Her father tilted his head at her dress, pausing them to adjust and fix her skirt. His gloved hand also carefully situated her pin at the collar. It was an important pin that represented House Emerodelle.

“Mama remembered to put this on you,” He said.

“Is it so important today, Papa? She insisted that I not be without it today,” She inquired.

“Yes. It’s important, sky crystal.”

“Why?”

“This here is our house crest,” He lifted it up a bit so he could show her, “Can you describe it?”

“Yes, Papa. Umm…I know the white sword is Caelus, and the black is Noxical.”

The pin was more like a large medal on her small person, and rather heavy. It had the replica of the twin black and white swords unsheathed in a cross; Noxical blade down and Caelum with its hilt on the right. Normally the crest would be on a bed of brilliant emerald color shaped into a gold-lined shield on intricate double wings, but what she had on was a variant. The Emerodelle family was permitted to wear two crests, depending on the occasion.

“Don’t we normally wear the green one for formal parties? Green, Noxical, and Caelus are supposed to represent the memory Sir Shondra Emerodelle,” She continued. If she was to try and tick off the excessive number of “greats” it would take before she got to her ancestor father, she would become dizzy and confused. And more than likely wrong.

“Indeed. What you’re wearing today for your first time is our crest made in the Cobalt Nobelle Order,” Marcaes nodded.

Ah. The one she wore today had both swords, but they were placed behind the profile of a crowned roaring lion that clutched a bejeweled sword and a gold shield. Instead of the green it was a field of cobalt in the background surrounded by a circle of lavender asters. A pair of gold and silver wings were positioned high and spreading as if in flight. Delicate gold chains with spots of precious ruby and emeralds were to wrap about the throat, gather in a braid, and dangle with metal ornaments over the left collar bone.

It was Ryunise’s first time having it, and seeing it. So that’s why she didn’t recognize it.

“Cobalt Nobelle…” Ryunise stares, “It’s so big!”

“That’s because it was made for me, adult Papa.”

“Yours?!”

Marcaes chuckles at her outburst and adjusts her on his lap, “It’s because one has not been prepared for you. Mama has one as well, but she and I both agreed you should wear it.”

“Huh? Why me?”

“You’ll understand later,” He stroked the side of her hair, “My ray bow.”

Oh man, she thought. Is this going to be a thing? This whole ride is going to be a bunch of diabetically sweet nicknames? I can feel my teeth rotting.

“Did sister have one?” She asked.

“No. A crest would be made after the coming of age, but at her debutant it seems she was quite taken with a young man from another house,” He replied, “Stashia also had no interest or affinity fitting for the Emerodelle line.”

“She didn’t…?” Ryunise looked concerned.

Her father smiled, “It’s all right. We also had a thorough discussion, and she declared she didn’t want one.”

Now that, she thought, makes me feel a bit uneasy. Fragments of Ryunise’s life twinkled in her mind. Growing up the real Ryunise would witness the expand and contract of the relationship between the first born and her parents. In her early teens she came into a willful mind of her own and would exercise it in the name of “maturity” towards her mother first, especially when it came to studies and duties. It was like watching a rubber band stretching and easing over and over again, but with every pull it eventually weakened the elasticity.

Discussions was generally all one-way, and it would lead to butting heads. Stashia was so sure of herself that no one could tell her no, or tell her otherwise. Her independency was fiery, words sharp, and that didn’t bode well towards her sixteenth birthday. Marcaes was an agreeable man and wonderful father when it came to his family, but there were signs glimmers of the gods, apathy and indifference building up like a crystal unbreakable. His tone started to change, as if he was talking to the squadron.

Least to say, Stashia was almost too wrapped up in herself that she failed to see it all coming. By the time it was on the horizon, rather than taking responsibility, she fueled herself up to meet it head on, with all the sentimentality of feeling unjustly wronged. And poor Ryunise would be an unwilling child caught up in the whirlwind, then eventually a target of her sister.

“Huh…” Ryunise smiled brightly then up at him, “Thank you for lending it to me, Papa!”

He laughs softly and hugs her firmly, “You’re welcome, cookie cream.”

She made a funny face inwardly, but giggled. She thought, I’ll let you continue to love your daughter. I’m sure you must have been in pieces at her coma. I’ll make sure when she gets back, she’ll be happy and relieved to know that he still loves her so much. I’ll help him take good care of you.

You’re so lucky, Ryunise…I’m happy for you.

“You’re also wearing it so when you’re in the Sacred Church, no disgusting trash approaches you,” Marcaes smiles.

“What? Trash, Papa?”

“Yes. Trash. Lots of trash. Trash everywhere.”

Wait. I’m confused.

Ryunise tilted her head and blinks her big eyes, “Why would there be trash in the Church? Does no one clean the Church?”

“The Cobalt Nobelle ensures that no filth dares to cross your path,” Marcaes continued to smile, “It’s a magic talisman to make sure my little girl doesn’t get dirty while I’m at work.”

Ah. He means admirers. Flies disguised as men and boys. Trash. That kind of trash.

“But, Papa, is Uncle Lucard trash?” She asked.

“…Uncle,” Marcaes spoke each letter slowly, and not for the sake of sounding it out.

“I-I…I mean, Duke Lucard,” Ryunise smiled innocently.

“The smelliest, most revolting and repulsive trash there is,” He returns to being cheery.

Now it was Ryunise’s turn to flatly stare at him, “…Papa.”

“Yes, sweet sugar?” He beams.

“You’re being mean again.”

“Not at all!”

“Definitely.”

“Quite the opposite!”

“Very mean! Mean, Papa, mean! Don’t be mean!”

“No meanness, I’m just all honesty and no flattery!”

People they passed by would occasionally wave when they recognized who was riding in the cabin, but all would be in awe at the Emerodelle crest blazoned proudly on the doors. The carriage ride was surprisingly smooth. She suspected it was due to magic of some sort, and knew this world didn’t have any invention that would resemble remotely as shock absorbers. They made a stop in town near the edge, and the driver retrieved for them a basketful of baked goods and a long cylinder of water for all of them to eat along the way.

After about an hour, she leaned her head back to look up at him. Her mouth currently munched on a butter roll, “Papa…what do you think?”

“Hmm? About what?” He was chewing on a ham bread himself.

“About why I would be summoned to the Church.”

“More than likely to divine any messages or scry for more information,” Marcaes’ eyes flickered a bit, “We still haven’t figured out why you were in a coma, who, or what was the cause. You can’t remember anything prior to either.”

She sipped on some water as he continued.

“Dark Sleep…it’s not something that’s common. Even in our harmony in the light and sword of the Goddess and Gods, Dark Sleep is an elusive feat. Once cast, there is virtually no trace. It’s a very obscure and hard art to learn, and even less success to produce. Most attempts are rumored to range from self-infliction, to incapacitation, to even death.”

“So it eliminates the possibility that they’re amateurs.”

“Right. It’s an unprecedent risk for such a seemingly small outcome,” He nodded.

“His Highnesses the Twin Kings or of the royal family would be a better prize if they really wanted to amplify their cause.”

“Exactly,” Marcaes tapped a finger on his thigh, “But instead you have been afflicted by Dark Sleep.”

“It’s not because I’m the daughter of the Order Knight, Papa? Double affinity to the Gods Bapheis and June? Captain Commander to the Second Air Knights Regiment? It’s not like your special duty to His Highnesses Twin Kings are a secret either,” She said.

“That seems to be a general reason, but it still doesn’t seem to fit the scale for such a risk,” He mused, “It’s also rumored that one person couldn’t possibly conduct the ceremony alone.”

“Ceremony?”

“It’s just a rumor. Dark Sleep has only been recorded a few times in our history text books, and is a taboo subject in the Academy of Arts and Swords.”

The Academy of Arts and Swords was the prestige school for all those who are strong or above affinity, regardless of what Gods or Goddess favors them. It also welcomes those of any caste and blood, but there is minor separation of families for the sake of safety or to avoid political conflict in the young and upcoming. The Academy of Arts and Swords are divided into two sister schools to be more accessible in education for the people rather than being centered in Regina. But it’s the one in Regina that houses the extensive libraries, royal texts, family histories, and so much more. It was an added benefit that the Sacred Oraclast Church would extend a bridge to their own library with Regina’s Academy of Arts and Swords. As another show of more good faith, it was the only venue open to the public to teach the ways of becoming a clergy or a highly-sought after Oracles. As such, naturally many noble families would take great pains and connections to send their children to such a school.

“And it’s not like we know much Oracles who have permission to see the novellus obscura…” Ryunise tucked a finger under her chin in deep thought.

This is a mystery. Yet why is my mind clearer? Have I always been suited or this thing? Or is this Ryunise’s ability?