King's Capital, Peterburg.
In a dimly lit room, a white candle stood on the empty tabletop, Archbishop Henry gazed at the flickering flame with profound eyes.
Footsteps hurried through the corridors, and soon, a black-robed friar pushed the door open and said to Archbishop Henry sitting on the couch, "The Duke of Ivanovich has arrived."
"He's finally here...."
Archbishop Henry smoothed out the wrinkles on his clothing and took a deep breath, "Please let him in."
The black-robed friar retreated to announce, and after a short while, the Duke of Ivanovich, dressed in military uniform, entered the room and said with a tone that was either jesting or mocking, "The Winter Palace is really well-guarded, even I needed to have my identity verified..."
"Extraordinary times require extraordinary measures, Your Grace."
Archbishop Henry, as if he hadn't detected the deeper meaning in the Duke of Ivanovich's words, gestured towards the couch opposite him, "Please, have a seat."
