Olivier wasn’t very good at explaining himself, but as they walked at a brisked pace back towards his home, he elaborated further. Ultimately, Sister Orline was quick to follow his lead at the mention of someone being injured and needing help. Being called upon in the moment of an emergency was not unusual. 

Sister Orline has handled a variety of different circumstances. Even the gravely injured weren’t beyond her scope. However, it has always only been among the peasantry. The peculiar circumstances of an injured noble could cause more trouble than she’d like for Olivier to be involved in. But by the grace of his immaculate light, Olivier was too kind beyond his years. 

“Sh-She’s not bleeding or anything, but . . . But she’s . . . Odd. She doesn’t seem to remember anything.” Olivier explained as he opened the door for the nun before following inside. Upon entry, his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he saw the woman missing before he caught sight of the edge of her in the upstairs loft.

“What are you doing up there? I almost had a heart attack.” He sighed in relief, stepping up the stairs to see her reading his journal. In an instant, he grew incredibly flustered.

“Wh-What-don’t-” He fumbled over his words as he lightly plucked the book from her hands. “I assure you, my life is not something worth reading. Come along now.”

The girl blinked, allowing the book to easily be taken from her hands and ushered down the stairs where she saw Sister Orline closing the door to the home. 

“Hello.”

“Hello, child. I was told you might have bumped your head.”

“I was told the same thing, but I feel fine.”

“I see. Well, let's have a seat and have a look at you just to make sure.” Sister Orline motioned the girl to sit on the stool where she had originally been sitting before having her raise her head to look at her.

“Hmm, let’s take this off for now.” She said, grabbing the crown and giving it a light tug - and then another. When it didn’t seem to budge, she looked to Olivier who was standing sheepishly to the side after having come back downstairs.

“Could you help me? Perhaps my frail hands aren’t what they used to be, but I can’t seem to remove the crown.”

“Is it stuck in her strands?” Olivier asked as he moved over to assist. He gave the crown a few light tugs before trying again a bit harder. “What? It won’t . . . It won’t come off.”

The tugging didn’t seem to bother the girl who just sat there quietly, but curiously. Regardless of the tugging, not one bit of it moved or budged. Sister Orline took the moment to examine the crown while Olivier tried to remove it, raising her hand to pause his assistance when she spoke.

“There seems to be some form of enchantment on it. I can see runes inscribed on the edging.”

“Ah, I guess that makes sense.?”

“I don’t understand the runes of this enchantment.”

“Then . . . “ Olivier trailed off, giving a worried look. It wasn’t unknown for nobility to have minor enchantments on their attire to keep it still or from falling. Runes were normal to the arcane, but all magic tended to use the same runic language. While Sister Orline wasn’t all knowing, especially to magic, the enchantment used on noble robes wasn’t all that different from the same enchantments used to maintain modesty of the coifs of her robes. With magic being so common and understood, it could be easily abused and dark magic was strictly prohibited by the church. Unknown runes were usually the first sign of Æther Exploitation or Black Magic. However, while a sign, it didn’t give off dark Æther which is necessary for Black Magic. 

“This seems beyond my expertise. The girl clearly is unharmed, but could potentially be under a spell that’s affecting her memory and crown. Or perhaps the crown is the catalyst. I’m not sure. A mage would know better.” Sister Orline explained.

“A mage?” Olivier looked thoughtful. “Is there one nearby?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“That’s okay.” The woman finally spoke up, giving a smile at the two. “I don’t feel different or anything. There’s no need to inconvenience yourself.”

“We can’t just leave you like this.” Olivier responded.

“Why not?” She asked.

“Because . . . Because well, you’re under someone’s spell.” He said.

“Hmm, but I don’t feel bad.”

“That . . .” But he didn’t know what to say. 

“Well, that’s that then.” Sister Orline responded.

“Sister?”

“The circumstances are what they are, Olivier. If she doesn’t feel hindered by the prospect, there’s no need to go out of our way for it. It might just do more harm than good.”

“But what if she doesn’t understand what she’s saying? She thought I was a shepherd of flowers!”

Sister Orline chuckled, trying to simmer Olivier’s concern.

“That’s not for you to decide Olivier. She says she’s fine. We’re not going to get any more answers at this point. As long as she’s not in any pain, there’s no need to press it.”

Olivier deflated, looking at the girl whose smile only perked him back up.

“Well, I suppose you should come up with a name.” Olivier said.

“A name?”

“Yes, child. You have to have a name even if you don’t remember it.” Responded Sister Orline.

“I wouldn’t know what to choose. Can you choose for me?” She said, looking at Olivier.

“Ah, a name is something personal. Are you sure?”

She nodded lightly. “I can always say yes or no to it.”

“Okay!” Olivier looked thoughtful at the idea, but agreed nonetheless. He considered when he first met the girl in the field and the way he felt when their eyes met. Suddenly, his heart began to race and gave a bit of a cough into his fist to calm himself down before he answered.

“How about Belle?”

“Belle . . .” She tested the name on her tongue before she nodded. “I like it. I feel like a Belle.”