“What the hell just happened?” Kim Hye-Sung asked.

“I’ll explain later. For now, mind telling me why you guys followed?”

“Oh, that’s my fault. I grabbed onto you before you left, but they grabbed onto me too.”

“Hm. Good job, Katalina, Ms Kim. Now, I don’t suppose any of you are acquainted with a mage that knows how to transfer souls?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of coure I fucking am. You’re a cancer. And cancer needs to be removed.”

Francis gritted his teeth. Looking around, the people looked at him concerned. Those were the looks that he had gotten in his previous life when he walked around with bruises on his body. A look that he was ever so familiar with. He didn’t bother to speak within his own mind anymore. What was the point? Everyone there, well except for the poor bishop and Hye-Sung, already knew.

The marble statues watched over them. Bahamut, he wasn’t anything quite like the statues. And yet, there was still a similarity.

Shiva, the oddly dressed bishop, shuffled over. That man had an air of antiquity around him. Not a wise mentor, just a man stuck up in his old ways.

“Did the lot of you just... Visit the gods?”

“No. What? No, no. Us? Definitely not.” Francis shook his head and put his arms in an X.

“You know, if you lie within the temple of the gods, you’re asking for a death sentence? Truth, as her name should state, is not a fan of lies.”

“Haa. Yes, I am familiar with her. But you have no business knowing what we did. If you have to, keep it to ‘The visitors prayed’ and nothing else.”

The bishop’s attention was piqued, his head turned and his eyebrows raised. That man opened his mouth, and words nearly left his lips. Instead, he covered his mouth with his fist. Shiuv muttered, too soft to catch anything.

“You lot...” he began.

He was probably going to say something along the lines of ‘how did you do that’ or ‘teach me your ways’, which wouldn’t be that surprising. Francis steeled himself to evade or give a half-answer to anything he was asked. With a deep sigh, the bishop continued.

“You have accomplished far more within these few minutes than my entire life. Despite having dedicated over 20 years to this.”

“Shame. Could you please show us out now?”

“No no! Absolutely not! His holiness will wish to converse with all of you at least once.”

“And here’s what you’ll tell him. I represent everyone here except for Iris, and we say no. If she wants to, let her. But we aren’t wasting our time. Have a good day.”

“What. Wait, hang on now. I don’t think we’re on the same page, Lord Rayleigh.”

“Are we not?”

“We’re not. An invitation from his holiness to converse is not a thing you can simply refuse.”

“See? That’s where you’re wrong. He hasn’t sent me an invitation. It's you. And believe me, I can refuse you at any time.”

“W-”

“And if his holiness or something wants to talk, send an invitation to me. It shouldn’t be much work to find where the Rayleigh estate is located. That, or send it to the imperial palace. Have a great day, bishop Shiuv.”

The man stood in silence. He swallowed in air, before relenting. Shiva breathed in through gritted teeth, and bowed.

“I shall show you out.”

“Good. You’re a smart man, bishop. I trust that you’ll pass the message along.”

“I will. And you have my guarantee that his holiness will want to talk with you.”

“Thank you. Oh, right. Might the temple have priests that deal with soul magic?”

The bishop cocked his head. Presumably, he was searching through his memories. Was soul magic uncommon? Or rather, could it even exist?

They left the temple then. Passing by the water fountain, the children playing with a ball, nothing seemed to have changed. A flock of black birds of all sizes flew by. They laughed with a deep pitch, coming from deep within their guts. Crows? A jet black feather dropped from a wing, gliding down after being guided by the wind. It landed atop of Francis’ head, stopped by his grey hair.

“Here, my lord.” Katalina picked that black feather off of his head and handed it to him. “Should I dispose of it?”

“Hm. Mr Shiuv?”

“Huh?!” The bishop snapped out. “Y-yes?”

“Do crows have any religious significance?”

“Most certainly. Crows and other black birds are the carriers and avatars of some gods.”

“Such as?”

“Quite a lot. Ganemith, Kuangui, Ihenglass, and... The Forbidden One.”

“Oh my. Interesting. I’ll keep it. Speaking of which, that man... The murderer.” Francis snapped his fingers.

“Lord Trafel, my lord?” Katlina suggested.

“Yes! That’s right. He’s probably a worshipper of the Forbidden One, right? That Nick Trafel guy.”

“Wait, Nick Trafel? As in, Nicholas Trafel?” asked Iris.

“Yeah, that’s him. You’re familiar?”

“Where is he? Right now?”

“Probably in the dungeons? I mean he’s a murderer after all.”

“Take me to him.”

Francis looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Was she going to free him? No, that was unlikely. Then the next most probable option was that connection to the Forbidden One. Stasis. Iris did travel to the godly realm before.

“Sure. Follow along. I’ve been wanting to talk to him too.”

“You? What for?”

“Personal reasons.”

With a raised eyebrow, Iris nodded her head. She turned her attention back to the bishop, who began to speak.

“Soul magic... No, I don’t think there’s anyone I know. If you need a mage specialising in souls, you might be able to find one in the Atlas Association or the Arcane Tower.”

“Tsk. Katalina, which one is Rafelgo associated with?”

“Uhh. I believe it would be better to ask Lady Estelle on matters such as this.”

“OKay. Then in that case, we’ll first see the murderer. After that, let’s see what our hosts want. If they’re still in the mood for a party, then I guess we’ll party. Failing that, we’ll return to the estate.”

After travelling back, they put in a request to see the captive. They stepped into the dank dungeons after Benjamin Wynt and Claudia Scylla granted their explicit permission. Water dripped from the wall.

Behind bars, the now disgraced Nick Trafel sat in a cell of his own. His hands trapped by dark steel handcuffs. The once dignified noble was stripped of his fancy clothes, and was given loose, brown clothes that were torn and tattered.

“So. Mr Nick Trafel. How are you feeling now?” Francis asked.

His voice echoed throughout the empty dungeons. The walls of cobblestone let mold and moss grow between the cracks. And the bars of thick grey iron seemed impossible to slip past or break.

“Why are you here? And I see you picked up yet another broad. Blondie this time.”

“I could have sworn you were far more polite.”

“What’s the use of politeness when my life’s ruined anyway? But you’re just walking around surrounded by girls everywhere you go! You’ve got the good life.”

“Don’t tell me you wanted to see him to confess your love.”

“I would rather spend my entire life as your slave than do anything of that sort with him. Besides, just look at him. Urg.” Iris shook her head.

“Well? What do you want? Just here to torture me?”

“I mean. Do you want to be tortured? I can do torture pretty well.”

“Is that asshole Francis and other Francis talking?”

“Normal. My girlfriend, well now ex-girlfriend, she taught me a lot. Which parts hurt the most, and how much pain a person can take before they pass out. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“No. Don’t.”

“You’re scared?”

The prisoner laughed. With the tattered clothes and handcuffs, as well as being behind bars, he could be mistaken as a person with insanity. All that was missing was a straightjacket.

“The grace of the goddess will protect me.”

“That goddess, I have an idea of who, but what’s the name?”

“Why? You’re a dog of the temple or something?”

“Ha! Furthest thing from it. That goddess, Stasis?”

“Breadcrumb? What the hell are you trying to do?”

“The Forbidden One... Good guess, and even better answer.”

“What, so is that a yes?”

The prisoner nodded. So it was indeed Stasis. Great. Iris pushed Francis aside, and he stumbled down.

“Where is the rest of your cult? Why are you trying to abduct children?”

“Why do you know about that?”

“Just tell me.”

“Damnit.”

He looked around the cell. Was he thinking of escape? Francis motioned to Katalina and Kim Hye-Sung to be ready for anything. They nodded in response.

“I... You’ll find them soon. The actions have already been set in motion. But... To think I’d meet the unexpected variable here. You know, if you didn’t stop him I wouldn’t have needed to kill that maid.”

“And your cultists, you kill them if they spill anything?”

“You interrogated one of them?”

“How do you think I found out?”

“Wait, hang on, did we just skip over something important? What was that about actions being set in motion?” Francis asked.

“Ahahah. You caught that? But it's too late. Even though your broad over there managed to prevent one, that isn’t enough. Soon you’ll meet your fates.”

“Oh trust us. We’re familiar with fate. Isn’t that right, Iris?”

“Yes. And fate can be changed. So, what’s the plan?”

Nick shook his head. Kicking the cell floor, he retreated further in, dragging his bottom across the stone floor. He looked at them with a smug look, as if he was a move away from winning.

“Well. I wonder if there’s a truth serum,” muttered Francis. He turned on his heel back towards the stairs.

“What are you doing here?”

The one asking was Estelle Rayleigh. She leaned against the wall, at the top of the stairs. With an attire suited for travelling, Francis figured it out.

“Had to get some information. The party’s over?”

“Yeah. They want to hold a funeral.”

“Makes sense. When are we leaving?”

“I came here to tell you to get ready. We’re gone once you’re done.”

“Oh. Sure thing. Iris, what’re you gonna do?”

“Hmm. I’ll need to look into the cult. Do you have any leads?”

“Nope. You?”

Iris shook her head. Nothing. So they had not even a name to go off of.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Nothing that you should be concerned about, don’t worry about it.” Francis waved his hand to emphasize his point.

“If it's something that my brother’s worried about, I need to look into it.”

“That’s what your sister said as well. And it is indeed something that you ought to look into. It happened on your land, after all.”

“Iris, what are your plans? Where are you gonna go?”

“I was thinking of living with you if that’s possible. I can help with your situation.”

“Hang on, you were the one that Elise sent. What’s the story behind that?”

Francis sighed. The unexpected was piling up.

“Ok. It's obvious that we have a lot to talk about. And you want to come live with us for the time being, yes? Do we have room?”

“We always have room for your friends.”

“Right. Then let’s talk about it on the way back, yeah?”

“The carriage doesn’t have enough space for all of us though. Not comfortably, at least. You can sit on the floor? Or on my lap if you prefer?”

“No no no no. Don’t even begin to suggest something like that to your own brother. Actually, what... Gender do you even identify with?” asked Iris.

“That’s a valid question here? Society and culture is surprisingly advanced. Hmm, for now, just go with what you want. If you find comfort in me being a woman, then we’ll go with that. And if you prefer something else, then sure! For that suggestion, I’m worried about your legs.”

“You’re going with that?” Iris chuckled.

“Don’t worry about that. Um, Ms Iris. Pick my brother up by the collar.”

“Wait no-”

Before he could finish, Iris was behind him. With her fingers pinching, she grabbed the collar of his dress. He flailed around.

“Wow. Do you need to talk?”

“For abuse or for an eating disorder?” His limbs went limp as his flailing stopped.

“Either. If you’re going through something, you can talk to me, if that’s any consolation.”

“I’m alright. But what did you want to prove, sister?”

“Feather,” Estelle said, as if that was enough for anyone to understand.

“Indeed.” Iris nodded. “There shall be no issues with your plan. I want no part of it though. But if the other women consent to it, then I don’t see an issue. And seeing that you’re not actively ripping off that dress of yours, I’d wager a guess that you’re the... Better one.”

“I’m definitely okay with it,” said Estelle.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a cute boy’s sitting on my lap.” Hye-Sung shrugged with her words. Everyone looked at Katalina.

“I... If it is the wishes of my lord, and Lady Estelle.”

“That’s that then.” Estelle clapped her hands. “Chop chop everyone. The carriage’s waiting for us.”

Soon enough, they were on their way back. The road back was bumpy and uneven. Occasionally, there was a rock that found itself underneath the wooden wheel.

“Oof! Concussions are a real threat, you know.”

“Nothing much we can do about it my lord.”

“I know. I was just complaining. Anyway, what’s this about cultists?”

“Well. That man, Nicholas Trafel. He had hired goons to work for him, specifically slavers. One of them tried to get my accomplice, but I stopped him before that. Just into the interrogation, he died to someone’s magic. Presumably, Nicholas Trafel casted it as a failsafe to prevent information from leaking.”

“And this all happened on our land?” Estelle asked, peeking out from Francis’ back.

They were really doing it like that. Francis sat on her lap, his legs over hers. Estelle grabbed onto his waist, with her arms acting sort of as a belt. Her touch was warm and tight, and yet strong. In fact, he knew that if he tried to break out, there was no chance of escape.

“Yes. Your sister, Lady Elise, was nearby when I caught him. Or rather, after he died. I explained the situation, and expressed an urgent need to meet with Francis. For some reason, she allowed me to.”

“Wait, so how did you get here then? To the Castinate’s mansion?” asked Francis.

“I ran, of course. It should be rather obvious by now that I am not your everyday person.”

“Mhm. So that’s within your athletic capabilities as well.”

“But Elise would never do that. Not when it comes to him.”

“That’s what your sister did though. The moment I said I had to meet him, her face changed. With her express permission, I told you the password, didn’t I?”

“That is true.” Estelle nodded. “But that’s pretty much impossible. She would refuse to let anyone near him. Even if it's his close friends.”

“That’s not what she told me. She said and I quote: If you’re his friend that you should go see him of course! If my sister is that, there is, Lady Estelle, just tell her the password. And then she whispered to me the password.”

“But... That code was what we used to say danger incoming. And that I should eliminate whoever said it. She didn’t send you here to meet him. She sent you here to die.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“Because you didn’t harm him. I was prepared to put a hole in your head if he had even uttered a squeak.”

Estelle grabbed Francis tighter. His waist hurt, as if he had worn a pair of pants several sizes too small. She exchanged glances with him. Within those red eyes, she had communicated everything, without even needing to use the ‘Messenger of the Mystics’ that Francis had insisted on everyone taking.

“No need to worry. She’s not a threat. To the current me, that is.”

“To the current you? Meaning, she’ll kill my actual brother?”

Her arm tensed up as she asked that question. There was a key thing to note there. That arm she used to restrain him, her left arm, was not her dominant hand. Her dominant side was her right, and it was able to fight Iris at a moment’s notice. Those fingers were close to the rapier’s handle, and he didn’t even need to look in order to feel the electrifying glares. Iris returned the sister’s hostility with nonchalance. With a bored look, she stared outside, as if the imminent threat of death was nothing. How could she? Francis, in his previous life at least, had stared down a gun’s barrel before. He could still recall the cold sweat forming on his back, as his previous girlfriend held the trigger steady.

“Fret not. That will be for later. For now, let’s just head back to our estate, okay?” Estelle suggested.

The air lightened. With a rotating cycle of who has to bear the burden of Francis Rayleigh, they made their back. The carriage stopped in front of the steel gates of the Rayleigh estate, just as a messenger passed them by on his way back.

“Welcome back, my lady, my lord.” A butler bowed. A sealed envelope was in his hands, bearing the seal of the royal family. “What a coincidence, my lord. A letter has arrived for you. From her highness and her family.”

“Haein.” Francis formed an uncertain smile as he snatched the letter away and opened it. As his eyes scanned the words written in a fancy cursive font, he couldn’t quite help but let a laugh out. “I’ll be leaving for the palace as soon as possible.”