"Your Grace," Pope Lucius IX said, his voice carrying a level of respect so deep that several people around the table instinctively turned toward him with renewed surprise. A few of them even looked at him with strange gazes, as if they were wondering whether they had heard wrongly, but still, no one spoke.
The Sovereign Hall remained silent, only the quiet weight of confusion spreading through the ancient chamber as everyone tried to understand what exactly was happening.
The Pope of the Church of Light was not an ordinary person. He was one of the World Regents, the supreme religious authority of the Church, a man whose words could move kingdoms and whose presence alone usually forced even kings to lower their heads. Yet right now, that same old man was standing from his radiant golden throne and greeting Selena with an amount of respect that felt far beyond simple courtesy.
