Alberta Port, at long last. The old liner began losing speed on its way to the pier. Seabirds accompanied the slowing ship to its stopover; their shrill cries sounded like greetings to the passengers who gradually filled the deck. A few trawlers and cargo ships were docked at bay with their crews sitting and laughing with ale-filled mugs and plates of jerky. Most of the docked vessels were resting after unloading today's catch.

The pier was sleepy by the time the liner cast anchors. Much of the loading and unloading work was carried out by dusk, only a few late merchantmen were busy with smaller crafts placing chests and crates on deck. There weren't many gulls flying overhead either. Most of them perched atop the resting ships or scrounged for refuse on a strong-smelling pile of waste. Some were content with walking around the docks not before being chased around by children of citizens living near the pier. An ironic scent faintly lingered around; stains of blood probably from the early morning catch ran thin lines on the ground. She saw the boy again, outside of the ship and sitting on the docks. He spent looking at the rather sunny city he was in; his eyes swung from one place to another.

Her attention to the boy slipped away when she saw a small gathering of Imperial Navy personnel at the near northwest of the pier. The fearsome prow of a battleship was seen at a distance; the flag resting on top of it was no doubt her family's crest. One of the massive, long barrels glinted in the sun; the light being reflected made it hard to see what was behind the warship's turret but Euphemia managed to get a glimpse of outlines of other ships docked at the same place.

Euphemia went farther from the old liner to get a better look at the docked war vessels. She could see the other ships freshly wounded from a battle somewhere. Steel fittings were being aligned to patch up a large hole on one of the cruisers' hulls. One ship seemed to have taken quite a beating from whatever it fought; at the far rear of the vessel was a thin wisp of black smoke coming out of a burnt turret. All of the vessels save for the largest ship in the group took a hit or more from what Euphemia deduced would be large guns. She was to come closer to that part of the docks when two soldiers stood in her way.

"None is allowed to go beyond this point." A soldier clutched his rifle with both arms. "Please turn back, Sister."

"You shouldn't worry about anything. Rest assured that this is not what it looks like-" another soldier talked to Euphemia with an uneasy smile.

"Don't tell her anything Mueller. What if the-" the first soldier cut in, but was in turn interrupted.

"Stand down men." A uniformed man wearing a deep blue cloak spoke from behind. His face was that of extreme fatigue and concern; perhaps too much for what his age could handle. The old officer flashed a tense smile at the young lady. Both soldiers lost their attention to the canoness and met his stern stare. "Let me talk to her."

"Ah-o-o-of course, Admiral." Both soldiers stood out of the way when the Navy officer walked towards Euphemia.

"Lady Euphemia, seeing your face during these times is indeed a refreshing experience." The gentleman pulled out a pipe from his coat; he did not bother lighting it up and just held it by the stem. "How long was it since I last saw you? Ah, perhaps it was one of those rare moments when the clergy grants you a leave of duty."

"A pleasure to meet you here, Your Grace." Euphemia's eyes wandered at the battered ships' hulls before she looked back at him. She was promptly interrupted by the admiral before she could open her mouth to speak.

"As you have observed, our ships got into quite a fight. We did not expect the enemy to be heavily armed."

"I wonder if you could answer this for me...?" Euphemia looked at Admiral Feuerstein; he knew where this was going. She felt a wave of tension from the old gentleman as if preparing for the worst. "Was Father with you before he disappeared?"

"Yes." It was a quick answer; Ludwig did not shift his gaze from Euphemia's unsettled eyes. His voice trailed off in a part-whisper when he went on to speak to the canoness. "While I cannot part with the details of why he did not come back from the operation or what were we doing before he went missing, I can still answer you this. We were not able to find him now, but rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to return your father to you."

She should have been prepared for this, but years of Cecil von Schild returning from a battle unscathed made her complacent as if the old duke was a god who has always overcome his adversaries. His power failed him this time and Euphemia did not know what to do in the face of this new predicament. Euphemia picked her feelings up after her emotions were overwhelmed by what the admiral answered, as well as the state of some of the ships that returned from that fateful encounter.

"Did he die at sea? How did he face the Creator during his last moments? Was he taken prisoner? What would his captors want with him?"

This man before her would have at least some of the answers, but Euphemia knew better than to ask. Perhaps the old duchess was told the same story before her, and she would more likely be given more details than what Admiral Feuerstein would let the canoness know.

Her eyes settled again and regained some of the lost positivity. Euphemia met the admiral's look with a soft smile - perhaps the Duchess Agnes would let her know more on what happened to the old duke.

"Thank you, Lord Ludwig. Please excuse me for the meantime. I would have to see Mother soon."

"Of course, Lady Euphemia. Give my regards to the Duchess upon your arrival. Tell her that I could not deliver the news myself due to the Court's demands."

The canoness gave a slight nod and curtsy before setting out of the pier. There was no sight of the strange boy she came across at Blaurosen. She paid no mind to that at the moment; there were bigger issues to deal with. A rush of air to her left sort of pointed her to which route Euphemia was to take to reach the Albertan seat of administration.

Reaching the Schild Estate required would-be visitors to pass six adjacent redoubts constructed on two hills. The thick gray stones that made up these small fortifications were smoothed by time and weather. They were built to be alike - the entrance to these low towers always faced the manor itself, and their upper portions served as either lookout posts or firing ports for small cannon. Whoever designed the defenses considered a constant supply of soldiers would occupy them, even if one of the redoubts fell to an invading force.

Hundreds of years would pass since their construction, and this defensive network's mettle was never tested by an invading army. Alberta was one of the few fortunate holdings that were hardly involved in a feud or were besieged by their neighbor's army. The next ruling generations of the land decided not to bring down the unused fortifications and gave them a new purpose of being the distinctive landmark to reach Alberta's ruling house. There were no soldiers on patrol by the time Euphemia trekked on the road between the redoubts. A gentle breeze sang to the low grasses on the slopes; butterflies perched on one flower and then were carried away to the next.

The traveler reached the top of a hill where a pair of huge gates protected a wide courtyard. A cobblestone path that shared the width of the gates led to the center, where it was divided into three smaller paths: the left and right routes were for two smaller houses marked by fountains, the central route for the seat of the land.

Schild Manse was not designed with imposing height and towers in mind. It only had three tiers, with each window on the uppermost floor was marked by gables. The space and volume of the estate made up for what it lacked in height; the estate's mansion alone occupied a fifth of the hill and what was left of the area was divided amongst the guest houses, the courtyard, and the perimeter.

She walked towards the main house and reached for the heavy main doors. One of the brass knockers made weak bangs against the door five times. The knob clicked and the door was slowly pulled back. An elderly woman sporting glasses and a heavy-looking dress answered Euphemia's knocks. She was looked upon with a pair of happy but gravely distressed eyes that seemed to have endured long bouts of work. The angled face, the small but sharp nose, and her smallish frame drew out emotions Euphemia had tried too hard to suppress.

"Mother!"

"Phemie..." Duchess Agnes tried to keep reserved, but the feelings of worry, anguish, and uncertainly coming off her daughter dissolved her guard. Both of them were thrown into each other's embrace, unable to stop the streams of tears on their faces.

It took moments, then minutes, to lose each other's hold. Euphemia finally took notice of the duchess' tired visage and her somewhat faltering grip on the cleric's back. Agnes also saw her condition worrying the daughter even more.

"I'm fine. I must've overworked myself." Agnes forced a smile and weak laughter, but neither diffused Euphemia's concern.

None said a word about the reason or the events that lead to their predicament. Mother and daughter kept silent on the matter. Euphemia held Agnes' hand and led the old duchess to the master's bedroom. It was a slow walk for the ladies, having to overcome the grand staircase, walk through two hallways and two turns before reaching the rear section of the manse. The canoness guided Lady Agnes to a bedroom that also had a desk and two high bookshelves behind it. Euphemia's mother lay without resistance; a smile of gratitude was seen on her face.

"Are you feeling better Mother?"

"Yes. Thank you, Phemie." Agnes looked back at her; a pair of eyes that had been awake for days failed to match the calm exterior she was showing. "We haven't found a lead to your father's whereabouts. The Army still could not figure out what happened to him."

"If there's anything I can do to -"

"Your presence here is more than enough. At least, whoever is behind all this would not be able to harm you under the family's aegis."

"There has to be something I can do, other than wait and worry."

"Do not strain yourself over the matter." The duchess reached out and held Euphemia's free hand. "You are home, and the Creator would forbid anyone with the gall to do us harm. We will overcome this ordeal together."

Canoness Euphemia silently sat beside her mother; her grip wrapped around the old woman's left hand. Agnes' consciousness slowly succumbed to fatigue and finally fell asleep. The cleric let go of the wrinkled hand, setting it gently on the mattress' surface. She was relieved to see the duchess show a light face while resting. A sheet was placed over the tired parent's body; Euphemia gave a soft kiss on Agnes' forehead before leaving the master's bedroom. The door clicked shut.

Surely the Empire was extending its aid in locating the old duke. A commander of such capability was too much to be merely written off as dead. Euphemia could only feel that Cecil von Schild was far from dead, but even that notion had no grounds to hold on to. Having to wait for further development on the search was hard, given that there was nothing even Admiral Feuerstein could give to get her somewhere. She did not like the idea of keeping suspended while watching the old duchess tire herself in both coordinating with the Empire in the search for the duke and running the duchy in Cecil's absence.

Euphemia was left with either letting the Imperial Army do its job and wait for what new they bring to the estate, helping Agnes in administering the territories to free her from some of the duties or, to go out on her own and trying to find her father. What would a simple canoness do to help with such a search? She had no knowledge of how to conduct herself in such tasks where the tactical finesse of a military man or the sharp wit of an investigator was required to get far. What would Euphemia get in risking her life out there, where she lacked any resources to properly conduct her search for Cecil?

Such choices proved to be too difficult for the canoness to decide with a proper state of mind; her tears were yet to dry on this matter, nor were her anguish diverted to the task of reasoning. She walked towards her bedroom; some time at rest would perhaps get her to think more rationally. Euphemia still wanted to show the family that she would do well at something on her own; this was far from the ideal conditions that she could show her mother those capabilities, but this would turn out to be when it was most needed.

Euphemia reached a white door with a small brass knocker at the upper middle section. She turned the knob and went in.