“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ailn said, looking around at the bestowal chamber. “I didn’t expect we’d actually end up here.”

Kylian and Aldous looked around in shock.

“For the passage to lead here… Who could have guessed?” Aldous muttered.

“...I just don’t understand,” Kylian said.

“Could be for eavesdropping,” Ailn said thoughtfully. “It’s the same logic as hiding a listening post in a parlor for espionage. Maybe once upon a time knightly confessions were used for blackmail.”

“But the bestowal ceremony was originally held in a small wooden confessional in the abbey’s church. Lady Renea… moved the ceremony to this chamber herself,” Kylian said.

“Maybe once upon a time is now,” Ailn shrugged, shutting the passage behind them. “Let’s walk and talk.”

Aldous was largely silent, as he took in the revelation. Opening the door to leave, though, it seemed he couldn’t help his curiosity.

“‘Once upon a time,’ Your Grace?” Aldous asked. “I don’t believe I’ve heard the phrase.”

“Oh,” Ailn scratched his cheek. “It just means ‘at some point.’ People like using it to begin stories.”

“Such as, once upon a time the day had passed into night without my knowing?” Aldous asked.

“Er, not quite,” Ailn said. “More like once upon a time there were three little piglets and a big bad wolf.”

“What a curious story that must be,” Aldous said, raising an eyebrow.

“...I’ll tell it to you sometime, if I ever have the chance,” Ailn said.

They walked out into the corridor, which was now lit by a torch. It made more sense to simply walk back through the keep than battle their way through the hidden passage again. Aldous, now in familiar territory, implicitly took the role of leader. Navigating them through the keep, he didn’t say a word.

“Nothing makes sense,” Kylian muttered. “And no matter what path my thoughts take, there seems to be a painful eventuality waiting beyond the fog.”

Earlier, Sophie seemed the most suspicious—at least logistically. That was terrible enough. But a new theory was forming just beneath Kylian’s consciousness. And this one was even darker.

“Aldous, did you know Sophie was my half-sister?” Ailn asked.

The high marshal remained silent, leading them through the castle ‘till they were nearly through the keep and out into the bailey.

“I am one of the few who did,” Aldous finally said, with a surprisingly clear and somber tone. “No, I suppose some at the time had our suspicions… but to suggest it aloud would have been grounds to have one's tongue cleaved.”

His steps seemed to take on a trudging tone, and they walked down a twisting staircase.

For the longest while, no one said a thing. They were halted by the complications of the yokes that bind—and this was a complicated set of yokes, indeed. Finally, they reached the outer bailey, where it had begun snowing again.

“For the moment, let us rest our minds and hope for clarity,” Aldous said.

“With the inquest in two days?” Kylian asked, a little flabbergasted. Tired as he was, he didn’t think the discussion was one they could postpone.

“Even a fool like me knows that what we’ve discovered today points to a harsh or even sinister truth. Only when our minds are fully lucid, and our sinews steeled can we appropriately discuss this,” Aldous tiredly waved his arm as he went his way. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Ailn and Kylian glanced at each other.

“Is he not heading to the barracks?” Ailn asked.

“Sir Aldous has his own quarters,” Kylian said.

“By the way—you’re not going to make me sleep in that guard room again, are you?”

“...The barracks is likely the safest place for you to sleep tonight. I’ll talk to the quartermaster and secure you a spot.”

“Great. How are the beds there?”

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

Morning came, and snow had fallen through the night. And though there wasn’t any more of it falling from the clouds, heavy wind kicked whatever snow there was left on the ground into playful flurries.

All told, it was the milder end of winter for the duchy. The people of Varant, and all those knights and servants in the castle were used to it. Say nothing of lethargic, if anything there was a bit of extra bustle in the air—that warmth and energy that comes from your chest to face a cold day.

Ailn, unfortunately, had not long been a resident. The ‘playful flurries’ felt more like Father Winter spitting in his face.

He really hated the cold.

To make it worse, he was badly craving a smoke. He could usually go a day without caring, and that day was yesterday.

Now he was waiting at the front of the castle for his sister to show up. One and a half sisters, allegedly.

A number of knights, and servants, and even Ennieux gathered at the front of the castle to receive Renea and her retinue. And though they were kept outside the castle’s iron fence, there were commoners gathered too. They propped their faces against the fence like they were trying to catch sight of a celebrity.

“You look terrible,” Kylian frowned.

“I want to smoke,” Ailn said honestly. He didn’t have the energy to do anything but stare listlessly ahead.

“I’ve never seen you smoke once,” Kylian said. “Nor have I heard about it from the innumerable rumors meant to discredit you.”

“Guess I was just great at hiding it,” Ailn replied, before muttering to himself. “Shouldn’t my new body be addiction-free? Or am I just pathetic?”

Not really wanting to think through the implications of his own psychological dependency, he shut his eyes and groaned, reaching to fiddle with a watch he wasn’t actually wearing.

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He felt twitchy. He’d had a terrible time sleeping. The straw in the mattress had scratched his back through the linens all night, and rustled whenever he moved. How long could he stand this before he became completely unhinged?

They stood around in the cold for twenty minutes or so, Ailn’s mood dropping the whole time along with his perceived body temperature.

A carriage bearing the ducal emblem came into view. With lacquered white wood and silver leaf, it was the fanciest thing Ailn had seen since he’d been in this world. A few of the knight escorts even rode horses. A couple of them had silverish hair—he guessed those were Ennieux’s children.

The majority walked behind in procession, however. Had they gone around the entire city like this? That seemed rough.

Finally, the carriage came to a stop, and out walked the vaunted Saintess. Saintess-apparent, at least.

A simple white dress, made of cotton. A fur-lined robe of azure brocade, silver embroidered into its hem. A circlet on her head made of silver—no, platinum actually, given its brighter sheen; it was almost amusing how consistent the duchy was. Always with the modest displays of wealth that made sure you didn’t mistake restraint for poverty.

And of course, she had silver hair and blue eyes just like he did.

She stepped out of the carriage with a smile, giving that perfectly effortless wave so associated with nobility. Behind her walked a girl in a blue maid’s kirtle, with ash brown hair that barely peeked through her mob cap, and an inscrutable face—Sophie, probably.

When Renea reached the ground proper, the knights in procession swarmed to the front to step in line and form a saber arch for her to walk through. The crowd receiving her matched the saber arch, parting into two, hushing as they cleared a path.

Aldous, the highest ranking knight, came forward to kneel and greet her.

“Welcome back my lady,” Aldous said, head bowed. “We have been eagerly anticipating your return.”

There was a breathless adulation in the air, waiting in suspense for her to speak. She knew it too, judging by the way her eyes flitted around as she stopped to let the moment hang.

Somehow, this atmosphere was not quite what Ailn expected.

“My, how wonderful for all of you to receive me!” Renea eum-Creid smiled broadly. “I’m ever so happy to be home, again!”

“‘Ever so?’” Ailn muttered.

The cheering started. Those watching from outside the fence rattled the bars, clamoring for her to look their way. The servants couldn’t stop themselves from cheering, either. Even the knights looked a little starstruck.

Weren’t they with her all the time?

It made sense for an aristocrat to be a celebrity of sorts—especially a figure like the Saintess. Yet the whole thing felt a little off; less beloved noble, more starlet walking the red carpet. And the way her smile never quite reached her eyes bothered him.

“Oh, goodness. What happened to this poor child?” Renea’s attention turned to the left side of the crowd, and she began walking in that direction, people giving way as she came near.

Now she had her hands clasped together in a manner you could only call forcibly winsome, her tone of voice ostentatiously nurturing and protective. She took dainty steps that seemed completely unnecessary in her sandals.

She singled out a squire who’d come to see her; he had a black eye you could notice even from a distance. He was clearly surprised by her attention, and once she was near he seemed completely overwhelmed. Face flushed, eyes bugged out—the boy looked like he was about to faint.

“What happened, my child?” Renea asked.

Ailn cringed. Hearing a sixteen year old call out ‘my child’ to someone her age, Saintess or not, was a little too much for him.

“I-I just got it sparring, my lady,” the squire stammered.

“Then it sounds as if you have been working most dutifully for the duchy. Would you let me heal you as my thanks?” Renea raised her hand to his face, letting it hover a few inches away. A white glow slowly manifested, and his bruises disappeared almost shockingly fast.

“Thank you, my lady…” The squire seemed like he might cry. You’d think she just saved his life, he was so grateful.

“No, my child. Thank you.” She swept her gaze around and held her hands out like she wanted to take the entire crowd into a gentle embrace. “And to all of you, thank you ever so much!”

The crowd went nuts. Ailn thought someone might punch themselves just to get an encore.

“Man,” Ailn muttered to himself in disbelief. “This girl is fake as hell.”

She was a regular Dorothy Gale, just without the ruby slippers or terrier. Instead she had all those affectations of joyous naivete that, in his experience, took a very cynical person to reproduce. Typically, he’d find this kind of thing funny.

It was certainly surreal.

He’d expected a little more solemnity; instead, he was watching a medieval idol work the crowd, and you know what? He just wasn’t a fan of it.

The moment of truth was coming up. Ailn eum-Creid, miraculously surviving an attack everyone thought had killed him, would finally meet his sister the Saintess. How would she react to him in his amnesiac state? That was the question on everyone’s minds.

Including Ailn’s.

He still didn’t know what to make of her. Seeing her put on a show like this, and seeing everyone eat it up—he could believe that Renea eum-Creid’s well-known love for her brother was also a carefully manufactured act.

Part of him hoped so, because the guilt was piling on every time he heard about it. It was easy coming into a world where no one gave a damn about him. He knew how to deal with that. But if she really cared, and had no idea her brother had actually died, then pretending to be that brother was a real crummy thing to do—even if his hand was forced.

Ennieux came storming up with her usual graceless grace, and grabbed him by the arm with a glare.

“Well?! Aren’t you going to greet your sister? I swear…” She dragged him along to the open path in the center, and all Ailn could do was cast a desperate glance toward Kylian.

Kylian shrugged. What was he going to do about it?

Soon, brother and sister were face to face. No one talked. All eyes were on them, and Ailn had no idea what he was supposed to say.

Was there some formal greeting he needed to use here? If there was, he didn’t know it, and frankly Kylian would be to blame. Should he try to keep up formalities since everyone was watching? Or speak casually, since the two siblings were supposed to be close?

His mind was stuck in underdrive. Usually he was quick with social cues. But he needed nicotine, and he was dumber than usual; why was she just staring at him?

“Renea,” he said awkwardly, speaking as slow as possible so he could gauge her reaction to each word, “...my dear sister. I hope it was not too cold out there for you.”

He kept his gaze on the bridge of her nose, to make sure he kept steady, comfortable, and most of all non-committal eye contact; blue eyes searching blue eyes like a cop who doesn’t actually have a warrant.

Hers seemed to glisten, just a bit. Was that a quiver in her bottom lip he saw?

“Ailn,” she walked closer, her steps a bit shaky as she did so. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

She was smiling. Her eyes crinkled at the corners… was this genuine?

“I thought you were gone forever.” She spoke softly, looking more into his eyes than he was trying to look into hers. “You don’t know how —”

She walked forward to embrace him, and Ailn, stupidly, instinctively stepped back. She flinched. Ailn flinched because she flinched. The whole crowd watching flinched. And the chilly wind blew noisily through.

The smile on her face faltered.

“Right,” she said, sounding disappointed. “I heard you lost your memory. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

Her hands clasped together like a slowly collapsing tent, and Ailn could feel a whole duchy’s worth of glares on him. The worst was from… Sophie, right behind Renea? No, wait. Ennieux’s, from right beside him, was definitely the worst.

“Ahem. Sorry, I just haven’t been myself since the attack,” Ailn said.

“You look tired,” Renea said worriedly. “You must still be recovering… I’m sorry you had to wait here in the cold to receive me.”

She turned her attention to the crowd, her smile now polite. “Why don’t we go inside, everyone? There’s no reason for us to keep freezing out here. Come on, now.”

Renea turned back to him.

“Please,” Renea clasped one of Ailn’s hands. “Get some rest. We can speak more over a proper meal tonight.”

And so the reception of the Saintess ended. The knights lowered their swords, sheathing them, and Renea proceeded on into the castle with her retinue. Ennieux left with them—but not before giving Ailn a bitter, resigned shake of her head.

The crowd started their moving and murmuring, all heading back into the castle. More than a few contemptuous scowls came Ailn’s way—and even he felt a bit bad about it.

“You weren’t lying about needing a smoke,” Kylian said, walking up with a sympathetic look. “That was awful.”