Having listened for over an hour, Ghervil found herself unable to definitively judge who was in the right or wrong.
In brief, the Baron wished for his daughter to return to the family, aiding her younger brother, Dandelion-Cambaton, his eldest son, in expanding their familial enterprises.
Given the vast influence of the Baron’s family, numerous relatives vied for a slice of their prosperity.
Yet, with only one figure able to hold ultimate authority, he feared his eldest son, young and lacking experience, might be easily exploited, thus desiring his daughter’s return to provide support.
At its core, this was nothing more than an internal family struggle.
Ms. Penelope-Rose-Cambaton, averse to both the cutthroat world of commerce and the incessant family squabbles, had chosen to join the Holy See as a deacon, primarily overseeing the Blood Rose operations.
From the clues gathered so far, it appeared the Cambaton family and The Order indeed collaborated on the Blood Rose, though the extent and nature of this cooperation remained shrouded in mystery.
Penelope-Rose-Cambaton’s actions were undeniably advantageous to the family; the Baron’s anger would be unfounded, unless his true intent was to relinquish the Blood Rose altogether.
Such a matter alone would hardly be dire enough to compel Ms. Penelope-Rose-Cambaton to secretly forsake the Cambaton surname.
Clearly, a deeper conflict existed, either between the two of them or between her and the entire family.
Ghervil thus reached her conclusion.
She had no intention of probing further; some matters were ill-suited for public discussion.
With so many people present, and their own positions somewhat representing the Holy See—the official authority—they could readily comprehend the Baron’s reticence.
The primary objective of this initial meeting had largely been fulfilled: demonstrating Ms. Rowan’s value and her capability to contribute to the case.
The remaining task fell to the Holy See: to disseminate her accomplishments among the hospital department personnel primarily tasked with the investigation.
Had she not feared being apprehended by a certain individual, it would have been far simpler to participate in the case under the guise of a Solis Abbey nun; perhaps then the Baron would have divulged even more information.
“I believe I understand the situation,” Ghervil announced. “As per our agreement, this vial of Nightmare Revelation now possesses a new master.”
Giving the furball nestled in her arms a gentle pinch on its cheek, Govet-Ghervil reluctantly hopped onto the table, clutching the test tube in its tiny paws before presenting it.
As he accepted the vial, the Baron extended a hand, intending to stroke the large furball’s head, only for it to bare its teeth in a menacing snarl.
In a flash, it scampered back, its large tail swishing behind it.
Pausing for a moment in surprise, he then turned to the furball’s owner, rising and offering a slight bow.
“Again, I express my gratitude for your generosity and your concern for my daughter,” the Baron said. “You are, indeed, a true scholar, madam. Should you ever require assistance, do not hesitate to approach the Cambaton family. Within the confines of this city, I assure you, there are few lawful matters beyond my reach.”
It was evident that he greatly valued the vial of medicine, enough to extend such a significant promise.
Just as they prepared to depart, Ghervil called out, stopping him.
“By the way, Baron,” she inquired, “if your daughter were to write a letter to a friend, to which post office would she typically go?”
“Regrettably… and I must confess, quite shamefully,”
The Baron lowered his head.
“I do not know.”
****
On their return to the lounge, Father Asriel’s thoughts lingered persistently on the vial of medicine; he frowned, deliberating whether to speak, and his distracted state nearly led him to collide with passersby on several occasions.
Everyone but Esli, including the other human and the tiny rodent, had already surmised the reason for his preoccupation.
Taking in the young woman, still lost in thought and oblivious, Ramsey adopted an expression of disbelief, kindly offering to voice the question on everyone’s mind.
“Is the medicine you provided truly effective?”
Asriel turned, halting his steps, and directed a grateful gaze toward the blond man.
Instantly, all eyes converged upon the young woman.
Snapping back to reality, Ghervil swiftly surveyed each of them, quickly grasping the situation.
Indeed, she owed the Holy See an explanation.
Having unilaterally dispensed such an alarming substance, failing to provide a clear explanation would undoubtedly lead to considerable trouble.
“To be perfectly honest,” she began, “I have never personally witnessed anyone acquire dream power by means of it.”
“Then you’ve essentially deceived the Baron, haven’t you?”
Esli’s rather loud declaration drew curious glances from the passing church personnel.
Father Asriel subtly directed the church staff with his eyes, urging them to attend to their duties, before turning back to the young woman with a hesitant expression.
“Could you perhaps enlighten me, Sister Ghervil, as to the true function of this medicine?”
“You may call me Rowan.”
“…My apologies, Ms. Rowan.”
“The effects of the medicine are precisely what I described to the Baron.”
Ghervil tilted her head slightly, explaining earnestly to him.
“The reason I haven’t witnessed it myself is simply that this marks the first instance I’ve ever administered the medicine to another.”
“The genuine creator of the Nightmare Revelation is, in fact, our Abbess.
I have no cause whatsoever to doubt her… if you remain unconvinced, why not inquire directly with her?”
For a fleeting moment, she failed to realize she had just uttered a ‘hellish jest’.
Upon realizing her faux pas, Ghervil hastily pulled the furball from her shoulder into her embrace, furiously rubbing its face to mask her acute embarrassment.
“Rest assured,” she quickly added, “the most vital ingredient for this medicine is unobtainable by anyone but myself, rendering its widespread dissemination impossible.”
‘Govet-Ghervil, at present, does not qualify as human.’
“I see.”
Father Asriel exhaled a profound sigh of relief.
“Henceforth, we shall offer our full cooperation in the ongoing investigation.”
“That is excellent.”
“Therefore, I have not deceived anyone, Esli, Novice Knight.”
She turned her gaze to the knight, extending the furball in her hands toward him.
“Alright, alright, I understand!”
Esli recoiled repeatedly, a look of utter disdain on his face.
“Please, get that enormous rat away from me!”
At these words, Govet-Ghervil instantly bristled with fury, struggling to break free and bite him.
Ghervil had to exert nearly all her strength, holding it in a constricting grip, just to keep it contained in her arms.
“If my eyes do not deceive me,” Father Asriel remarked, scrutinizing the furball, “this appears to be a long-tailed chinchilla, native to highland mountains.
They are exceedingly rare and valuable, kept only by a select few among the nobility.”
“Indeed, Father, your discerning eye proves keen.”
Ghervil, finding a brief moment, offered him a thumbs-up.
“Haha, you flatter me unduly,” he chuckled. “I have only encountered such creatures in books.
However, its ability to comprehend human speech suggests it is, without a doubt, a most noble breed.”
Possessing, as it turned out, a temperament somewhat akin to a human’s, Govet-Ghervil ceased its fussing upon hearing the praise.
It dutifully hopped back onto the young woman’s shoulder, turning its back to avoid the irritating presence of the unfortunate youth who had provoked its ire.
Upon their return to the lounge, the Father had arranged for some food to be sent as lunch, the most striking items being several perfectly preserved pickled fish.
Considering it was a day of fasting, Ghervil recalled the story the lady had recounted.
Florence City, being an inland city, meant these fish were unequivocally freshwater species.
She certainly had no desire to force weight loss upon herself through the dubious method of parasite infection.
Within Elephant, or more precisely, the Dream Society, fasting imposed no dietary restrictions, only a strict adherence to a balanced schedule: twelve hours of sleep mirroring twelve hours of wakefulness.
Consequently, people would maintain their usual morning routines, then retire early in the evening to compensate for any sleep deficit accumulated the previous day.
“When, precisely, did your memory return?”
Once the meal concluded, Ramsey leaned in, whispering his question to Ghervil.
During their discussion in the meeting room, he had observed the notes the young woman had penned; while the content was unproblematic, the penmanship was so dreadful it was astonishing to consider it belonged to a nun.
“That, my friend, is merely your prejudice,” Ghervil said, winking at him. “Might it not simply be that I am a remarkably quick study?”
“Are you suggesting you re-learned Finter?”
“Congratulations, you’ve answered correctly.”
“…”
A brief silence ensued, after which Ramsey decided it was fruitless to squander any more time on such inconsequential inquiries.
“What are your intentions moving forward?”
“That hardly sounds like a question an agent currently on holiday would pose.”
“With the Royal Family behind you, I doubt a tranquil vacation is even a possibility.
Moreover, you have no local connections here.”
“How delightful that you perceive it thus.”
Ghervil feigned a moment of contemplation.
“If it’s feasible, I would like to arrange a meeting with the eldest son of the Cambaton family.”
“An excellent direction for your inquiry,” Ramsey remarked, a slight curve to his lips. “However, before you proceed, I would advise you to first consult with the personnel from the hospital department.”
“And the reason for that?”
“Because Dandelion-Cambaton is currently their primary subject of interest.
Should you intend to investigate him, it will be impossible to circumvent their involvement.”