Crusch sighed, still going through the reports that she had put to the side. She’d known that allowing herself to spend any time and resources working together with the parade organisers would cause a backlog.
The parade had needed to tour the majority of the capital, a feat that was difficult when its passing was such a spectacle. They’d needed to plan for the possibility of the streets being flooded, especially by citizens who would follow along with the procession.
Thankfully, it had run smoothly, with the Royal Guard keeping Fourier safe, and the citizens indulged without causing an undue mess. It had taken the majority of her staff, but it had proven worth it.
“Lucius, with the majority of our soldiers now absent, how has the situation in the slums developed?” Crusch asked.
“‘Deteriorated’ would be the better word,” Lucius said darkly. “Nothing serious, as we’ve trained our men far beyond the capability of members of the slum. However the few fights we got into will undoubtedly have damaged what trust we’ve earned. Those still present have had to move in groups, limiting the area they can patrol.”
“Will they need to be rotated out?” Crusch wondered knowing just how tense a soldier could be after a skirmish.
“Hard to say,” Lucius grumbled. “If we allow all our soldiers to stand together once more, the united front they’ll pose should deter even the dimmest of those residing in the slums. However, it’s far more likely our men would be less inclined to turn the other cheek, after they insulted them.”
He paused, considering their options.
“Switching the members who helped organise the parade back in will mean our men would be more calm, but it would mean relying on the slum to not take advantage of our lower numbers. Overall I would favour having all our men together, as if I have to bet on our men following orders or the slums showing wisdom, I know what I’d pick.”
Crusch frowned, but couldn’t disagree with the man, and nodded her acceptance instead.
“Lucius, do keep in mind that I’ll be visiting Ferris in three days' time, as His Majesty requested an update, and it will be easier to deliver the information through a knight.” Crusch said.
“Argyle?” Lucius repeated a rare tone of bemusement crossing his voice. “I believe His Majesty was hoping that you might deliver that information personally, Lady Crusch.”
“Why would he want that?” Crusch wondered. “It’d be far harder, and unnecessarily burn political capital, for me to enter the church’s inner sanctum. Quite frankly His Majesty would likely be better off focusing entirely on the ceremony, but I can understand how he might worry without information. King Fourier cares deeply for Lugunica.”
“I am not disputing His Majesty’s love for Lugunica,” Lucius said, raising an eyebrow. “I simply suspect that the presence of his dearest friend will help raise King Fourier’s spirits.”
“You’ve met His Majesty before, Lucius. I’m confident with Ferris by his side that the two of them are in fine spirits,” Crusch said confidently, not noticing the look of mild exasperation on her aide’s face.
----------------------------------------
The cathedral was quite an imposing building. While it truthfully wasn’t that much larger than the manors of some noble estates, the towering spires made it seem far greater than them.
The guards at the gates had been prepared for her arrival, and opened them as she drew close. She stepped through and onto the church grounds.
It had been only a few days since the parade had ended, but the grounds looked immaculate. There was not a patch of dirt exposed, and the hedges were trimmed neatly.
Crusch would have expected some browning of the grass considering the amount of people who had been trampling on it. The fact that there was no trace of such a thing meant the church had devoted some of their healers towards maintaining the grounds.
Perhaps that was wasteful of them, but Crusch vaguely remembered Ferris saying something about it before, that healing plant-life could be good practice for new healers.
She didn’t spend long thinking on such matters though. She strode down the paved path towards the building, and climbed the steps to the doors.
She knocked twice, and then the doors slowly rumbled open.
She stepped inside, and the two priests behind them heaved the doors shut again. It seemed rather difficult work, but the two did not let out a single noise of complaint. Even the doors closed quietly, the only sound they made being a muted thud as they shut fully.
“Bishop Jaune is currently in prayer,” one of them whispered as he stepped back to his place in the alcove beside the entrance. He kept his voice low so as not to disturb the deathly quiet of the interior. “He will be informed of your arrival. There is a meeting room you can wait in, if you prefer.”
“I know the way,” Crusch whispered back. “I will wait there.”
The priest nodded and Crusch turned down the corridor, away from the door that led to the main hall.
She found herself slightly unsure as she reached a split in the corridor, and after a brief pause, she guessed the way she was supposed to be going, based on her half-faded memories of the place.
She had not been to the cathedral in a very long time. Not since she was a young girl, accompanying her father to meet with the then-bishop, Jaune’s predecessor. She had forgotten that bishop’s name, a testament to how little the church usually mattered in the politics of the kingdom.
She reached another split, and hesitated.
Perhaps it would be better to go back and ask for directions. There was nobody around, so she wasn’t even sure if she was heading toward the right place. And if she got lost, she might stumble upon the sanctum. It wouldn’t do to appear to be trying to sneak into that area. She had to be sure not to antagonise Bishop Jaune. They were there to rebuild relations, not worsen them.
She hoped that the confirmation that everything was proceeding smoothly from Ferris would help keep His Majesty calm.
She turned to go back the way she came, but then she heard something.
A shout of anger, or perhaps another strong emotion.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Perhaps she had imagined it? Why would someone be shouting while the quiet of the ceremony was still being imposed?
Why indeed, unless something was wrong?
By the time the thought registered, Crusch was already moving. Her hand went to her sword, though she didn’t draw it yet.
But if those insects or some other assassin had entered the cathedral, she would…
She heard the shout again, a woman’s voice, which sounded strangely familiar. This time she could make out the words, though indistinctly.
“...could you have let this happen! Do you know… …while I was… …could have been a disaster!”
Crusch slowed her steps. That didn’t sound like the voice of someone under attack.
But she still felt the need to investigate. What had happened to rouse such anger?
“...if I was the one who—”
As Crusch turned a corner, the voice suddenly cut out, and then she heard a fainter, quieter tone.
A door opened ahead of her, and the voice said, “Return to your quarters. Do not make the same mistake again.”
A priestess in dark blue robes rushed out of the room, her emotions swirling with fear, panic, and yet also relief. No doubt she was glad to get out of her scolding.
She was followed closely after by a woman in a magenta uniform, the standard for an official of Civil Affairs.
It was a woman Crusch recognised, though it took a moment for her to recall her name.
“Sakura,” she whispered. She was the person who had informed Crusch about the rumours in the city. None had much substance, but she had provided a lead when Crusch was lacking them.
The woman turned her head towards Crusch, her eyes widening in surprise, though it was impossible to tell from her emotions.
Sakura was angry. It was an anger bordering on rage, though it calmed considerably every second that she stood there.
“Lady Karsten,” she greeted, her anger giving way to frustration and weariness. “I apologise for that display. It was not… tactful of me, especially while such an important ceremony is taking place.”
“I cannot speak to such things,” Crusch said. “The authority of the ceremony is possessed by the church, it would not be my place to interfere.”
Sakura sighed. “Yes, I suppose so. But as the Treasurer, I have a duty to set an example for the rank-and-file.”
Crusch could understand that feeling well. As a leader of troops, she always had to comport herself on the battlefield. Blind rage like what Sakura had shown was wildly inappropriate. But now she seemed to have mostly calmed down. The anger had dissipated, replaced by frustration, and weariness had begun to set in.
There was also a glimmer of apprehension around her, directed at Crusch herself. It wasn’t quite fear, but Sakura clearly knew she had overstepped in her discipline of her junior.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what did she do?” Crusch asked.
Sakura’s emotions spiked, but she calmed down quickly. “Hah… yes, I suppose I should mention it. She encountered one of the knights outside the sanctum, and was quite rude while dealing with him.”
Crusch blinked. “Is that all? You don’t need to worry, neither Sir Julius nor Sir Felix would take offence that easily.”
Sakura nodded. “Yes, I know, but from Melty’s description of the incident…”
She paused, appearing to search for the words. “...she was unwise, in the way she dealt with it. Luckily, the knight did not take offence, just as you say, but I shudder to think what might have happened had she insulted a less reasonable person.”
The flow of her emotions was jumbled slightly, as if she had come close to an untruth, but that was likely due to her current mental state. She spoke what she knew was true, even if it seemed that at the moment, she didn’t feel like shuddering in the slightest if her junior got hurt.
Sakura sighed again, and rubbed her shoulder. “She has always been a problem child, clumsy and unthinking. Mama was too easy on her. If she knew how to behave properly…”
“Mama?” Crusch asked. “Are you related? I didn’t realise.”
Sakura looked over to her, then the words seemed to register, and her emotions jolted.
“Er, no… what I meant was…”
She paused, then let out a nervous laugh. “Ah, I let my mouth run. No, we’re not related. Mama… took Melty in when she was young. Mama tried with her, but Melty was never part of the family the way my siblings and I are.”
She shrugged. “When Melty was selected as an apprentice to the Bishop, Mama asked me to take a position here to look after her. After all, there’s always a place in the church for civil affairs officials. Too much work to do, too few hands to do it.”
“I see. So that’s why you were so defensive,” Crusch said, understanding finally dawning on her.
Sakura looked at her in confusion, and tilted her head.
“You truly care for your sister, do you not?” Crusch asked, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “To the extent that you worry over her every little action.”
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Sakura blinked.
“That is… I suppose…”
She paused for a moment.
“Well, I suppose the bond between sisters runs deeper than I realised,” she finally allowed.
She seemed to hold a great deal of doubt in her heart, but Crusch was convinced. There was no other reason she would get so worked up over such a simple thing.
Sakura shook her head.
“Well, regardless of that matter, I take it you are here today to speak to Bishop Jaune? I apologise, I’ve been off the grounds until recently, so I have not familiarised myself with the schedule. I believe Jaune is in prayer at the moment, but I can guide you to a waiting room if you so desire.”
Crusch nodded. “Yes, I would be grateful if you would.”
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Fourier sighed and let his arms fall back to his side.
A faint light glowed around the Sceptre as it finished absorbing his mana, then it faded away, leaving only the Obelisk still shining.
What he had given it would let it last for another few hours, long enough for him to get some sleep. With his mana as drained as it was, he desperately wanted to lie down and forget the world for a while.
He got to his feet, wobbling a bit as he left his chair, his legs not fully prepared for the load he was putting on them.
He smiled wryly. It was almost as bad as the first week after the curse had been broken. Thankfully this time, he didn’t need his cane to walk, but he wasn’t fond of the way his legs trembled when he moved.
He reached the sanctum door, and slowly pushed it open, as quietly as he could.
His consideration was in vain, as both Julius and Ferris were standing at attention right outside.
He frowned at them. “What are you two doing? It must be well past nightfall by now. Why are you still up?”
Ferris didn’t bother to answer, moving to Fourier’s side and creating a healing orb. There wasn’t much he could do, but Ferris still did it anyway. Even if the magic could only transfer a little extra mana over to Fourier, it helped take the edge off the weariness he felt.
“We could say the same to you,” Julius responded, his mouth a thin line. “You’ve been pushing yourself far beyond what is reasonable again.”
Fourier sighed, and didn’t resist when Ferris moved under his arm to help support his weight.
It was the truth. He had been pushing himself. Perhaps too much. But he couldn’t simply sit back and do nothing.
“After tomorrow, this will be the longest any heir has gone without the Divine Dragon responding,” Fourier said. “If there’s any chance that I can speed things up by remaining longer, I have to try.”
Almost a full week had passed since Fourier had entered the church. In that time, Crusch had come to visit once, bringing a small window into the goings-on in the outside world. He had met with Jaune twice, learning a little each time, but his last meeting with the bishop had been several days ago.
The only news he was getting was the second-hand reports that were delivered to the church each day, mere summaries of the events that were transpiring.
And they were not good.
Unease was growing in the population, as the days dragged on with no sign of the Divine Dragon. Crusch’s movements in the slums seemed to have decreased the frequency of the insect attacks, but her soldiers patrols seemed to be creating an equal amount of unrest.
Miklotov’s notes warned of the court increasingly fracturing in his absence, and Russel noted that economic activity had taken a sharp downturn.
Uncertainty was reigning over his kingdom, and the cause was clear.
The Divine Dragon had not yet come.
But there was nothing Fourier could do to hurry things along. He was operating the artefact as he was supposed to, and he was waiting as patiently as he could.
Patience wasn’t going to solve the issues facing the kingdom, but it was the only avenue available to him. He could not demand the Divine Dragon’s presence, he could not contact him directly to ask why he was taking so long. All he could do was wait, pouring his mana into the Sceptre, hoping that he would finally show up.
“It would do no good for you to be in this state when the Divine Dragon finally does arrive,” Julius said, moving to support Fourier’s other shoulder, helping to guide him towards the sleeping quarters. “You need to rest.”
Fourier wanted to argue, but his eyes were practically drooping closed, and he was unable to come up with a valid counterargument.
He would think better after some sleep, and he did need to be rested for when Volcanica arrived.
But a feeling remained. It was a slight thing, separate to the doubt and confusion the situation had brought. It was a feeling in his heart, one that suffused every fibre of his being, one that he would usually call his intuition. And that feeling was crying out as loud as it possibly could, that something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.
----------------------------------------
“This is because of him!”
The voice echoed throughout the church, breaking the silence that had held since the day Fourier had first arrived.
Fourier stood alone in the sanctum, still pouring his mana into the artefact, but he could hear the argument raging right outside the door.
It was the beginning of his ninth day in the church, and the third day past the point of the previous longest time without receiving a response from Volcanica.
Discontent had been steadily growing over the days, and now it had even emerged in the heart of the church itself.
“He is unworthy! The Divine Dragon has made his thoughts clear! That ‘prince’ cannot lead us!”
Fourier was good with voices, and despite only hearing this one a handful of times, he could instantly recognise it. It belonged to one of the priests that had remained to guard the church, a rather tall man if Fouier remembered correctly.
The man was shouting with a rage bordering on madness, and Fourier could hear frantic whispers coming from all around the speaker. How many were trying to prevent the man from speaking further, and how many were voicing their agreement, Fourier couldn’t say.
“His Majesty, Prince Fourier, is the ruler of this kingdom.”
Julius’s voice echoed through the sanctum. He had been unwilling to speak above a whisper until a short while ago. Now he was speaking loudly and firmly, and Fourier had already heard the metallic schwing that signified his sword being drawn. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, to force him to go so far.
“Our duty is to guard His Majesty until the Divine Dragon does arrive,” the knight continued. “And even if you have forgotten that mission, I have not. Leave now, you are disturbing the ceremony.”
“Our mission is to safeguard the Chosen of Volcanica!” the priest retorted. “It has become clear that the prince is not chosen! He must be removed so that Volcanica can put our rightful ruler on the throne!”
It was silly, how fear made people lose their rationality. Even if Fourier was removed, how would they get Volcanica to grant them a new ruler? The fact that the kingdom was unable to talk to him was the entire problem they were facing.
Fourier felt the draw on his mana begin to slacken, as the artefact finally started to dim. He had set it to deactivate as soon as he heard the trouble brewing outside, but it was a temperamental object, and needed time to switch states.
“Again, I must ask you to leave,” Julius said, his voice now distinctly more threatening. “If you have a problem, please discuss the matter with Bishop Jaune. I am sure he will be able to bring your concerns to His Majesty.”
The artefact finally let loose its grasp on Fourier, and his arms collapsed to his side. He took a moment to stretch his limbs and make sure he looked presentable, then he strode to the door, not allowing his own doubt to show on his face.
“He can speak to me directly,” he said, as he opened the door to the sanctum. “I would hate for my subjects to feel their concerns are unheard.”
True to form, Julius was standing between the small gathering of priests and the doorway Fourier stood in, his sword pointed at the ground, and his six spirits swirled around him.
There were five priests standing opposite the knight, one of whom was red-faced and furious, the other four considerably more restrained.
Fourier glanced over their faces, trying to feel out where their feelings lay. One seemed to agree with the angry one, another seemed on the fence, and the last two had their hands on the angry one’s shoulders, holding him back from making any sudden moves.
Fourier also spotted Ferris, standing inconspicuously at the back of the room, his ears flat against his head. Usually he was so cheerful and upbeat, but now his face was blank, his gaze locked on the angry priest, one hand held slightly away from his body, fingers curled as if they were claws.
Ferris didn’t have enough demi-human blood to actually transform his nails into claws, but if he decided to use his magic, then he’d do far more damage than simple slashes.
The priests were fools for focusing solely on Julius. At least the Finest Knight would try and spare them any pain as he knocked them out.
“You!” the angry priest shouted as his eyes focused on Fourier. “What have you been doing!? What are you doing here? Are you already tired of using the artefact?”
Understanding seemed to dawn on him, and he snarled. “Or have you just been sitting in there, refusing to use it! You won’t call the Divine Dragon, because you know you’re not worthy to stand before him!”
Fourier sighed. “First you think he won’t come, then you say I won’t call him. Surely you must realise those are incompatible thoughts?”
Fourier really wanted to press on with that line of inquiry, but he knew logic never worked on those so angry that they began to entertain delusions. It was better to speak to what he already understood.
“The Divine Dragon is not beholden to anyone in the kingdom, not even someone of royal blood,” Fourier said. “He is in a contract with our Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, first created by Farsale Lugunica, the only one we can say approached his equal. The fact that he has not arrived to speak with us, or written anything new on the dragon tablet, merely says that he is occupied with something far more important.”
Fourier spoke as confidently as he could, trying to project firm belief. That was the most rational explanation for Volcanica’s absence that he could come up with, but he still found it lacking. Why had the dragon simply chosen to leave Lugunica alone? Why had he not written anything on the tablet after Fourier’s father died? Why was he leaving them to their own devices for so long?
“The Divine Dragon likely has many concerns,” Fourier continued. “Perhaps he has business beyond the Great Waterfall. Perhaps he is in communion with other true dragons across the world. Or perhaps he is busy maintaining the Witch of Envy’s seal.”
A flash of fear passed over the priests’ faces when he uttered those last words. Fourier could see the doubt rising on their faces. While they knew the coronation of their king was important, there was no one who would say that it was more important than ensuring the Witch did not break loose.
The angry one was not convinced, but Fourier could already see that he was a lost cause. The main purpose of his words was to defuse the doubt in the other priests, and in that, at least, he had succeeded.
“Julius, see them out,” he said, turning back to the sanctum. “And if you would, send for Bishop Jaune.”
----------------------------------------
A couple of hours later, the lights connecting the Sceptre to the Obelisk slowly dimmed to nothing for the second time that day, and Fourier gently placed the Sceptre down. His arms were numb from the amount of mana that had been drained out of them, but he stretched and worked a bit of feeling back into them.
He walked to the sanctum door, his hands brushing over his clothes to make sure he looked presentable, then he opened the door.
Jaune was already waiting there. Fourier had half-expected him to still be waiting in his office for Fourier to leave the sanctum, but it appeared that the Bishop was not yet upset enough to make a prince wait.
Julius was standing at attention right beside the sanctum door. Fourier had not heard him move away from that position once since those priests had entered the waiting area. Even now he had positioned his body in a way that would allow him to draw his sword at a moment’s notice.
“Your Majesty,” Jaune greeted as his eyes alighted on Fourier, bowing low with one hand over his heart. “I’m very glad to see you are still in good health.”
“I’m sure you are,” Fourier said. “But your subordinates seemed not to share that opinion. I’m sure you know exactly why I wished to speak to you.”
Jaune sighed, and righted himself, his hands falling behind his back.
“I must apologise for their display earlier, Your Majesty. I have no idea what got into them.”
He shook his head. “I personally chose those who would remain in the church, and I was certain that I had only picked those who would cause no disturbance. I was wrong.”
Fourier tilted his head. “You don’t deny it?”
Jaune shook his head. “I would never. What they did was inexcusable, and I have already sent them away. Even if they had not insulted you so directly, I would do the same. To doubt the Divine Dragon… to doubt the wisdom of these trials he has laid out for us…”
He sighed again. “I cannot imagine what was going through their heads.”
“That may be so, but clearly, something was,” Fourier said. “And they reached this place, barely a step away from the sanctum, with only my own sworn knights to protect me. You can understand that this is unacceptable. Even if you have sent the culprits away, who is to say there are not others among the priesthood who feel similarly? Others who might do more than what those few did?”
Jaune lifted his head to meet Fourier’s gaze, and his eyes were filled with utmost sincerity. “I understand your concerns, and if you feel additional steps are appropriate, then I shall do my best to accommodate.”
“And if I feel that the ceremony should be cancelled?” Fourier pressed.
Jaune hesitated. “With the attitude in the city at the moment… I can’t recommend it. But if Your Majesty feels that would be the best option…”
His brows furrowed, and Fourier could see as his mind raced, trying to come up with some solution. He expected most of his thoughts would be trying to think of a method to convince Fourier to continue with the ceremony, but the fact that he was seriously considering it seemed to suggest that he was engaging in good faith.
“I do not intend to stop the ceremony,” Fourier said. “Not yet. But I am concerned by Volcanica’s continued absence. It might become necessary to put this ceremony on hold if this takes much longer.”
Jaune nodded. “I can understand that. If you decide it is necessary, I will make sure the transition is handled smoothly. This is a trial, but it is a trial that the Divine Dragon believes we can handle.”
Fourier sighed. He had Jaune’s full cooperation at the moment, but he didn’t want to rely on that to last. He trusted Jaune too little for that at the moment.
“And what of the ceremony as it stands? If your priests are unable to guard the sanctum, then that puts me at risk.”
Jaune nodded. “I have spent some thought on that. I believe it would be best if we granted your sworn knights access to the sanctum itself.”
Fourier blinked, momentarily stunned as he took in Jaune’s words. The inner sanctum of the church was the most sacred place in the building. It was off-limits to any but the highest ranks of the church.
“Your subordinates would accept that? You would accept that?”
Jaune bowed his head. “It is unfortunate, and a violation of long-honoured traditions, but the same could be said of my subordinate’s earlier display. Ultimately, Your Majesty’s safety is more important than those traditions.”
Fourier let the silence drag on for a moment while he thought things through. Jaune was making a major concession, something which he had undoubtedly settled on in an attempt to defuse some of Fourier’s anger.
It had worked, Fourier had to admit, but he wouldn’t let something like that get in the way of his rationality. And rationally, he needed more than just a little extra safety.
“I will need others to also have access to the sanctum,” he said. “The time between updates is too little at the moment, and I’m not fully aware of the situation outside these walls. At least one messenger a day must be able to report to me.”
From the look on his face, Jaune didn’t like that one bit, but he nodded anyway. “I understand. However, I would at least prefer if the messengers Your Majesty chooses come from the Royal Knights. It is much easier to justify their presence in the sanctum than it would be for others.”
Fourier considered the proposal. He would have preferred if Crusch would also be allowed to enter… but he couldn’t justify pulling her away from her work more than he already was, and Jaune was already making major concessions.
He nodded. “That is workable. Get a message to Captain Marcos, and have him send a delegate to work out a schedule.”
Jaune bowed again. “I’m glad we could work this out peaceably, Your Majesty. Let us hope that the Divine Dragon arrives soon.”