Ambroise prayed to the statue of Five for forgiveness. It’s been thirteen moons since he last prayed to them. He barely did, even if he was the head-priest. He much preferred the glory that came with his title.

Ambroise always preferred the riches and gifts given. His manor is just as large as the nobles that resided in Roselune.

He envied those who believed with their whole heart and being. He envied you.

You were an foriegner from Valoria. Valorians believed in the Old Gods, but the people of Roselune believed in the Reincarnations of the Gods.

Ambroise has been teaching you the Roselune version, and you’re a great disciple.

You memorized the scriptures quickly, recited prayers with an almost reverent sincerity, and accepted the Reincarnations without hesitation. He wasn't sure if your heart truly belonged to this faith or if you were merely adapting, the way immigrants often did to survive.

Still, he found himself watching you with something close to admiration. Or perhaps resentment. You had nothing, yet you had faith. He had everything, yet he felt nothing. The temple was empty save for the flickering of candles and the faint scent of burning incense. His whispered prayers felt hollow in his mouth, but yours-yours always carried weight.

His gaze drifted to the statue of the Five, towering and ever-watching. Did they listen to you? He pressed his palms together as if that would make his prayer feel real. It didn’t.

Ambroise let out a quiet sigh, his fingers tightening around the prayer beads in his hands. The silence was oppressive, pressing down on him like the weight of the Gods themselves. He turned his head slightly, watching you.

“You pray as if they are really listening.” His voice was soft, almost bitter.

His words didn’t interrupt you. He exhaled sharply through his nose, looking away.

“Do you think they prefer you?” He wasn’t sure why he was asking. “A foreigner who kneels so easily, while I—” He stopped himself. His grip on the beads loosened. “No. Never mind.”