By the time Dia was done with drawing up her regimen, it was noon. She had spent the better half of her morning trying to figure out a set of footwork that she could employ all day, as well as the prerequisite training to go with it. It was fortunate that she had been grounded in all things martial as a child, but even then, coming up with a set of footwork with her specific requirements would be impossible as a vanilla.

Without mana, she wouldn’t be able to execute it.

“Which makes the whole point moot, since your original intention was to have something you could use all day,” Risti observed wryly. “If you’re going to make use of mana to power this set of footwork…”

“I’m training my mana manipulation,” Dia replied.

“But if you get attacked…”

Dia frowned. Risti had a point in this regard. If she was attacked — granted, she had adjusted the less obvious identification factors to throw off the people tracking her through her lifeforce and her mana — she was certain to be at a massive disadvantage.

“Maybe I should rework this, then. But it’s impossible to move in a way that won’t harm ants without using mana,” Dia replied, troubled. “Maybe I can use it while escaping…that way I won’t harm ants on the way out.”

“And you’re just going to watch out for ants normally,” Risti replied. “Figures. Well, your initial goal has been met, at least. Yay?”

“I wish you could be a bit more enthusiastic about this,” Dia replied. “Well, not like you’re supposed to, but you know, whenever the protagonists come up with some new skill or improve on their abilities, everyone else is supposed to be happy.”

“This isn’t a book, and you aren’t a protagonist,” Risti replied, rolling her eyes. “And besides, you just came up with this…what’s it called? The ‘Ant-avoiding Steps’? It’s great that you came up with it, but so long as you haven’t actually tried them out, there’s really no need to celebrate.”

“Huh? Why?” Dia asked.

“Iterations?” Risti replied. “You’ve laid down a foundation for some nice martial arts skill…or mana arts, as one might call it, but you’ll have to research it over and over, right? It’s unlikely that you’ll get it right in the first few tries. So there’s no need for me to celebrate or anything.”

There was something odd about that argument, but it also made sense to Dia for some reason. “So…nothing much worth celebrating until I’m sure it is.”

“Exactly.”

Risti looked at the small booklet that Dia was scribbling in. “Mind if I take a look? I don’t really have anything in the way of formal training, so having something like a proto-martial art would be nice.”

“Sure, go wild.” Dia got up and stretched her body. She had been sitting down in the same chair for the past few hours, writing and scribbling away. It would be nice to have someone else look at one of her works.

Making another pot of tea, Dia rubbed her shoulder blades. Her muscles had stiffened up, a sensation she was profoundly aware of. For a warrior, this was a sensation that she couldn’t stand any more than was necessary.

“I know I somewhat talked down on it earlier,” Risti began, her words hesitant, “but this is really solid for a prototype. This isn’t your first time, is it?”

“I was cross-referencing some martial arts I remembered,” Dia replied, “which is why it seems rather solid. Besides, it’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Anything can be a martial art. A single slash, delivered at a certain angle and speed, can be a martial art if trained enough.”

“Is that so?”

“They do exist,” Dia replied. “Things like ‘Lightning Slash!’ — by the way, there’s an exclamation mark attached behind it, or ‘Fist of Truth!!’, which has two exclamation marks.”

“The exclamation marks represent iterations, though,” Risti replied. “They don’t actually represent emotions.”

“Eh?”

“Wait, did you really think there was a point in having more than one exclamation mark?” Risti asked. “For reference, there was this Wave-Treading Steps that had like fifteen exclamation marks. There’s no way someone could infuse enough emotions into such moves, especially for one as boring as footwork.”

Dia felt her face burn, and she coughed twice. “Of course I know that. Why wouldn’t I not know that? It’s just easy to think about exclamation marks, since I saw people shout them out with lots of energy.”

In the novels I read, anyway, Dia silently added.

“You must have met them when you were starting out as a bodyguard, then,” Risti replied. “Novices are the only people who would actually shout out their moves, as if it helps them increase the strength or whatever they’re aiming for. It’s just a waste of one’s stamina, really.”

She paused. “Either that, or they were showmen or something. It’s great that these bad habits didn’t rub off on you, but you are the princess’ bodyguard, after all.”

Risti clicked her teeth, clearly unaware that she had torn apart the protagonists of Dia’s favourite novels. Suppressing the urge to make some sad noises, she turned her back to Risti and walked over to the windows of their little cottage. She could see the small town from within, along with families bustling around happily. Although people had died, this was surely proof that life had to continue on.

“I’ve looked out of this window so many times, but I still feel happy whenever I see the busy town,” Dia murmured.

“Some of the more…empathic folders at the Association do that all the time,” Risti replied. “It helps them to reinforce the reason behind their actions. A constant motivator, readily accessible at all times.”

“I’m not alone, then.”

“You’re never alone in doing anything,” Risti replied. “Take me, for instance. As it turned out, there were also other people who treated Princess Dia as an idol, like the others. There were also other people who idolised other people that weren’t Princess Dia too.”

Dia didn’t quite know how to rebut that bit, so she nodded. Dia was indeed surprised by the Dusk Daggers, a party that was full of Hulid-lookalikes. Speaking of which, how did he deal with them? Having this many people looking like him and at him all the time had to be taking a toil on his mental state. Looking bad would be a problem, for one, since anyone in his position would be entirely cognizant of the expectations people had of him.

If not for his repugnant personality, Dia would have ran over to ask for advice.

Sighing, she looked out of the window again. Nachtville was at peace, and—

“Hmm?” Dia rubbed her eyes. A small group of people were heading straight towards the cottage. All of them were walking with a cadence that could only belong to that of a mana-user, but these people weren’t the Dusk Daggers.

“What’s wrong?” Risti, who was still sitting at the table, asked.

“There are people heading over, and I don’t recognise them at all,” said Dia. “They’re mana-users too, if I’m not wrong.”

“Mana-users?” Risti got up from the chair. “Oh. It’s them. Did they find out that I was here? No. Coincidence. They were just here to handle the questioning, it seems. The murderer’s odd skill must have alarmed the higher-ups of the Association.”

Her words had transformed into a monologue halfway through, but that was more than enough for Dia to know a few things. For one, Risti knew them well. Given her background, this was actually pretty significant — she was the daughter of the Association’s current leader. Any of her acquaintances from before the establishment of the Moon Lords would probably be someone important in the Folders’ Association.

Second, these people were probably really important people in the Association, given that they were dispatched by those higher-ups that Risti mentioned.

“Who are they?”

“A Named party,” Risti replied. “A group of tetra-folders, the Seekers of Truth. With me around, they shouldn’t pry too much into your individual circumstances, but make sure to only answer the questions that are asked.”

“Tetra-folders? They can discern falsehoods?” Dia asked.

“Simply put, yes.” Risti mulled for a while. “I’ll cover for you, though. No worries.”

“Thanks, Risti.” Dia took a deep breath. She hadn’t heard of the Seekers of Truth before, but Named parties and individuals were given their titles for a reason. As a rule of thumb, these titles were very literal, or gave significant hints as to what these people were like.

Claud probably wouldn’t like that, though. He would say some rubbish like how these titles exposed their weakness or something.

What would the others say? Farah would probably talk about how having such people would improve security in their vicinity. Schwarz might come up with some new drinks for them. As for Lily…

Dia shook her head, clearing any homesick thoughts from her mind.

Right now, they had to handle the Seekers of Truth. Anything else would have to wait.