After my meeting with the king, Archbishop Terru led a ceremony in the royal chapel, praying for the souls of those who had died in the moat.

The wooden panels that had separated the place in two halves were pushed against the stone walls, allowing the building to accommodate several hundred people in one space. The pillar that served as an altar was roughly in the middle, protected by a handful of guards in official tabards. All worshipers were standing in concentric circles around the priest, with a few seats for the elderly. Not all of them looked noble or rich.

They do let commoners into the castle after all.

The king and crown princess sat in the same ornate wooden chairs as for my summoning, on the day before. I stood in a group of advisors, most of whom I remembered from the celebration. Which one was Lord Berg, which one was Lord Gimon? I couldn’t tell.

Archbishop Terru’s melodious voice named every person who fell in that absurd dragon attack. With each name, someone sobbed in the audience. But the bodies weren’t there, neither in the chapel nor anywhere else in the castle. It was a memorial service rather than a proper funeral.

“May them rise to the Almighty,” I repeated with the crowd.

As we walked out of the chapel and most worshipers were led back to the city by the guards, I asked the nearest advisor about funeral practices. Did Brealian people bury their dead? Cremate them? Choose other options?

He frowned. “What do people do in your native world?”

“It depends on the place and culture. Look, I’m not here to judge. I just have a lot to catch on, as far as common knowledge is concerned.”

“If you say so.” He sighed. “Most citizens in Brealia are Almighty worshipers, and we cremate our dead. It helps the soul rise to the Almighty.”

“What about people with other religions?”

“Why don’t you ask them? I have other things to do.”

He had an annoyed gesture, as if to sweep away some fly. I let him get back to whatever urgent activity he had, and wondered what to do next.

I had promised to investigate Kossi’s attack, but I wasn’t sure where to start. Cherub could give me a clue; however, I’d used up my daily question, so I had to wait until the next day. What could I do in the meantime?

If I want to be their hero, I must get comfortable in my new shoes. For a start, I’d love to have croissants for breakfast.

The cooks startled when I entered the kitchen after lunch. They tried to convince me that the Great Hero didn’t belong there, but I stayed among them, breathing in all the smells, some familiar, others totally unknown. I looked at the pantry, trying to recognize as many ingredients as possible.

“It’s quite cool in here,” I noticed.

The senior cook, a middle-aged woman named Sirit, nodded proudly.

“Cold magic. The market hall was the first place in Carastra to have permanent cold spells, but the royal kitchen was a close second. It keeps the food fresh.”

On the walls behind the furniture, a handful of symbols glowed faintly. I nodded.

“I can see that. It’s impressive. Is it high-level magic?”

“Not that high, I think. An instructor from the University of Magic Arts came with half a dozen second-year students, and it took them an hour or two to cast a permanent spell. They come back every fifteen days or so, to charge it with magic.”

Sirit enthusiastically told me the names of several foods I pointed to her. Solael, the fruit whose juice I’d had at my summoning, looked like grapes, only with a thicker skin. I had one grain. It tasted like pineapple. There were also datils, plums that could be sweet or sour, but there was no way to know before cutting them open.

I nodded, remembering as much as I could.

They have flour, I think it’ll do, but there’s something missing.

“I don’t see any butter.”

Sirit ran a hand over the discolored red scarf that held her auburn hair back.

“We used it up yesterday, for the banquet, you know. What we had left went into today’s biscuits. We’ll buy some more next morning.”

“That’s a pity. I wanted to bake pastry from my native world.”

“Feeling nostalgic, my lady?”

“A little.”

She sighed.

“Well, I’d be happy to bake whatever you like, but we only run errands early morning here. During the day, we need everyone in the kitchen. I shouldn’t even be slacking in here right now. So, if you say you need butter for that pastry of yours, I’m afraid someone else’ll need to go to the market hall for you. Is it all right, my lady? I’m really sorry.”

She added the last two sentences as an afterthought, probably realizing she wasn’t supposed to act too familiar with the Great Hero Al. I smiled to make her more comfortable.

“It’s all right, Sirit. I’ll see what I can do, and I’m not a spoiled child. If I don’t find a way to buy butter, I can wait another day.”

To be honest, I’d feel really frustrated if I didn’t get my croissants made. But I was an adult, wasn’t I? I knew better than to throw a tantrum.

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There was noise in the courtyard. Duke Irmel and his entourage were leaving the palace. I craned my neck in the crowd and noticed the king and crown princess busy saying goodbye and embracing their relatives. There were guards everywhere. So much for asking for money, so I walked back into the main hall.

Come on, I just want a little money and someone to help me find the market hall. How difficult is it?

After getting lost in the hallways, I found a steward and asked for his name.

“Olio, Great Hero Al.”

“You know I was summoned without any possessions. Is it possible to get money for a small errand? And someone to show me the way?”

He turned pale. “Great Hero Al, it’s not only a guide you need, it’s an escort!”

I squinted.

“Am I in danger?”

He bit his lips.

“You might be. Some people might think you’re responsible for what happened yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” I gasped. “I did no harm. I saved as many people as I could!”

He had a gesture of apology.

“I know, Great Hero Al. But not everyone does. Who knows what could happen to you in a narrow alley?”

A man stopped by us as we were talking. I’d seen him at the celebration. If I remembered correctly, he was Lord Torren, one of the king’s advisors.

“What is the matter here?” he asked.

The steward told him I needed an escort. The advisor smiled.

“Undoubtedly, you do, Great Hero Al. But if I may ask, what business do you have in Carastra? Can’t you just send someone to buy whatever you need?”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I could, but I want to know this city and this kingdom. What kind of hero just stays within the castle?”

Lord Torren looked thoughtful for a second. “I think we can borrow a cadet. Follow me.”

After Olio gave me a small purse, we went through the royal residence and out the back façade, the one that faced north. We walked through a flower garden arranged around an ornate fountain. The statue in the middle looked like a mythological figure.

Who this statue is must be basic general knowledge here. It’s hard to get dropped somewhere without knowing anything about the local culture. Do they even have books in this palace? I only saw a handful of them in the king’s office. Is there a library?

We got out through another bridge, narrower than the main one, with remnants of a drawbridge mechanism still visible in the stone walls. I didn’t take us long to reach a cobblestone square and a brick edifice with a concave façade. Sculptures of horses adorned the last floor.

“Welcome to the Royal Sword Academy!” said Lord Torren.

He showed me around high-roofed rooms, then to a dirt backyard where young swordfighters were training, all wearing the same blue tabard, a simpler version of the one the palace guards wore.

Lord Torren asked a few masters if they had any students available for a mission. Finally, a woman in leather leggings, her gray hair in a very tight bun, scars across her left ear, her lips and her neck, turned to a pale-faced student who was working hard against a mannequin.

“Chess!” she called. “Can you come here?”

The cadet ran to us, sword still in hand.

“Yes, Mistress Jemos?”

“Enough training for today. Change clothes and escort this lady to town, will you?”

Emerald green eyes peered at me from under straight black hair whose ends brushed the cadet’s collar.

“Escort?”

I smiled.

“Yes, please. I have an errand to make and people at the palace fear I might get assaulted.”

“I’ll do whatever I’m asked.” The student’s voice had a foreign accent. “Wait for me in the hall, ma’am. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Thank you, Chess.”

As the advisor and the student both left the backyard, Mistress Jemos smiled at me.

“Chess has a hard time blending it, because they’re foreign and a bothandnone, but they’re a fine kid, reliable, good with a sword.”

“Bothandnone?”

“You know, feeling neither like a man nor like a woman. They left their native Bamir because they couldn’t live as a bothandnone there, and it’s a good thing they did. They’re one of my best students.”

I see. A refugee of sorts.

Mistress Jemos smiled. “Some nasty cadets tried the hard way to know what’s in their pants, but the kid’s good at bathroom brawls, too. As far as I know, none of them ever achieved their stupid goal, and I reckon they’d brag about it if they did!”

When I met Chess in the hall, they had traded the school’s blue tabard for a dark green doublet. They escorted me through the wide streets around the palace, then into a network of narrow alleys packed with a colorful crowd.

Jettied upper floors cast a shadow over the shops that opened on street level, each one spreading a different smell. Every shop sign claimed to sell the best alchemical goods in the kingdom. The occasional charred beam reminded me of King Esthar’s words: this was Potions’ Corner, the district that had been partly destroyed by a fire a few years earlier. I listened to the various languages and accents spoken around us.

“How long have you lived here, Chess?”

They shrugged. “Four years. I’m seventeen, it’s my last year at the Academy.”

“What will you do when you graduate? Will you be an officer?”

“Hopefully. But I don’t know…”

They looked sideways, their black hair partly hiding the sad look on their pale face.

“I’m not a Brealian citizen, ma’am.”

I nodded.

“So I heard. You’re from Bamir, aren’t you?”

They sighed. Apparently, they didn’t like being reminded of their origins.

“The only reason why I could join the Academy in the first place was Prince Sorosiel’s influence. Now that he’s gone, will they trust me to lead Brealian troops?”

“Mistress Jemos says you’re talented.”

Their green eyes brightened. “Really? She never said that to my face.”

“I bet she didn’t. She’s not the kind of instructor who pays her students a compliment, and believe me, I know my teachers: I was one myself, until yesterday.”

They smiled. At least, now, they no longer looked bored.

After our stroll through Potions’ Corner, Chess led me to another district. That part of the city looked less medieval and more modern, with wider streets and a covered market hall with wrought iron pillars. The smell of livestock and fresh meat lingered in the air, softened by a draft of icy air.

The cold spell Sirit told me about.

I looked everywhere for the glowing symbols, but I didn’t find them. They were probably hidden behind the stalls. I walked along the aisles, marveled at all the groceries, and compared several butters before choosing the one I’d bake my morning croissants with.

The precious ingredient was stored in a small thick-sided box. Chess decided to carry it.

“Do you need anything else, ma’am?”

“No, thank you. We can go back now.”

The street that led to the palace was lined by houses on one side and by a park on the other. We walked along the wrought iron fence. I could make out the roofs of the royal residence in the distance.

“Thank you for carrying my errand, Chess,” I said cheerily. “People at the palace worried that someone might recognize me and blame me for yesterday’s attack, but none of it happened.”

They shrugged.

“Hardly anyone saw you up close yesterday, ma’am. To most people, including me, you were just a person who ran along the palace parapet in a flowing white robe. With your hair up and your trousers, you look like a random traveler. No wonder you go unnoticed.”

Excellent! Now, all I need to do is go back to the kitchen, prepare my puff pastry, and get up early tomorrow to bake my croissants. After a good breakfast, I’ll be happier and ready to choose the right question for Cherub.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lady,” said a man’s voice in my ear.

Chess drew their sword, but the stranger put his arms around me and dragged me into the park. I hardly felt any resistance when we went through the wrought iron fence, as if we’d been a plane flying through a cloud.

This guy has magic abilities? Who is he? What does he want with me?

Left on the other side of the fence, Chess could only watch us disappear in the park. My heart raced, both in fear and in anger at my inability to defend myself.

The man finally put me back on my feet and took a step back. He was human, probably in his mid-twenties, with dark blue hair and eyes, a blue jacket and a red scarf. He exchanged glances with other men around us.

He’s not alone. Don’t do anything stupid, Alicia.

“Great Hero Al,” he said, bending on one knee.

So much for the people of Carastra not being able to recognize me in this outfit.

I opened my mouth, but the man spoke first.

“Let me introduce myself. My name’s Vilo Jozin and I believe we should have a word. Why don’t we have a nice stroll through Lexas Gardens and speak?”