A cuirass-wearing soldier walked up to the Cathedral of the Sacred Word's lobby. The golden breastplate he sported seemed to serve more of a ceremonial function than being a piece of protective covering. He had been asking for directions from three church workers who directed him to a western exit to the convent. A guard on the path stopped him at first and then let him pass after the soldier stated his reason for being there. The cuirassier sat on a long bench in the convent's lobby. A feather bonnet with a large orange plume took some of the sitting space provided by the almost empty bench. Footsteps echoed from the dark hallway in front of the soldier, followed by the outline of a figure that emerged from the blackness.

  A tall woman wearing a blue-black habit emerged; a great radiant cross of golden yellow extended from the lower half of her scapular. Its glow on her face was further accented against the rest of her dark attire. The gentleman stood up and made an earnest bow upon her arrival.

  "Would you happen to be Lady Euphemia, of House Schild?"

  "I am indeed. Why do you ask?"

  "Pardon my lack of knowledge, Your Ladyship." The cuirassier made an even steeper bow. "I am Lieutenant Hans Gruber, 10th Signal Regiment of the Capital Guards. It pains me to be the bearer of sad tidings."

  "Oh my, such courtly protocol." Euphemia was caught between trying to smile and rounding her lips in a gasp. "It has been a while. Please, speak plainly. What news do you bear?"

  "I will be speaking of details that will not be revealed to the public." The officer held his hat by his chest, scanning the entire room. "Do you know of a more private space, my lady?"

  "I can think of no place nearby." Euphemia looked around and found the confessional vacant, to which she promptly pointed. "But here is private enough."

  The messenger looked at the wooden structure. He scanned elsewhere for a place but ended up finding nowhere. He looked back at the canoness before saying:

  "If the lady, or the sister, deems it fit, of course we can... Speak there."

  "Worry not. There are no confessions scheduled at this time. The resident priest will not be paying a visit to this place soon."

  Both entered the confessional, with Euphemia taking the confessor's booth while the officer followed her with his gaze at first. He gripped his hat; she must be right; nobody could be around the area this time. He went inside the small wooden booth, holding his hat in both hands. She leaned close to the barrier before saying:

  "Please, Lieutenant, do tell me your news."

  "Again, my apologies for delivering this, but your father, Lord Cecil, was lost in the line of duty. He commanded an attack on a group of islets in the south and has not been seen since. Our search parties are exhausting all efforts to recover him, but we have not discovered anything to lead us to Lord Cecil's whereabouts... at present."

  The cleric stood still; her lips were on the verge of speaking, but she could not find words to use them. Her sapphirine eyes diverted from the officer - a distant gaze but without aim. She wrested control from the shock, if only for a moment, by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in an effort not to be teary-eyed in front of the officer. Her energy to speak returned with this response:

  "You are certain? There is no mistake?"

  "We are certain, My Lady." The soldier held his hat with both hands. His stern face was broken by a tense smile, and then the lieutenant spoke in a near-whisper. "Excuse me for not addressing you as you requested. His weapons were found without him. Also, Duchess Agnes requests your presence in Alberta. She states that she has pressing matters to discuss, none of which I am told."

  Euphemia's lips parted, yet no words came out. Her fingers pressed against the wooden divider with a gripping force. She balled her other hand into a fist and put it close to her chest as the news weighed on her chest. This was not the time to appear too distraught in front of the messenger. Euphemia took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before saying:

  "Thank you, Lieutenant Gruber. I will gather my belongings and make my way to Alberta immediately."

  "Understood. I shall take my leave, Lad- excuse me, Holy Sister."

  They both left the confessional, just as the officer was about to head for the exit, something came to Euphemia's mind.

  "Wait a moment, Lieutenant." She held up her hand; her voice came out with a forced firmness in an attempt to match the seriousness on her face. "Before you go, may I ask a favor of you?"

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  "I am all ears. I shall carry out the request - so long as it is within my authority."

  Euphemia's head nodded in gratitude before she said, "This is rather made at an inconvenient time. I am aware of your protocol, but this is one born of necessity. I require a guard for the journey to Alberta. Given the recent news, I fear for my safety. Will you be willing to accompany me or at least make the necessary arrangements?"

  "That I can arrange, though I can act as your escort up to the pier. I can assign up to two men to be with you for the rest of the voyage. What time do you intend to leave?"

  Her lips softened to a near-smile in confirmation. It was not something she dared demand on a normal day, but the situation called for her to decide on a course of action, no matter how awkward it seemed. Euphemia said:

  "I plan to journey tomorrow at dawn. This effort is most appreciated, Lieutenant. Your willingness to see this through helps put my mind at ease."

  "Make no mention of it, Lady Euphemia. I shall have a carriage prepared at once."

  The cuirassier gave a final bow before heading to the exit.

  · · ─ ·?· ─ · ·

  Euphemia paled at the news. Memories of the old general telling tales of honor and the soldierly life played in her mind. A soldier's life was such, as she was always told, that rank will only do little when the time comes that life would be spent in the service of the country. They were completely preserved stories and lectures that were told on the breeziest days back in the Albertan estate. The old duke loved to talk about the virtues of seeking honor, yet he chose to hold back from telling accounts of his exploits. He was so much like many of his peers, who were never open enough to tell the stories of tumult and the wars.

  "Is he still alive? How are his captors treating him? If he died... No, I must not think of such things. They said they were looking for him. He must be alive. I... need to be there."

  She had to be in Alberta. It was a duty a daughter had to do for the family. There could be no answers if she stayed in the convent for too long.

  To reach the Mother Superior's office, one had to cross two hallways. The first was the darkened stretch out of the lobby, which was supposed to be illuminated all day to display the images of the saints and divine beasts lined from one end to the next. Light coming from the crystal lamps was more than bright enough to highlight the sanctity of the halls. Small shadowy outlines emerged from some of the images, following the canoness as she went past them.

  Euphemia always marveled at the six-winged angel that stood at the hallway's north exit. She was a beautiful ivory maiden with a sword in her left hand and a lyre on the right. Looking through the image's emerald eyes never failed to soothe her senses, no matter how pressing or urgent a matter was. She looked at the sword - a simply crafted arming sword with no gems or decorations on the hilt. It never lost its luster or probably its sharpness in its years of display. The steely hue reminded her of the task again, and the cleric gave a slight bow to the effigy before heading to the hallway's exit.

  Faint solar lances piercing through stained glass windows guided the cleric to the second hallway. It was a wide corridor connecting the four buildings of the Church. Twenty-four pillars carved from ancient rock held a marble roof on which the ceiling was carved with the tales of the founding members. From these varied interpretations sprang forth the same devotion to the god who built the church and its followers. It was a great fresco of how the world came from light, and from this luminance came all beings.

  At the near center of the radiance were the divine guardians of the word, and they, in turn, were guarded by the seven holy beasts. Surrounding the divine entities were two hundred men clad in robes. Each of them carried something in his right arm. Some bore holy symbols, some were holding tomes, there were those bearing swords and shields, and some carried flutes and lyres. Surrounding the holy circle were animals and plants of different sizes and densities. Among the flora and fauna were the many cities and villages built; a diverse mix of people surrounded the castles, villages, and temples that completed the halo.

  The door to the Mother Superior's office was a few yards after the entrance to the main cloister. It had a dense mahogany frame with the image of the Blessed Virgin receiving the Sacrament of Light carved on its face. A woman clad in the simplest of robes, whose open palms held two rays of light sent from above.

  The lady of Schild made three weak knocks at the door.

  "You may enter," answered an aged but gleeful voice.

  The canoness opened the door to see another figure in a habit occupying the seat in front of a heavy desk. Her high-rising veil was prominent; its crest rested several inches overhead. Fading sunlight coming from an open window revealed the old woman to Euphemia.

  "Ah, Sister Euphemia. You bear great distress in your eyes. What is it that bothers you?"

  "I do not wish to impose on you, Mother Superior, but this is something that concerns not only me but perhaps that of the entire country." She held her hands and closed her eyes before bowing in front of the elder cleric. "Please, understand that nobody else must know of this."

  "I am aware of your position, Sister. Rest assured that I won't let a word escape this room."

  "I deeply appreciate it, Mother Superior." Euphemia's voice broke down to a near-whisper. "My... father. He was reported to have disappeared in the line of duty. My mother wants me to return to Alberta immediately. If I could-"

  "Speak no more, Sister." The aged cleric walked up to the distraught woman; a pair of frail, withered hands clasped Euphemia's palm. "Your mother needs help. Take as much time as you need."

  The lady of Schild smiled at the approval. It somewhat helped her lighten up, but the half-teary glimmer of her eyes would not be held back so quickly. She placed her other free hand on the elder cleric's grasp and held it tight.

  "I thank you, Holy Mother. I shall make my preparations and leave immediately."

  "Be strong, my child. The Creator's will is with you."