Of course not - Why take the risk?

Alice glances at the arch-bishop coolly as he pours the tea, her expression betraying nary a thought as she considers the brew sitting in front of her. She had spent her youth with her tutors as they taught her all sorts of proper manners befitting a lady of royal lineage, from proper dinner etiquette to ballroom dancing, and indeed, how to probably drink tea. If it wasn't for those repetitive lessons, she might not have recognized the peculiarity of the scent that wafted up from the cup, but Taria leaves were a rare import, and their sweet fragrance was part of the attraction. This cup in particular held a potent bitterness within, a cloying stench that was immediately obvious to her, but she doubted that the arch-bishop himself even realized it. As always, she was underestimated, and as always, it played right into her hand.

"I appreciate it, Currell," Alice says, trying out his name, and finding that she wasn't particularly fond of it. Add that to the ever growing list of reasons to dislike this decrepit old fool. Did he really think that she would fall for the simplest trick in the book? She wanted to kill him just for thinking so lowly of her intelligence, but she stifled her bloodlust, taking a few calming breathes before reaching for the cup, letting the tea touch her lips, but no further than that. ensuring not a single drop was swallowed. She can see the arch-bishop's mouth curl into a smile at the sight, and her disgust for the man rose ten-folds.

"To business then," Currell says once she placed the cup back down, not touching his own drink. "I imagine there must be a reason for your highness to visit our humble abode?"

Humble? This damn cathedral cost a fortune to build and rivaled the royal palace in its grandeur, and this man calls it humble? Alice wondered if the citizens who donated every day knew that their hard earned coin was going to all these luxuries. Would they stop donating if they knew the truth? Or is their fear of the Sun God greater than their own sense of self-preservation...

"I agree, my time is limited," Alice replies, waving for her knight to leave the room. Even he wasn't stupid enough to misunderstand the gesture, and he nodded, bowing and closing the door behind him when he leaves. He'll no doubt be within earshot though, in case of emergencies. He had many issues, but loyalty wasn't one of them. "I understand that you'd rather not have my brother Jamis sit on the throne?"

Currell blinked, not expecting her to be so blunt about her inquiry. In fact, he hadn't expected her to be talking about the succession at all. After all, such matters are beyond a woman's grasp. Scrambling to compose himself, he managed to put together a hasty reply: "well, we don't technically endorse any particular succ-"

"Not above the table you don't," Alice interjects, not caring to hear his entire spiel about the church and their stance on neutrality. It was common knowledge that they were in negotiations with Del and Blake, hoping for either of them to contest the succession, with Del being their primary hope. He wasn't as pious as they'd like, but he was better than Jamis who actively denounces the church as corrupt charlatans. It was one of the few things she agreed with Jamis on. "But let's be real for a moment: how much have you tried sabotaging Jamis already? And yet, he's a military man, and your spies and assassins can't touch him, isn't that right?"

"I- your implications lack any semblance of-" Currell sputters, his eyes bugging out, having never been treated with such blatant disrespect in his entire tenure as arch-bishop. Half rising from his seat, Alice could see the cogs in his head churning as he hastily tried to deny the allegations, not that she cared. In fact, she'd have shook his hand if they actually succeeded in dealing with her eldest brother.

"Sit down," Alice commands casually, not moving an inch from her seat, meeting Currell's frantic gaze with her own calmly. "You know Del won't actually fight for kingship right? He cares too much about lining his own pockets to actually fund a battle. That leaves me and Blake. So tell me, who would you prefer?"

"What? Between him and you?" The old man was incredulous, nearly **** on his drink. "That's blasphemy! To think you could ever take the throne? I'd rather the heretic Jamis over a woman like you!"

"Are you sure," Alice teases, leaning back against her chair casually. "After all, my husband would be the king, right?"

That gave the old man pause, though he still glared at her hostilely. At the same time, there was a hint of confusion there that Alice didn't miss. Probably wondering why the **** in the tea didn't kick in yet. "What do you mean?" He demands, his impatience evident.

"Simple. You give me a good man to marry, one that represent your interests, then we take the throne together," she said, a ruthless glint shining in her eyes. "It's a win-win scenario for the both of us. If Jamis takes the throne, I get married off to a faraway ally and kiss goodbye to my home forever, while your church gets dismantled. Follow my plan, and you get whoever you want as king, while I get to stay here and remain queen."

It was all lies of course. Alice had no intention of marrying any man who would seek to control her, but Currell didn't need to know that. For now, she'd play the role of subservient wife, biding her time until she didn't need the church any more. She has had enough shackles in her life, and she didn't need another binding her to the bedroom. Still, it was a persuasive argument, and she could see Currell thinking about it, and that was good enough. She came here just to plant the seed, and in time, it will surely bloom and bear fruit.

"This has been enlightening, but I must bid you goodbye for now, my dear arch-bishop," she says as she got up, snapping his out of his reverie. "No need to escort me, I can find my way out just fine. Do think on my idea, yes?"