"I pray You take away my trepidation. Give me the resolve to find out the purpose behind my talents. What good is this strength if I cannot use it for the people I hold dear? I am made by Your hand, and all that I am is no accident. Show me the right path to using these gifts. Be with me as I walk the road to find my true destiny through You. All our love, our praise, and all our glory we give to honor You."

  The last thread of incense vapor was scattered by a sudden flow of air into the church. Euphemia broke off from prayer, opened her eyes, and stood up. Nobody else was with her at the time. Cold and heavy wind blew into the interior, strode past the vacant pews, and knelt short of the altar; the light of crystalline candles glowed undisturbed, and neither did the wind have the strength to knock them down. She walked out of the church; a lone elderly man was found in the gardens. Earth-soiled gloves were put on top of an empty wheelbarrow as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  "You're leaving, Sister?"

  "I would like to spend more time here, but I do not think I am needed for any work." She looked around the place; the sun revealed an empty perimeter.

  "God be with you then. We hope you come back soon to help."

  "I will do my best. May His grace guide your work for the rest of the day."

  She almost forgot that her mother had invited her to join in the oath-taking of Alberta's new Constables. Euphemia thought of returning to the estate to dress up. Doing so would mean the new city police had been sworn in, and she would arrive by the time everyone else left. Utterly pointless. Her name wasn't mentioned in the program. If it were, what would a daughter of the administrators contribute in front of a group of uniformed men?

  ????

  Far left of the harbor's marketplace was the city's football grounds. The sun's warmth caressed hats, parasols, and bare heads of many of the audience, often leaving a gleam on some of the shinier surfaces the light managed to grasp. This was hardly a uniform crowd: people in suits, working attire, and some personalities in expensive wear blended with each other. The air was a mixture of scents. Heavy scents of spiced sausages prepared from a nearby stall clung to the jackets and dresses of those who sat on the lower boxes. An occasional trail of perfume and tobacco from the upper box occupants was sent downward.

  Euphemia passed by a small group that lined up to enter. They were a lively bunch; a disorganized wave of voices from words to other utterances was louder once the canoness passed through the entrance. She turned left and saw the familiar teal uniform of the family's house guards. The men who looked after the door quickly paid notice and stood at attention.

  "Have you come here for the ceremony, Lady Euphemia?"

  She did not speak at first, opting to move her right index finger close to her lips before answering with an initial smile. She looked around, noticing that no other Albertan was close to the guarded portal before saying:

  "Yes. Please take me to Mother."

  "Of course. This way, Madam."

  One of the guards opened the iron grille that led to the patrons' box, and the other went ahead of the canoness. The way to the patrons' boxes was three angled steps. Previous doors led to the lower levels of the audience boxes; they were all locked, and only sunlight managed to get inside the spaces between the doors' iron bars. They reached the top and found another pair of guards at the doorway. There was an exchange of nods, and Euphemia stopped an attempt to announce her arrival through a hushed gesture.

  Agnes sat near the podium, facing the gathering crowd that barely filled a quarter of the audience boxes. She wore a dark green dress; a whiff of recently-sprayed perfume crept out of it. Euphemia also noticed that she wore more hair ornaments than she did on her usual business appointments. She tapped the duchess's shoulder before they exchanged hugs.

  "Phemie. You've come on time. I assume church work did not interfere too much?"

  "The parish didn't need too many hands today."

  "Good, good." Agnes let go of her embrace. She tapped some parts of her hair to make sure none of her decorations were out of place. "Let me guess. You will have to sit at the back."

  "I'm sorry if I'm not properly dressed for this occasion." Euphemia nodded and looked at the spectating throng before resuming. "Apart from looking worse before the crowd, you wouldn't want the news writers making theories about your dealings with the ?therlicht."

  "I see your point." Agnes nodded and patted Euphemia on the shoulder. "But some of them might be spying on us by now."

  "They wouldn't see much of us at this time, I think: a church sister giving you a short blessing before making any speeches hardly makes a worthy headline."

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Agnes turned to face the football grounds. Down below, a man in medal-riddled uniform shouted orders. Soon, lines of men began filling the place. There were around three hundred of them, all wearing the drab felt helmets and uniforms. Their jackets were adorned with a single silver chain that ran diagonally across the chest. The lines were completed, and it did not take long before the duchess' name was called to the podium. She stood up, walked before the audience, and exchanged her smile with everybody before she brought the microphone to her lips.

  "Thank you, Commissioner."

  The speakers screeched, causing the duchess to stop talking for a moment. She reached out for the microphone and made a few adjustments before resuming:

  "This is a momentous occasion. You all stand here today to take your oath as Constables of His Imperial Majesty's Metropolitan Police."

  Euphemia sat near a corner where the sun reached no farther than her legs. She felt a slight shaking of the air. The air trembled with her mother's voice, making the floor hum beneath Euphemia's shoes. The canoness caressed her right sleeve; she felt the cold metal of her armlet beyond the cloth of her habit.

  "Mother, I have decided I should look for Father. I am prepared to use my power... should I surprise her with this declaration right away? If she restrains me, should I even lift a finger in defiance?"

  Euphemia stared at the crowd beyond. These new officers, along with the ceremony's attendees, seemed to focus more on the duchess. Perhaps she could see them, but they wouldn't notice her based on how high the box was compared to the other seats in the grounds. There was a slight vibration on the floor as Agnes spoke on.

  "You will represent honor, self-discipline, and steadfast impartiality in all dealings. Much of your time will be spent in silent vigilance. Alberta's peace, the citizens' safety, and the dignity of Imperial law rest on your shoulders..."

  Euphemia sat still. Much of her mother's speech was drowned out by her thoughts. She formed a ball with her hands, hiding them under her sleeves before drawing a deep breath. The cleric continued looking straight at the horizon; her eyes matched beyond the football grounds and into the distant residential quarter.

  "Mother, I am going to use my talents to find Father. I shall do so without fail. Do I even know what I'm doing? Am I talking out of impulse?"

  She fixed her sleeve again. The armlet was in no danger of being seen, yet her hand grasped at its surface as if she were searching its cold smoothness. There was a gentle breeze that blew from above. Euphemia's veil flagged with the energy of beaten cloth. Agnes went on, her vigor unchanging with every word uttered to the officers who looked up to her.

  "Fellow Albertans will come to know your face, your bearing, and your word. You are their quiet guardian; their shield against the storm, their anchor against the tides. Hold your heads high, gentlemen, and wear your uniforms with pride. Know that with every step you take, this office, the law, and the Empire hold you in high regard. Now, you shall all step forward and take the oath as the Emperor's Constables."

  There were a few humble claps from the spectators, followed by a weak sea of applause that came as the duchess wrapped up her speech. Agnes looked at the police commissioner on the ground and nodded. Euphemia, on the other hand, could not even lift her hands to join in the applause; her palms held her legs, almost clutching them as the ceremony went on. She almost lost focus, barely understanding what the Commissioner below said. A unified stomping, from coordinated legs, followed by a gentle toll of the bell. Her attention returned when the lone voice was replaced by the chorus of oath-takers:

  "...do solemnly and sincerely swear to truly serve His Imperial Majesty, Waldemar III, sovereign of Kriemreich, and His Realms and Territories, in the office of Constable..."

  She looked at these officers, whose hands were raised over their hearts. Euphemia wondered how these men, new to their posts, would feel if the truth about the missing duke went out. A danger so potent that it brought her family to its predicament.

  "...faithfully execute the duties entrusted unto me, uphold the law, preserve the peace, and protect life and property without fear or fervor..."

  But she knew Agnes' resolve. It was not something that a few kind words could negotiate. Euphemia's idea was a fool's errand.

  "... endeavor to obey all lawful orders of my superiors and carry them out with honor, integrity, and impartiality... always be mindful of the dignity of my office and trust placed in me by the Empire and the people..."

  Euphemia had to try. Not only for her family's sake, but to a greater extent, for that of people who were unaware of the growing danger.

  She extended her applause a little late from the rest. It did not take long before the ceremony was over. Euphemia stood up from her seat and saw her mother at the edge of the patrons' box. Some of the crowd took to the greens to greet the recently sworn-in constables. Family, friends, and even other police officers exchanged gestures, hugs, and kisses with the uniformed men.

  Euphemia felt the surge of energy coursing through her armlet; the cold metal became warmer. It was a warmth that was not only felt, but was also heard from within her. The cleric went beside the duchess and opened to speak:

  "Mother. I wonder, if our situation would be better if I put my talent to use."

  "Surely you jest, Phemie." The sudden tilt of Agnes' shoulders was hardly noticeable except to Euphemia. "Neither I, nor even you, are aware of the true extent of your ability. Would it please you to level an entire town for nothing? I doubt if we could locate your father even among the rubble."

  "I'd never. I don't even think I could..."

  "I know you." Agnes faced her daughter and reached out for Euphemia's right hand, clasping it between both of hers. "You want to help as much as I do. We still don't know where to begin - and this is with help from the Capital. Your work at the local church is more than enough. Don't worry too much, and leave that to us. I have faith in the investigator the Empire has sent to look after this case. It's all for the best. The city needs you here. I need you here."

  "Maybe all this is... never mind. I should not have spoken without thought."

  Euphemia watched the crowd empty from the football grounds. Though she wanted to believe in the duchess' words, a force from inside her was eager to go beyond the safety of the port city.

  Her hand fell to the armlet beneath her sleeve. The warmth remained. So did her answer.