What air of fear lingered after the incident was pushed out by the afternoon winds. It was slow, but the townsfolk were out and about. Suspensions across most of the workshops were lifted, and workers were seen stripping themselves of specialized attire, clocking out, and returning to their residences. Fewer soldiers were roaming the streets. They were replaced by the more familiar faces of the constabulary. Security remained tight, now that the local authorities were reinforced with heavier weapons thanks to the Territorial Army.

  Still, there was a lot of work to be done. Housing blocks bore the scars of the violence. Burnt and ruined domiciles dotted these areas, a view that brought sorrow and alarm to those who knew the reason. The roads were yet to be completely cleaned of soot and oil. There were places closest to the charred warehouses that bore blood splatters whose smell merged with nearby rust. Meanwhile, the company behind the ruined storage site wasted no time. Blackened wood and other indistinguishable remains were knocked down and set aside. Axes, sledgehammers, and picks forced their way through the more stubborn debris. The night won't end the job for workers who were brought to the site.

  The sun was setting far west; it also meant the last minutes of Euphemia's work as a volunteer. More than half the wards were emptied, and only those with grave illnesses and wounds remained. Soiled sheets, stained blankets, and sweat-smelling pillowcases were bundled in her trolley. They were folded, and one by one were dropped to a chute connected to the basement. She set aside the wheeled tool, took off her gloves and apron, and went to the reception desk.

  "Have I taken care of everything?" Euphemia looked to her sides; there was nobody else with her.

  "Ah... oh, of course, yes, sister."

  A young man, stouter than the average Altrechter, was in charge of the reception desk. Misted glasses made him divert his gaze away from the cleric and into the ledger on his side instead. He wiped his spectacles with a cloth, wore them again, and finally said:

  "I was told that... I mean, the management was hoping that you could come here more often. The patients could use more prayers from you. They say it makes them feel better than receiving a blessing from the town priest."

  "I am glad to hear that they want me to lead prayers, but I will be leaving this town soon. It can help if people put a little more faith in Father Erich's blessing." Euphemia's veil moved stiffly, like that of thick paper. "I am sure God listens to all of us equally."

  "I see. You'll always be welcome to help us here, when you pass by our town, Sister..." The reception attendant looked up the ledger and found her log entry. "...sister Euphemia. Also, would you like me to arrange a vehicle?"

  "The church is close by, and I can also use a walk. Still, I appreciate the thought."

  "You have been a big help to us, and it is sad to see you go. Walk safely and take care."

  "Thank you. I'll make sure to remember dropping by here if I get the chance. A pleasant evening to you."

  The shortest route to the town church was almost completely passable, except for small clutter piles left on the right side of the path. There was less rubble to move around, and a blend of soldiers and town constables was patrolling the sidewalks. Some let out an awkward cough when the cleric passed by. Euphemia gave a quick look back before resuming her journey.

  ????

  It was the second time meat was served in Father Erich's kitchen. Based on how little there was left, this was the preferred course of most of the church workers, who most likely had retired for the night. The potatoes had a little smoking warmth, even though the canoness was eating by herself in the dining hall. She cleaned both the dining table and the kitchen on her own and went to a small room two rooms beyond the dining area, where a radiant sacrament was set on a platform.

  She occupied the only kneeler inside. Hands locked in prayer, Euphemia spoke none of the verses she used to recite: it was silence accompanied by the serene glow of the flame-shaped crystal lamps. Faint light poured out of her skin; her hands and face were wrapped by a luminous field that was barely present. She knelt still and remained in this state for almost two hours.

  Euphemia stood up and stretched an open palm. Specks appeared on top of her hand, followed by dots, spinning and merging until they became a humming white ball the size of a human head. She closed her hand, absorbing the mass of light unto herself.

  "I need to get used to doing this more often if I have to use my abilities more."

  She was lighter; the surge of magical energy collected inside the room flowed through her body. It had enough warmth to fight the growing cold in the place. This was enough, Euphemia thought. Amassing more of the strange radiance meant enough noise to draw attention to her. Few people could understand that a long and keen screech resulting from light gathered at one place was harmless. The magical arts she wielded were not commonplace; none of the clergy, even among the Adorers, had her prowess.

  "I have enough strength for my craft. At least, until I can find a place where I can gather more in peace."

  She retired to her room and entered a dreamless sleep.

  ????

  Thin fingers of the sun stretched out by the time Euphemia woke up. A short sequence of prayers, followed by quickly cleaning herself. She took out a small bottle of perfume she brought from the estate. A blend of lemon, bergamot, and rosemary: it was not a scent in vogue with women her age, meant for an older generation. She dabbed a few drops of the oil on her body; a light layer of this was more than enough. Euphemia put on a shawl over her habit. She was leaving Altrecht, and the year was entering colder times. She checked her bag again: her personal effects were intact, but the supplies she used to carry were nearly depleted. Euphemia wondered if stopping by some of the shops in Altrecht's business streets could help her regain some of them.

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  She pulled out two articles wrapped in a leather belt from under the bed. Euphemia thought of him again: the boy who almost died trying to stop the mechanisms that killed everyone in their way. She did not see him either around the town or inside the hospital wards. Did he flee Altrecht after the violence? He should be alive, as far as his recovery was concerned. The worst thoughts came to her mind, but she intended to return them should they cross paths again.

  Her day was set. She fixed the bed one last time, picked up her bag, and left the room. Euphemia went outside to see the parish priest holding a broom and looking at the empty roads beyond.

  "You're leaving already, Sister Euphemia?"

  "This town is becoming more peaceful than before. I think it will be best for me to be on the road again." Euphemia said before making a soft smile.

  "Wouldn't you stay at least long enough to meet the new servants?"

  "I would feel uneasy knowing that my name would last less than a day in their minds. Busy days are ahead of you to be bothered with me."

  Father Erich held a long pause, as if drawing something from the back of his mind. He made a coarse cough before saying:

  "Also, I can't say that the roads beyond are completely safe. Shouldn't you wait for any notices from the Empire?"

  "I can work my way with a map, and I can get to where I should be by railway..." Euphemia looked in the direction of the nearby river. "...or by ferry, if needed."

  "There's nothing I can do then." The clergyman gave out a sigh and resumed looking at the canoness. "You are resolute to go forth. All I can give in this case is a blessing that God watches over you and your travels."

  Father Erich made an eight-point gesture of blessing, to which Euphemia responded with a bow while forming a smaller cross at her chest. She said:

  "Thank you, Father. I wish the best for you and this town. May the Creator never leave your side."

  She walked out of the open gates, but she stared at the church's roof. The clergyman had a point: this was a safe place, and she had to contend with the possible dangers of the unknown.

  Yet she had to push forward.

  The canoness turned back; bag on shoulder, the shrinking outline of Altrecht's church behind her, and the empty street ahead. The gun turret of a Glansheim Territorial Army's armored car pointed into space.

  Euphemia was now far from the church grounds, but was yet to reach the bustling areas of town when she felt a presence that was becoming familiar to her. She heard some footsteps, followed by something landing nearby. She turned around, and there he was.

  That black coat had seen better days - but there was no mistaking him for anyone else.

  "Hey, uh... church lady."

  "We meet again, young man." Euphemia stood at the center of the street. There was nobody around at the time; the sun was rising behind her. "It is good to see that you are learning to show up, apart from quietly following me."

  "I wasn't following! I didn't mean to-" The boy scratched his head. Stray strands of brown merged with new sunlight, highlighting a round face and eyes of different colors. "I- I am sorry. I didn't mean to."

  "Do you need help with anything? I'm not sure if I can, but I'll do my best."

  "I've nowhere to go. I don't know this place." His gaze was fixed on the ground before the cleric. "You're the only one I've talked to. I can talk to. Maybe I can come with you? I won't make trouble."

  "Are you still looking for your master, like what you've told me before?"

  "Yes..." His eyes were fixed on Euphemia. "I mean, no, or... I give up. Maybe I'll find Master someday, someway."

  "If you are coming with me, you have to earn my trust."

  The boy didn't say a word. Euphemia opened her bag and revealed a strip of leather coiled around two metal objects. Those grips. He knew them. She stepped forward and gave them to the boy. He looked at his weapons and quickly shot back at the cleric. His face angled in confusion.

  "I believe these are yours."

  "You're giving them back? You're not afraid that... Afraid of me using them on you?"

  "You could have, but you didn't. Don't you want these back?"

  He held on to them, staring at the canoness as he slowly pulled them away from her. The boy scanned what was offered to him at first, thinking whether she had installed a kind of trap in them. What if she had a gift that meant he was a servant of hers for a lifetime? How about if these were cursed so that he would die the moment he decided to use them again? Nothing was sure - especially when someone as powerful as her was acting too friendly. What was this woman up to? He had to put a little trust in her, somehow: she was giving his weapons back without a second thought. The boy put the objects in his coat pocket.

  She could not stop herself from keeping her eyes on the young stranger. They had an unpleasant first meeting, and Euphemia did not expect that they would be standing at this very time, with one of them offering to be a companion. She knew enough of what he could do, and at least having someone with her was better in her journey than striking out on her own. She was the first to break the silence by saying:

  "My name's Euphemia. Yours?"

  "Name? Uh... Rook. Yeh. I'm called Rook."

  "Good, Rook. Now, the first thing you do to earn my trust is to carry my bag."

  "Uh... what?"

  Euphemia slid the strap away from her and handed it to Rook. He did not want to extend his hand at first, but there was something in the cleric's demeanor that made him comply anyway. He took the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  She looked at him again, this time from the sides. His pants could use repairs, but that meant staying in Altrecht longer. Also, his upper clothes hung loosely on him. It was not the blood-soaked article that he had when she brought him into the church. Possibly a small hospital gown worn as a shirt.

  The thought of her failed assassin struck her: would he flee the moment danger returned? Could she trust someone who tried to end her, even as fate put them together? It was strange: being side-by-side with one who wanted to be her greatest threat. She put the thought aside for now: it was not proper for prejudice to gauge a friendship in its infancy.

  "Also, I can't let you join me looking like that. Come, let's find a boutique to dress you up."

  The canoness moved ahead of Rook, and the boy stared at her and had some distance before following her footsteps. The shops would be opening soon, and Euphemia planned on getting there first.