“It has been almost ten days, Sister Euphemia.”

  The bishop sat alone at a long dining table. Before him was a generous dish of meat and potatoes; the herbal smell of the sauce glided across the room. There was an ice-filled bucket containing bottles of wine. Euphemia had not seen such a setup except during Agnes’ dinner parties, and even then, they were meant for strictly business matters. She wondered if the clergy at Aurelburg had been enjoying the graces of the ruling lord too much. The canoness stood aside and responded:

  “Forgive my oversight.” The cleric bowed as she stepped into the dining hall. "I did not intend to seek audience with you- during your meal."

  “Do not concern yourself with that, Sister. It is my decision.” The old clergyman looked at her before saying, “Take a seat, please. It would be unbecoming of me to deny you something to eat after all you are doing for the church.”

  Euphemia followed the plump, wrinkled hand that pointed to a seat to the bishop’s right. She nodded once before sitting down; a plate and dinnerware glimmered against the light of the ceiling lanterns. The scent of garlic and pepper attempted to draw her in. She pulled the chair by holding it on the sides of the backrest, lifting it high enough without squealing or scratching the floor.

  “Please, help yourself.” He pointed to the platter of lamb cuts in front of him. “Our benefactor at House Feuerstein gave a generous offering for Saint Aurelia’s Feast.”

  “Thank you, Your Excellency.”

  Euphemia folded her flared sleeves upward before taking hold of a fork and knife. A medium slab of meat, two potato halves, and a thin coating of sauce on her meal. She ate with her arms directed at only cutting food and bringing the pieces to her mouth; her lips and jaws hardly moved. Buttery potatoes and soft meat: these delights were rare to come by, though the sauce could be slightly more savory, she thought. There was either a little too much water, or the sauce wasn’t brought to a boil long enough. Was this the handiwork of the diocese's cook? Perhaps House Feuerstein sent the entire course without keeping them under a constant source of heat.

  The cleric stopped when her superior resumed speaking:

  “How goes the church? I am informed of Aurelburg’s administration keeping tight watch due to… incidents.”

  “I have been assisted courteously by the assigned sentries, though they do not know when the Empire will start rebuilding the village’s housing,” the canoness replied. “It is by the Creator’s vigilance that I have not been in grave danger.”

  “Praise Him be.” The bishop brought another chunk of potato to his plate. “I am told that the Empire will send its workers a day after tomorrow. I should correctly assume that the church would be ready to receive the faithful, at least if only for prayers?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency. It is done with help from kind people. The Creator’s house shall receive His believers.”

  “Good. Good. I shall visit the place myself, but only once the selection of the parish priest is completed.”

  “I have also made some recommendations about other improvements the church needs.” She said, “The place can be made better, but the steps to take are beyond what I, or any volunteer, can do and require the skilled hands of experts.”

  Euphemia pulled out a letter from her waist and set it on the table. Fork and knife tinkled against his plate before the bishop took the envelope, opening the unsealed flap.

  “A fine hand you have. Thank you for making this legible.” He folded the paper and pushed it back into the envelope. “I shall meet with the others and see how we can manage these.”

  ????

  Night fell fast on Aurelburg. Searchlights facing the western edge of the Old Wood came to life - white dots that passed by the treetops. The canoness retreated to her room. A temporary accommodation with nothing but a table, chair, and her bed. Mattresses were provided to some of the rooms, though it was enough for her and a few transient clergy. The church was not a part of any road that travelers usually took to reach Aurelburg. Most pilgrims would have taken the train, or, for those with more funds to spare, an airship.

  Euphemia was left to the silence of her sleeping quarters; it was also the time when she recalled everything that had happened during the last few days she had set out. She produced a pen and a clean sheet of paper from her bag and spread it wide on one of the tables. Euphemia took one of the lamps; it was the third day, and the small stone it housed expended the last of its energy. It was time for her to give it new life.

  She gathered a small charge from her fingertips and produced an orb of light roughly a couple of centimeters in diameter. Euphemia let the charge be absorbed by the inert crystal bulb of the device; she then had a good spotlight to use for her work. She took out the pen and began scribbling words as her thoughts started wandering off.

  “I have experienced that fire at Altrecht.”

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  She thought she saw a slight swaying of shadows, though she stood perfectly still in thought. They weren't shadows after all: her window, two slabs of wood attached to the masonry through hinges, freed itself open. Euphemia may not have pressed the locking latch all the way down. The trees rustled from outside.

  “A burnt neighborhood. It was said it came from the warehouses, but I never got that far. There was also looking after some of the townspeople. Then Rook. Did his master send him for me? But why? He was looking for him. That master would have sent someone else to deal with me for good. Rook is looking for that master, too. Poor boy. Can it be that he never hunted down ‘those people’, and I was supposedly his first successful hunt?”

  “Those things they used at Altrecht. Mechanisms made to look and act like soldiers. Then there are those monsters deep in the Old Wood.”

  “Is it possible that these events are connected?”

  "What do I know so far? There’s that incident, and then the unfortunate encounter with those… beasts, or creatures. What did that bestiary from the Light of Banishment call them? Ah, Servus Venatoris. If they came from one group, should there be mechanical men in the Antikwald, or news about monsters in Altrecht?"

  “I’m not getting anywhere with this…” Euphemia saw the inkblots formed by her constant tapping of the point. She lifted the writing implement and resumed her thoughts.

  “The makers of the… they can’t be golems. No magical energy. Of course, automatons. Some people died fighting them. Are the dead from a rival group? I'm told that these criminal groups compete for supremacy. Nothing in the news, but Mother would know about them by now. I can’t go home. I’ll never be able to go back out.”

  “But first, what can link machines and monsters to one group?”

  Euphemia’s thoughts were derailed – she could not move beyond that possibility unless she knew what the motive was behind the appearance of the Antikwald monsters. Why would such creatures be released into the wild? What was there to gain from doing so? The increased presence of the military meant that the Empire was onto it by now. Her returning to that scene would raise suspicion – and it would make the situation worse for Kirk and Rook.

  “Assuming that they are tied to one organization. That group called Fox… they won’t be a roving band, that Imperial official confirmed by saying they have Father with them. The monsters… There were films and articles. Special interest pieces, about grafting different animals together to make a new creature.”

  She felt a cold jab to her side. A creature of claws and teeth. Would Euphemia be able to fend off the creatures on her own if they were to attack her inside this room? Her heart raced; its pulse known, breaking the silent safety of her chamber. Rook was likely to be asleep at this time. His room was close to Kirk’s, where the boy was still keeping watch. Euphemia was the only person inside this church: symbols, silence, and all.

  “I wish I knew anyone from that order. Could anyone make those creatures? It was said they were born from a mistake. Of men using powers they could not understand. Did someone, like from that Fox, rediscover the source of that power? They could take Father, and they must have something mysterious with them.”

  Euphemia drew two points: at the lower right-hand side of the paper was a small circle representing Altrecht, and a larger blot to its left was Aurelburg. She drew a line and then thought again. She then drew a rough diagram of the towns, villages, and cities surrounding the Antikwald. Connsbruick on the extreme right, Aurelburg a little far north, followed by the three towns of Wulfstadt, Echscholz, and Altrecht on the southern bounds of the great forest. She could have consulted her newly-bought map for a more detailed sketch, but basic shapes had to stand in for what her memory lacked in details.

  “Old magic. But what if the answer isn’t in any of these towns? I doubt that going to Echscholz, close as it may be to this church, is going to yield any clues. It had to be deep in the Old Wood. How am I going to get there now?”

  Her eyes did not focus on the other three locations but were instead glued to the Antikwald itself. Euphemia's writing hand moved as if it had its own will and drew a large circle around the forest itself.

  “My history tutor told me the First Empire took refuge in the Old Wood when the monsters had overrun them. Underground tunnels. Weren’t they buried? Their entrances caved in, never to be used again? If this Fox… group can make free-moving automatons, then digging a tunnel shouldn’t be hard if they know the entrance, or if they made one for themselves.”

  Euphemia broke off from her thoughts and saw her once clean sheet of paper now filled with all sorts of writings and maps. She lost track of how long she was awake and busy drawing lines on her notes. A pocket watch was pulled from her waist. It wouldn’t be long before sunrise. She thought of starting the day with prayers, just like how she would do at the Sacred Word’s convent.

  She looked at the empty pews outside her room, filling the space with images of her fellow sisters. Mathilde would have been first to be on one of the kneelers. What about Hanna? Probably struggling to wake up earlier than the usual laborer did. Gertrude would have spotted her in the hallway, greeting Euphemia and holding her by the arm. And then Sister Hildegarde stood at the corner, near the church door, making sure all of the novices would fall in order before the start of prayers.

  This was freedom from routine, though she frowned that it cost her detachment from the relative safety in the company of fellow sisters. She had to remind herself that everything she was doing now was for someone else, and with how things were turning out now, there were other people she had to look after and entrust her safety to. She looked at the symbol that gleamed in half-darkness.

  “Maybe I have to visit Luminberg to know if there is magic, or the use of magical energy, in the creation of those monsters. Am I making sense? If this group is using magical power with malice, how can I hope to stand against them?”

  Euphemia knelt before the sacred emblem. She closed her eyes, though her thoughts did not begin with prayer. Her mind was yet to be cleared of her worries. Would an earnest meal be enough to drive her troubles away? Perhaps focusing her will to answer the call to prayer would do her better. She had missed times that were clockwork to sheltered novices in preparation for a consecrated life.

  “Father, I feel that I am moving closer, and yet I do not know where to go from here. Please be safe. I will find you. You, Mother, and I: we will be together again.”