"So did you get all the presents you needed?" Rowena asked as they were already on their way back to the mansion, though it should have been obvious since Norina hadn't been looking for anything more than what she got.

"I didn't find anything for Sir Sean, actually."

Surprised, Rowena gave her a sideways glance. "Didn't you get him a dagger?"

"No, they didn't have anything I could afford. At least not one that was usable. I got Sir Logan a decorative one."

Her mistress nodded in return. 'Right. Logan Randall isn't technically a knight, he's a High Priest, so legally he isn't even a 'Sir' at all. He doesn't need a weapon like a dagger.'

The men in their vicinity couldn't say much to most of what they were talking about, but at her words, the oldest in the group cleared his throat. "If I may add a word of advice, young lady," he said, "if the reason for the gift is a personal one, hard to gauge in value, the appreciation should be shown in a more personal way as well."

'That sounds like she's supposed to sell her body, gramps. Wording.' She looked up at him with a slightly embarrassed expression. "Maybe you should be more specific, grandfather."

He blinked, then looked at the maid. "Perhaps you could give him something of your own making? A tassel for his sword, for instance."

"Oh, I'm not very good at that kind of handiwork." Sure, she could mend an old dress or sew on a button, but more than that would be a challenge.

She could ask Ava, who had once learned alongside Liza, the bobcut annex maid, under the main house seamstress, Nona. She could do it, no question, but Norina would never stoop so low as to ask another to make a personal gift and pretend it was her own work.

Shaking her head as if to dissuade her own thoughts, she sighed, then stopped. "But I could bake something?" she nearly whispered, "Your Grace, may I use the kitchen tonight?"

"As long as you don't make a habit of it," he said simply, motioning for her to resume her walk.

The sun was already setting and they had to leave early in the morning. He had wanted to hear his granddaughter play his wife's melody at least once before they left, and for that they had to return first. Was that, perhaps, too selfish a thing for him to hope for?

"That's a good idea, Norina," Rowena chimed in without knowing what the old man was thinking, "let's go back, you have to hurry."

It wasn't that they were running back, but the two men had to move quickly to catch up with the young women who were picking up the pace with their elevated spirits. It didn't take them long to reach their destination, and they watched as Norina walked towards the kitchen as if possessed.

"At least she seemed a bit less burdened." His words came as a surprise, as Rowena hadn't heard her brother speak since they had left the armory.

"You're right," was all she could say as she watched her grandfather walk away from them.

"I'm going to sit down in the saloon and read a book. I must admit, our walk made me quite tired." He said that, but he didn't seem as tired as one would have expected.

'Wasn't he a lot more frail last time I saw him? He's outright invigorated.' Her head tilted to the side, her eyes following him. "He seems much better too."

"Hm," came from her brother, "who knows? It's a good thing."

Rowena didn't think it was a bad thing either, but she remembered an old lady from a few years ago. She had been sickly, waiting for the day she would die after losing her last family to a Visitor. It wasn't nice to see her fading away every day, so Celia had decided to pay her a visit once in a while.

At first she didn't want to meet her, but later she got used to her. It turned out that she really was in bad physical health, but it was mostly the kind of problems one would expect with age. In fact, her condition wasn't as bad as it looked, but it was her mental condition that affected her physically.

She never died either. Maybe she lived to this day, who would ever know? Rowena certainly wouldn't. The memory saddened her a tad, but that wasn't the worst that was now on her mind.

The worst part of that thought for Rowena was that if she was true to herself, it wasn't so far-fetched to compare them. An old man who had lost his daughter and then his wife, who had hardly heard from any of his grandchildren or his son-in-law.

She didn't like to think about it, but maybe he was waiting for the day he would die, just like the old lady. And that, in turn, would make him more sickly as his will to keep going crumbled away.

The last time she had a feeling like this, she had realized what "ailment" had truly befallen the character Rowena in Sarah Dent's prophetic writing.

Perhaps "sad" didn't do it justice, as sadness was felt by those affected - rather, emptiness is what she felt instead. It was a grim, vacant feeling, as if someone had eaten out her stomach and connected it to an endless void.

"I will go to the knight's barracks, we must prepare our departure before resting for the night." A simple nod acknowledged Alan's announcement, and he was about to leave, only delayed by a fleeting thought: "Will you tell me the truth about that girl, Charlotte?"

Dumbfounded, Rowena blinked at him. "What would be the truth about an ordinary girl like Charlotte?"

He flatly shrugged. "After all I've seen, there's something off about a girl you needed a High Priest to treat. Call it intuition?"

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Without so much as a twitch in her expression, she thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "One day, brother."

He couldn't force her to tell him, he knew that. It wouldn't help either of them.

So he sighed in defeat. "I will wait for that day," he said before turning and heading off.

'You can't expect others to tell you secrets when you never reveal yours,' a voice intruded into his head, as suggestive and sultry, yet as cold as ever, 'you just don't understand women, do you?'

'What does that have to do with anything? Women are also people.'

'Women value different things in terms of contact, don't you know that?'

'Leave me alone.'

She snorted at his evasive response. 'What a virgin.'

'How is that any of your business?' He would have almost reacted to her outwardly, but he left it to an uncomfortable shrug, feeling the need to physically shake her off.

'No need to stress about it, little Duke. All I'm saying is, you might want to learn how to treat a female at some stage in your life.'

At this point, she made fun of him without even hiding it. 'How would something like you know anything about a female human being?'

'Well, I used to be a female human being myself,' the Numbered nonchalantly stated.

He had to pause for a moment as he felt like a bucket of water had been dropped on his head. "What do you mean, you used to be a human?"

In Celia's world, people were granted certain information by the powerful Numbered, who exclusively contracted specific people, giving them clues to truths they could never otherwise obtain.

The same thing was about to happen here. And just as it had happened in Celia's world, it would cause a series of ripples throughout the continent and beyond.

Rowena had run up the stairs, servants eyeing her curiously from all sides, to get her hands on an object she hadn't thought to unpack during her stay at the Marquisate.

From one bag she took an unopened envelope, and from another she took a wooden case, holding it by the handle so she could carry it back down to the lower floor.

Only when she reached the saloon did she slow down and knock politely on the door. "Come in," she heard a raspy voice.

"Grandfather?" she asked into the room after opening the door a crack and sticking her head through, "I wanted to show you something."

Surprised, the old man put down the book he was reading and faked a cough. "Of course, what is it you want to show me?"

She stepped inside with her violin case in one hand and the envelope he had given her himself just a few weeks ago in the other, knowing he would see why she was there. She had promised, after all.

In reality, she had never needed the sheets he had given her, but it seemed to make him happy, so she was. Maybe she was happier about them than she knew herself to be.

But with or without them, it was the only piece she could play at all. With that certainty, she unpacked the instrument and got into position - but not without unpacking the notes from the envelope, making it seem as if his contribution had helped her a great deal.

Her playing was smooth, though she could bet it was still very hard at the edges, since she wasn't a professional and couldn't judge. But the tranquil atmosphere gave no indication of a faulty performance, instead her audience seemed pleased.

It wasn't until she was almost finished and opened her eyes again that she glanced at the sheets, which she hadn't seen at all before. Since it was important for her to concentrate while thinking as little as possible, to let her movements do all the work for her, she hadn't really taken a look.

It was an old piece of parchment, really worn, and if it hadn't been safely tucked away in the envelope, she suspected it wouldn't have survived her trip to Lodden.

What really puzzled her, though, was not the fact that it was obviously very old, but what was still legible at the top of the first page.

"Aurora's Tears," she whispered.

"What did you say?"

Flinching, she acted as if nothing had happened, then put the violin down. "No, I just remembered I wanted to ask you something, grandfather."

Intrigued, still in a very delightful state of mind, he pointed to a chair next to him. "Sit down first, child."

"I will," she said, sitting down as instructed, "you said the piece was called 'Sentiments', but the music sheet you gave me said it was called 'Aurora's Tears'. Which is correct?"

Realistically, the older document would probably tell the truth, but she couldn't believe her grandfather was lying to her, or worse, had sudden bouts of dementia.

"It was originally called 'Aurora's Tears', but later changed to 'Sentiments'. They are both true, but from different time periods."

"So that's how it was." A piece composed by a Lodden musician who apparently held the goddess in high esteem. Or was the name a coincidence? "It didn't happen to refer to the goddess Aurora, did it?"

Maxwell Wynn Nerena wasn't easy to surprise in that manner, since he had seen and heard a lot, but his granddaughter's question made him burst out in laughter. At least as much as his lungs would allow.

"I know you were told that part of history was solely meant for the eyes and ears of higher ranking nobles, but I am indeed privy to that information as well. Do not fret, Rowena, you won't get in trouble for talking about it here. People don't really care these days anyway." Times really had changed in his eyes.

But Rowena literally had no idea what he was talking about, let alone trying to hide something from whomever. "Right, sure, I mean, I know some parts of history, but now that I know we can talk about it," she tried to turn the gears in her head until they burned her brain cells, for the sake of stringing together words that would seem logical, "I thought you might be able to fill in some blanks for me."

"Why don't you ask your tutor? Are your teachers incompetent? You need to tell me if there's something you're not happy with, and I'll do what I can to help."

The noble lady's brow was beaded with sweat. 'It seems like he doesn't know that Rowena didn't actually take those lessons at all. Not that she couldn't have.' She thought of the teacher she did have, Mr. Ballinger. 'The Marquis probably thinks I must have some level of basic education. Too bad I don't.'

"Why don't you answer? Are you feeling unwell?"

He looked at her worriedly, saw her pale face grow even paler, and now she even began to sweat for no reason. She couldn't travel if she was sick!

"No, I'm fine, I just realized that I haven't been studying very well lately, so I thought you could help me out since your knowledge is more refined than mine."

"Truly, it is not wrong, but..." He tried for a few more seconds to find out what was wrong with her, and eventually decided to grant her request first. "It will probably be the same things you have already learned, as there is not much to it. Not much that is known today, if anything."

"That's fine, I will know if there is anything new for me," she reassured him. 'Basically everything, since I have no clue whatsoever.'

"In short, in the days when Lodden was still the main force holding hands with the Holy Empire, this piece was composed for the Holy Maiden, the first Saintess. When she was blessed by the Goddess with a gift they called 'Aurora's Tears', H.P. Glass, a famous musician in the Lodden Empire at the time, composed the piece in her honor. He was also rewarded with a title of nobility for it, if I remember correctly." Of course, the latter part of that specific history would not be taught in any class, because it wasn't important. "But they changed the name after the Lodden Empire and the Holy Empire crossed swords over the dethronement of the former imperial family."

Rowena's eyes widened. Not only was this the most direct yet elusive information she had ever obtained regarding the first Saintess, as well as the first time she had heard of the so-called gift she had received, but now she was faced with a real problem.

'Which imperial family is he talking about? Shit, how do I ask without making it obvious that I know jack about any of this?' He really could have worded it a bit more clearly in her opinion.