Orson slammed his hand against the table, the sharp crack echoing through the chamber.
"What did you say?!"
The young cleric before him flinched, trembling under the high priest's fiery gaze. Her name was Marie—barely past her first rites—but her voice was steady, even as fear gripped her limbs.
"I-I saw the girl who healed Her Majesty… And she's a witch, Your Holiness," Marie stammered.
Orson's brows furrowed deeply as he laced his fingers, leaning forward in thought. What in Eunomia's name was the Queen thinking?
"Perhaps Her Majesty is unaware," said Jake, an older man clad in polished holy knight armor.
His tone was calm but stern. "This kingdom does not forbid witches, after all."
"You're right, Jake," Orson muttered, rising to his feet.
"And as Eunomia's faithful, we must inform the Queen before she's fully deceived by that witch!"
