"For the record, I object. If she can't fight or support us, she'd only hold us back."

  Seraphine took a measured sip from her teacup. At some point during storytime, she had lit a magical fme and brewed tea. Evelyn rolled over Rocher's chair from behind his desk, while Lumiere was preparing cups for the rest of the party.

  I smiled. Seraphine was objective to the point of callousness—part of the reason I liked her so much in the game. In my previous life, the best advice I had ever received was from people like her. I had uncommonly thick skin, which allowed me to tolerate their abrasive personalities long enough to extract those nuggets of wisdom.

  Rocher considered for a moment. None of his flippant bravado remained; he almost seemed meek.

  "Miss Cire, do you have any special skills?"

  "Well... before I joined the convent, I was practicing to be an apothecary."

  "Right! You stuffed my bag with all kinds of stuff: sleep, skincare, xatives—"

  "Ahem—for how long exactly were you practicing?"

  "Four, maybe five years. I can make up to intermediate potions. Maybe advanced tier if I follow recipes."

  "That go for poisons as well? Bombs?"

  I nodded. Evelyn twirled a tiny throwing knife around her finger.

  Rocher crossed his arms.

  "Do you think, once mastered, your potions could make up the loss of the Saintess's power?"

  I thought ahead about the transcendent-tier magic Holy Consecrated Ground, which was only possible with the Goddess's favor. A party-wide buff that insane? I shook my head.

  "Not remotely."

  'But it's probably our best shot.' I kept the thought to myself.

  Each member of the hero party had a unique crafting skill tree—like bcksmithing for the Hero, poisons for the Rogue—but they were far from the most efficient use of skill points.

  Though they were a tier below what you could craft, items and equipment could be obtained from vendors who leveled with you. And they quickly went obsolete once loot from quests and dungeons rolled in.

  Potions in particur scaled horribly. Holy Consecrated Ground unlocked automatically via css advancement, and potion buffs stacked additively with it, making the gains marginal at best. It was a noob trap through-and-through.

  However, this was an unprecedented situation. Conventional strategy no longer held.

  The party exchanged meaningful gnces.

  Seraphine clinked her empty cup against its saucer.

  "That makes you little better than a squire, then. Why not just stay in camp and make potions?"

  I shrugged, thinking that was a reasonable assessment. But Rocher shook his head.

  "No. I need her eyes and ears, too. She has to be in the field with us. It's enough if she's able to defend herself."

  "Well, I might be able to manage something with a crossbow. Maybe daggers."

  In fact, my stat aptitudes tended to lean towards that of a rogue, though nowhere near Evelyn's level. Since this body had originally belonged to an NPC, I could not dictate where my stat points went—only my skills.

  Dexterity was considered a god stat, but only once highly saturated—it only came into its own in the mid- to te-game. In any case, it was unlikely I would ever reach those levels with my paltry stat growth.

  "If it comes down to it, let me and Evie handle the front line. You can better assess the field from the periphery."

  Rocher stroked his chin.

  "Evie."

  "Yeah boss. I'll see what she can do."

  Suddenly Evelyn's stomach growled.

  "...After lunch."

  After a long morning of strategy, the war room finally dispersed. Rocher was still pale and sweating.

  "I think... I think I'm just gonna lie down. I'll have some food brought up to me."

  Before we departed, Lumiere had offered to cast some healing magic on him. But noticing the dangerous flicker in my eyes, Rocher wisely declined.

  The break had come at a welcome time. There was still so much I wanted to talk over with Lumiere. She slipped Evelyn a note, then suggested a quaint little café two blocks off the Royal Road.

  "It's a lot to take in all at once. So... how are you feeling?"

  Her voice was full of concern. I smiled and bit down on my half of the croque madame—such decadence did not exist at the convent. I reassured her between bites.

  "Young dy, it's a thousand years too early for you to worry about me."

  I savored the fvors dancing on my tongue for a moment, then swallowed.

  "In fact, I'm more worried about you. What are you pnning to do after this?"

  Lumiere folded a napkin neatly on her p, her eyes coming to rest on the half of the sandwich I'd cut for her.

  "I was thinking I'd just stay in the capital. Despite everything that's happened, the castle staff said they would keep my room for me."

  Rocher was the Hero and the secret second prince, after all. He probably pulled some strings.

  "The Holy Cathedral sometimes invites me to give sermons. As a former Saintess, I might still have some degree of influence here."

  I chuckled at the thought of this timid girl speaking in front of thousands of people. She fiddled bashfully with her fork.

  "...You know, even if the Hero is willing to vouch for you, people are bound to say some nasty things. Just say the word, Lumiere, and I'll punch them out for you."

  "That's reassuring."

  She giggled softly and reached out to hold my hand. I gave her an affirming squeeze back.

  "You know, Cire. Even if I can no longer be out there, I still want to help. In any way I can."

  Lumiere's dazzling blue eyes bzed with determination, a firm line pressing her lips together.

  Evelyn yawned loudly and stretched, every muscle tensing and releasing like corded steel.

  At some point she had caught up to us and was now loafing at a corner table. We had offered her a seat at our table, but she declined.

  Before long, Lumiere motioned that she would return to the castle to check on the Hero's condition. Evelyn's ears perked up, and she sauntered over to my side.

  "I'll take good care of your girlfriend, Lumi. See you soon!"

  She turned to me after we saw Lumiere off.

  "Thick as thieves, you are. I wanted to drag you away after you'd finished eating, but I felt like that wouldn't have gone in my favor."

  Fshing her trademark toothy grin, she held the door for me. I shrugged.

  "We've just been together a long time. That's all."

  "Not what I mean. You act very much like a mother hen. Like you're deathly afraid your baby will fly the coop. Eventually they have to make it on their own wings, you know?"

  "...Maybe I do spoil her a bit."

  Evelyn ughed.

  Kachunk. As I was practicing my archery, Evelyn looked deep in thought.

  "I figure... I ought to apologize to you as well."

  Evelyn's usual grin was gone, repced by something almost sheepish.

  "I was the one pushing drinks that night. I should have seen the signs—they were always making eyes at each other."

  She clicked her tongue.

  I didn't want to bme her. Post-battle revelry was a regur part of the game, too. They were natural opportunities for the pyer to build affinity with each of the heroines. I just... hadn't expected things to escate so out of control.

  "You don't need to apologize, Miss Evelyn," I quickly waved away her concern.

  Evelyn always got deep into her bottle. She wouldn't have had the wherewithal to stop them. I still bmed the Hero mainly—he should have kept it in his pants.

  And to some degree, I also bmed myself.

  I didn't know how or why, but I began to consider that I was the only variable. Maybe it was something I had said, or something I had done. I had to confront the fact that I might have warped Lumiere somehow.

  Fwip. The bolt flew low and clipped the edge of the target.

  "Hey. You're getting distracted."

  "Oops."

  I reloaded and cleared my head of unnecessary thoughts.

  Kachunk. Dead center this time.

  "Hm. Dagger skills need work, but I think your crossbow alone should be enough to take on those undead. We'll beat them for sure this time."

  I froze, just now realizing something.

  Nearly two weeks had passed since we began training. I'd been careless.

  The undead situation was still a stalemate, and the weather was already beginning to get warmer. The ice encasing Lake Pcid was due to melt any day now. And when it did, the soldiers holding the line would be surrounded on multiple fronts. They would be overrun.

  The color drained from my face.

  "What's wrong? Cire?"

  "We need to go. Now."