"Young master, it seems the kitchen's run out of food. Only these two loaves of bread left!"

Just as Benjamin was sitting on the bed, clutching the letter and lost in thought, Jeremy returned from the kitchen. Before he even entered the room, Benjamin heard him call out.

Benjamin's heart leaped into his throat. To avoid anyone noticing anything amiss, he hastily stuffed the letter and envelope back under the pillow, erasing all traces of abnormality. Turning around, he watched as Jeremy walked in.

Jeremy stood in the doorway, bread in hand, looking at Benjamin. Benjamin looked back at him, standing in the doorway. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Young master, is something the matter?" Jeremy asked, a puzzled frown on his face as he seemed to sense the odd atmosphere.

"It's nothing, just give me the bread. This is enough for now. It'd be hard to scrounge up anything else at this hour anyway, right?" Benjamin quickly replied, steering the conversation elsewhere.

"Oh, yes, of course." Jeremy responded dully, not seeming to dwell on it further as he handed the bread to Benjamin.

Benjamin took the bread, still eyeing Jeremy warily, afraid he might press the issue. So he immediately followed up with another question, not giving Jeremy any chance to mull things over:

"What about that errand I sent you on earlier? How's that coming along?"

At this question, Jeremy's attention was thoroughly diverted. A somewhat flustered expression flitted across his face as he rummaged around in his pockets for a good while. Finally, he produced a wooden cross from his jacket.

Holding the cross out to Benjamin, he said, "Young master, I bought this for you."

By now, Benjamin's emotions had stabilized somewhat. He glanced at the cross in Jeremy's hand, his face an unreadable mask as he inspected his servant's work. He gave a noncommittal grunt, not saying a word, his reaction impossible to gauge.

"Young master?" Jeremy was instantly on edge, asking cautiously.

Benjamin glanced at Jeremy again, then abruptly declared, "This isn't right."

Jeremy's expression grew even more flustered, the earlier oddities no doubt completely forgotten by now.

"Go back to the east side and find the carpenter. Tell him this isn't what I wanted. He'll know what I mean." After a moment of silence, Benjamin resumed issuing orders.

Upon hearing this, Jeremy's brows knitted together once more. "Right now?" he asked.

Benjamin nodded. "Yes, set out immediately."

Jeremy's face fell yet again.

Sending his manservant out in the dead of night was sure to draw the Church's attention. And once the Church came up empty-handed, their scrutiny of Jeremy was bound to lessen considerably. So even if it was the middle of the night, Benjamin had no choice but to trouble Jeremy a few more times.

All for the sake of obtaining Annie's relics.

Although Michelle's letter had thrown all of Benjamin's plans into disarray, he still wasn't ready to abandon this particular pursuit. He didn't believe for a second that Michelle would teach him magic out of the goodness of her heart. On the other hand, he didn't dare go along with her every whim. Who knew what sort of schemes that woman might be cooking up?

He still had more faith in himself.

"Young master, I'm off then. If the butler asks, remember to explain things to him clearly. Otherwise, he'll dock my pay."

Having already experienced one long-distance errand, Jeremy didn't complain further. Clutching the cross in his hand, he left the room with a hangdog expression. Benjamin, for his part, nodded and gave an encouraging smile, seeing Jeremy off on another kingdom-spanning wild goose chase.

As for Jeremy himself, Benjamin had come to trust him quite a bit. But not enough to let him in on this much. When it came to matters of magic, he still had to send this simple, timid servant away.

After all, the Church's indoctrination was quite thorough. In the eyes of the common folk, mages were the embodiment of evil, irredeemable villains of the highest order. No matter how loyal Jeremy was to him, he'd likely have a hard time understanding Benjamin's actions. Keeping him in the dark was for the best, for both their sakes.

Once Jeremy was well away, Benjamin walked over and shut the bedroom door.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness it was just his manservant, and not the brightest candle in the sconce at that. Easy enough to send on his way. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have known what to do. Even if it was just the butler from before, he likely would've been left suspicious, and no end of gossip would've followed.

Having servants that were few in number and lacking in wits was certainly frustrating at times. But from another angle, it was a blessing in disguise.

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Making sure the windows were closed and the curtains drawn, confirming he wouldn't be disturbed by anyone else, Benjamin reached back under the pillow and retrieved Michelle's letter.

For him, the letter's significance in this moment went without saying. He'd barely made it past the first line before breaking out in a cold sweat.

He had to finish reading the rest.

In fact, the envelope contained two sheets of paper. At first, Benjamin thought Michelle must have a lot to say, hence the need for two pages. However, he quickly realized just how sorely mistaken he was.

The entire contents of the first page, aside from the opening line - "You have a gift for magic. In ten days, I will come to teach you." - consisted of a single, specific instruction:

"After reading this, burn this page. Then deliver the second page to the Archbishop of St. Peter's Cathedral and convince him to believe its contents. There are many ways to contact the Archbishop; I trust you can figure that out for yourself."

The moment Benjamin saw that Michelle wanted him to hand the letter over to the Church, he started getting a bad feeling. And upon finishing the second page, he couldn't help but heave a deep sigh, a powerful sense of helplessness washing over him.

The second page read: "In five days, meet me at the ruins of the old downtown prison. Don't try anything clever. The curse will flare up for the first time soon, and you'll be begging for death."

A chill ran down Benjamin's spine.

He had underestimated Michelle yet again.

This witch's ambitions were far too grand. She didn't just want Benjamin to help her access the Lither family vault - she had her sights set on the Church as well. She planned to use Benjamin to lay a trap, luring the Church's forces to the downtown area in five days' time, where she'd exact her ruthless revenge.

This was no longer a contest between him and Michelle. This was a battle between Michelle and the Church. And he was nothing more than a pawn in Michelle's twisted game.

What should he do? What could he do?

Michelle had truly seen through his every thought.

If he did as Michelle instructed and handed the second page over to the Church, they'd almost certainly take the bait. They'd head to the prison ruins in five days and walk right into Michelle's trap. With the Church dealt a heavy blow, Michelle would be free to act with even greater impunity.

If Benjamin didn't give the second page to the Church, the curse would make his life a waking nightmare. At the same time, he'd lose the Church's protection and be forced to face Michelle alone - a precarious position indeed.

And if Benjamin tried to get clever and hand both pages over to the Church… well, they'd discover his magical abilities and purify him on the spot.

Burning both pages and claiming they'd spontaneously combusted, then trying to convince the Church with nothing but his word, was off the table entirely. The Archbishop was a wily old fox. Without concrete evidence from Michelle, why would he buy it? He'd feign belief, then do exactly as he'd done last time - spout empty platitudes, drop a few meaningless tidbits, and offer no real help whatsoever. It wasn't like Benjamin had another secret relic to bargain with - this time, any information would be less than worthless.

All roads led to ruin. No matter how he played this move, his odds of survival were slim to none.

Benjamin found himself plunged into despair once more.

"Aaargh… what do I do?" he groaned, burying his face in his hands, looking like a man at the end of his rope. He was so on edge, he'd lost his appetite for the bread.

"Hmm… maybe you should listen to Michelle. Didn't she say she'd teach you magic?" the AI mused, offering its suggestion after some thought.

"And then what? I learn her magic and become the next Sally, the next Annie - or worse? My life is in her hands. You think she'll sincerely treat me as an ally? Or just break the curse out of the goodness of her heart? Keep dreaming." Benjamin shook his head as he said this.

"Fair point," the AI conceded, a rare moment of lucidity - even if it was utterly useless.

Benjamin sank deep into contemplation. He could feel all the threads whirling in his mind, a crushing pressure bearing down on him, shadows gathering, forcing him to make a choice in short order.

He had to decide, and fast.

If he was going to give the letter to the Archbishop, he'd have to set out tonight. After today, the "five days from now" in the letter would become "four days from now". It'd be hard to explain that discrepancy to the Archbishop - any excuse would only breed distrust.

And if he tried to exploit the difference between "five days" and "four days" to stir up trouble, the results would be even worse. The Archbishop would come up empty-handed and lose faith in Benjamin, while Michelle would decide he was disobedient and make his life a living hell through the curse.

Benjamin was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

He was wedged between the Church and Michelle. The Church wanted to use him to capture Michelle; Michelle wanted to use him to strike at the Church. One false move and he'd end up on both their bad sides. Trying to play them off each other and come out on top would be a Herculean task. But he had to pull it off somehow - otherwise, his chances of turning the tables were next to nil.

When it came down to it, he needed to make the choice that would maximize his own interests.

And he had to do it fast.

The clock in the corner chimed nine times, its droning like a nagging scold urging the frazzled Benjamin to hurry.

Bong… bong… bong… bong…

As the ninth chime faded, he finally stood up.

The capital's curfew began at ten o'clock. After ten, no one was allowed on the streets. If he wanted to make it back to the Lither estate before ten, he'd have to move now.

That's right - move. He'd made his decision at last. He'd do as Michelle said and give the second page to the Archbishop, luring the Church's people to the downtown district for Michelle's sake.

He took the letter to the table and used the oil lamp's flame to burn the first page, then dumped the ashes into the chamber pot.

As he did this, he mused that he and the chamber pot seemed to share quite the special bond.

"You're really going to follow Michelle's plan to the letter? If the Church takes a beating, who knows if they'll take it out on you? Don't be rash," the AI cautioned, a rare show of concern.

But Benjamin's expression remained unsurprised. As he prepared to head to the cathedral, he replied in his heart, "The Church might well lash out at me. But if I walk into the same trap and get badly hurt, even come within an inch of losing my life… would they still suspect me then?"

The AI had a sudden epiphany. "You're planning to play the victim card!"

Benjamin sighed and nodded, answering with grim determination, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If I'm injured badly enough, I might even win the Church's trust. Then it'll all be worth it."

The AI fell silent once more at these words. Perhaps it was weighing the merits of Benjamin's choice; perhaps it was just mentally reviewing old gum commercials.

Benjamin paused for a moment, then spoke up again, as if responding to the AI, yet also seeming to talk to himself:

"As a lowly, insignificant pawn, if I don't make a few bold moves, what else can I use to gain the leverage to become a player?"

With all his preparations complete, he quietly slipped out of the Lither estate under cover of night, hurrying towards St. Peter's Cathedral.