Southwest Pritt, Glamorne.
In the morning hours, the city of Glamorne—one of the most important cities in the southwestern region of the past Windstone Nation—was as peaceful as ever. Beneath a gloomy sky, a sparse drizzle fell on the streets. On roads not yet fully paved with stone, horses’ hooves and carriage wheels pressed into the wet earth. A few pedestrians, umbrellas in hand, hurried along either side of the road. The rain-fresh air carried a refreshing cleanness, untouched by pollution.
At a certain intersection within the city, on the second floor of a café, Dorothy and Nephthys sat as usual by a window seat facing the street, sipping coffee while exchanging intelligence gathered over the past few days.
“So, that’s everything about the local legend of the ‘Moonlit Water Hag.’ It originally spread among the fishermen of Lake Starbind before becoming a widely known horror tale across Glamorne. Around here, adults often use it to scare children.
“I thought the story might be a clue to unraveling the lake’s secret… but I never expected, Miss Dorothy, that you’d already found the temple—and even figured out the truth behind the tale. That really caught me off guard…”
Sitting across from Dorothy, Nephthys said this as she took a sip from the teacup on the table. After finishing, her expression betrayed a hint of disappointment. She had hoped she’d discovered something useful to share with Dorothy, only to find that Dorothy had already solved the mystery in full.
“I was able to crack the secret of Lake Starbind this quickly largely thanks to your intel, Senior Nephthys. If you hadn’t told me the so-called Silver Summit was actually Mount Lakeview, I wouldn’t have gotten so far. The Eight-Spired Nest folks are still stuck on that clue and haven’t figured it out yet.”
Sitting comfortably in her seat, Dorothy smiled as she spoke to Nephthys. Hearing that her clue had played a key role, Nephthys couldn’t help but brighten up, then responded.
“That clue was really that important? Now that you mention it… I got it from an old ghost, someone from over a century ago. For someone that ancient and local to have only heard that legend by chance, it must be nearly forgotten nowadays. Very few people from this era would even know about it…”
“So then… based on the current situation, as long as we can successfully deal with the Eight-Spired Nest forces entrenched here, the mission will be a success, right? Miss Dorothy?”
“Yeah… but that’s easier said than done. This time, they’ve sent two Crimsons. Dealing with them won’t be easy…”
As Dorothy spoke of the Eight-Spired Nest members who were keeping nightly watch over Lake Starbind, the smile at her lips vanished, replaced by a heavy expression. She raised her cup and took a sip of sweetened hot coffee. On the other side of the table, Nephthys frowned in thought before replying.
“Two Crimsons, huh… That is a bit troublesome. I didn’t expect the Eight-Spired Nest to commit such powerful forces here. They must really value the temple you mentioned. But in the end, I’m sure we’ll find a way to handle them. You’ve already dealt with so many Crimsons, Miss Dorothy—sure, this time it’s an extra challenge, but I don’t think it’s beyond us.”
Nephthys spoke this as though it were a given. Hearing her words, Dorothy—just setting down her coffee cup—twitched the corner of her mouth, momentarily unsure how to respond.
“Wow. Two Crimsons are just ‘a bit more of a challenge’ to you? What next—if we faced one of the Church’s Seven Saints, would you call them ‘nothing special’?”
Dorothy muttered inwardly. Because Nephthys had been following her around and involved in various incidents, her understanding of the mystical world was shaped almost entirely by Dorothy’s own, rather extreme, experiences. After spending the better part of a year witnessing Dorothy’s absurd achievements, Nephthys had come to view Crimson-ranks as merely “decently strong”—Black Earth-rank Beyonders as common, White Ash-rank as everywhere, and only Crimson-rank as barely worthy of note. Having seen Dorothy take down multiple Crimson-ranks, she naturally assumed dealing with two more wouldn’t be a problem.
“Let’s hope things really do go the way you say…”
Dorothy replied with a gentle laugh. Then she said no more, instead picking up a local newspaper from the table. Unfolding it, she glanced at the front-page headline. There, a familiar figure’s bust portrait was printed.
“Major News! The youngest Holy Relic Bearer in the history of the Church, the New Era Saint of Pritt—Sister Vania Chafferon—will be holding a holy relic tour in her homeland, Pritt. Our city has been selected as one of the stops. Mayor Lehman has already…”
Looking at the newspaper headline and mentally counting the days, Dorothy picked up a biscuit from the table and began eating. As she chewed, she silently nodded to herself.
…
Several days later, in front of the Glamorne city church.
After several days of continuous drizzle, the weather finally cleared. The long-lost sunshine bathed the streets of Glamorne in brightness. Under the sunlight, countless citizens emerged from their homes, gathering along the streets outside the modest city church.
Cheering and lively chatter filled the air. In this joyful atmosphere, all eyes turned toward the center of the street—where a path had been cleared through the crowd by police. On that path stood the city’s familiar priest and mayor. And between them stood the white-clad figure who drew all gazes.
Wearing her customary gentle smile and a white nun’s robe, Vania Chafferon walked slowly toward the church, accompanied by city officials and church representatives, warmly welcomed by the people of Glamorne.
This nun, who held a certain level of fame both domestically within Pritt and internationally, had clearly ignited the passions of Glamorne’s citizens upon her arrival. The number of people who took to the streets—either to welcome her or simply to watch the excitement—far exceeded the estimates of the local authorities. Countless citizens clogged the streets, blocking traffic. Faced with the overwhelming turnout, Glamorne’s municipal government had no choice but to dispatch additional personnel to maintain public order.
As Sister Vania walked through the streets of Glamorne amidst the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd toward the church, all manner of attention converged on her from every direction—not just from the citizens but from certain secluded corners beyond the public eye as well.
On the rooftop of a building by the roadside, overlooking the crowded streets, two figures stood silently, gazing down from above. They were the two high-ranking members of the Eight-Spired Nest stationed in Glamorne: Boade and Gossmore. The dangerous glint in their eyes was sharp as blades, their gazes fixed unrelentingly on the white-robed nun below—as if they meant to pierce her through sheer intensity.
“Vania Chafferon… the most prominent young figure in the Church in recent years, a celebrity from North Ufiga and the Conquest Sea. She’s even the kind who could make pirate scum voluntarily build churches for her. Why would someone like her suddenly appear here?”
Boade said grimly, his eyes locked onto the nun amid the crowd. Beside him, Gossmore played idly with a spider in her palm and responded casually.
“What else could it be? Just passing through, obviously. Didn’t the newspaper say that little nun is doing some relic tour or whatever? If it’s a tour, then of course she’s traveling around. Ending up here isn’t strange at all.”
Gossmore spoke nonchalantly, but Boad turned to glance at her again, then replied.
“I know she’s here for a relic tour. But isn’t it a bit too convenient that her tour route just happens to include Glamorne? We’re in the middle of a major operation here…”
“Convenient? That nun’s from Pritt. It’s completely normal for her tour to pass through a few cities here. Glamorne is one of the more important cities in the southwest—there’s nothing unusual about including it on the itinerary. So what are you worried about? That the Church already found out about us and sent her on purpose?”
Gossmore shrugged as she spoke, showing no signs of concern. Boade, however, responded in a low voice.
“…It’s not entirely impossible.”
“Huh? Not impossible? I say it’s impossible. If those Radiance zealots actually knew what we were doing here, there’s no way they’d just send one little nun. They’d have the Holy Steel battleship and a whole knight order storming our heads by now. That little nun might be popular lately, but she’s nowhere near Crimson-rank strength. You don’t seriously think the Church would send someone like her to deal with us, do you?”
Gossmore snorted. But Boade countered.
“…What if she’s just here to scout things out in advance?”
“Scout? Even more impossible. The Church has its own investigative agencies. If they suspected something in Glamorne, they’d send Inquisitors to infiltrate and investigate covertly. Why would they send someone as high-profile as her to make a fuss? That would completely defeat the purpose.”
Gossmore’s logic cut clean and sharp. Hearing her reasoning, Boade fell into a moment of silence, but still voiced his unease.
“You’re not wrong… but it still feels off. Her showing up here right now—it’s too sudden. I just can’t shake this feeling.”
“Then do something about it. Kill her, capture her and interrogate her, or use cognitive poison to pollute her mind—any of those would solve your worries.”
Gossmore offered this solution with a smile, but Boade’s expression grew more serious. He spoke again, firmly.
“Don’t joke around, Gossmore. That’s completely out of the question. She may not be powerful herself, but she’s currently one of the key figures under Holy Mount’s attention. If anything happens to her… we won’t just be dealing with a few knight orders in Pritt.”
“Oh? So you do understand the stakes. Touching that little nun is way too risky. If something happens to her, Holy Mount will absolutely intervene in Pritt’s affairs. And right now, the Nest’s plans in Pritt are at a critical phase. If Holy Mount meddles at this stage, it’ll throw off everything. We’ve only just finished dealing with the Serenity Bureau—no one wants to attract the Church next. Those zealots are way tougher to deal with than the black dogs…”
Gossmore spoke bluntly, laying out the core issue: Vania’s status drew too much attention. Taking action against her—by any means—carried immense risk. If anything happened to her, Holy Mount would likely unleash full-scale intervention in Pritt, jeopardizing the Nest’s strategic operations across the country.
Targeting Vania offered no tangible benefit to the Nest, only massive downside. If their overarching plan for Pritt were to be derailed by this one misstep, neither Boade nor Gossmore could bear the consequences.
“…”
Hearing her words, Boade fell into silence. What she said was indeed logical. He couldn’t risk so much over a gut feeling. After weighing it all, he finally gave up even the idea of minimal reconnaissance against Vania. He sighed deeply and said:
“You’re right… It’s unwise to make a move on that little nun right now…”
“As long as you understand. I checked her schedule—she’s only staying in this city for two days, then moving on. Two days isn’t enough to wait out the full moon. All we need to do is lie low for these two days. Once she’s gone, we go back to work. No need for any extra moves.”
Gossmore replied coolly. Boade was once again silent for a moment, then muttered quietly.
“…Let’s hope it’s really that simple.”
He had made the most cautious choice in the face of the popular nun—now all he could do was hope she would finish her tour and leave soon, without interfering with their plans.