I twirl the umbrella on my half of a shoulder while striking the leather strap hiding the hinge of the rapier hidden within. Roisia tenses just a little under my silent stare but she conceals it by reaching up to her dark hair and sliding a lock back with a refined gesture.

Roisia's brown turbid eyes conceal a different intelligence that is in no way lesser than Leomi's if she truly figured it all out with so few clues. No wonder my kitten took her as vice-commander, it wasn't just a way to reassure the Council but a real gain for the Hospitaliers.

“The mask did not leave my side, but I'm sure Cecil told you that already, so I'll reiterate by swearing to you that Elizabeth Vil has so far remained quiet and resting apart from pulling a few pranks.” I tell Roisia, focusing on what matters. “How concrete are those rumors?”

“They aren't.” She replies with a shake of her head. “Or I would be telling you who saw the mask instead of speaking about rumors. People have been very reluctant to discuss this, as far as I can tell most people are covering for Elizabeth Vil but it's almost been a couple of weeks so the cat got out of the bag and word finally spread.”

“Was there a trigger?” I ask.

“I don't know.” Roisia responds. “Could be because the stories about you have gained momentum so news about Elizabeth defying her exile became easier for people to speak of, or the Thrin is stirring the pot back at you without being aware of your identity.”

“I doubt it. I've been subtly needling him but he hasn't taken the bait so far.” I deny.

“He's definitely not aware that you're E.Vil.” Roisia says with an amused smile, misunderstanding me.

“I didn't think he would be, I meant that the Thrin is careful, but why are you so sure?” I question.

“Because, while the fact Elizabeth Vil carries a Rykz creation is only known among people in high positions from what Grace and Mother gathered and the fact that it is an arm has simply not come up even in the most ludicrous theories.” Roisia explains.

“Hm.” I ponder, worried. “Cenwalh knows.” I suddenly affirm with a grimace. “If people in the King's Court known, then he is aware that Elizabeth Vil's parasite is an arm because Suxen is the only one who could have informed him and I doubt she could have hidden that detail from the King. He might not have told anyone, but he definitely knows.”

“You're drawing hasty conclusions. The Director is known for keeping secrets, she may have merely given the King the bare minimum of information.” Roisia argues. “It's hard to think of a reason to reveal the parasite but not the fact it is as large as a limb, especially if he wants to find Elizabeth Vil.”

“The Shades.” I note, raising a finger. Roisia inclines her head to concede. “And the fact that the news could spread throughout the Empire and he would be blamed if desperate cripples fled to the Rykz.”

“Then, we can only conclude that there is no way to know for now.” Roisia tells me.

“Agreed.” I acknowledge.

We both raise our bottles of cheap beer up to our lips and drink from the neck in loud gulps. I let mine down on the table and grab my umbrella's handle again, spinning it as a way to occupy my hand.

“What's your plan in Meria?” She suddenly asks.

“Secret.” I reply with a teasing smile. “I don't fully trust you.”

“Me neither.” She says with a frown. “But we're on the same side.”

“No, no we are not.” I firmly deny. “I'm applying things I've learned from experience through observing people's reaction to Elizabeth, Nobility's fall from grace, Leomi's rise to glory, as well as the Emperor's methods through his use of Shades and Templars. I am building the other half of a legend.”

“That doesn't tell me much.” Roisia comments while rolling her eyes. “But I can help introduce Jessica Freepath to fame since that's your goal.”

“You misunderstand.” I tell her. “As Leomi's fame grew, her proximity and limits made her more vulnerable and criticized.”

“That's why people love her.” She counters.

“The strength of a symbol weakens when it grows near because clarity limits people's ability to project their hopes.” I explain.

“You're not being theatrical at all.” Roisia utters sarcastically.

“Roisia.” Liz suddenly speaks up in a loud voice, causing her to straighten up. “You flinched.” I laugh.

“Anyone would.” She fires back with a sigh.

“We cooperate but, make no mistake, we are not on the same side because our goals differ.” I tell her in a flat tone. “I have an inkling that Leomi's attempt at transforming Nobility will have little to do with houses and the inheritance of titles but rather resemble the way families of warriors transmit their skills which do not entirely depend on blood ties, but even that is anathema to my core beliefs.”

“Which are?” Roisia asks with squinted eyes.

“That every sapient being should have equal opportunities to grow, learn, live, fight, and finally screw up in the worst possible way.” I reply with a wide grin.

“Utopias are named such because they cannot exist.” She tells me, intelligently trying to argue obliquely instead of clashing head-on. “Equality is a desire we share, but reality is not so kind.”

“Ideals are such things that can be reached for but never attained. Yet the journey is fulfilling by itself.” I reply offhandedly. “If enough reach for equality, it matters not how far along the path they progress because every step will spell victory and awaken the desire of others to join.”

“You've educated yourself in philosophy.” Roisia notes.

“I've had the privilege to share thoughts without barriers with two beings much smarter than myself.” I tell her with a thin smile. “And I am quite attentive to the patterns that hold the Empire together.”

“It turns out even those who know can yet underestimate you.” Roisia mutters with a serious expression.

We burst out in laughter at her face. She blushes in embarrassment and throws me a glare for mocking the conversation. Understandably, considering I'm the one who threw us into these abstract waters.

“I'm sleepy.” I tell her. “You don't need to worry about me as long as you don't blow my secrets to the wind.”

“I disagree.” Roisia utters flatly.

“At the very least, I can tell you that I'm not planning to trigger a bloodbath.” I honestly inform her.

“That does not mean one won't occur. You have to know that Grace is keeping a close eye on Meria.” Roisia tells me.

“Who can guarantee what others will or will not do?” I ask rhetorically. “If a massacre happens, it will not be because I took the first step in that direction.”

Roisia opens her mouth but quickly closes it, likely realizing that she won't get anything more out of me other than this guarantee I'm not trying to provoke a slaughter to get rid of Nobility.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother.” She speaks up as she rises.

“He takes care of himself.” I reply with a shrug, meaning it.

“Nevertheless, he seems to have found his path again thanks to you.” Roisia bows just slightly and walks out.

I ponder for a while, amazed by how good a sister Rowland has for her to be encouraging even though she disagrees with me. But, then again, his way seems to have more to do with Yvonne than me. I muddle my head by finishing my beer and then clear it by cleaning up before going to bed.

--- --- ---

In the morning, I dress up in my black leather armor and jacket as usual before fastening my belts with my weapons on my left side. I pick up the umbrella and rest it on my left half-shoulder as Liz prefers to somewhat conceal ourselves.

I hear a knock at the door and open it, finding Rowland waiting with a two-handed battleaxe on his back. I made him change because that kind of weapon suits him and I'm more confident teaching him that than a one-handed weapon.

The long reach gives him the possibility to block an entire alley by himself and allows him to force opponents back, not to mention that the two-handed battleaxe doesn't require a keen sense of perspective which is a boon for a one-eyed warrior.

We exchange nods as a greeting and head down together. I'm even more convinced that he's keeping an eye on me for Roisia but I don't mind because he likely refused to pry or she wouldn't have had to visit me, not to mention he isn't talkative.

“Does your half-sister resemble her mother?” I ask him.

“They're about as deceitful as you, yes.” He replies smilingly.

“Hey, I resent that.” I protest.

“The difference is simply that they hide their deceptions and motives while you're openly fraudulent because it amuses you to confuse people about the true meaning of your words.” He pitilessly criticizes.

“Aren't you afraid I would lie to Yvonne over this?” I ask.

“You wouldn't lie to your best friend if it caused her personal harm.” Rowland counters confidently.

“If you know that, you should be nice to me.” I complain, feeling quite amused.

“It would be counter-productive.” He replies, chortling.

I snap my mouth shut. She sold me out! Please, an idiot could have figured you out after two weeks of banter. I grumble at the two traitors and accelerate my pace to leave the brothel, taking a detour in the slums to pass by a specific block on my way to the western quarter of Meria where my workshop is.

“I could use your opinion on what Yvonne would think about what Leomi would like.” I speak up.

“That's... new.” He says, almost missing a step.

“Don't think too hard about it.” I tell him with a mean tone.

Rowland keeps his silence, refusing to bite the bait. I catch sight of a curtain being hurriedly closed on the second floor of a relatively intact building and smirk. I don't know who's watching but it doesn't matter as long as they did.

“Show me after the spar.” He speaks up, turning left at a street corner.

The fact he didn't keep going or wait for me to lead means he definitely figured out why I make a detour in the area every morning. I twirl the umbrella and turn my mind to the dress I bought, hoping Leomi won't think it looks ridiculous on me.

I barely pay attention, following the shadow of Rowland in the corner of my eyes as we make our way through Meria. I don't even raise my head as he stops at a bakery to buy us two buttery pastries for breakfast.

It is mostly because I'm truly worried about Leomi's reaction, even towards the ring I made, but also because the odd gazes people threw at me for being a cripple have turned into looks of recognition and expectation at times.

The worst part is that there are so many confusing rumors about me that I can't engage a conversation with a stranger without being probed for information about myself, which often ends badly because I tend to lose my temper when people press.

I leave the umbrella hanging on my shoulder as I follow while nibbling on the pastry. I feel super hungry because I forgot to eat last night but I couldn't bear to squander that kind of expensive food without savoring it. Rowland's feet suddenly stop despite the fact there is no door in front of us.

I frown and glance up, finding a spread out group of around sixty people staring straight at me inside the courtyard. There are twenty Semplars and four Templars as well as all my employees including Ms Conner. Rowland steps aside to avoid their eyes.

“Traitor.” I murmur spitefully.

“What did you do?” He whispers back.

“I have no idea.” I reply, feeling it odd that they haven't unlocked the workshop. “What's going on?” I ask the crowd.

“Dame Freepath.” Nahl speaks up from my left.

He approaches while two Templars and a Hospitalier officer I don't recognize hang back. I munch down the last bit of buttery goodness and lick my fingers before stealthily wiping my hand on Rowland's winter cloak. He takes a moment to realize.

“Hey!” He yelps and jerks the cloth out of my hand.

“Traitor.” I growl at him.

“Miss Jessica.” Nahl says, calling for my attention.

“What did you want me to do? They're obviously waiting on you!” Rowland exclaims in outrage.

“You're uselessly large and tall, hide me.” I tell him.

“It's too late now, and there's no way it would work. Besides, I wouldn't be uselessly large and tall if I could hide you.” He explains absentmindedly as he inspects the glistening marks my hand left on his cloak with a frustrated expression.

“Hm.” I ponder for a while, ignoring the difficult and baffled expressions appearing on the crowd's faces. “Try anyway?” I ask Rowland with a hopeful expression.

“Jessica!” Nahl explodes. “We don't have all morning.”

“Fine.” I grumble, mourning my loss. I wanted to be lazy this morning. “What is it, Nahl?” I ask him.

“A woman corresponding to Elizabeth Vil's description has been reported twice these past few days.” He tells me with a low voice. “Should we increase the guard?”

“Sure, if you can.” I reply easily.

“It's difficult, which is why I'm asking.” He explains while throwing me a resentful gaze. “You know this.”

“Then don't.” I tell him with a shrug. “No offense, but I didn't ask for protection because I think my enemies are so weak as to lose or so foolish as to attack. The Order is here because a temple guard's presence acts as a deterrent, not because I'm counting on you to protect me.”

The two Templars and the Hospitalier frown but Nahl doesn't, he merely sighs like he expected my answer from the beginning. I scowl in return, annoyed by the fact that someone's scheming is disturbing more important things, like showing off her engagement ring.

“If you knew, then don't come and ask.” I berate him.

“I did warn them you aren't right in the head but they wanted me to ask anyway.” Nahl replies with a corner smile.

“Hey! Now that's just mean.” I protest.

“But so true.” Rowland whispers, making Nahl nod in concert.

“Shoo! Shoo!” I chase them both by waving my hand.

I walk up to the old blacksmith with salt and pepper hairs. He is standing in front of the workshop's double-door with crossed arms and a placid expression. He's the only true master of the craft Cecil could secure which leads me to think that he's the ringleader which is why he appears to be blocking the way in.

“I want to be warned if Elizabeth Vil is going to come here.” He tells me in a flat voice. “I will do my work from another location if needed.”

“Why do you think she would?” I ask, curious.

“I respect you, Dame Freepath, but my status isn't one where I can involve myself with such things.” He replies, directly refusing to even participate in the conversation.

“We have the same status.” I tell him with surprise. “In fact, even if I accept my new status as a bourgeois, I just recently climbed up.”

He blinks and squints his wrinkled eyes, apparently taken aback by the fact I'm implying I consider myself a peasant and still of the same social level as him. Yet, surprisingly, he unfolds his arms.

“It is not.” He denies with clear pronunciation, still placing me above him.

“It is, so talk.” I insist, feeling aggravated. Yet, he keeps his silence. “I'm just the owner, you won't lose your job if you answer.”

“...” He soundlessly breathes out.

“Our lives are equally as important.” I tell him with a serious voice, trying not to let my temper get the better of me.

The two of us face off with locked eyes but, while I grow more and more upset, he seems to grow firmer. I pause as I was about to press further because I hear steps approaching from behind.

I recognize Rowland's gait so I merely grab my umbrella's handle without tensing up. He stops a step behind me and to my right. I sigh as I feel his left hand land on my shoulder for a moment before he pulls it away.

“Fine, you win.” I tell the master with a grunt and throw a look around the crowd. “Elizabeth Vil will not come here to cause you trouble so there is no need to worry.”

“Okay.” The smith says gruffly as he turns around to unlock the workshop's double-door.

“But.” I speak up. “Nobles may soon because of my provocations.”

He doesn't react to my words, which at this point doesn't surprise me, so I turn to my employees, finding that their expressions of relief haven't abated. I run my gaze around, puzzled by the fact no one seems surprised.

“The entire city knows you've been needling the Thrin house by passing by his faction's holdings.” The old man tells me as people step inside.

“Oh.” I mutter. “It's probably going to get worse soon considering the news that apparently took the city by storm this morning.” I speak up so that everyone hears it.

People keep flowing inside the building without reacting. It makes me angry... no, uncomfortable. I can't quite pin down the reason. I throw Rowland a resentful look over my shoulder. He flinches and turns to search for Nahl but soon pales as he realizes the Templar already ran away.

“How is this my fault?” Rowland asks with a wronged expression.

“It sure isn't mine, so it has to be yours.” I calmly tell him, finding myself quite reasonable because I'm explaining.

“Fine, I'll win today anyway.” He says with a grunt.

I give my umbrella and weapons to a Semplar who looks at me with such bright eyes she could've blinded me. The kid carefully holds onto both while I pick up my training sword and face Rowland who picked up his wooden battleaxe.

We face-off, the tension growing more and more to the point where he hesitates, clearly considering attacking even though I've defeated him countless times with counters when he closed the distance.

As he shifts his weight to his front leg, I suddenly let go of my training sword and pull Leomi's engagement ring and bracelet out of my jacket to show it off with a bright expression, concealing Elizabeth's engraved crest with my hand. His expression turns sour as he quickly realizes I played him.

“It looks... beautiful, but what did you do to the sapphire?” Rowland questions with an odd expression.

“I don't care about your opinion.” I say, sticking my tongue out. “I personalized the jewel a little, that's it.” He looks closer.

“Did you break it?” He asks, paling.

“Great, it fooled you.” I grin happily.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble it took for us to track down the owner and get her to sell it to you?” Rowland utters angrily.

“Track? Her?” I ask, blinking. “No, don't tell me.” I hurriedly say, getting a feeling I won't like the answer. “I didn't break it, and Leomi will be thrilled so don't worry.” I reassure him.

Rowland takes a deep breath and exhales to calm down. Since he isn't in the mood to play around with me about his opinion of Yvonne's thoughts on Leomi's tastes, I put the item away inside my pocket and take the jacket off to start teaching him under the temple guards' watchful eyes.