As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, bathing the sky in hues of amber and crimson, Ravenna’s imperial carriage rolled steadily along the weathered road. Inside the luxurious carriage, Ravenna leaned back against the plush velvet cushions, a sly smile playing on her lips. Occasionally, she broke into soft, almost maniacal giggles, her amusement spilling out unchecked. To any observer, she might have appeared as unhinged as she was brilliant—a woman basking in the chaos she had orchestrated.

  An outsider, particularly a seasoned strategist, would undoubtedly call her recent actions bold, reckless even. The announcement she had made at the square earlier was too controversial, too inflammatory to be delivered with such dramatic flair. But that was precisely the point. Ravenna reveled in the uproar it would cause, knowing full well it would ignite discussions across the island.

  Whispers of her unpredictability and ruthlessness would spread like wildfire, cementing her reputation as an authoritarian force to be reckoned with. And for Ravenna, her reputation was a resource as vital as any. “I am such a genius!” she thought to herself, staring out of the carriage window at the shifting sands beyond. The gusting winds had begun to die down, their rhythm matching her growing sense of satisfaction.

  The reason for centralizing power was simple yet profound: control. Total control over the Island’s economy. Ravenna’s strength rested on her reputation, a currency she intended to wield with precision. By consolidating power, she could craft a persona of absolute authority, an image that would ripple across the empire once Jola reestablished contact with other territories. The reputation of a tyrant would spread among the nobility, further bolstering her image as an indomitable leader. Every tale of her ruthlessness would only add to her power.

  The implementation of this new governance system, however, had not been an impulsive decision. Ravenna had spent the past month meticulously drafting it, poring over every detail to ensure it adhered to the Ancorna Empire’s laws. While the empire granted its nobles substantial autonomy within their domains, there were still overarching legal frameworks to follow. Every clause, every line of her reforms had been carefully crafted to remain within the bounds of imperial law, all while giving her absolute control over Jola.

  She was confident that her people, beaten down by years of neglect and hardship, would not resist her. They weren’t entitled nobles with armies at their disposal; they were ordinary citizens who had been left to rot under the previous regime. These people had gone hungry for months before her arrival, and now they had food, work, and a glimmer of hope for the future. They might grumble and complain in private, but protests or riots? Highly unlikely.

  It was, after all, a stroke of fortune that Jola’s population was so small and its nobility nonexistent. With no powerful opposition to challenge her, Ravenna had a clear path to establish her rule unimpeded.

  As the carriage rumbled forward, its wheels crunching against the sandy road, its destination came into view: The Herptian Church. Unlike the lord’s castle, this was no crumbling relic of Jola’s decayed glory. The church was one of the few enduring symbols of the island’s once-flourishing past—a beacon of faith in an otherwise desolate land.

  The grand cathedral rose from the desert sands like a monolith, its sandstone walls catching the last rays of sunlight and glowing with a golden hue. The intricate carvings along its facade spoke of a time when Jola had been a bustling trade hub, not the isolated and decrepit island it had become. At the center of the structure stood a towering statue of the Herptian goddess, her features serene yet commanding. Every line and curve of the statue was a masterpiece, etched with devotion by the artisans of a bygone era.

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  Ravenna’s carriage came to a stop before the church’s massive arched doors. The air was thick with reverence and history. She stepped out of the carriage, her jet-black hair flowing like a shadow behind her, and gazed up at the towering edifice. A glint of calculated ambition flickered in her eyes. The Herptian Church might still hold sway over the people of Jola, but soon enough, even this bastion of faith would bend to her will to make her more reputation points.

  A glint of calculated ambition flickered in Ravenna's eyes as she gazed at the towering structure of the Herptian Church. The institution still held considerable influence over the people of Jola, but in her mind, it was yet another piece on the chessboard. Soon, even this bastion of faith would bend to her will, adding yet more points to her growing reputation.

  The grand double doors of the church creaked open as Ravenna entered, her steps echoing against the polished stone floor. The head priest, flanked by a few junior priests, stood waiting for her near the entrance. His robes were simple but immaculately clean, a testament to the care and reverence still present within the fading faith. As she approached, the head priest bowed deeply, his demeanor calm and respectful.

  “Welcome, Your Highness,” the man said, his voice steady yet warm. “I am Head Priest James Eric. May the goddess watch over you and guide your path.”

  Ravenna gave a curt nod, her eyes scanning the surroundings with casual interest before resting on James. “I would like to speak with you privately, Head Priest James,” she said, her tone commanding but not harsh.

  The old man smiled, a soft and genuine expression that contrasted with the sharp edge in her voice. “Of course, Your Highness,” he replied, meeting her gaze without hesitation. His calm composure was unshaken by her authoritative presence, a trait that piqued her curiosity.

  James led her deeper into the church, past rows of pews and toward the base of the towering statue of the goddess Herptian. The figure was a striking depiction of serene beauty, her features exuding an almost hypnotic allure. If Solious, the goddess of the dominant faith in the Ancorna Empire, represented elegant virtue and radiant purity, Herptian was her more enigmatic counterpart—a symbol of sedative beauty paired with quiet wisdom. The statue’s intricate craftsmanship was mesmerizing, its every curve and detail a testament to the artisans from the island’s history.

  They passed through a discreet door behind the statue, entering a modest yet serene chamber furnished with simple wooden furniture. James gestured for Ravenna to sit, taking his place opposite her at a small table. A faint aroma of stew filled the room as he set a bowl before her, a humble offering from the church's sparse kitchen.

  “This is all we have on the island, Your Highness,” James said with a polite smile.

  Ravenna glanced at the bowl, its contents a thin broth with a few chunks of root vegetables and herbs floating within. She waved it off. “I’ve already eaten,” she replied, her tone dismissive but not unkind. Then, her sharp eyes locked onto his.

  James met her gaze without flinching, his calm demeanor unshaken by the authoritative pressure she exuded. There was a quiet strength in his presence, an unwavering conviction that even Ravenna found mildly intriguing.

  “Do you intend to have the Herptian faith removed from this island?” James asked, his voice even but laced with genuine curiosity.

  It was a reasonable question, and Ravenna knew it. The Solious faith, the dominant religion of the Ancorna Empire, was rising across the continent while the Herptian faith dwindled. As a member of the imperial family and a direct descendant of Solious’s chosen lineage, it would make sense for her to align with the dominant religion, especially given her precarious position in the imperial court following her exile.

  But Ravenna had no intention of following predictable paths.

  “Not at all, Your Holiness,” she said, leaning back slightly in her chair. A faint smirk curved her lips, the expression of someone weaving a careful plan. “In fact, I want the Herptian faith to stay. No, not just stay—I want it to thrive, to grow stronger than ever before.”

  Her words hung in the air, their weight palpable. James studied her carefully, the flicker of a question in his eyes.

  “And why,” he asked, his voice measured, “would the imperial princess of Solious’s lineage wish to strengthen a fading faith, particularly one so far removed from the empire’s favor?”