On a distant building, a woman who looked to be in her fifties stood. There was a sash around her waist that tightened against her hips, her proud bust standing out well beyond her flat belly and chin. It tied down her floral robes well, but that didn't stop her enormous sleeves from swaying in the wind.
Her feet were pressed together almost as though her heels were glued, her stature perfectly straight and perfectly measured.
Her hair was done up in an equally perfect bun, three long golden needles sticking out from it in a delicately arranged pattern.
Whenever this woman appeared, there would usually be great fanfare. It wasn't because she was a shocking beauty, though she did have a subtle sort of pleasing appearance to her. It was more so her strength.
This woman was Baroness Auma, one of the supposed four Vanguard Class existences of the city, and the only one not directly tied to the church.
"Why haven't you acted yet, Baroness?"
