those I could have, would you?" Priscilla asked, envy and cold in her eyes. While the article was quite... outlandish to her, it looked really warm.

"Nope," Cyril asked. "I only ever bothered to keep one of every item I liked. Even then, I had given any a lot of my stuff before I ended up here.

The jacket had been zipped up, and Excalibur's belt wrapped over her waist. Lucky for Cyril, it didn't block none of the pockets, as they were real now. She took full advantage of by stuffing a few coins in each. Well, whatever coins the prudent Desmond would allow her to take. Beneath, she had her black dress and some "assassin" leather pants. All items from the premium shop.

In the end, Randol approved it - reluctantly - and they found themselves here.

"Your highness," One of the castle guards greeted Randol as they approached the castle's entrance.

"I've come to see Lord Gulley," Randol announced.

"He was expecting you a few hours ago," The guard reported. "He left not but twenty minutes ago for the Cathedral - over there."

The guard pointed to the large cathedral that broke the sea of snow-topped roofs just several blocks south of them.

"I was predisposed when your lord asked for me," Randol said. "Send a runner to bring him back, and I'll meet with him in his audience chamber."

The guard looked to the two girls behind him. Priscilla glared at the man with that insinuating look. Cyril hadn't noticed as she was still in awe over the view from the gate. The guard quickly looked away, then summoned another guard to lead them into the castle. They crossed the outer bailey, swarming with activity from officers trying to plan the defense of the city, to the servants trying to store rations away for an expected siege.

Cyril watched it all with great interest. Priscilla felt more nervous and stayed close to Cyril for comfort. She was like a mountain, powerful and unmoving. She need only to come closer to escape the waves of chaos that lapped at her feet, and it'd bring peace of mind. Though, this mountain had to repeatedly be pulled along by her to keep up.

They passed through another gate and into the inner bailey. Finally, they reached the audience chamber, which was Lord Gulley's solar. Illuminated by the winter mid-day sun, Randol and Priscilla were led to a large table with tea placed in front of them. Cyril declined it and instead walked around the room. Admiring the paintings on the wall as she lowered her hood down. Her hair seemed to brighten the room as the light hit it.

"Cyril, why don't you have a seat?" Randol asked.

"I rather stand," Cyril replied. "These paintings, are there anything like this in your home?"

It was a lovely painting of the sea, marked with a single ship as it sailed into the sunset. She had seen hundreds of digital photos of paintings. Digitally done, hand-done, robotically done. Done this way, or that way. She'd seen it done many ways. Despite that, there was a certain allure to seeing it in person. Though, Cyril found that many things were better in person.

"Yes, and much better done," Randol said. "If you'd like, I could show you around the Royal Palace whenever you care to visit."

"I don't mean better," Cyril said. "Just... I don't remember the last time I've seen a painting in person. Well... My father had one family portrait painted and huge in the living room. That was a long time ago... I don't think I even remember how it looked."

"You don't remember how... You look?" Priscilla asked.

The two nobles looked at the Goddess with uncertainty. There was a feeling of loss around the girl right now. Randol had never known painting to bring out such an emotion, not a genuine one at least. The girl seemed to have quite the mood swings though, so he wasn't sure if it was the painting.

"Mm, no," Cyril said. "It's been a long time since I've seen my face."

"If you'd like, my fair lady, I could gift you a mirror?" A voice called out as an older man walked into the room.

He was trailed by a man who dressed like a Bishop. On his white hat, a sun had been displayed. And he walked with leisure. He also looked out of breath.

"I'm fine," Cyril said, turning to face them.

The two men paused when her golden-feline eyes turned to them. Their subtle glow and pureness caught them off guard. The Bishop stood his ground afterword, but the older man approached.

"I am Viscount Herald Gulley, at your service," Lord Gulley bowed politely to Cyril, who in turned nodded her head to him. "I rule over quite the port here, a mirror would never be troublesome to acquire. An exquisite gift for an exquisite woman."

Lord Gulley was stood a quarter of a head taller than Cyril. He had sharp sky eyes, and graying blonde hair. He was also fit for a man his age. Wearing a fancy leather coat, it did well to show he was a fit man. He had a short beard and mustache that protruded from his wolfish features.

"Lord Gulley, it's a pleasure," Randol stood from his chair and walked over to greet him. " I apologize for the delay."

"I was told you were predisposed," Lord Gulley looked over the two girls. "I hope I did not ruin your fun, but we're currently facing quite the threat at the moment."

"I believe you have it wrong," Randol frowned. "Lady Cyril... Let us just say she is not one to offend, and neither is Lady Priscilla, the only daughter of the Hammel Family."

It was then that Lord Gulley saw the sword at Cyril's hip.

"I see," Lord Gulley said. "Forgive me, I misspoke. I was consulting with the Alistairian Church to see if they'd be willing to provide aid. This is Bishop Luis, he agreed to muster up mages for the defense."

"I see, as to your request," Randol stepped over to Cyril with a smile. "Lady Cyril has agreed to stay behind and assist you in your defense."