“Hey ‘phemia, look.” Rook handed her a copy of one of the morning papers. “You’re famous!”

  “You did not happen to just take this copy from the newsstand, did you?”

  Euphemia took the copy from Rook, who was grinning in anticipation once the cleric unrolled the paper to reveal the front page.

  It was an image of a makeshift ward; the abundance of visual aids was a giveaway that it was one of the Academy’s classrooms. In the background was a woman donning a habit; though the photograph was in grayscale, its shade suggested strong colors. She was assisting a Luminberger who was rising out of bed. They were almost a blur, for the true focus of the picture was a box-like contraption with circular air vents and a crystal that rested on top. The caption read:

  The Imperial Health Service Mark IV air filter is credited with saving Luminbergers from death by sleep. For all the proclamations the official press makes of it, this lowly church worker, or even the regular volunteer, may be doing more for the average citizen.

  5 Blod. 5-7-17

  LUMINBERG’S HEALTH HOAX

  CITIZENS BEWARE: THE LIGHTS MIGHT HOLD THE TRUE ANSWERS

  LUMINBERG — Blaurosen’s high and mighty health ministers preen themselves over this ‘new air hygiene’, but the common man asks this poser: “Is this a sickness, or a curse from the netherworld?”

  The ministry’s air filters, made of the finest crystal and plastics, promise a cure from the sleeping sickness named after the city: Luminberger’s Syndrome. They speak of ‘progress’ and ‘scientific triumph’ with honeyed words you’d think they’ve discovered the Spring of Immortality at the base of the Badensegg.

  Pay close attention, dear reader. The veneer is more brittle than it looks.

  Droning Noises and No Significant Improvement

  For ten days, our authorities have trumpeted these new ‘Cleanliness Directives’. They tell us that these air filters are doing the Creator’s work of restoring Luminberg’s vitality. Yet observe the ‘less-filtered wards’ and talk to their staff: patients who are leaving their beds are more or less the same.

  “These filters are the solution?” says one disgruntled volunteer, “all their technicians do is set these things up and make it difficult for us to get some rest. Even the patients have to bear with them because of their ‘benefit’.”

  This is All Dirty Business

  What truly sticks in the craw is the sheer cost of this bureaucratic invention. The narrative suggests Luminberg is recovering faster because of this, but the Empire’s ledgers are smarting.

  Stay in touch for the second part of our exposé, where the lights might lead us to what actually took place in the city — and what every Luminberger should be thankful for.

  - Greta Linhilde, Junior Correspondent

  A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR:

  We at the Einhorn love to deliver real news and fearless views across the Empire and even beyond. To keep up with the demand for our publication, we call upon all men and women of good conscience to render what aid they may. No contribution is too modest; every Mark shall be faithfully administered toward supplying more copies and expanding our reach across all of Kriemreich.

  Donations may be delivered in person or through the carriers at the Iron Falcon Offices, 35 Dahlia Street (in Blaurosen, not the one in Connsbruick), between the hours of eight and four. Grocers, merchants, and manufacturers willing to provide goods in kind are likewise encouraged to communicate with the undersigned.

  At times like these, the strength of our nation lies not only in industry but also in the willingness to help spread the truth. Let us show that the citizens are the most powerful voices in the Empire.

  - Matthias Griezmann, Editor-in-Chief

  Euphemia held the paper longer than the time she took to read the article. She took a long breath, shaking her head and closing her eyes. The canoness smiled at Rook, though her hands had no intention of letting go of the paper. She said:

  “I hope this bodes well for everyone involved, but I wish they told me that photograph was meant for the press.”

  “I think you look good, even if that angle isn’t showing your face that much,” Kirk read over Euphemia’s shoulder.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Kirk, I would have blushed at your flattery had it not been this situation.”

  The last few words were a note higher, and she attempted to correct herself by further straightening her back, trying her best to not react too awkwardly. Did Kirk notice those sudden changes? The sides of her veil would have prevented that. Euphemia did not look at the man, but raised her arm as if to give away the paper. Regaining her control and regulating her speech, she said:

  “I am more concerned with what people at home would think of this, especially my mother.”

  “I don’t think he’s wrong.” Rook, losing patience over the casual pace of his peers, walked beside Euphemia. “But I think it’s going to be cooler if the one in the background is me, while balancing trays with ten plates and cups each.”

  “This is a news piece, boy, not a circus attraction.” Kirk said, “On the other hand, I’m sure… Eu-, prayer lady, that your mother knew what kind of vocation you took. That doesn’t make you any less appealing to news cameras, though.”

  Kirk understood the gesture, taking the periodical from the canoness’s hand. He read some of the news, though his focus allowed him to get as much as he needed up to the middle of the paper, only for him to close it afterwards.

  “It looks to me your country isn’t ready to talk about magic…” Kirk’s gaze followed an armored car that passed by. “...also on how badly things turned out here.”

  “I have a vague understanding of what the Empire is doing, I believe.” The Academy’s gates were in sight. Euphemia continued, “I couldn’t imagine a harder blow for Luminberg if it were revealed that the city fell victim to an attack of this nature.”

  “Never show a sign of weakness, of something enemies will gladly take advantage of, they say.”

  Kirk eased the bag straps as he was about to put it down. Now that most of the work in the southeast city sector was completed, they were moving into the center, where the largest makeshift hospital stood. Ledgers, signatures, and uniform-handling brochures. Rook was to wash dishes and other kitchenware, Kirk was to move empty beds, and Euphemia was to look after the remaining patients. The schedulers sent the cleric to a building closest to Brillanz: a school building reserved for chemistry subjects, based on the charts and apparatuses behind locked wood and glass cupboards. Vapor from the applied disinfectant clung to one of the nearby doors: the exact area Euphemia was assigned to work on.

  ????

  There were fewer patients to tend to here; none of them bore visible injuries that needed immediate attention. She thought that it was something the attending physician covered long before she managed to set foot in this place. One of the bedridden took the cleric’s attention: an elder man dressed in an instructor’s robes. Beard was longer, frame was thinner than she last seen him, but nobody else bore the same image as her master: the revered Carolus. His mouth was open; a fraction of his front teeth was shown.

  “I recall, maybe a little too fondly, that my instructor had a respectable reserve of magic in him.”

  She lifted the old magician’s arm to the light, feeling for a pulse. There were no other nurses in the ward; a lone cleric to check on the conditions of at least thirty people inside. Her fingertips glowed, which gave his body a mild jolt. Carolus woke up and blinked a few times before recognizing the face of the one tending to him. He said:

  “Fate’s strange way of reunions.” He was handed a cup of water to drink. A few sips, then he continued, “to be nursed back to health by none other than a former student.”

  “I’m relieved to know that you still remember me.” Euphemia put the pitcher of water aside. “How are you doing, Master Carolus?”

  “Nobody would have mistaken you for anyone else, Lady Euphemia, or are you a full-fledged Sister of the Church now? Of all the orders you had to pick, you chose to be an Adorer...”

  “I am yet to take my full vows, but I intend to, if I am meant for the highest calling.”

  “I recall myself saying you will have to come back to Luminberg.” He straightened his back; the wall served as a headboard. “I also notice that you have developed your means of magical energy transfer, though it needs some refinement.”

  “I may have been out of practice, or perhaps I have been transferring energies to objects too often.” Euphemia pulled out of the nearby chairs and sat next to the old instructor.

  “The technique is correct, but you tried to move energy that is beyond what my body could handle.” Air whistled out of his closed lips in an attempt to laugh. “Is this what the Adorers taught you?”

  “It is solely my fault.” Euphemia closed her eyes and shook her head. “I have simply remembered all the amazing feats you’ve done with crystallomancy.”

  “You’re celebrating one moment, and then you wake up in a classroom-turned-hospital, talking to a nurse who used to be your student.” Carolus asked, “Is it still the Day of the Defense?”

  “Almost two weeks since then.” Euphemia filled his cup with water.

  "Do you... know what happened? What took place? Why are we in this situation?"

  "It is... difficult to explain. I am yet to begin understanding what led us to where we are now."

  She looked outside; this part of the building faced the high walls that were part of Luminberg's citadel. No ruins and burnt houses. Streets that used to be littered with the unconscious, possibly the dying, were nowhere to be seen. The crackle of fires and the gunfire exchanges between the two forces were not heard. Instead, Euphemia completed her answer:

  "Someone was dabbling in the forbidden. Perhaps they knew magic, too, but put it in machines. I wish I knew more."

  "It looks like whether we were awake or not, we are yet to make sense of what struck the city. I'm hoping time will give us enough wisdom to see through the confusion," Carolus, probably seeing in what her eyes reflected, chose to shift the topic. “How’s the outside?”

  “It is faring much better than before, but there is much work to be done.”

  “The Kaiser will get things back in order, hopefully, the soonest.” Both their eyes met, and the instructor said, “You are still holding back, I can see.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I hope that you donning that habit meant you're not turning away from the nature of your talent.” Carolus found an open window to view the outside with. “Hiding from, and not making peace with what you are: those are impractical burdens. You are still young, even long after I have stopped being your tutor. The world will give you time to uncover everything you’re asking about yourself.”

  Euphemia smiled. She was about to tell him what took place during the Eve, what she failed to do, and everything else. Somehow, old Carolus found words that resonated with her, and there was no need to begin with anything she was about to tell him. A selfish request; Euphemia did not enjoy placing a burden on the esteemed Luminberg academic with matters he hardly knew. She heard from him what she needed to hear: a reminder that there was no need to despair when all her options were yet to be put to the test. The canoness stood up, saying:

  “Thank you, Master.” The apron’s backstrap loosened, and she reached for it to secure the knot.

  “You’re most welcome, Lady Euphemia. I should not be taking too much of your time.” He put down an empty cup of water. “We can arrange another meeting, perhaps when you have decided to work with us here.”

  “I’m sure I can follow through with that, somehow.” She took two steps back. “Magister Silbern requests my presence. I do not know when, maybe when the Academy reopens. Good day, and I'll see you again, Master.”

  She walked away, and the old instructor’s gaze followed before he lay back in bed.