Stepping out of the room, they came upon Ishmele-Esli in the corridor, seemingly flustered yet attempting to appear busy by doing one-finger push-ups right outside the door.
Anyone observing her position would immediately surmise she had been eavesdropping on their conversation within the room.
The truth was self-evident; her startled reaction only upon the door’s opening confirmed it.
“Is this some aspect of knightly training?” Konehl-Ghervil inquired, an amused smile playing on her lips. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration; for someone who looked so frail and sickly, Ishmele-Esli’s core strength was remarkably deceptive.
Her thoughts drifted to the colossal frost axe she had witnessed last night, its blade almost a meter in width, radiating an intense, biting cold.
Such a formidable weapon could not possibly be carried at all times, nor could it simply vanish into a suitcase.
It must be connected to her mysterious affliction.
She resolved to delve deeper into the matter given the opportunity.
“Knightly training is far more brutal than mere push-ups,” Ishmele-Esli declared.
With a single hand, Ishmele-Esli sprang to her feet, casually dusting the grit from her fingers.
“So, you two have concluded your discussion?”
“More or less,” Konehl-Ghervil replied.
“Chief…” The doctor who had escorted them approached, casting a troubled glance at the female knight.
Despite her numerous attempts, she had failed to persuade the knight to depart, finding her stubbornly unyielding and feigning ignorance.
“I understand,” Dr. Callan responded.
Dr. Callan nodded reassuringly, her expression devoid of reproach.
“How are the arrangements proceeding on that end…?”
“Hurry, listen to me,” Ishmele-Esli urged, seizing Konehl-Ghervil’s sleeve with a wary expression and drawing her aside while Dr. Callan spoke. She then leaned in, shielding her words with her other hand.
“That person you were just speaking with is extremely dangerous,” she whispered.
Indeed, she was dangerous; anyone unfamiliar with Dr. Callan’s true nature might well have been reduced to pleading for their life by now.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Konehl-Ghervil replied, playing along with feigned obliviousness.
“It’s perfectly natural for you to think so; I wouldn’t have recognized her either, had I not seen the mark at the corner of her eye,” Ishmele-Esli explained rapidly. “She is the youngest of the fifteen active Chiefs, known as ‘Crimson Lotus,’ and she can extinguish a life with just a single drop of blood!”
Ishmele-Esli quickened her pace, observing that the doctor had concluded her discussion and was now departing.
Evidently, she remained oblivious to the fact that Dr. Callan was now the proprietor of 100 Lily Street, let alone the extent of her interactions with Konehl-Ghervil.
“She possesses such power?” Konehl-Ghervil asked, intrigued.
“How did you manage to become a Solis Abbey nun?” Ishmele-Esli retorted, her voice incredulous. “That’s not an ability; it’s a rare plague!”
“Regardless, you must find a way to steer clear of her. I cannot guarantee your safety in the presence of someone like that.”
“It’s already too late,” Konehl-Ghervil murmured, shaking her head softly.
“You’ve been injected with her blood?” Ishmele-Esli gasped, her face a tableau of undisguised shock and alarm.
“What utter nonsense!” Konehl-Ghervil exclaimed. “I merely agreed to collaborate with them.”
Konehl-Ghervil narrowed her eyes, pondering the wild tangents of Ishmele-Esli’s mind. The Hospital Department was, after all, a central pillar of The Order; surely there was no need for such grim assumptions.
“The vacant room has been prepared,” Dr. Callan’s voice announced.
Dr. Callan’s voice materialized directly behind them.
“You, when did you arrive?!”
Ishmele-Esli, startled, quickly darted behind Konehl-Ghervil.
“We weren’t speaking ill of you!” she blurted out.
‘Don’t drag me into this,’ Konehl-Ghervil thought silently.
Konehl-Ghervil stifled a sigh, her expression unwavering, and spoke with a hint of resignation.
“This is Ishmele-Esli, a squire knight,” Konehl-Ghervil explained, her tone even. “She intended no disrespect, Miss Callan, so please do not take offense.”
“I am aware,” Dr. Callan replied calmly. “My colleagues have already provided me with a general overview. Hello, Knight Ishmele-Esli.”
With a brief acknowledgment, Dr. Callan, showing little further interest, turned to Konehl-Ghervil and handed her the petals.
“The room is on the fifth floor,” Dr. Callan instructed. “My colleagues will be awaiting your arrival there. I shall remain here for your return.”
“Ishmele-Esli, will you accompany me?” Konehl-Ghervil asked, turning to face the knight behind her.
“Hehe… I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing anyone,” Ishmele-Esli chuckled, “so naturally, I’ll go with you!”
“Very well,” Konehl-Ghervil conceded, “but you must wait outside and refrain from listening in.”
“No problem at all,” Ishmele-Esli readily agreed.
Ishmele-Esli thumped her chest with a confident hand, a gesture clearly intended for Dr. Callan’s benefit.
“Try to be swift,” Dr. Callan advised.
As they reached the stairwell, Dr. Callan’s voice halted them.
“This afternoon,” she reminded them, “we are scheduled to attend the flower exhibition at the manor.”
****
Ten minutes later, within a sterile spare conference room, Konehl-Ghervil observed Govet-Ghervil’s peculiar actions atop the table. She mused that her self-proclaimed title of ‘Blood Rose expert’ might require a significant downgrade; ‘Blood Rose enthusiast’ felt far more appropriate.
Govet-Ghervil had revealed the answer for the previous petal, yet had omitted the method. Now, Konehl-Ghervil was witnessing it firsthand.
The method was as primal as it was unexpected: tasting.
As the petal was delivered into its grasp, before Konehl-Ghervil could even register what was happening, Govet-Ghervil took a decisive bite, consuming more than half.
In under five seconds, the verdict was delivered.
“It tastes much like it smelled,” Govet-Ghervil announced. “This particular Blood Rose was cultivated using the blood of an adult Green Plains Lizard.”
Through their time together, Konehl-Ghervil had come to understand that Govet-Ghervil’s tail remaining perfectly motionless was a clear indicator of a serious matter at hand.
Conversely, a raised tail signaled anger or wariness, and the amplitude and speed of its wagging betrayed its degree of excitement.
“Aren’t those creatures exclusively found deep within the desert?” Konehl-Ghervil questioned.
A hint of disbelief colored her thoughts; an adult Green Plains Lizard felt more akin to a mythical beast than a tangible reality.
What manner of lizard could possibly attain such immense size?
If one were to scale a common lizard’s size by ten to a hundredfold, it wouldn’t be inconceivable for it to reach dozens of meters, easily dwarfing a sperm whale.
“The possibility of artificial cultivation cannot be dismissed,” Govet-Ghervil stated. “Juvenile lizards are relatively simple to capture; one merely needs to provide them with a suitable environment and abundant sustenance.”
“Could it be The Order?” Konehl-Ghervil ventured, her question laced with caution.
She found it improbable that any individual, beyond a colossal organization, could manage to rear such a creature.
“They are not so foolish,” Govet-Ghervil scoffed. “If the need arose, they would dispatch hunters into the desert. The Order remains well-informed of the various ruins where Green Plains Lizards make their habitat.”
Govet-Ghervil extended its forelegs, a clear signal for Konehl-Ghervil to embrace it.
It had eaten its fill atop the table and now yearned to recline and rest.
Konehl-Ghervil immediately understood the unspoken request, tenderly lifting the creature onto her lap and gently rubbing its distended belly.
“Crucially,” Govet-Ghervil continued, “this creature belongs to the category of malevolent entities, making its rearing both highly perilous and strictly forbidden by law.”
“Similar to the Ratmire White Rats?” Konehl-Ghervil inquired.
“Not precisely,” Govet-Ghervil clarified. “Green Plains Lizards predated the mist, transforming into malevolent entities under the sway of ancient forces. The Ratmire White Rats, however, are a byproduct of the plague’s fusion with these ancient creatures, first unearthed in a small settlement called Ratmire.”
“These very rats were then transported to Mistfall City, a place perpetually shrouded in dense mist, inadvertently unleashing the first plague.”
Upon hearing this revelation, Konehl-Ghervil could only think one thing: ‘The Epidemic Prevention Bureau (TL Note: A government agency responsible for public health and disease control in this world) certainly keeps its secrets well. They never once mentioned this to me, their lauded hero in solving the incident. Though reality may have been altered, the nightmares I endured remain vividly etched in my memory.’
A strange pressure registered on her belly, prompting Govet-Ghervil to hastily add,
“This was the result of the Dean’s private investigation, which is why the name ‘Ratmire White Rat’ was also coined by the Dean.”
So that was the truth of it.
She forgave the Epidemic Prevention Bureau.
“So, you suspect someone in this city is secretly rearing an adult Green Plains Lizard?”
Receiving no immediate response, Konehl-Ghervil lowered her gaze, finding Govet-Ghervil looking up at her, its head tilted.
“Do you truly think that’s possible, my foolish sister?”
Konehl-Ghervil suppressed the urge to pinch its chubby cheeks.
“Then tell me what’s going on, my… dear… sister.”
She couldn’t truly be blamed for her lack of ‘common sense,’ as she had no access to information regarding the mist, plagues, malevolent entities, or even mythological creatures. The books left by the Dean offered only superficial introductions.
Who could possibly know if such evil beings could discreetly reside within a city or shrink themselves through some arcane means?
“There are two possibilities. The first is that an individual or organization is secretly hunting and rearing them in the desert, unbeknownst to The Order. The second is that the plant from which this petal came was cultivated by The Order itself.”
“The former is less likely, as the ruins are guarded by the Knights, making hunting impractical. Furthermore, the transportation of supplies and a suitable rearing facility would pose immense challenges.”
“As for the latter…”
It paused, its tone dropping slightly.
“We shall have to inquire with Miss Callan herself.”