Fading rays of the afternoon sun caressed Euphemia's forehead. She lay still, ignoring the great bright sphere that started to climb down from the sky. Euphemia had her ways with light; her eyes were unaffected by the sun's glare no matter what time of day it was. This quirk may be largely connected to her abilities – her talents with light developed a degree of affinity with brightness.

She was stuck in thought, perhaps the canoness had been too bold in her declaration to partake in that task to find Lord Cecil. Agnes would not mind, and would in fact be very relieved if Euphemia were to back out and let the Empire handle the case for the family. The military had everything they need to get to a good start to search for the general's whereabouts; the safety of the manse also guaranteed that none of Lord Cecil's captors would attack the seat of Albertan administration. She took her eyes off the window and stared at the cream-colored walls of her bedroom, wondering if the duchess would end up right about all this.

"What couldn't they do that only I can? Should I just follow Mother's advice and stay here? Why do I feel useless?"

The canoness was yet to fully reawaken her powers, and yet she felt that nothing was to be gained out of it. She needed to know where to begin, at least a bit of knowledge on what caused Lord Cecil's defeat. A lead to why he engaged in such an operation in the first place. There has to be information hidden somewhere in the manse. Euphemia could ask her mother if she knew anything about what the duke was working on, but would she tell anything? She could be the daughter, and would normally have the right to know anything regarding family matters, and yet, would that hold true when it comes to military matters?

She could not ask, and Euphemia knew her mother too well when she was in the know. Agnes would have sent out a search body, or perhaps summon a battalion of Albertan troops to start the search. The duchess may know a little more than her after all, or may only rely on as much as the Army would let her know. Euphemia looked at the sun as if the answers lay at its bright surface; something brought her to her feet. If she could not ask, surely she can try and find a lead – an answer could be somewhere at home.

"Perhaps I should pay Father's office a visit..."

Cecil often brought home his work, for commanding such a post in the empire's armed forces meant committing more time than the camps would allot him. If only she could find where would the duke keep records of his work. Euphemia turned the knob and closed the door behind her; she found herself staring at the heavy brown double doors that led to her father's study.

A silent whiff of air greeted Euphemia when she entered the room; everything was kept in place – too neat that it had the feel of being inside Agnes' study than Cecil's. The duchess certainly took time to return the usual pile of books from the desk to the bookshelves. It would have been an arrangement Cecil might find disagreeable; the duke found it more helpful to have things at his fingertips without having to bother with sorting items off the shelves. Euphemia quickly noticed that the books and other documents were sorted out by size, not by their titles. Her fingertips glided at each book, taking time to read each title before going to the next.

"The Nominian Incursion... Operation Daybreak... Kriemreich's Commercial History... The Blood Flag..."

Euphemia stood still; eyes were affixed to the leftmost corner of the grand bookcase. She stopped reading the book titles and allowed a memory to reenter her mind.

† †

"Why does Father have a room inside the wall?" asked a small girl who entered without warning. She closed the door behind her.

"You know that you should always knock before entering someone else's room." A towering man pulled a thin golden rod out of a gap between two books. It was a younger Cecil; the angled face was not yet fully concealed by a short beard. He set the rod on the table and went near the child. "Come, Euphemia. What do you need from Father Dearest?"

"Can I...?"

† †

Euphemia searched the duke's desk drawers and found the needed rod placed beside a pistol. She went to the grand bookcase and felt for the books, giving each upper end a soft nudge to find out if they could be moved out of place. Her hands traveled to the third row, where she found out that "The Peaceful Solution" and "History of the Eastern Empire" were not books but were really parts of the wall. She took the thin implement and found a slot between them. She certainly remembered the rod being a key for something, and there could be a mechanism inside that would open that room.

Nothing happened.

"This isn't as easy as I thought it would be. How did Father work on this lock...?"

She tried again, wiggling the rod inside the gap to feel for something hidden but still yielded no results. Euphemia paused and stared at the rod; her fingertips gave off a white glow that traveled to the rod. The golden gleam was replaced by a soft but concentrated white hue. She guided the rod back to the gap; Euphemia saw a small round hole where a metal barrier was beneath it. Euphemia inserted the stick through the hole and watched the covering slide down and reveal another round hole. The rod was pulled out of the first and was brought to the then-uncovered second hole, which then took her to a wider gap with grooves just below. She poked one of the grooves, which was only pressed down but returned to its original position when the rod was pulled out. Euphemia saw five more grooves beyond what she pressed earlier.

"Perhaps if I can poke all the grooves at once...?"

She drove three-fourths of the rod where it hit the end of the gap. Euphemia set the stick and pushed it down the grooves. A click registered in her ears, followed by a soft grumble coming from the left section of the wall. The barrier receded and slowly revealed a room whose desk was mounted on the wall, along with an assortment of books, files, and a row of cherry-sized orbs set atop the table. A small, yellowed machine sat at the far right of the table in which two round depressions could be found; one was large enough for one of the orbs to be inserted, and the other depression connected to what seemed to be glowing blue lines. Euphemia took one of the orbs that were labeled "05/24" and placed it on the device's smaller hole.

"Something must be powering this device to work. There has to be some sort of battery around here..."

Cecil was a thorough man. Euphemia recalled him talking to her about this new way of recording thoughts and events through the use of small crystals. He was excited to know that the Empire has again discovered another way to store information with minimal risks of it being compromised by those it was not meant for. That second hole on the device was meant for a power source to reveal the sphere's contents, but nothing on the table led her to such a component.

That was, until she found a clear glass ball with a yellow substance inside.

Euphemia took hold of the object and placed it on the second hole – the machine made no response. Perhaps the liquid was meant to store energy which is supposed to power the device in turn. This would be a good opportunity to make use of another lesson from Meister Carolus; while her guess may be largely right, there would only be one risk involved.

She held the fragile-looking ball with her thumb, index, and middle fingertips. Euphemia focused on the object, allowing minute veins of white run from her hand to the ball. The transfer made the yellow fluid cover the inner walls of the sphere; Euphemia's energy was absorbed and trapped inside until the glass ball emitted a bright yellow light. She placed the ball on the device, which in turn responded to the energy the object was producing.

The sphere glowed thrice, which in turn sent light through the now-glowing blue lines on the machine's surface. Energy was delivered to the somewhat wide glass panel that sat on top of the device; its transparent surface forming what seemed to be the image of a moving coast. Voices were heard in the background until the view moved farther away from their sources; only one man continued to speak without revealing himself.

"General, we have found this strange... phenomenon. Our charts depicted that there should be an island in this region."

Euphemia did not catch the next few sentences, nor did they matter to her; she somehow managed to connect the numbers the recorder was talking about when he said:

"We believe that here lies the Gray Fox's domain." The 'eyes' revealed a void in the ocean; a wide span of empty space where the sea refused to fill. The surveyor kept his focus on the hidden tract of land until something from above caught his attention. Something forced itself out of the emptiness; its presence was declared in the form of a screech that drew closer to the ship until it slammed on the water. A spray rose from the larboard side of the ship.

"It is attacking us. I cannot continue this report, General."

"Sir, you must return to deck! We are preparing for evasive maneuvers."

"Of course. Lead the way."

The background darkened; what remained of the light showed another fount of seawater climbing up the deck. Euphemia removed the recording sphere from the machine and wondered if she should watch the other entries on Lord Cecil's desk. Opposite the tray of spheres was a thin stack of papers. Perhaps she could pick up the papers and read through rather than watch the other entries which were most likely more reconnaissance logs from the duke's subordinates. What originally was a simple task of getting a lead directed Euphemia to a considerable wealth of information.

The Gray Fox... where did Euphemia last hear of that name?

She picked up the name from a talk among Blauroseners; a name known in the black market for weapons and chemicals. The Empire's campaign to break these dealers' line of business placed him as the most dangerous of them all. The safety provided by the convent proved to make her know too little of the events going outside of its walls. Euphemia pulled out one of the folders containing a profile of the Gray Fox's history; she took all the details in the document, for being aware of what she may end up going against would give her a view of what should she expect on her search for Cecil. Other files were waiting to be read; an overflow of information on how far the Empire has gone in knowing the Gray Fox and his operations was crammed into the canoness' head. She managed to absorb at least the core of what she read, but her efforts cost her a day and pretty much all her time thinking about what her father was working on before his disappearance. Euphemia's head slowly bobbed to the tabletop, giving in to the exhaustion triggered by her discovery.

Euphemia was awakened by something tapping her shoulder. Her body jumped to full awareness to see Agnes standing behind her right before returning to Cecil's desk.

"Impressive. You managed to uncover this much information in a short amount of time. Never had I thought Cecil would keep these files at home."

"Have I... gone too far, Mother?"

"You did well Phemie, as is expected of you of course." Agnes' smile did not last long; a concerned pair of eyes stared back at the canoness. "Do you still intend to go on now that you've found out what your father's been working on? My decision will not change – I shall still prefer that you stay here while the search for your father is underway."

"I..." It was a difficult choice. Euphemia found it hard to gather the strength to say what she truly wanted to do. "I am asking too much from you. This may mean my death but I wish... that... that- you would let me look for Father."

"I see that it is too late to change your mind, for I have hoped that what you will find out will make you decide to stay here with me." Agnes let out a sigh while looking at the daughter's resolved eyes. "That look in your face reminds me much of your father – determined, brave, and somewhat foolish. I know what you can do, how you have uncovered this place on your own proved that you may have what it takes. I am sure you are aware that what you intend to do is dangerous. Please Euphemia, for your family's sake."

"Mother... it is my wish..."

"I know. I shouldn't stop you, but then I cannot allow you to share your father's fate." Agnes stood from the desk and caressed Euphemia's hair.

There was a pause between mother and daughter; not a word was uttered by either of them and yet, their eyes spoke of two sentiments that were in conflict. One wanted to avert another crisis that would result from Lord Cecil's disappearance; another was ready to go against the odds to bring the nobleman back alive. Both were firm in their resolve, but it was Agnes who broke off the standstill.

"There is still time to think about this. We do not know what is beyond all this, and your father surely had his reasons for going through everything without our knowledge. He would never want to trade your life with his." Agnes took two steps away from her daughter; the look on her face harbored concern and worry at once. She said:

"I will be fair and will uphold what I have said yesterday. Perhaps by doing this you will realize that what lies ahead is full of danger and uncertainty. Please reconsider this, for losing you and your father would be more than what I could take."

Agnes left the study; a faint click of the doorknob closed the room. Euphemia stared at Cecil's hidden records, wondering if it was truly possible for her to help in the search for the missing parent. No, she could not be dissuaded now. He needed help, and it was her turn to do something for the family.

"I am sorry Mother. I'll bring Father back here safe, I promise."