Cairn was not happy.

Didn’t he ask Ailn not to get him caught up in anything?

Or was this Kylian’s fault? The knight had a penchant for bothering him at awful hours. The worst part is last night, Kylian had brought Sir Aldous of all men to his door—and so at midnight he found himself putting to parchment a secret he’d planned to take to his grave: the truth of Sophie’s birth.

Cairn thought that was the end of it.

But now he was in the abbey standing at the lectern turned witness stand.

He’d been called in to provide expert testimony about a very specific thing: Kylian, scrupulous as usual, did not want the nature of the attack to be in any doubt.

Kylian wanted to establish two things. First: that Ailn eum-Creid had been severely injured, and in a state that was essentially left for dead. Second: that the Saintess had nothing to do with his recovery.

The original Ailn had died, and a reincarnator had taken his place. Cairn doubted it had anything to do with holy aura, because Ailn hadn’t been ‘healed’, he’d literally been brought back to life. But he couldn’t testify as such.

Instead, he’d have to stand up here and dance around the truth, while desperately not trying to garner a reputation as a quack physician.

Basically, Kylian had unintentionally screwed Cairn over.

“Physician Cairn,” Kylian started, “what was the state of Ailn eum-Creid after the attack?”

“He was covered in lacerations. He had lesions to his neck. And he had seemingly died from blunt force trauma,” Cairn replied.

“Was he dead?” Kylian asked.

“... He was in a state that I could not distinguish from death,” Cairn said honestly. “That’s my answer.”

Murmurs of confusion spread throughout the room. The young master Ailn was alive in this very room. In fact, he was sitting in the pews among the knights, apparently being protected by two who watched his every movement.

But it was true that he seemed dead when they had examined his body.

“Cairn, answer honestly. Was Ailn eum-Creid’s miraculous recovery the result of holy aura? Did the Saintess heal him of his wounds from a near death state?”

“If that were the case, then he would’ve been healed before she had left the castle,” Cairn shook his head. “I won’t speak to what the divine blessing can or can’t do. But I’ll state for the record Ailn’s recovery happened well after she left.”

He furrowed his brow in annoyance.

“Shouldn’t you ask the young master himself?” Cairn asked.

He looked toward Ailn sitting in the pews. Cairn was not going to bear this onus alone. The brash reincarnator who’d made a mess of things should sit in the hot seat too, shouldn’t he?

Especially if they were trying to catch Lady Renea.

The knights began to talk among themselves quietly. It seemed that more than a few of them had their grievances with him.

‘Could this be… a demonic possession?’

‘Is that why he’s been so insufferable?’

“What did I even do to y—agh!” Ailn flinched. It was almost like something hit him in the back. “Look. I have no memory before waking up.”

With that, a knight’s hand grabbed Ailn’s collar and yanked him back into the seat. Cairn didn’t know what was going on there.

‘He truly could be a demon…’

‘No. A demon should be cleverer than he.’

“Enough,” Kylian said. “I’m not here to speculate about realms we don’t understand. I just wish for your expert opinion as a physician, Cairn. Is Ailn healed right now because of the work of Lady Renea?”

“I don’t—” Cairn couldn’t help but glance toward the defendants. The future Saintess looked dejected and miserable. He sighed. “I cannot in good conscience say she healed him. Nothing in my learnings would corroborate that. But…”

Cairn’s expression softened, and took on a hint of pity.

“But I remember she prayed for her brother when she thought he had died,” he said. “Who’s to say her prayer wasn’t heard? That’s all I’ll speak of the matter.”

“Thank you, Cairn. Your testimony is appreciated,” Kylian said, nodding to him as Cairn returned to the pews. Kylian turned his attention to the pews. “My fellows in the Order of the Azure Knights. This inquisition is intimately tied to faith and holiness.”

He closed his eyes, thinking over his next words, trying to take care.

“I will not make an appeal to your faith,” Kylian said, opening his eyes. “But I will not ask you to dispense of it, either. However you must, I only ask that you listen with open eyes and keen ears, and determine the truth yourself. Whether that truth be godly or not.”

When it came to the Azure Knights, Kylian did not merely have to worry about the receptivity of those who were fervently devout.

More than a few knights felt extreme antipathy for their own religion. And it was not his goal to convict Lady Renea at all costs. It was to find the truth.

Now, as before, the Azure Knights would determine the life or death of children of divinity.

And they would need to ask themselves now the question they’d ignored then: What did it mean to kill an owner of the divine blessing?

When the knights had been led in retaliation against the Blancs, they were presented with a theological contradiction that many of them never comfortably resolved.

Killing the Blancs was an act of revenge, justified by a need for security. It did not disillusion the knights of their duchy, but it did disenchant them with their faith. The questions they faced today were much the same.

What did it mean if either Lady Renea or Miss Sophie had tried to murder Ailn, using the divine blessing?

They were siblings, all three, but one was illegitimate, and the other was so scorned by his family that he was all but disowned.

Questions of holiness were further wrapped up in complicated webs of lineage and blood. And before they could even decide what was just, they still had to determine what was true—it was Kylian who carried that burden.

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He detested this hand he was dealt, but he had chosen to keep it.

Luck or misfortune may have made him bailiff, but it was the earnest desire to do the right thing that brought him to this abbey today.

Standing to address both the knights and the two defendants, Kylian gestured to the two children of divinity.

“The case of the Azure Knights is simple,” Kylian said. “Firstly, it bears repeating: that both Lady Renea and Miss Sophie are daughters of Celine eum-Creid.”

Sitting side-by-side, the familial resemblance between the two sisters was now readily apparent. Both possessed noble features: oval-shaped faces with high cheekbones, unblemished skin, and an inherent grace in manner.

Yet, it had gone unnoticed as Sophie—with her ashen brown hair and steely gray eyes—faded into Renea’s shadow.

"With the eum-Creid blood coursing through their veins, both may have inherited the divine blessing. Consequently, both were also capable of the attempted murder of Ailn eum-Creid, whose assault was executed using holy aura," Kylian concluded.

Renea had a resigned look on her face, but Sophie openly glared at the knight.

“And what of it?” Sophie retorted sharply. “This entire abbey is filled with knights skilled in the use of holy aura. Anyone here was capable of the crime!”

As Sophie glared daggers at Kylian, it became evident that the two sisters had split the difference, when it came to their eyes.

Renea may have inherited her mother and grandfather’s blue irises, but her rounded eyes lent her a soft and disarming expression. It was Sophie, instead, with her noble and piercing gaze who seemed to embody their regal countenance.

“Unfortunately, that’s not the case,” Kylian shook his head. “The attack occurred simultaneously with both the bestowal ceremony, and the shadow beast attack. The only individual who was with Ailn at that time was the maid.”

“And how are you so certain about the timing of the attack?” Sophie’s gaze hardened.

“The testimony of those who were in the mess hall. Three blasts were heard. Loud concussive sounds, compared to the launching of a catapult,” Kylian said. “The attack could only have occurred during the ceremony.

A hiccuping sound could be heard in the audience, to the annoyance of everyone focused on the inquisition.

“That—that can’t be the case…” Sophie tensed.

“Why is it not?”

“Ailn was on the ground before the shadow beasts ever came,” Sophie said. She kept her voice mostly firm, but the slightest tremor was still there, and her eyes darted to her sister just once.

“Can I take that as an admission that you were with Ailn eum-Creid that day, and not Lady Renea?”

“How could that possibly be in question?” Sophie inquired coolly. “Renea was bestowing the divine blessing. Regardless of our lineage, there’s nothing to suggest otherwise.”

In response, Kylian pulled a bottle off of his belt. Within it were two shreds of fabric, and small shards of glass. He pulled out the blue piece of fabric.

“This fabric, belonging to a maid’s kirtle just the same as Miss Sophie currently wears, was found in the courtyard,” Kylian said. “Alone, this is an unremarkable fact. Rather, the salient point is that it was found, torn by one of the broken decorations of the fountain.”

Kylian turned to the knights in the audience: “That fountain, meanwhile, contains the mechanism to open the secret passage. As the fountain itself is no longer functional, it in fact bears no other use.”

From the small jar on the desk, he pulled out the second scrap of clothing—white, with an in-line of fur. Though incomplete, it bore an insignia recognizable to all the knights present.

“Within the secret passage, this cloth from the Saintess’s robe was recovered,” Kylian said, taking the jar and letting the shards of glass within fall gently into his hand. “As well as these fragments of broken lantern.”

Their use fulfilled, Kylian carefully placed the pieces of evidence back into the jar and rolled closed the scroll. Then he turned to address the knights.

“What we have is undeniable proof of is this: an individual wearing the Saintess’s robe traversed the hidden passage between the courtyard and the bestowal chamber,” Kylian said. “And we have strong proof that an individual wearing a blue maid’s kirtle traversed this passage as well.”

“Consider this,” Kylian said. “Prior to the bestowal ceremony, it is undeniably Lady Renea who enters the bestowal chamber from the keep. She is in clear view of the knights, and she enters about an hour prior.”

Kylian turned to Sophie, whose eyes narrowed.

“By testimony of Sir Reynard, Miss Sophie heads toward the courtyard approximately one hour before the bestowal ceremony as well,” Kylian said. “Then, it is a simple matter. As no knights enter the bestowal chamber until the ceremony properly begins, Lady Renea and Miss Sophie have an hour to enter the hidden passage and switch their garb.”

“This is a farce,” Sophie interrupted him loudly, her patience snapping. “You mean to say your case amounts to two pieces of cloth, which could have been left at any time?”

“It’s certainly true,” Kylian said. “There is some difficulty in proving the passage was traversed the day of the attack. But, let it be clear for the knights present: the maid was the only individual who could have attacked Ailn.”

Very pointedly, Kylian made sure his remark was not lost on Sophie: “Our question is not whether the maid killed him. Our question is who the maid was.”

Sophie’s expression seemed to clear. Any agitation that had appeared on her normally unperturbed face relaxed, and she soon reclaimed her usual stoic demeanor.

“Then, let me make it abundantly clear, Sir Kylian,” Sophie stated firmly. “I was with Ailn that day, just as I am every month, during the bestowal ceremony. There was no fantastical switch. Nor has there ever been one.”

But Renea shook her head in denial. Forlorn as she was, she didn’t seem to have any interest in pinning the blame on Sophie.

“She’s lying,” Renea said. “Sophie’s just… protecting me. I was with Ailn that day.”

“It seems both of you are insistent on protecting the other,” Kylian said.

The inquisition was at a seeming standstill. Kylian’s expression softened just for a moment, but he shook his head, and steeled himself for what he needed to do.

“However,” Kylian continued, “I have strong reason to believe it was Lady Renea who was with Ailn that day. Lady Renea, your pendant went missing recently, did it not? When was the last time you saw it?”

“Just a few days… ago,” Renea said, looking a bit confused.

“This pendant was found in the courtyard,” Kylian said, holding it up and drawing a small gasp from Renea. “I believe you treasured it because your brother gave this to you.”

“In the courtyard?” Renea flinched. “You found it in the courtyard?”

Renea pressed the knuckle of her thumb against her lip. Her eyes flitted from the pendant to Kylian and back. Sophie’s expression, by comparison, was indifferent.

And she said something completely unexpected.

“I stole the pendant from Renea that night,” Sophie said. Now there was a sharp look in her eye, and it seemed almost derisive.

“...Is that so?” Kylian asked. “Then what say you of the washerwoman who said she spoke to you in the courtyard?’”

“What of her?”

“She was certain the ‘maid’ she conversed with that day was Lady Renea. Specifically,” Kylian paused, “she swore that she saw silver hair—despite it being largely covered with a mob cap.”

A look of annoyance was starting to appear on Sophie’s face.

“How daft can you be?” Sophie asked. “I was wearing a wig.”

“You have a silver wig,” Kylian said dubiously. “What possible reason could you have for that?”

“I have my reasons,” Sophie said. She rolled her eyes. “Does it matter why I do it?”

“It does. It’s an absurd thing to do. And if you lack a meaningful reason, then it brings your testimony into doubt.”

The knights murmured amongst each other. It certainly was absurd. But they desperately wanted to believe her. No one in this castle disliked Sophie—and yet they hoped in their hearts she was the one who’d tried to kill Ailn.

Because if the culprit for such a heinous crime was actually Renea, the future Saintess they all swore themselves to, gave their lives for— it would crush the very soul of the duchy.

Sophie, stoic as usual, studied the face of every single knight in the abbey. Then, as if she found their anxiety amusing, she scoffed.

“Search the linen closet of this abbey,” she said. “The chest with sacerdotal vestments has a false bottom where I’ve hidden one of my wigs.”

Kylian nodded to one of the squires, who ran to the closet in haste.

And to everyone’s surprise, he brought a silver wig back, along with its cap. Sighing like she couldn’t be bothered, Sophie went through the meticulous process of flattening and tying up her hair, before donning the wig.

“Do you doubt me still?” she asked with a dry chuckle. Standing up to face the pews, Sophie’s face twisted into something between a sneer and a smirk. “Does it please you? Do the knights revere me now that I look like my sister?”

“Sophie—”

“Renea. For once, it’s my turn to speak,” Sophie turned her gaze toward her sister, hateful and unrestrained, more and more contempt slipping into her voice. “Shut your mouth.”

“Sophie…?” Renea’s voice was quiet.

Then, turning quite grandly back to Kylian, Sophie looked him in the eye, her face settling back into stoicism and impassivity.

“Do you know what it’s like to be abandoned by your family, Sir Kylian?” Sophie asked coldly.