Sir Aldous Ferme was executed unceremoniously on the third day of the second month of the hundred and tenth year of the new imperial calendar, hung—ironically—in the very courtyard where he had perpetrated his crime, assaulting Ailn and ‘nearly’ killing the young noble.

  Only a handful of knights were there, to inform him of the crime for which he would be hanged, to assure him that his further fate and judgment were now in the hands of God, and to ask the fallen knight if he had any final words before he passed on to whatever world awaited him beyond.

  He did not.

  It was an ugly execution, not that he would have wished it any prettier. The crossbeam above the courtyard’s gate served as the hanging point; lacking true gallows, the scaffold was nothing but a set of stacked crates.

  There were no chest salutes for Aldous, before the moment of truth. In his eyes, there was no remorse, and so his former subordinates offered neither pity nor regret.

  Unlike the inquisition, there was no struggle, nor pain. The crates were kicked away from beneath his feet, and his neck snapped instantly.

  Sir Aldous Ferme was dead.

  None believed that Aldous had deserved to live, but it was clear no one relished his death. He was the shame of the Azure Knights, a great knight who had fallen into utter depravity. Whether he had been a monster from the start or merely a man driven astray by the shadows, it was difficult to say which was worse.

  The duchy owed its prosperity to him—to the Saintess Celine’s and his exploits, which took Varant from the struggling gasps of its most strife-filled days, to an era where the people could once again laugh. While Duke Aaron and his sons, along with Saintess Marianne’s miraculous resolve to live until her successor was born, kept Varant from complete destruction, it was Celine and Aldous who gave the people the hope of something more.

  Having no desire to trample the people’s lingering feelings of gratitude, even the family agreed to keep quiet about Aldous’s sin. When Sophie stepped into the role of the Saintess, they had already implicitly announced Celine’s infidelity to the world… and Renea’s lies.

  No one wished to reveal further iniquity in hopes of salving their own hurt, least of all Renea.

  When Ailn found her, she was sitting on her bed, her hands clasped in prayer.

  “...I’m not saying you have to do anything big, but try to at least walk around today, Renea,” Ailn said. He handed her a tin of salted apple slices.

  “I’ll…try,” Renea said, her voice soft. Holding one of the apple slices up, she seemed to consider actually taking a bite. But the slice slipped out of her trembling hand, which she lightly pressed against her throat.

  Rather than the mix of anger and sorrow that Ailn had expected, Renea was exhibiting signs of fear.

  Truthfully, he couldn’t grasp what she was feeling. Aldous had killed her brother and, in arguing for her execution, indirectly tried to take her life—dragging her through the mud and humiliating her all the while.

  So, a powerful fear response wasn’t surprising. But why from his death, of all things? Even if his death didn’t bring her relief, it seemed odd that it, specifically, would frighten her.

  Stuck in bed shivering, she had a light sweat, and it seemed as if she were breathing extremely consciously—as if she couldn’t trust her body to do it for her.

  “An…Ani… can you check on Sophie for me?” Renea swallowed hard. “She’s hurting more than me…”

  “I’m the last person Sophie would want any comfort from,” Ailn said, raising an eyebrow.

  “That’s not… true,” Renea said, shaking her head. As she tried to set the tin onto the trestle table next to her bed, it slipped out of her hands like the slice before. She gasped, flinching as it clattered loudly to the floor. Then, as if that hadn’t just happened, she gave Ailn a smile filled with forced cheer. “I know she can be tough, but please… it would mean the world if you could check on her. She should… be returning from the Citadel soon.”

  Sighing, Ailn decided not to push back any further.

  It was her birthday after all.

  The Saintess couldn’t be everywhere at once.

  Though she was a force of nature, powerful enough to lead the charge, she was above all a healer—and that was only on the battlefield. Before even that, her most crucial role was to bestow the divine blessing.

  The lessons of the past had taught the Azure Knights that they could not overly rely on the Saintess, lest she be grievously injured as Marianne was.

  Sophie paid little heed to caution, however, and never had compunctions about stepping into the midst of battle. In some ways it was to her credit—she was just that powerful, capable of sweeping through any given torrent of shadow beasts singlehandedly.

  Sometimes she’d need merely a few minutes to step out of the carriage of state, stride to the top of the wall and destroy every beast in sight.

  If only the length of the wall could be ridden in a single day, the entire duchy might never have needed to fear the shadows ever again.

  Today, as she went through the Citadel, healing the wounds of the knights who’d been brought to its infirmaries, she found herself upset.

  Specifically, she was upset because she wasn’t happy. It was Renea’s birthday, and all she could think of was…

  Her holy aura, which she’d never seen so much as waver, seemed to thin for a moment. The knight she was healing didn’t notice, the cut across his chest mending up all the same.

  But she did.

  “Thank you, Lady Sophie…” the knight mumbled, breathing heavily. “It is an honor to be healed by the grace of the divine blessing.”

  “The honor is mine,” Sophie responded rotely.

  No one had ever chosen Sophie, except for Renea.

  Before they were sisters, they were best friends. She still remembered the way Renea had hugged her with delight, even letting out a happy squeal when she realized they were related.

  Not only had it made Sophie happy… It also reduced the sting she’d felt when she learned that Celine was her mother.

  By all rights, she’d gained a mother that day. So, why did it feel like Sophie lost her instead? Her feelings for Celine had been lukewarm at best. It was just that… not once had Celine ever considered officially acknowledging her as her daughter. And that always bothered Sophie. Just a little.

  But that didn’t compare to the incomprehensible pain she felt after discovering that Aldous was her father. She simply couldn’t understand the hurt. Sophie had never cared about Aldous as an individual before, and everything he did to Renea disqualified him from any claim to love.

  Yet she had never felt so thoroughly rejected as when she realized he truly was her father—and he was completely indifferent to her existence.

  No one ever wanted Sophie…

  Except for Renea.

  So why, today, on Renea’s birthday was she thinking about Aldous?

  As Sophie struggled with feelings she couldn’t understand, a female knight came swiftly into the Citadel, her squire in tow. “There’s a flood of beasts near Havreligne. They’re requesting the assistance of the Saintess.”

  Sophie’s heart sank. Havreligne? Right now?

  The knight, and her squire bent at the knee before her. “The situation is pressing, but they do not believe it requires undue haste. So long as you can arrive before the morrow…”

  Havreligne was only twenty kilometers away, but due to the beginning of the spring’s thaw, the carriage of state would struggle to maintain a decent pace.

  The town was one of the larger settlements along the northern wall—the last major watchtower before reaching the Citadel itself. If they were requesting her aid, then there truly must be shadow beasts both numerous and formidable.

  “Then… then we shall make haste,” Sophie said numbly.

  She felt absolutely miserable. It would take likely three hours just to get there.

  Sophie’s heart felt like it was being pinched, as she thought of the perfect gift she’d bought for her sister. If only she’d learned to ride…

  “Lady Sophie, would you wish to ride pillion behind me?” the squire blurted out.

  It was the squire who always got black eyes.

  “Don’t speak out of turn, you fool!” his senior knight bumped her fist upon his head.

  “But—it’s Lady Renea’s birthday today! Lady Sophie surely wishes to—”

  “How large is the steed?” Sophie asked nervously.

  “A-As it is not quite an adult, about three fourths to full grown my l-lady,” the squire stammered, though his senior knight glowered at him.

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  Sophie nodded, despite her terrible fear of horses.

  Sitting in the same parlor where once dinner had ended in disaster, Renea, Ailn and Ennieux waited for Sophie, in hopes she’d be able to arrive on time.

  The clock neared midnight.

  “Renea dear, I hope you won’t mind the imperfections of the cake,” Ennieux said, sounding quite sullen.

  She wasn’t an awful baker, but she’d typically relied on the help of the kitchen staff. When it came to birthdays, however, she always made an effort to show her love and sincerity by baking the cake entirely on her own.

  “Of course not, Ennieux… It’s lovely,” Renea said. “You’ve always been there to celebrate. That alone is enough.”

  A sour look came upon Ennieux’s face.

  “It is one thing for my children to never attend,” Ennieux scowled. “But truly! It is brutish for Sigurd to decline, when he has so rarely been in Varant to celebrate.”

  “There’s no need to fault them Ennieux,” Renea said softly. “I understand what they do for this duchy.”

  “And yet Sophie is the Saintess, and she rushes here this very moment upon a steed,” Ennieux muttered.

  Ailn’s expression was hard to read as he eyed the door to the parlor. “We’ll just force them to attend next year. If I’m still duke—”

  “...Still?” Renea’s eyes flashed with a hint of irritation. “What do you mean by still?”

  He coughed lightly, averting his eyes as both women in the parlor glared at him.

  Sophie burst into the parlor, her Saintess outfit looking quite worse for wear. Her circlet sat askew, and the hem of her robe was dirty with mud—a testament to the efforts she’d made to arrive on time.

  “I’m… here…” Sophie panted. She’d clearly sprinted to beat the clock.

  With a tired gait, she made her way to Renea and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry I’m late, Renea…”

  Overwhelmed with emotion, Renea merely nodded meekly. Her eyes glistened, and a trembling smile crossed her lips.

  It wasn’t much, especially for a noble affair—just a cake, and the half of her family who bothered to show up. Yet all the same, she found herself on the verge of tears, because more than she ever had, she felt the joy of having the simple fact of her existence celebrated.

  “Then it is time for presents, is it not?” Ennieux urged, her voice merry, though she did a poor job of masking her tiredness.

  The noble aunt of the eum-Creids was not fond of staying up late, which only made Renea more grateful that she had stayed to celebrate.

  Ennieux started off the gift-giving, leaving the parlor momentarily to retrieve the gift she’d stowed away in the adjacent chamber used for dinner preparations. She returned with a wide-brimmed felt hat, which she placed playfully upon her niece’s head.

  “I thought this might lend your face some protection from the harsh sun as you journey to Sussuro tomorrow,” Ennieux said warmly.

  Adjusting it to a perfect fit, she added, “This is the sort of garb one could never wear as the Saintess, isn’t it?”

  “O-oh… goodness, I’ve never worn such a large hat before,” Renea said, blushing a bit as she smiled shyly.

  “As for me,” Ailn said, handing her a tiny silk pouch tied with a ribbon, “‘your brother’ got you something he’d been planning for a long time.” When Renea slowly unwrapped it, and gave a startled gasp, he gave her a gentle smile. “It goes with your pendant, Renea.”

  Renea was quiet. Her breath held, as she held her present against the light of candelabra, where it flickered beautifully.

  “For… a long time?” she asked.

  “The silversmith’s been holding onto it for me. Had it carved at ‘my’ request, but you know… I had my amnesia,” Ailn said.

  “H-how did you figure it out…?”

  “There was a pouch of tins and coppers in my chest in the cottage,” Ailn shrugged. “Then I remembered your pendant had a missing inlay, so I had some kid… I did my research.”

  “And you… you didn’t spend those coins when you were starving?” Renea’s voice warbled.

  “Well I—” Ailn frowned. “I wasn’t exactly ‘starving.’ I actually got pretty good at hunti—”

  He trailed off, noticing the tears silently running down her face, as she unclasped her pendant, and placed the ruby inside, right above the engraved word which meant so much to her: Eveliscia.

  Sniffling, yet beaming even as her lips quivered, Renea blinked through her tears, shyly pulling down the brim of the hat Ennieux had given her.

  “Thank you, Ani…” Renea said.

  While Ennieux and Ailn were giving their presents, Sophie had been waiting, her impatience clear in the way she fidgeted with her sleeves.

  To the puzzlement of almost everyone else in the parlor, Renea also started to fidget, suddenly quite giddy. Her eyes kept darting towards the door.

  “You seem awfully excited,” Ailn said, arching an eyebrow. Glancing around the parlor, he caught Ennieux’s eye, who immediately averted her eyes.

  “W-well,” Renea had a hard time holding back her smile as she kept squirming around in her seat. Then, unable to contain herself any longer, she blurted out, “Ennieux told me I was getting a puppy!”

  Sophie froze in place.

  Her hands suddenly felt like lead, and the wooden sculptures she’d tucked into the sleeves of her robe now seemed utterly worthless.

  Sophie ignored Ailn’s obnoxiously fed up stare. She didn’t care about him. What she did care about was that she might have ruined her sister’s birthday.

  So, she lied.

  “Y-you… you caught us!” Sophie declared, crossing her arms, and clutching the sculptures tightly to her chest. “Ailn and I… conspired together to find you a dog.”

  “...Are you kid—” Ailn sighed. “That’s right. Both of us got you a dog. But you’ll have to wait a while because… it’s still… weaning off its mother.”

  “Oh…” Renea sounded a little disappointed, but brightened up quickly. “That’s okay, though. I can’t wait to meet them…”

  “I-Indeed. In fact, I should consult with… with the knight we asked to find a pup breeder,” Sophie stammered.

  “At… midnight?” Renea tilted her head worriedly.

  “Yes, he…” Sophie blanked out, and realizing she had no good excuse, let a curt nod suffice as reasoning before pacing swiftly out of the parlor.

  When she was out of earshot, she found herself sprinting through the keep and into the bailey, struck by the overwhelming need to be as alone as she felt.

  By the time she lost her breath, she’d reached the knights’ yard, where she sank onto the cold ground, leaning against a tree.

  Miserably, she pulled out the two wooden sculptures she’d bought as Renea’s birthday present: two wolf pups, who nuzzled naturally against each other.

  Made of mahogany, but covered in emberlace, they felt alive and warm.

  …Next to a real puppy, however, they’d seem foolish and self-indulgent. Which is how Sophie saw herself, after having insisted so strongly Renea would never want a dog.

  Why had she felt so sure…?

  Varant had many strays, and few lived good lives. It was often painful to see them, cold and starving—but seeing them after death was far worse.

  Renea always had such a look of anguish and pity. Didn’t it wrench her heart, caring for something that would, at best, die long before she grew old?

  Didn’t it scare her?

  Or was it just… projection.

  The memory came into Sophie’s mind forcibly—one so formative that it was easy to keep away from the forefront of her thoughts, yet impossible to ever forget.

  It was when she first manifested the divine blessing.

  When Sophie was five, before she ever knew she was a eum-Creid, she often had to play alone. Renea would be off with one of the knights or her mother, only four yet already learning about the role she’d have to eventually step into.

  Once, a dog had snuck its way into the castle.

  Sophie was delighted, happy to play with a creature that seemed to boundlessly give its love and only ask for scraps from the kitchen in return. She’d sneak it food without fail, certain that keeping it fed and making it plump would be enough for it to survive.

  Varant’s winter had other ideas.

  A few months passed, and one day Sophie could no longer find the dog. She knew that passing servants and knights had given the dog their implicit clemency for its roamings around the castle, so where could it possibly be?

  It was only when Sophie snuck out of the castle gates herself, worried that the dog had been kicked out, that she found it just a little ways into the forest.

  The dog had frozen to death.

  And because it had been dead for a few days, not even the cold of winter could stop its rot. Vultures had come to feast upon it. And Sophie, in her rage, suddenly heard the hum of her aura, and saw ribbons of light swatting the scavengers away.

  Her holy aura was new to her, and yet her command of it was so natural it felt as if she’d always been waiting for its arrival. Its music rang out, an ironic counterpoint to her wrath.

  With a blindingly bright tendril, her aura grasped at the last vulture which was trying to fly away. Sophie held it in her grip, only five years old, wanting for the first time in her life to kill something.

  …But she let go.

  Because even as a young child, she understood what would happen if she crossed that line. The terrified scavenger jerked free from her waning aura’s grasp, flying off into the distance. Quietly, and without tears, Sophie began to dig a grave in the woods for the dog she’d only so briefly been able to love, never forgetting how cold and rigid its body felt that day.

  Now, in the present, she realized she’d let this memory long repressed cloud her view of her own sister. And Sophie started to question how well she knew Renea at all.

  The two sculptures felt so warm in her hands. They weren’t alive. But that also meant they couldn’t…

  “Lady Sophie?”

  The voice of a boy interrupted her thoughts. It was the squire. The one that always got black eyes, and had helped carry her to Havreligne.

  “Are you crying, Lady Sophie?” the squire asked, quite indecorously.

  “Of course not,” Sophie said firmly. “Cease your tongue.”

  But she dabbed at her eyes to check.

  “What are you even doing here at this time of night?” Sophie asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Dame Almera forced me to run laps for speaking out of turn today,” the squire said sheepishly. He looked around the empty knights’ yard. “Do you need… company?”

  “Of…” Sophie found her impulsive rejection stuck in her throat. “Please… stand there a while.”

  “A-A while?” the squire shivered. “How long?”

  “Did you not offer?” Sophie glared. “Honor must be simple when the weather is warm.”

  Sophie felt bad—no, in truth, she didn’t feel particularly bad for lashing out at him. But she knew she was supposed to.

  She hugged the two wolf pup sculptures against herself.

  “Is that your present for Lady Renea?” the squire asked curiously.

  “It… was,” Sophie admitted. “But I think I shall likely hide them…”

  “Hide them?! They look like they cost three months of my wages!” the squire balked, before covering his mouth. “I-I mean… why? Lady Renea would love it. It’s you and her, right? The pups.”

  “...Yes,” Sophie said softly. “It was supposed to be…”

  “Well, I think it’s a lovely gift,” the squire said. “I know Lady Renea pretty well because I used to… nevermind that.” Then, he snapped his finger. “I don’t know if you know this yet, since you already healed me a few times—but my name’s Theo, Lady Sophie. Hopefully Sir Theo soon.”

  “I did not ask Theo,” Sophie said flatly. Then, seeing him deflate, she finally felt a little ashamed of herself. She averted her eyes. “But I will remember.”

  The future Saintess and knight continued to idly chat in the cold, unaware they were being watched. Peeking from around the corner, hidden by a jutting section of castle wall, Ailn gave a small sigh of relief.

  Less because he was torn up about Sophie, and more because he wouldn’t have to do anything about it.

  He casually returned to the parlor, where Renea was waiting fretfully—Ennieux having already retired to bed—to hear if Sophie was alright.

  “How is she?” Renea asked anxiously. “She should’ve just been honest…”

  “Just make sure she knows it was Ennieux who ratted her out,” Ailn said, his tone quite serious. “Not me. Ennieux.”

  “What does it matter?!” Renea snapped. “I don’t need a puppy if—”

  “We’re getting that puppy,” Ailn interrupted. “Even if it’s just to validate me.”

  “Whatever! How is she?” Renea sighed, letting go of her irritation.

  Ailn shrugged, his eyes unconsciously wandering in the direction of the knights’ yard. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m pretty sure she just found a puppy of her own.”