Edith’s Resolve and Daphne’s Shadow

“No, this is too dangerous! Miss Edith, you are an outsider; there’s no need for you to go to such lengths for us. I’ll have Upton gather the town’s guards. You should remain in the church!”

No sooner had Edith’s words faded than an old man with a grizzled beard burst into the church, his movements hurried and frantic.

This was Mr. George, the mayor of Kohl Town. He had rushed here immediately after hearing that Ian and Mathew’s carriage party had been attacked. The “Upton” he mentioned was the captain of the town’s defense force.

“Mr. George, I appreciate your kindness, but I cannot bear to stand by idly while others suffer.” Edith swiftly traced several dark blue runes in the air with her fingers, and a faint stir emanated from the second-floor side hall.

“If Mr. Upton is willing to send troops, then he should accompany me. With every second we delay, the hope of Mr. Mathew and his companions surviving diminishes.”

As the runes on her fingertips dissolved and magical fluctuations spread, Edith reached upwards. A gilded staff, wrapped in a dark red cloak, shot from the stairwell, spun once, and settled perfectly into her hand.

The young woman swiftly draped the cloak over her shoulders. With the box of bandages and ointments clutched in her left hand and her staff held firmly in her right, she was clearly prepared to depart at a moment’s notice.

At this point, no one could stop Edith from rushing to the scene. Once she set her mind to something, it was nearly impossible to sway her, not even if Bertram himself were to intervene.

Daphne knew there was no convincing her, so she simply watched Edith with a furrowed brow.

As if noticing Daphne’s gaze, Edith turned and glanced back at her. “Stay here in the church, alright? Don’t wander off. Wait for me to come back,” she murmured, leaning closer to Daphne with a gentle smile.

“Why?” Daphne instinctively reached out, grabbing Edith’s cloak, trying to hold her back. “Are you really that kind-hearted? Those people are likely beyond saving. Why would you—”

Edith paused, her expression darkening slightly. “I want to. I simply enjoy the feeling of being praised and lauded, which is why I do so many good deeds. Does that answer satisfy you?”

She then let out a soft chuckle, which, though gentle, sent a shiver through Daphne’s heart. “Not only did you get my title wrong, but you dared to question my decision. It’s only because I’m busy right now, but you’ll have quite a reckoning when I return!”

“Ugh… I’m sorry, Sister Edith…” Daphne cowered.

“Hmph, good girl. Don’t worry about me,” Edith said, stroking Daphne’s cheek with a smile. “I’m not weak at all. What Sister Gwynevere can do, I can do too.”

Daphne estimated Edith’s level to be around 20. While slightly inferior to Gwynevere, her strength was not weak; she merely lacked combat experience.

It wasn’t that she worried about Edith’s power being insufficient, but rather that Edith’s lack of a sense of danger made her prone to unexpected mishaps.

Seeing Daphne offer no further response, a flicker of loneliness or sadness crossed Edith’s eyes.

Yet it was only for a moment. She turned, her cloak swirling as she declared, “I’m off now. Please don’t worry, Mr. Mathew and his companions will be fine.”

Several young nuns hesitated, wanting to dissuade her. The hall, filled with wounded individuals Edith had previously helped, echoed with their protests, but none could halt her determined strides towards the exit.

“Miss Edith!” Ian exclaimed, desperately trying to sit up.

Seeing this, Daphne swiftly took Edith’s place, kneeling to press down on his shoulders, forcing him back. “Don’t move around before you’ve healed, Mr. Ian.”

Realizing it was the newly arrived Grand Cantor, Ian felt too awkward to resist and obediently lay back down.

Many people rushed out to see Edith off. George sighed and, resigned, followed them out to find Upton and arrange for guards to accompany Edith.

Daphne did not follow them out. Instead, amidst the chaos in the church, she quietly ascended to the second floor via the stairwell, where she could observe the scene outside through a window.

A crisp whistle pierced the air, and a snow-white Elven Plains horse galloped from the direction of the Templar Knights’ outpost. The steed’s limbs were long and powerful, adorned with a sky-blue velvet blanket and saddle, its hard hooves clanging rhythmically against the ground.

This was Hedy, Edith’s favorite mount. When Daphne had first led her here as a gift, Hedy was merely a foal; now, she was five years old.

Daphne watched as Edith, amidst the pleas of many townspeople, resolutely grasped the reins and mounted the horse. She then saw Edith ride the swift steed south, galloping into the distance.

‘Enjoying the feeling of being praised and lauded… is that why she does good deeds?’

Suddenly, she found her adopted daughter’s simplicity rather endearing.

In truth, no one truly cared what mindset historical saints held when performing their benevolent acts. People always judged their merits and faults solely by what they accomplished.

Edith, perhaps, would still be an angel.

Even angels could have flaws.

****

Of course, Daphne had no intention of simply watching idly and allowing Edith to venture into danger alone.

If it were merely a small squad of Beastmen stragglers, Edith alone could easily handle them, let alone with Upton and the other Kohl Town guards accompanying her.

However, the road from Rocan to Oliver and then to Kohl traversed a roaming area for large beast herds, making it possible to encounter any kind of enemy.

A large beast herd was a collection of multiple smaller herds, all commanded by a single Beast Herd Lord.

Beast Herd Lords were stronger and taller than typical Warhorn Beast chieftains, possessing greater strategy and foresight.

They also harbored a deeper hatred for humans and civilized creations than any ordinary Warhorn Beast chieftain.

The Beast Herd Lord of this particular large herd was named “The Trampler” Miodix Blackhoof. Defying all logic, he had forged a temporary alliance with the Great Lich Blumfield, coordinating an inside-out attack on the Northmarch. This alliance was one of the most significant factors in the Northmarch’s eventual complete downfall.

Putting aside the potential dangers Edith might face, Daphne desperately needed some fodder enemies to fill her experience pool. She absolutely had to join this commotion.

However, she had no intention of entering the battle as Ellenore. Instead, she would appear in her original form as a half-blood vampire.

Daphne returned to her room. She shed the dress and high heels Edith had forced upon her, then turned her back to the window, facing her own shadow, and began to draw runes in the air.

Purple-black, smoke-wreathed runes appeared at her fingertips before dissipating. The shadow beneath her feet began to spread and swell, and frost visibly crept across the floor. Slowly, a snow-silver fur cloak rose from within the shadow.

Wrapped within the cloak were Daphne’s previous traveling dress, satchel, and small leather shoes. The ‘Shadow Sprint’ ability, granted by the Path of Shadow, not only allowed her to merge with shadows for swift movement but also enabled her to store items within her own shadow under normal circumstances—a remarkably practical skill.

Daphne changed into her original dress, then donned her cloak and ring once more.

When she had first entered, the young woman’s hair was a cascade of silver. Now, as she passed the mirror again, the long locks flowing behind her had taken on a deep, lustrous crimson hue.

‘Shadow Sprint’ would easily allow Daphne to catch up to Edith, who had departed earlier on horseback. She didn’t have to worry about being too late.

The only real concern was Gwynevere. The cremation ceremony wouldn’t last much longer, and she might even be on her way back north from Oliver to Kohl already.

‘It couldn’t be… that coincidental, could it?’