A breeze blew from nowhere and toyed with the cleric's veil. Euphemia felt the air trying to find a way through her habit. Her hands moved as a reflex to prevent her skirt from flapping, but a glance down proved the gesture futile. The colder winds had arrived, but her heavy outer garb resisted their sudden gusts as they swept through the ship.

  The scent of steam that traveled from the smokestacks had a hint of iron in it. She looked above, noticing the brown patches on the metal superstructure that the coat of paint failed to hide. The ship's paint was hastily applied, uneven strokes barely hiding rust. In places, the fresh coat still gleamed - anyone who touched it would leave with white-streaked fingers. Droning sounds from the liner's engines sometimes escaped from the lower levels, only to be drowned out by the waves that clashed with the hull.

  She could smell a match being struck, followed by the aroma of dust from a smoking pipe. Euphemia turned around to find Private Buschmann holding the source of the smoke. Berens was nowhere near, but she thought there was no need for him to be around. A few sailors were watching over the portside rails. There was the occasional sneeze that cracked from a crew member, but what was heard often was unintelligible chatter and the roaring laughter that followed.

  The sea was also sleepy at the time; there was hardly any churn that could be felt on the ship. Euphemia could hardly smell the pipe her guard was using. She approached him and said:

  "I believe we have stayed here for too long. I wish to return to my room. You can have the rest of the time to yourself."

  Private Buschmann nodded, giving the woman a space to proceed to the ship's interior. "I'll be right behind you."

  "Thank you."

  She turned around to enter the hallway. There it was again: the feeling she had at Blaurosen. No black figure following her with its gaze was around this time, but she heard a few quick taps. Her discernment of the footsteps was only possible because of that silent pause between the waves and the loud huff of exhaust fumes outside. Glancing to her sides, she saw no reason for alarm. The footsteps continued, but she walked on.

  ????

  It was by the next sunrise that Euphemia caught a glimpse of Alberta Port, at long last. The old liner began losing speed on its way to the pier. Seabirds accompanied the ship to its stopover; their shrill cries sounded like greetings to the passengers who took a look outside. A few trawlers and cargo ships were docked at the bay with their crews sitting and laughing with ale-filled mugs and plates of jerky.

  Most of the docked vessels were resting after unloading today's catch. Bells were rung by the time the vessel stopped at the docks. The ringing of a heavy chain before a splash assured everyone that the ship wouldn't be going anywhere and, more importantly, the ramp leading to Alberta proper would be lowered soon.

  Euphemia walked ahead of the two soldiers. The odor of fish and other newly-caught ocean life was stronger by the time all three of them exited the ship. While there were no seafood-bearing tubs on sight, a glance to her left was the fish market, stocked full with sellers and buyers alike. It was a cacophony of merchants calling for customers, loud voices coming from dockyard workers and passers-by, the occasional tooting of an idling automobile, and the teeming cries of seabirds scrambling for offal and anything that can be snatched by their beaks.

  She noticed most of the sailors left the liner with the passengers; a day's stopover, most likely, before they called for new customers for the return voyage to Blaurosen. She moved to a point closer to the port facilities, where there were noticeably fewer people going around.

  "Where we headin', sister?" Jann Buschmann set down the sizeable top-handle bag he was carrying for the canoness.

  "I'm going through the naval port. That path is much closer to where I should be."

  "Figures." Private Berens looked at the gathering crowd near the port's marketplace. "We won't look like we're going in for a few of today's catch."

  "A serving of fine fish might be something I would request later, but I'll put that thought aside for now." Euphemia looked at the two soldier companions. "Are both of you going home after this?"

  "Um... Hmm...?" Markus Berens looked at Private Buschmann, scratching his head before answering. "I'd be heading home after turning this rifle in. Needs a little cleaning. I don't know about him."

  "Me...? Gun's muddied, but I've nothing to do after bringing it back to base."

  "It's settled. Let's be on our way." Euphemia turned around and faced the road ahead.

  The path to the naval yard was less busy. Large wooden boxes that used to fill the area were found far apart from each other. There were fresh lines on the ground that indicated other containers had been placed here before, but they had been lifted away and collected not long ago. The scents of steam and fish guts started to fade, only to be replaced by the traveling whiff of burning wood and a weak stench of animal droppings. Euphemia heard the distant sounds of cranes and similar heavy machinery: a sign that she and her companions were quite close to the restricted shipyard.

  The cleric and her company were about to head uphill when they were stopped by a bespectacled man who wore a laboratory coat. The smell of disinfectant hung heavy on him; his drooping eyes and the stubble on his face suggested that he was far from having a good day.

  "You're an Adorer. Strange that you would be walking with a complement of guards, but this is a miracle for me indeed." He coughed twice before continuing, "Someone with healing skills like yours is going to be of great help to me."

  "I am surprised that you immediately know my order." Euphemia looked back at him and couldn't figure out whether to put on a business face or show a casual smile. She ended up closing her eyes, nodding, and etching a half-curve on her lips. She glanced at him before asking, "Please, sir, how can I help you?"

  "Most of my fellow doctors are in a conference in Aurelburg. A bunch of wounded Navy men show up. My trainees are overwhelmed. And... the rest are details I don't know of - neither will the commanders talk about it."

  "Navy men... You're an infirmary doctor. I have no wish to sound unwilling, but I don't think I am allowed to enter a military facility."

  "Let me worry about that, miss." He rubbed his nape and fixed his slowly drooping glasses. "A temporary clearance is no problem for me."

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  Euphemia looked at the two soldiers and said:

  "I'm afraid there's a slight change of plans. Can both of you bear with me for a little longer?"

  "It's the naval base, it's not a big deal. You, Jann?"

  "Works for me." Private Buschmann nodded rapidly. "The infirmary's just there anyway."

  Euphemia followed the doctor, with the two privates trailing closely behind. She found herself re-entering the harbor compound - this time, it was to enter the Naval base. The canoness was handed a pen and a visitor logbook, which she used to register her purpose of entry to the area. She walked opposite the logbook desk to surrender her bags. The clerk's eyes rounded when he read who this cleric signed herself as at first, but he shook his head rapidly, almost unnoticeably, before he handed Euphemia a visitor identification card, before the doctor resumed leading the way to the medical building.

  She could see the doctor was in a hurry, but he still had the finesse not to be heavy-handed in opening the door to the infirmary. It had the trappings of a regular hospital: mostly white, save for the emblems of the Imperial Armed Forces hung on some parts of the wall. The doctor looked at the empty chairs and benches near the entrance and said:

  "The men can stay here. They won't need to be around."

  Euphemia looked at the soldiers, who simply nodded and watched her proceed to the hall without them.

  Blue accents were found in the lower areas of corridors. Most of the front offices were closed, save for the aisle where a few nurses were busy sorting out syringes and bottles. The scent of disinfectant, plus the sounds of running feet and the occasional groaning that escaped from some of the wards, greeted the canoness upon her entry to the infirmary.

  She was led to a patient ward where at least two rows of men lay wounded. They were all bandaged at random places: some were in splints, while others had patches of red inside their dressing. Euphemia looked at the eyes of the men; some stared back at her, while the others tried to return a smile, even with the white cloth strips getting in the way of their eyes or jaws.

  "As you can see, sister, the request is simple." The haggard infirmary director spread his hand while showing all the patients inside. "I've heard you Adorers have a way to ease the sick and the wounded. Any effort you can do for them means at least a little rest for me and the staff."

  Euphemia looked ahead of her; her eyes panning from right to left. She took two minced steps. Daylight coming from the opposite end of the ward revealed much of her face to the patients, whose eyes were more affixed to her when she stood in front of the men. They were strangely silent, though she expected some of them to speak their mind. They seemed less inclined to be rowdy with this visitor, especially for one who was a woman of the cloth.

  "Why this, Lord? Were these men with Father when he vanished? No-now isn't the time. First, I must tend to them."

  She imagined the shouts of battle, gunfire, and old Cecil probably leading the charge. These thoughts must not come to the cleric. She shook her head and nodded slightly. Euphemia then looked at everyone and began in earnest:

  "It looks like I have your attention. Let us give thanks to our Creator, close our eyes, and be ready to receive His blessing."

  Euphemia clasped her hands and bowed her head slightly. She took a deep breath before beginning with:

  "O Blessed One, we come before You today in need of Your healing hand. In You all things are possible. Hold our hearts within Yours, renew our bodies, minds, and souls..."

  The light inside the ward was split into different colors and merged anew. It took the form of a green radiance that was in harmony with the sun outside. Gashes found on the arms of a nearby soldier closed at a rate that the scabs hung loose on his skin. Swelling on some of the men receded; some of their faces were restored as if the wounds were never there. The doctor, who was beside Euphemia, tried to take a look at this new glow that took over the entire room, but the light made his body lose tension. It was too relaxing: he knelt to the floor, his head bowed, back leaned against the wall, while his eyes closed, but not without blinking several times before finally giving in.

  The prayer continued:

  "...You gave us life, and from You we receive the gift of infinite joy. Give us the strength to rise from our condition, the will to move forward on the path You have laid out. Guide us to better health, give us wisdom to identify those who help us get better, and give us the courage to protect those we hold dear. This we ask so that we may serve You better for the rest of our lives."

  Euphemia opened her eyes; the green light began to disperse and was soon replaced by daylight coming from the windows. Everyone else was sound asleep, including the doctor who brought her there. She sat down and waited for him to come to his senses. He woke up shortly, violently shaking his head before getting back on his feet, before saying:

  "That was the shortest, yet most refreshing sleep I had in a while." He stretched his arms. He was standing a little less hunched up compared to when he first met the cleric. "The work of The Creator is a frightening marvel, truly. I will never forget this."

  "I'm glad that it also helped you, even if so slightly."

  "You have put every patient in this ward to sleep. Do you think your prayer helped?"

  "I would love to believe it helped, but it is up to the patients to say they are healed once they've woken up. We can only hope for a swift recovery."

  The doctor reached out for his wallet and pulled out a small wad of paper Marks. He reached out for Euphemia's hand before saying:

  "I insist. It's not much, but you've lifted a burden off me and my staff. Please send my regards to the church and your fellow Adorers. I haven't set foot in any house of prayer for a while, and maybe this pitiful effort can be the start of something better for me."

  "The Creator's house receives us all. It's never too late to return to prayer and repentance, doctor. Thus, I strongly suggest that you start by taking this sum to the local parish. They will need this more than I." Euphemia looked at him; her eyes gave off a faint gleam like the smile on her face. She pressed the wad of bills onto the doctor's palm and enclosed it with her hands. "Our small steps can usher a path to Him, no matter how long it takes."

  "You won't believe how happy I am to hear that, sister."

  Euphemia was escorted out of the infirmary. Private Berens and Private Buschmann were still seated in the lobby. The doctor opened the door for them and said:

  "This is as far as I can take you, for work won't wait on me. Again, thank you, sister."

  "I'm happy to be of help. May the Creator bless you."

  She returned to the visitors' desk on her own, claimed her belongings, and walked back to the harbor's exit.

  "That did not take long at all, sister." Markus Berens rubbed his nose as the scent of dust and the afternoon air trailed past.

  "Ne'er have I thought a request for a few prayers would have me stuck here." Jann Buschmann asked, "Not that I'm prying into your business or anything, but where are we going?"

  "Prayers can uplift the spirit, and these simple acts can go a long way for some people." Euphemia looked at the uphill road ahead. "I almost forgot. We're heading to Schild Manor. It's not a far walk from here."

  There it was again: she felt something was out there, following her. Euphemia looked around and found nothing of the ordinary lurking. It wasn't like that shadow her eyes had spotted back in Blaurosen, but even that instance was doubtful. Could it also be the same encounter she had from the ship on her way here?

  "I haven't used my ability with a prayer for a long time. Am I getting tired? Resting at home might remedy this."

  The sun was starting its westward journey when she returned to the waiting area. Euphemia looked at the empty street and sighed: Duchess Agnes must not have been informed of her arrival. There was no vehicle awaiting them. She felt for her purse and frowned, for the few coins inside won't even afford her a carriage. She was still going home on foot and missing the afternoon tea for a serving of dinner.