Ferris stared at the Margrave, aghast.

“You're telling me that Fourier is arranging for the parade to the sacred rite next week?!” Ferris hissed, feeling overwhelmed at the thought. “We talked last Wood Day, and His Majesty said that he wasn’t planning on organising one for months!”

“Be very care~ful who you share that information with,” Roswaal said evenly.

He did not look up from his documents, his quill scratching out his signature on one page after another.

“I have my su~spicions on why His Majesty changed his mind,” Roswaal continued, “as do many others, but His Majesty was careful to never give a timeline on when he planned his coronation. Many will think that King Fourier simply moved the schedule up sli~ghtly.”

Ferris grimaced at the slip up, but nodded in understanding.

The two were in Roswaal’s study, ready to start the day’s lessons. Roswaal had revealed that enormous piece of information just as Ferris sat down, which had immediately caused him to leap to his feet again.

Feeling a little foolish, Ferris returned to his seat, organising his disarrayed thoughts.

“And on that note, you should be joi~ning him,” Roswaal continued. “I believe you have enough practical exp~erience that you will be able to absorb the theory contained within the tomes. I’ll select a num~ber of them for you to study in your absence.”

Ferris blinked.

“I’ve made a lot of progress in curse breaking since my gate recovered,” he finally said. “If I lock myself away now…”

“I believe this is the be~st course of action,” Roswaal said, putting his quill down. “King Fourier could pote~ntially be vulnerable during the ceremony. The perp~etrator has not attempted to target His Majesty armed with his typical guard. Yet the cere~mony demands that only the church protect him with the exception of Sworn Knights. In a traditional rite, every Royal Member and their own Sworn Knight would attend, but with Fourier being the only remaining royal….”

He paused, and looked towards the window.

“Thankfully, as a concession King Fourier was promised a Royal Guard in addition to his own Knight. Sir Julius is extremely ca~pable, but it would be best to have a healer on site. Especially since if you didn’t attend, I would still be assi~gning theoretical studies rather than practical experience,” he said. “Clind and Ram have… a task I must send them on, in my family’s lands. Without them present, I fe~el our ordinary lessons would be too difficult to hold.”

Roswaal fell silent, and Ferris digested that information.

He had never seen Roswaal go anywhere without Clind, so it was surprising to hear that the butler would be leaving without him.

“If Fourier can only bring one member of the Royal Guard, then shouldn’t he bring Captain Marcos?” Ferris asked, “The primary reason Julius was chosen to become Fourier’s Sworn Knight is because he can already slow curses down? Wouldn’t he be able to do it long enough to bring him here?”

“Choosing Marcos would be an insult to the church, as it implies that Fourier does not trust his life to them. The reason Sworn Knights are allowed to attend at all is primarily for honour,” Roswaal countered. “In all likelihood, the primary reason the concession was granted is due to your friendship with King Fourier being open knowledge. While Sir Julius can slow down the curse, it will still do quite a bit of damage before we can see him if you are not on site, as it will be difficult to leave the ceremony after it starts. Even if you cannot break the curse directly, you will be able to cure the symptoms.”

Ferris lowered his eyes, expression darkening at the thought. He remembered just how sickening being so helpless felt.

“If… if we focused on breaking the Royal Family curse… do you think I’d be able to Teacher?” he asked, unable to hide the hopeful tone.

“If you focused entirely on defeating that cu~rse for the next week?” Roswaal pondered. “Perha~ps. Your strides in detection have grown exponentially. If I performed the curse several times and you destructively tested the remains, you’d likely grasp the essence enough to dispel the curse. However, such a method would not be much fa~ster than our current training. Not to mention, less useful.”

Roswaal released a quiet sigh, seeing that Ferris wasn’t deterred.

“We’ve discussed it before,” Roswaal said. “But it is still possible that the assai~lant will use a different curse next time. There are multiple I can think of that would be similarly subtle, especially when there is only one target le~ft.”

His eyes flicked to the books Ferris had brought with him, both the old textbooks and the notebook Ferris used to record his questions.

“The reason I have given you so much material focu~sed on analysis of curses is because it will require less subjects for destructive testing. If you can learn to see a curse for what it truly is, you will surpa~ss even myself.”

He laid down his quill, and raised his eyes to meet Ferris’s.

“Our enemies have already proven their capa~bility of creating a unique curse, and although I doubt they will create another of the same complexity to deal with a single target, we must be aware of the possibility. If they do possess the means and create a new one as complex, then even I will not be able to save his ma~jesty.”

Ferris paled. “And you expect me to be able to handle it without destructive testing?”

“Yes,” Roswaal confirmed smile softening. “Or rather, I expect that working toge~ther, you and I will be enough to handle even a unique curse without having to use such distasteful methods. Even if you cannot learn to bre~ak them, if you serve as my eyes, I can handle the rest.”

Ferris grimaced, ears flat against his head. “But what if Fourier is attacked while you’re not around? Will my skills ever grow enough for me to delay a curse for days to weeks?”

Roswaal closed an eye, his yellow eye examining Ferris closely.

“Yes. I’ll make sure of it. One day I’m sure you’ll surpa~ss me. After all, you have achieved the title of ‘Blue’, and at such a you~ng age. I have no doubt that one day you’ll be able to wash away even the most pow~erful of curses with nothing more than a wave of your hand.”

Ferris’s ears rose as he untensed. “If you're that confident… then Ferri will focus on curse analysis.”

Roswaal nodded at his answer, then tilted his head.

“As long as that is your pri~mary focus…” Roswaal said slowly, “I suppose I could have Clind gather several dispo~sable test subjects. If I limit the royal family curse to once a day, it shouldn’t slow down either of us. Keep in mind that this will only adva~nce your studies with this specific curse.”

Ferris perked up, smiling brightly at Roswaal.

“Thank you Teacher,” he said, the relief evident in his tone. “It’ll help me rest easy. I’ve had nightmares of Fourier being inflicted with it again.”

“I understand,” Roswaal said softly. “Your frie~ndship with His Majesty is well known, and we both know who kept him alive long enough for me to save him. Have faith that should any~thing happen that you will be able to match and exceed yourself, now that you understand curses.”

----------------------------------------

Fourier’s hand ached, having spent the last several hours writing instructions and signing paperwork.

Today would be his last day in the palace as a prince, even if he’d been informally ruling as King. Tomorrow he’d go out and meet his people one last time, and then the coronation would begin.

It was amazing how much could change in just a few months.

He’d always enjoyed travelling and he’d regularly gone out of his way to visit his friends whenever he could. Back then, time had seemed like such an ephemeral thing, something that was measured more on how interesting a day was, rather than how much he accomplished.

Now? He’d met with professionals who had booked every hour of his life, segmenting himself into parts for the sake of his kingdom. Even when he was supposed to be relaxing, a part of him always kept an eye on the clock, the other turning inwards and considering how he could handle things more efficiently.

A week was such a short period of time, Fourier had taken longer to simply travel to Priestella, for the sake of finding something to surprise Crusch with.

Yet that same week set his teeth on edge now, the idea of not being constantly connected to his kingdom strange and foreign.

At least Crusch had agreed to drop some information off after a few days, and it’d be good to be near Ferris again, even if he doubted they’d have much time to talk.

The sound of knocking drew him out of the maudlin thoughts and into the present, although the meeting wasn’t one he was looking forward to.

“Come in,” Fourier said, grateful to at least have an excuse to set the quill down.

Roswaal entered, his cloak fluttering as he bowed deeply.

“You don’t need to do that,” Fourier said, but he still waved his hand in the semi-formal gesture that gave Roswaal permission to speak. He had long since stopped trying to fight the little details of his position.

“Your ma~jesty, it is an honour to see you again. I can report that Sir Ferris is prepa~red to escort you tomorrow alongside Sir Julius,” Roswaal said, inclining his head towards Julius, who matched the gesture.

“That’s good to hear,” Fourier said, knowing that if Roswaal was leading with that information that he’d found a way to ensure Ferris was well rested for the start of the event at least. Yet despite his wishes he couldn’t be satisfied by that alone.

“What progress has he made on being able to destroy a curse?” Fourier said, carefully controlling his tone.

“Sir Ferris's pro~gress has continued to astound, however he is still just beginning to further his understanding of curse-breaking,” Roswaal said, smiling softly.

“I believe that at this point, Sir Ferris should be able to dete~ct almost any form of curse created, though he may still struggle to break them. He’s particularly dedicated towards your family's curse. He has been practising with the infe~rior versions that I am able to create, and can now usually break them in a couple of hours.”

“A couple of hours?” Fourier said in surprise. Roswaal seemed quite pleased with that progress, but…

“I’m not terribly familiar with how the magic works, but did you not cure me in under a minute? Even if Ferris hasn’t learned the technique fully, shouldn’t it still take a similar amount of time?”

“Alas, we ha~ve different specialties,” Roswaal said. “The technique I utilised requires both Yin and Yang, and what benefits it possesses in speed, it lacks in reliability. Sir Ferris’s premier understanding of healing magic allows him to use an older technique, and his skill with it has led to an almost unpre~cedented ability to detect and analyse curses, to the point that he is learning in days materials that took me months. I suspect that given another month, he will completely surpa~ss me in those areas altogether, despite my decades of experience.”

“From what you're saying then, Ferris will soon reach the point where he doesn’t need to butcher bodies to discover the root cause of a new curse?” Fourier asked, almost slumping in relief. His councillors had brought up the idea of a body double for several of his more exposed meetings, so that even in the worst case scenario, they’d have a way of deciphering the enemy's newest weapon.

The idea had sickened him, and worse yet a part of him had even considered the idea. So he was thankful that his dear friend had managed to save even his wavering heart.

“Yes, such is Sir Ferris’s convictions,” Roswaal confirmed. “However, even if Sir Ferris is destined to far eclipse me in analy~sing curses, it remains to be seen if he’ll ever reach my level at dissolving them. My techniques utilised several ele~ments. As Sir Ferris is limited alone to water, he must instead carefully unravel the curse into dissolving, rather than destroying their source.”

“How long does it take to apply a curse of this magnitude?” Fourier asked, wondering how much Ferris’s lack of speed would even matter, although if multiple victims were to be affected…

“Rela~tively little time, I can cast it myself within seconds, but I am one of the most skilled mages in the world. In addition, the speed in which I ca~st it does not dissipate the material cost I must spend in blood to cast the curse. Multiple uses could easily debilitate even me should I not have a skilled hea~ler on hand,” Roswaal explained.

Fourier sighed “At the very least if Vollachia really is the culprit, that means that it shouldn’t be used repeatedly. Their healers are few and far between, and Vincent wouldn’t waste them just to use the curse multiple times on anyone unimportant.”

“You're wondering about the possi~bility of another multi-pronged attack?” Roswaal mused. “Certainly, healing magic is a rare talent, even the Mathers family, the premier magical house of Lugunica can’t claim to produce users of healing magic regularly, despite Lugunica possessing the greatest number of healers. However, even if the mage is significantly below my ability, they may simply accept casting it within minutes rather than seconds, and simply cast it repeatedly over several days to ensure they could hit all their targets.”

“I take it you suspect that’s how the royal family got cursed.” Fourier said tone rising with anger, before he caught himself. “At this point you’ve examined our highest ranking members, and found nothing. It’ll hold for the week I’m gone.”

“I’m surprised, your majesty, I would have thought you would have more faith in the Divine Dragon’s judgement,” Roswaal said, his blue eye closing even as he continued.

“It’s said the Divine Dragon’s arrival is dictated by the quality of the King, I am confident that you will prove to be one of our greatest Kings in generations, yet you believe that Volcanica will judge you severely, despite ruling well for months now?”

“I am simply preparing for the worst,” Fourier said, unable to completely hide his doubt. He’d discussed his rule with all those he respected and believed that he’d done a good job. Yet the mark of a good king in many people’s eyes was the favour of Volcanica rather than any extrinsic quality. It made a part of him furious, and he was afraid that despite hiding it from everyone, Roswaal somehow knew from that grin of his.

“I am unsure of how much reassurance I can give you, Your Majesty, but know that at the very least I, Roswaal K Mathers, will still loyally serve you even should the Dragon make the mistake of not granting you his favour.” Finishing off his speech, Roswaal kneeled once more, this time dropping even deeper even as he kept his yellow eye locked solely on Fourier’s own, something dark dancing in them.

“You go too far, Lord Mathers, to even suggest that the Divine Dragon wouldn’t bless His Majesty!” Julius said, fury in his tone as he glared down at the kneeling man.

Ba-bump

Fourier bit his lip, seeing red and for a moment not sure if he was angrier at Julius for his praise or Roswaal for the insult that he secretly longed to hear.

He’d never truly considered the possibility of Volcanica failing to appear at all, while he himself was still in the picture. Even he’d failed to completely divorce the idea of the Dragon from himself.

Yet hadn’t he sworn that he’d find a way that his subjects would desire him as King, beyond just the Dragon?

After all, if he was going to be King, he wanted to one day surpass even Miklotov, the man even he recognized would be King if this Kingdom was a meritocracy.

In which case this could be a good first step.

While he might harbour a disdain for the man who had violated his family's bodies, the fact that the head of the Mathers family was willing to swear personal fealty to him was no small matter. The Mathers family after all was easily one of his most important nobles, a position only enhanced by their historical skill in magic.

“Rise, Roswaal. Your loyalty is recognized and appreciated… even if you continually choose poor ways of showing it. At this rate I may even honour Sir Julius’s request to properly teach you how to hold your tongue,” Fourier said calmly, burying the complicated emotions.

“In case it needs to be restated, you unfortunately will not be welcome at the coronation itself, although I will look forward to meeting you at the palace after the ceremony concludes.” Fourier finished. Roswaal nodded his understanding, but Fourier couldn’t help but feel uneasy. There was a glint in Roswaal’s eye, one that troubled him in a way he couldn’t explain.

----------------------------------------

Fourier’s cheeks stung.

He’d always enjoyed smiling, but while he liked to think that all the positivity he showed his subjects was genuine, even he had his limits. Smiling, and talking to his subjects from dawn to dusk while constantly on the move was enough to tax him. Yet any time he considered taking a break, all he had to do was look at another one of his citizens, cheering to get a temporary burst of energy.

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Though… he couldn’t help but notice the route they were taking circled around the city, seemingly at random, and yet, clearly intentionally designed. After all, the route never crossed into the poorer areas of the city. He suspected that the parade organisers had wanted to prevent him from entering any of the areas that had been hit hardest by the recession gripping Lugunica.

Fourier had seen many brilliant sights throughout the parade, but had to admit the grand cathedral made a fitting conclusion. The moonlight reflecting off its marble surface made the building appear to glow softly. Fourier had never before entered the cathedral, and he forced himself to calm, taking deep breaths. This would be his last moment outside without the full weight of his crown.

The entrance was surrounded by priests, all of whom were dressed in their finest robes, the heavy and uncomfortable-looking ones. They were pure white, and reached down to their feet, almost brushing against the floor. They must have been a pain to clean. No wonder they only wore them on special occasions.

“Welcome Fourier Lugunica! Son of Randohol Lugunica, forty first king of Lugunica!” a voice proclaimed, echoing throughout the cathedral grounds. The speaker walked down the steps as Fourier approached, dressed in the ceremonial robes of a Bishop.

The robes were so much worse than the ones of the normal priests. Unlike theirs, his was coloured in shades of blue said to be reminiscent of the Divine Dragon, and the cuffs of his sleeves were gold. It also had far more fabric than the normal outfits. It must have been killing his back to be wearing it.

But Jaune was smiling widely, none of that discomfort showing on his face.

“As you have requested, we have prepared the cathedral for you to call for the Divine Dragon! May he bless us!”

They reached each other at the bottom of the stairs, and Jaune tilted down and then spoke in a soft tone, barely above a whisper. “I’m happy you made the right choice here, Your Majesty.”

“I only made this choice because you forced my hand,” Fourier retorted, similarly quiet.

Jaune smiled and tilted his head. “That may be so, but I do believe it was the correct thing to do. The people are afraid. They need a gesture, something to help them feel safer.”

“And you think manipulating their ruler will achieve that?”

Jaune chuckled softly, the sound reduced to little more than an exhalation. “I think the sight of the Divine Dragon will achieve that. I think you’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”

Fourier raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose that means you have? If you understand what it means to meet him?”

Jaune shook his head. “No, I cannot claim that. I merely witnessed him flying overhead. I was little more than a child at the time, but it still left an impression on me. The magnificence, the majesty, the divinity of his presence…”

He shrugged. “Again, you’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”

Fourier narrowed his eyes slightly.

“That remains to be seen.”

He forced his expression to clear, and turned back to face the civilians who had come to witness the event. The clearing in front of the Cathedral was small enough that there were only a few hundred people in attendance, mostly those of the middle class. The nobles did not generally attend this ceremony, and the poor could not afford to take the day for a ceremony as trivial as this one. Especially when a far more significant event would be taking place in just a few days.

“I am pleased to see you all gathered here,” Fourier started, allowing his eyes to pass over the crowd, giving the impression that he was looking at each and every person individually.

“These past few months have been difficult for us all. With my father’s sudden death, and the absence of any family to help me with governance, we were unable to complete the ceremonies necessary for my coronation. Until now.”

He spread his arms wide. “I have had the help of many people, and I have witnessed the way you, my loyal subjects, have endeavoured to keep everything running smoothly. I feel I can proudly say that the kingdom will be in safe hands while I complete the ceremony to contact Volcanica.”

The crowd cheered. They were far livelier for this event than they had been for the funeral. That event had been marred by sadness and uncertainty, but this one had rekindled some hope in them.

Soon everything would go back to normal. Soon they would have a proper king again.

Soon the Divine Dragon would come.

Fourier didn’t quite know how he felt about that. It was good that the people could find hope in such things, but he was somewhat more restrained. Volcanica could not help them with their crashing economy, and Fourier found it doubtful that he’d be able to do much to help find the assassins that had murdered his family.

Still… there was no harm in asking. Fourier would have to consult with him once he arrived.

----------------------------------------

Fourier slowly approached the altar, doing his best to ignore the chanting that had slowly begun to fill the chambers. He recognized several of the stanzas from his education on the church’s scriptures, but some were unfamiliar. It took him several long seconds to slowly translate the old language. Jaune had always complained about his lack of diligence, but compared to refining his swordsmanship, it had always fallen to the wayside.

It turned out that they were going through a chant calling out to Volcanica. Traditionally it was encouraged that the priests of the Divine Dragon would only speak the old language during the ceremony—a position he technically occupied—but he’d managed to make an exception for himself. It came at the cost of making himself look ignorant, but it would be far worse if he had tried to speak the tongue with his current fluency.

Fourier took comfort in the steady footsteps behind him, the past few months having ingrained the familiar sounds of Julius’s footsteps. Even better, besides Julius was the familiar stride of Ferris as well. Even if they couldn’t be right by his side, they were only a few steps away, and he allowed their presence to calm the nerves that steadily rose.

He’d already botched his first impression with his ignorance, so Fourier only hoped that this second one would end up better. He’d need more contacts in the priesthood if he wanted any chance of replacing Jaune in the future.

Before long, Fourier arrived at the so-called Divine Artefact, the Dragon Caller. It was an elaborate Sceptre carved from pure sapphires, resting next to a large sapphire Obelisk.

Picking up the Sceptre, Fourier found that it weighed far more than it should, and for a moment was tempted to put it back down.

Instead he allowed himself a moment to breathe in deeply before he began.

“In the name of our pact, I, Fourier Lugunica, the forty second King of Lugunica, call upon you to renew our agreement with you, the Divine Dragon Volcanica. May my blood, freely given, hasten your arrival.”

As soon as he finished, Fourier picked up the ritual knife and sliced open his shoulder, the blood unnaturally hovering in the air for several seconds before being drawn into the Sceptre, even as he wrapped both hands around the Sceptre gripping it tightly.

Seconds after the Sceptre consumed the blood, a soft blue light radiating from it was bright enough that it should have immediately blinded him. Reopening the eyes he hadn’t even realised he closed, Fourier noted that the light still didn’t blind him and that the strain of holding the weight of the Sceptre had disappeared entirely.

Chains made of the same blue light formed, attaching itself to the Obelisk which slowly started to form its own light.

The light felt calming, a balm on his self-inflicted wound. Although that could be the blood loss causing him to lose all feelings in his arm.

After several seconds, the light crescendoed stabilising into a light that appeared solid. It meant that the Sceptre had accepted his offering.

Being careful not to appear rushed, he took a careful step back, dragging the Sceptre and chains with him. Now that he was connected to it, he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to, but Ferris could at least bandage the wound, and later when he disconnected from it heal him properly.

For better or worse, with the Sceptre activated he wouldn’t be able to be affected by external magic both beneficial and negative.

At least the first session should be relatively short, so he’d be able to get the wound looked at soon. Still it’d take a skilled healer to heal such a large wound so quickly, especially without allowing the healer to draw upon his own body to help heal the wound. It made Fourier wonder which healer his own father had used. Admittedly, his father had been larger than he was, so the blood to satisfy the artefact might have taxed his body less, but there had been other slight kings who had used it.

Either they had healers just as competent as Ferris was, or…

He felt his mind spinning, and suddenly, he just knew the answer. They had filled it a little bit at a time, over the course of a day.

Sadly his task wasn’t done yet, and so Fourier reached forward to grasp the artefact once more.

If only it was satisfied with blood alone, with Ferris it would hurt less than this will.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his mana to connect to the artefact and almost flinched as he felt it follow the connection to his gate.

Unlike with his blood, he had no ability to control how his mana was provided, the Sceptre seeming content with a slow steady stream that caused Fourier to grit his teeth.

It was going to be a long day to say the least.

----------------------------------------

Ferris sat on his bench, swinging his legs back and forth, his tail flicking left and right.

He was tense, waiting for something, anything.

“Julius,” he whispered to the knight on the bench beside him.

“Yes, Felix?”

“I’m bored.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” Julius remarked, a slight grin on his face. “Try to relax. It won’t be that long before we’ll be finished here.”

“Won’t—!” Ferris exclaimed, then caught himself and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “Won’t be that long? We might be trapped in here for a week! I should have stayed outside, then I could be practising!”

“That might be so,” Julius responded. He was keeping his body stiff and upright, the picture of a perfect knight.

“But His Majesty would be lonely if he lacked his closest friends to talk to, in such an pivotal moment. I can assure you, he enjoys the time he spends in your company far more than he does in mine.”

Ferris’s ears flattened. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’ll make Fourier upset.”

“Then it is truly fortunate that he is not here to hear me,” Julius said, the faintest trace of a cheeky smile lighting up his face. Anyone else would have missed it, but Ferris knew the finest knight well enough to see through the gaps in his facade.

Ferris ceased his idle movements so he could give Julius the side-eye. “You shouldn’t say it anyway. He doesn’t like it when you think like that.”

Julius blinked. “I would not intentionally cause discomfort for His Majesty, but sometimes my personality can cause him exasperation.”

Ferris pressed a hand to his temple and sighed. “If by ‘personality’, you mean your relentless pursuit of ‘knightliness’, then yeah, it really does. Sometimes I forget that you’re as much of an oddball knight as Reinhard and I are.”

“I’m honoured to be counted among your ranks,” Julius said, his smile softening.

Ferris shook his head, and went back to kicking the air, if Julius refused to relax then he’d just have to do it for the both of them, the only time Ferris had ever seen Julius relax that rigid posture was in private something that couldn’t possibly be healthy.

They spent a few minutes in silence, both turning their eyes to the door of the sanctum, the room Fourier now occupied.

“When do you think he’ll be out?”

Julius tilted his head.

“I’m unfamiliar with the artefact, but from what I understand, His Majesty needs to make sure it is constantly working. From what I saw of the mana around it… perhaps he’ll be a few hours more?”

Ferris sighed again, then sprung to his feet. Roswaal had packed him some books to study while he was trapped in the Cathedral, but he hadn’t expected to need them so soon.

He couldn’t really practise the techniques contained within, but it would be good to lay the theoretical foundations.

“Do you need anything from our stuff?” he asked Julius.

The knight shook his head. “No, I am fine. It is nice to relax once in a while.”

“You call this relaxing—!?” Ferris cut his cry off and growled in frustration. “Gah!”

Julius chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has their own ways of doing things.”

Ferris left, still grumbling under his breath.

The Cathedral halls were quiet and empty. Ferris had expected more activity, but apparently they only had a skeleton crew for the vitally important ceremony, to avoid distracting Fourier. That was the reason Ferris was constraining himself to whispers. Or at the very least, trying to constrain himself.

The quarters prepared for them weren’t far from the artefact, so it only took a minute for Ferris to get to his room. Choosing a book was a far more difficult task. Roswaal had only prepared the intermediate difficulty ones. Ferris had read over many of them before, but he had lacked the context to properly understand what they were trying to say.

Perhaps Roswaal had felt he was ready to attempt them for real.

With a sigh, Ferris picked up the one with the title, ‘A Collection of Ancient Treatises on Water Magic,’ and trudged out of the room. It was the thinnest of the bunch, and yet was still a rather hefty volume. Ferris supposed he could smack someone over the head with it and do more damage than a brick.

Not that he would ever consider doing such a thing, of course. It was a precious book of knowledge. A precious book that was worded in old language, and rather difficult to read. A precious book Ferris had—at one point—been tempted to hurl across the room in frustration.

“Ah!” a voice cried out, abruptly pulling Ferris out of his reminiscence.

He looked up to see a purple-haired priestess, dressed in blue robes similar to the ones the Bishop had been wearing, clutching the wall as if she had just stumbled against it.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, steadying herself and hauling herself upright. “I didn’t see where I was going, so I tripped.”

Ferris glanced at the floor behind her, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then what had she tripped on?

“Ah, well, you see…”

She waved her hands frantically, drawing Ferris’s attention back to her, then cleared her throat and said.

“It doesn’t matter. No.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied that she had deflected that line of questioning, and looked back at Ferris.

“Hello, dear guest,” she said, holding her arms together in front of her, and dropping into a low bow. “I am Melty Pristis, a priest under the tutorship of Bishop Jaune. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ferris stared at her.

“Are… you alright?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine,” the priestess replied, righting herself and meeting Ferris’s eyes. “I just stumbled a bit. No need to worry.”

“Well, okay. Oh, I’m Felix Argyle, but my friends call me Ferris,” he said, then adjusted his grip on his book to carry it one handed.

“It’s nice to meet—”

But the priestess had already whirled around, apparently not seeing his proffered hand.

“If you require, I can accompany you back to the sanctum,” she said cheerfully. “These halls can be tricky, you know. If you get lost you might never escape.”

Ferris blinked, then started following after her. Her statement didn’t seem to make much sense. The Cathedral was large, yes, but it was nowhere near the enormity of the palace. There was no way Ferris would get himself lost.

“No, it’s alright, I can find my way back easily enou—”

“Kyaaa!”

Melty cried out as she somehow managed to trip over her own feet, falling face-first onto the floor.

“Urgh,” she moaned as she lifted herself up.

“Are you alright?” Ferris asked, discarding his book, and kneeling by her side. Her nose was bleeding and she was cradling her forehead in her hand.

“Give me a second, I’ll—” he started, conjuring a healing orb in his hand, but Melty shook her head rapidly, and leaped to her feet in a well-practised motion.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. It happens sometimes,” she said, cupping her hands over her face. After a second, her face lit up with the blue light of her own healing orb, and when she retracted her arms, not a trace of blood was left on her face.

“There! All better!”

She laughed sheepishly. “So sorry to disturb you, Sir Felix.”

“Oh… er, you can call me Ferris,” Ferris responded, caught somewhat off-guard by her behaviour. She seemed oddly cheery for a priest, but Ferris had never interacted with any before, so perhaps they were all like that.

He picked his book back up and checked the cover. He had taken some modicum of care when he dropped it, so it had landed on its back rather than the spine or the open pages. Luckily, it didn’t seem to have been damaged.

“Ferris…” Melty murmured. “I see. Well, Sir Ferris, shall we be on our way?”

She started walking down the hallway. Ferris was almost going to call out and say he didn’t need to be escorted… but it wasn’t that far, so it wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps she had something to do in the sanctum anyway.

He caught up to her and walked by her side.

“It’s quite empty, isn’t it?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, Bishop Jaune cleared out most of the lower-ranked priests for the ceremony. Even Sakura has left, and she almost never does.”

“Sakura?” Ferris asked.

“Oh, she’s… she’s the church’s treasurer,” Melty answered. “I think she had something to do in one of the other shrines in the city. You might meet her, she’ll be back in a few days.”

“I see.”

The conversion died once more. Melty seemed rather nervous in his company. She was paying careful attention to where she was putting her feet, her brows furrowed in determination.

All that effort not to fall over? Ferris wondered to himself. Can anyone really be that clumsy? Or maybe there’s something wrong with her? I know a few illnesses and injuries can make it more difficult to walk…

“Er, Sister Melty?” Ferris asked.

“Hmm?” the priestess asked, turning her head to look at him. Despite her attention being called away from her feet, she continued walking so easily that Ferris began to doubt himself.

But there was no harm in asking anyway.

“You seem to be having a bit of difficulty. Do you want me to take a look at you?”

Melty’s eyes widened, and shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do such a thing. Don’t worry about it.”

She placed a hand on her chest and smiled proudly. “I’m a healer myself, you know.”

“But…” Ferris started doubtfully, searching for the words. While her statement might be true, she was very unlikely to even come close to his own skill level.

“I don’t mean to brag… but I’m quite a good healer myself. I might pick up on something other healers would miss.”

Melty shook her head, her eyes darting to and fro, never settling on Ferris directly. “Oh, no, it’s quite alright. I’m fine, really! Um, perhaps I should just leave you to—”

Ferris frowned. He was somewhat familiar with her behaviour. It wasn’t uncommon for commoners from isolated villages to be distrustful of healing magic, but Melty’s aversion to it was likely due to something else. As she said, she was a healer herself.

No, it seemed more likely that she had already tried to heal whatever afflicted her, and had failed. Now she could not bear to get her hopes up only to have them be dashed once more.

Well… as I always say, better to ask forgiveness than permission!

He stretched out a hand, healing orb already forming, and Melty’s frantic eyes locked onto it.

She mouthed wordlessly, a trace of panic in her eyes.

Then she lunged out and grabbed his hand with both of hers, breaking the spell.

Ferris wasn’t ready for such an abrupt stop to his magic, and the backlash disorientated him for a moment.

He managed to focus his eyes on the priestess. She was bent over his hand, so he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her heavy breathing.

“Um, it’s really no trouble,” he said, “I can just take a look, and then…”

“Sir Ferris,” Melty interrupted, drawing a ragged breath.

Ferris was starting to get the feeling that something was odd about the whole situation. Why did she seem to be afraid of his magic?

“I would really prefer it,” she said, then lifted her head to stare directly at him with her iridescent amber eyes. “If you don’t try to heal me.”

Ferris felt a jolt run through him, followed closely after by a sense of guilt.

For a moment, he couldn’t explain it, then…

Did I really try to heal her, against her will? She probably has her reasons for not wanting to get me involved. I shouldn’t have pushed her so much.

He retracted his arm, and bowed in apology.

“I’m very sorry,” he said. He was being more formal than he usually would, but he had just been very rude.

“Oh, um…” Melty said, eyes darting between his hand and his face. “I… er, yeah. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

She stared at his hand for a moment longer, then slowly retracted her hands.

“In fact…”

She placed a finger on her lips, and gave an awkward smile.

“...why don’t we keep this a secret? We don’t need to tell anyone.”

Ferris stared at her. Truthfully, he didn’t really want to be scolded by Fourier and Crusch about it, but she would be well within her rights to reveal his actions.

“...sure,” he relented. If she wanted to just skip past it, he supposed that was fine as well.