A slow but definition conclusion is reached in the ensuing conversation, one that my father chimes little into as the clerics exercise their vocal cords and compete in who can repeat the same message with as much fancy vocabulary and vernacular as possible: no one can know the princess' powers.
To say the following atmosphere is tense would be like saying the sky is blue. It's so thick I could cut it with a knife and spread it on toast like butter. I know the bad blood between the Holy Church and imperial family runs deep, and my father's usurp- ahem, ascension was not the ideal situation they had hoped for.
