My Lord Knight… is this the companion you mentioned?
Carried by Esli to a desolate clearing, Konehl-Ghervil found herself face-to-face with two individuals from the supposed caravan.
The man, clad in a short linen tunic and a simple chainmail vest, was unmistakably a guard.
A scimitar was sheathed at his hip, and a suspicious bulge beneath his belt suggested the presence of a firearm.
At that moment, the man was using a dagger to expertly dissect the snake’s carcass upon a flat rock.
The one addressing them was an older man, somewhat corpulent, with a turban wrapped around his head, a silver nose ring adorning his nostril, and two wisps of beard framing his face, all beneath the folds of a merchant’s robe.
Perched majestically on his shoulder was a white-headed, black-eyed eagle, whose piercing shriek had likely been responsible for startling away the serpent.
The old man’s smile had been utterly fawning as he questioned Esli, but upon catching sight of the injured figure on her back, his expression abruptly shifted.
A palpable wave of disappointment washed over his features.
His spirits had initially soared at the mention of the knight having a companion.
With two knights bolstering their ranks, most perils encountered on the journey would pose little threat.
Yet, to his dismay, the companion proved to be a frail, injured girl.
Her tattered attire bespoke poverty, certainly not the garb of one with means.
Though her dust-streaked face revealed striking features, it was a pity to have such a companion for a knight.
Had she not been associated with the caravan, he would have been exceedingly reluctant to allocate precious supplies to what he perceived as a burden.
“She is from that abbey…” Esli began, eager to introduce her to the old man.
“I am merely a humble nun,” Konehl-Ghervil interjected, “You may simply call me Govet.”
Konehl-Ghervil cut Esli off promptly, realizing that, given the circumstances of her entanglement in this dream, it would be prudent to conceal both her true identity and her persona as Rowan.
A knight of The Order accompanied by a nun?
It was a plausible explanation, after all.
The old man offered a slight nod, a smile gracing his lips.
“May the Goddess bless you,” he began, “I am Dowo-Hawk, the leader of this caravan, and this is Theodore-Dubois, our guard. If I may be so bold, Sister Govet, how did you come to provoke the human-faced serpents? While they are nocturnal hunters, it is highly unusual for so many to appear at once.”
“Indeed, I am quite curious myself,” Esli chimed in, echoing his sentiment.
Esli tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Konehl-Ghervil.
‘You want to know what, precisely?’
‘Had you not gone and disturbed that snake nest, would I have been ambushed like this?’
Konehl-Ghervil, stifling her burgeoning anger, gestured for Esli to set her down. She then moved several steps away, wary of falling victim to the ill effects of the curse once more.
“I inadvertently consumed a young serpent,” Konehl-Ghervil admitted.
“How did you…?”
Esli, about to demand why Konehl-Ghervil had found food without sharing, abruptly clamped her mouth shut, a sudden realization dawning in her eyes as she met the young woman’s gaze.
“That certainly explains it,” the old man mused. “Human-faced serpents, you see, lay but a single egg at a time, and they possess a rudimentary understanding of human nature. If raised from infancy, they can even be domesticated as pets, often fetching exorbitant prices from noble patrons. Even the adults hold considerable value; their heads and bones are highly prized. My Lord Knight… might you be interested?”
The old man’s gaze, brimming with tentative curiosity, shifted to Esli, who in turn looked at Konehl-Ghervil, receiving nothing but a steady, unyielding stare in return.
Discerning unspoken cues, an indispensable skill for any merchant, the old man took a few steps back. Bending beside the guard, he untied a wool sack, revealing the severed snake head Esli had procured.
With a swift change in demeanor, he adopted an entirely different tone as he addressed Konehl-Ghervil.
“Regarding this serpent’s head, if you please…”
Konehl-Ghervil had long harbored a curiosity regarding the serpent’s purported human face. Upon closer inspection, she now discerned that it was merely the intricate patterns on the snake’s head that bore a chilling resemblance to a human visage. Yet, the sight remained terrifying, especially considering the species’ notable intelligence; an encounter with such a creature typically spelled certain doom for an ordinary person.
“She should be the one to decide,” Esli stated, “for it was she who slew the serpent.”
“Consider it a gift,” Konehl-Ghervil replied with a dismissive wave. “It holds no particular utility for us.”
Esli, caught off guard by the sudden redirection, and uncertain if Konehl-Ghervil was merely being petulant, could only voice her true sentiments.
“Our profound gratitude,” the old man beamed.
The old man’s face split into a wide, joyous grin.
“Should you require anything further, do not hesitate to inform me once we reach the encampment.”
He was shrewd enough not to pry into the peculiar presence of a knight and a nun in such a place, understanding that knowledge often brought complications, particularly in matters concerning The Order.
It was especially noteworthy given its connection to The Order; a Plague Knight serving as a personal guard was a sight rarely witnessed, even among the reconnaissance teams from major cities. He surmised, therefore, that this nun’s identity must be truly extraordinary.
Twenty minutes later, a guard returned, leading three camels behind him.
After the eagle had its fill, all the snake bones were carefully collected, though only half of the meat could be salvaged for the journey.
Having expended considerable energy, Konehl-Ghervil deemed it inappropriate to continue relying on Esli’s strength. Instead, she chose to ride one of the camels.
Though her body was covered in superficial scrapes, she had sustained no internal injuries—a small blessing, perhaps, due to her slender frame.
Upon reaching the encampment, they found over twenty tents pitched around a central bonfire, whose flames danced merrily in the twilight.
Night had only recently fallen, and already, numerous figures gathered around the crackling bonfire, their voices mingling in cheerful conversation and laughter.
A high-waisted, loose robe and a knee-length wool underdress were presented to Konehl-Ghervil, and she was asked if she required a physician. Receiving a negative reply, Dowo-Hawk, though holding little expectation, extended an invitation to both her and Esli to join the bonfire gathering and partake of the roasted serpent meat, their hard-won spoils.
Esli, ever fond of revelry, eagerly joined the festive throng.
After a simple repast of water and dried beef, and a quick dusting off of her travel-worn clothes, Konehl-Ghervil retreated to her tent, seeking solace in quiet repose.
She was utterly exhausted, a deep need for rest settling heavy upon her.
****
Within a private bedroom in the administrative wing of the Glenny Medical Center.
Dr. Callan stood by the window, her gaze fixed on a large crow—a raven, to be precise—outside. After several seconds of silent communion, the raven beat its wings, vanishing into the moonlit night.
This served as the hospital department’s confidential communication method, a practice initiated by one of the original Chiefs, reserved exclusively for moments of dire emergency.
The transmission intervals for such messages were remarkably brief, typically lasting mere minutes.
Only those deemed qualified could, through a direct gaze, imprint vital intelligence within the raven’s discerning eyes.
The raven, thus instructed, would unerringly seek out its designated recipient.
Having dispatched her message, Dr. Callan settled at a nearby table. She absently perused some documents before closing the book, her gaze drawn to the large bed occupying one side of the room.
Upon it lay a young woman.
She had already issued strict orders to her subordinates: no one was to enter this room, not even with explicit permission.
To thwart any attempts at impersonation, she had given absolute directives, refusing any and all requests to gain entry.
Rarely did she find herself in such a state of turmoil, a heavy stone seemingly pressing down upon her heart.
The last time she had felt this way… it had also been because of Konehl-Ghervil.
Unlike that month-long slumber, she knew neither the precise cause of this current unconsciousness nor whether it harbored any inherent danger.
The circumstances diverged too greatly.
The month she had spent at 101 Lily of the Valley Street remained vividly etched in her memory.
It had been an unforgettable period.
She had attended to her meals, brought her out into the sunlight, helped her wash and change her clothes, and even assisted her with…
A sharp thud—
Her fist struck the table with a resounding impact.
‘What in the world am I doing?’
‘Not only have I illicitly activated the ‘Raven,’ but I’ve also completely abandoned any thought of the case, my mind consumed by such frivolous distractions!’
Tearing her gaze away, she no longer dared to look at the young woman. This period of separation seemed to have wrought a subtle, unsettling shift in her emotional landscape.
Rather, a nascent seedling in her heart seemed inclined to blossom.
‘Why is this happening…’
As a Chief, the suppression of superfluous emotions was considered the most fundamental of tenets.
Every mission bore the inherent risk of death, and personal attachments would only serve to amplify that danger.
Even if she was still young and incapable of fully adhering to this principle, she ought to consider it.
Yet, she had to consider the implications.
‘She is a nun; some things are simply impossible.’
‘You must awaken, Lottus-Callan, and cease this self-inflicted torment.’
‘But what if…’
‘What if she isn’t a nun at all?’
Dr. Callan was suddenly struck by the sheer audacity of this thought.
The notion was not without its genesis, for she recalled her youth, spent in the shadow of Director Anthea.
The Director had been exceptionally strict, and the acquisition of knowledge and skills pertinent to a nun’s vocation was a daily, mandatory endeavor. After a period of intense training, many had lauded her, predicting she would undoubtedly become an outstanding nun.
In Konehl-Ghervil, however, she discerned none of the qualities befitting a true nun; only a superficial mimicry of piety, barely convincing.
Having truly observed her, Dr. Callan could confidently assert that even a randomly chosen nun from any chapel would prove far more exemplary.
‘Could she truly not be a nun?’
Harboring this burgeoning doubt, she rose and moved slowly to the bedside, settling down, and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from the young woman’s face.
The young woman’s face seemed to possess an almost magical allure; in the instant Dr. Callan beheld it, the question of whether she was truly a nun faded into irrelevance.
Her gaze drifted downwards.
She saw the swelling there, which had improved considerably since their first meeting.
Her blood pulsed with an agitated rhythm.
As a patient afflicted with the ‘Crimson Lotus’ (TL Note: A debilitating illness often associated with magical corruption or spiritual imbalance, causing physical and mental deterioration.), she recognized this as a state of heightened excitement.
“Honestly…”
Her hand reached for the ties of the young woman’s dress at the waist, loosening them with practiced ease.
“She would surely be angered if she knew… but why must you keep secrets from me?”
She swore her only intention was to help Konehl-Ghervil wash and change into her nightclothes, just as she had done every day during that month.
Taking advantage of another’s vulnerability was not her way; she preferred to act with forthrightness.
Once her disobedient assistant awoke, Dr. Callan resolved to first question why she had concealed her journey here, for even a royal decree should have warranted notification.
Lost in these thoughts, the movements of her hands suddenly ceased. She found herself unable to control her right arm.
Something materialized abruptly at the head of the bed. Looking up, she met a pair of crimson eyes, and in that instant, her thoughts became sluggish, a sensation that spread throughout her entire body.
She heard a voice:
“What do you intend to do to my beloved sister?”