Chapter 55: Oath

By SodiumChloride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.

A/N: They cancelled class today because of coronavirus. There's also talk about moving everything online. Fortunately, I'm still healthy, and if wasn't I'd still be fine since I'm fairly young.

Take care and wash your hands y'all!

N: Samuel confronts an old beast. Will he survive?


Doctors. I respect them and acquainted with a few in my old world. They served as agents of modern medicine, administering cures and techniques that resulted from centuries of human development. I took them for granted growing up, but I didn't really understand what I had until I'd lost them.

Most "doctors" here in Elibe are nothing more than quack scam artists trying to earn a quick buck. They spread misinformation in the town bulletin boards, sell literal snake oil on the markets, and crowd out legitimate practitioners from the profession, all the while contributing zero advancement to the field of medicine and germology. These men truly represent the worst of society, and if I were in charge, I'd throw them into prison to rot.

Fortunately for the citizens of Elibe, Dr. Swift is not one of these people. He's a refined, determined gentleman dedicated to the welfare of his patients. Prior to becoming the surgeon general of Caelin, he had spent a career researching at the University of Ostia. It was here that he pioneered several techniques combining the natural phenomena of the world with the flamboyant healing magics of old. It was great work indeed; he had served his oath well.

The Healer's Oath. It's a short, concise gathering of words that every doctor, cleric, and monk abide by when they treat a patient. An unknown conglomerate of monks created it several centuries ago, but its words lay forever enshrined in history...

I swear by the Creator's graces to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgement, this covenant:

I will respect the hard-won advances made by those before me, and will gladly share further knowledge with those who are to follow.

I will apply the steps necessary to avoid the twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism for the benefit of the sick.

I will recognize that sometimes warmth and understanding is more useful than a scalpel or a witch's brew.

I will not hesitate to recognize that sometimes I may require the services of other, more knowledgeable practitioners.

I will respect the privacy of my patients, as their problems are not disclosed for me to show the world. Most especially in cases between life in death. It is not my place to play with the politics of my surrounding, and I will not play the part of the Creator.

I will prevent disease whenever I can. Prevention is preferable to a cure.

If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy a fruitful career and life. May I always work to preserve the traditions of those who came before me, and may the world be blessed with Creator's graces, as without She I cannot experience the joy of healing from those who ask for my help.

The Healer's Oath, circa 307.

I wondered if this "Doctor" is aware of this Oath. If he was, perhaps he'd refrain from toying with the world like some supreme being. Then again, is this morph even in the state of mind to understand what it's doing? As a minion of Nergal, it likely has no sense of empathy...right?

...

I'm still plagued with memories of this minion of darkness. Erk's potion had calmed down the experience to where I could sleep again, but it hadn't stopped me from regularly waking up drenched in sweat...

I need to stop this bastard. I will find him and stick my sword through his stupid mask. I need to so that the pain I felt bleeding out on Caelic stone wasn't for naught...

...

I will kill him. I swear. Even if it takes everything I got.


Castle Caelin...

I brush some salty sweat from my brow and listen to the sea of workmen outside my tent. Dry dust, stone particles, and wood shavings fill the air. Sounds of mallets hitting stone rattle against my damaged senses like a pinball. I try to push away these sensations and focus on the crude blueprint I'd written up on a nearby worktable, but the going is difficult.

Why do I have to get a migraine now?! This has to be the absolute WORST time to get one!

The blueprint is of a simple defense system to make up for the breached wall. Workers toil away putting up makeshift trenches, barricades, and other obstacles to stop the enemy. The noise is nearly unbearable for me to stomach, an ailment caused by the stinging migraine ripping my head apart.

Longing for relief, I press a rag of cold ice to my forehead and take a shot of whiskey. This does little to stave away the pain, but the mere act of doing it enacts a valid placebo effect. I sigh and look back at the blueprints, thinking about what other logistical necessities I needed to take care of...

Woosh! Flap!

The engineer's tent flaps open, and I spy Matthew's devilish grin undercut by a veil of dust. His boots are worn from walking, and purple fruit-like stains cover his shirt. He was here to deliver a briefing about something I couldn't pursue myself.

I said, "Matthew, I take that you've done what I told you to do?"

Matthew nods, "Yup. I investigated the premises for any sign of a morph, and I found nothing. I do, however, know the whereabouts of Lady Lyn."

Lady Lyndis. Best friend of Florina, and my former lover. It's been some time since I've last spoke to her, but unfortunately I can't afford to break that streak. Besides maybe Lani, she's the person who knows me best, and if anybody can pick out my accent through this potion, it's her. I still remember her cold blade cutting through my flesh like it was butter, and that's a reality I'd rather avoid...

So, I got Matthew to talk to her for me.

I grumbled, "Well, I suppose this morph is hiding in plain sight. Anyway, I believe the best course of action is to keep a watchful eye on Lady Lyn. I think the morph is targeting her specifically..."

This assumption came from the fact that Lyn was the only person turned into a morph in the previous timeline. Everyone else was either killed or had their bodies harvested of quintessence. My theory is that the "Doctor" isolated and turned Lyn first, using her afterward to overrun the castle's defense. It takes several hours to turn a dead body into a morph, as is stated in the Encyclopedia...

A detailed study on morphs, Page 51, Paragraph 6.

While we can construct a morph from raw quintessence, another method involves turning a freshly killed human into a mindless servant. Although it takes several hours for the process to be done, the extra effort in doing so results in a much stronger morph overall using the same amount of quintessence. The effect increases with the human's strength level pre-death...

This is tricky. Not only do we need to prevent her morphification, but we also need to keep her alive. Lyn is already a powerful gal on her own, but add to that a degree of dark magic...

S: I think we'd all be in trouble. Nobody would be able to stop her. Not even you.

Matthew said, "I understand. I'll keep a watchful eye on her for a while...but there's someone else that I think we need to recruit on this venture."

"Someone else?"

He nodded, "Yeah. We can't do this on our own. Fortunately for us, I know just the gal..."

As if on cue, the tent flap flips open again. I spy a familiar short girl wearing a set of Illian Pegasus Knight armor. It's...Florina.

A flash of bloody horror streaks through my mind, resulting in a barely audible gasp. I...I'm not prepared to speak to her in this manner so soon. But it's not like I have much of a choice.

Introducing herself, she politely lifted her skirt and bowed. The gesture reminded me of a duchess respecting a higher monarch, and I can sense my face turn a bright shade of red.

She said, "I-I don't t-think we've f-formally m-met. M-My n-name is Florina. P-Pleased t-to make y-your aquiantance."

I nearly hesitate, but my intuition pushes me to answer so I don't worsen Florina's anxiety.

I said, "I...m-my name is Kenan Vacia. Nice to meet you F-Florina."

Matthew raises his brow, presumably about my uncharacteristic stuttering. I hardly fumble over my words, only doing so during moments of extreme anxiety or distress. If I'm going to be honest with myself, speaking to Florina right now is one of the most mentally draining things I'd done in my life, even when compared to the literal slavery I endured in the past.

Florina, mindful of the anxious person before her, did not let up on her own habits. She replied, "O-Oh. M-Matthew told me t-that L-Lyn's in t-trouble. W-What's g-going on?"

I give Matthew a distasteful look for not briefing the young knight beforehand. He shrugs his shoulders and says nothing.

Thanks for leaving me out to dry…

I said, "S-She's...s-she..."

S: In my good name, Samuel! Get yourself together!

I pause and take a deep breath. Matthew and Florina observe me in silent anticipation while I walk towards a nearby table covered with a mess of different items, which included items like parchment, a protractor, and a single metal flask.

I take the flask and empty its contents into my throat, allowing it to calm my nerves. The beverage was not regular whiskey, as I had since replaced the liquid with magically infused green tea.

That hits the spot. I love you, Erk.

Now suitably calmed, I said, "Sorry about that. You shook me up a bit there, Florina."

I mentally facepalm. What was there to be shaken up about? In Florina's eyes, I was just a stranger with a knack for mathematics. I guide myself back the script. I have no relationship with Florina, and should be fine speaking to her.

Spoiler alert: I'm not.

I hear a swift gush of air, and notice Matthew struggling to keep in his laughing. Florina's face goes red with embarrassment, and she turns away like a blushing teen.

Matthew said, "Hehehe. Has your heart taken a turn, Lieutenant? I never took you for the nervous type."

Florina quipped, "W-What does h-he mean?!"

I shoot a disgruntled glance at Matthew, who's making a career out of deriving comedy at our expense. I awkwardly try to give Florina an act of reassurance, but fall flat...

I said, "It's nothing, F-Florina. Matthew's just being an idiot. Forgive my weakness for bumbling like a senile old man."

!

Why did I chose those words?!

My words do little to quell Florina's frightful banter. Searching my face for answers, she asked, "B-But w-why are y-you stumbling l-like a s-senile old m-man?"

"..."

A drop of anxious sweat falls down the side of my face. She stares at me like a criminal on death row, and my mind races for an answer. Any answer to save myself from this embarrassment. Ultimately, I decide on the first thing to come to my mind.

!

I said, "It's because I'm smitten with you, Florina."

S: What.

For what isn't the first time in my life, Sothis chuckles at my misfortune. I can visualize her setting a up a chair for some free entertainment, just like Matthew had already done.

I cover my mouth in a vain attempt to cover my mistake, but Florina hears my words, anyway.

Going into damage control, I try to walk back on my words. I said, "No no no. What am I thinking? I don't l- I don't..."

Florina's purple eyes go red with itchy tears. She said, "I-It's because I'm ugly...right? I k-knew it...I can never be as pretty l-like Lyn."

I shake my head frantically, "No! Florina, you're one of the prettiest people I know! If I wasn't so hung up over Lyn, I probably would've pursued you instead!"

"…"

That, is exactly what you DON'T say to someone.

"Huh? You don't know me...or do you? Who...are you?"

Florina pauses and backs away. Matthew's laughing demeanor had since changed to a serious look of concern, and he stares at me as if pleading for me to save myself.

I quickly realize there's no other way around this. I need to tell Florina my true identity so she'll understand the gravity of this engagement. This a risky move, but given my loose tongue, I don't have any other choice. This is my Hail Mary play, and if this doesn't prevent Florina from ruining the entire plan I'd spent the past three months preparing...

Nothing will.

I sigh, a whisper a small incantation to undo the binding magic in my mask. It plops out of my face like a loose piece of clay, falling onto the ground. Florina covers her mouth and gasps.

She said, "W-What...by the Creator..."

I take her hand and bring it close. I want her to understand the sincerity in my words. I said, "Florina...it's me. Samuel..."

She shakes her head and takes a step back, nearly tripping over a loose chair I had lying around. Her voice quivers with fear.

She said, "W-What are y-you doing here?! You h-have the death s-sentence here. Y-You should b-be back in Illia, w-where it's safe."

Hearing her words of concern put me at ease. I'd half expected her to run off, but instead she showed concern for my well-being. Odd behavior for someone whose not on good terms with your best friend. Regardless, I take my blessings where I can.

I replied, "I-It's a long story. If you got the time, I'll share it with you..."


Several hours later...

A gust of warm air brushes through the open front flap of the tent. My pocket watch sits nearby on an idle share of space on my work desk, with its hour hand flush at half past noon. It's been about two hours since Florina first entered my refuge, and now I'd filled her in on everything that had happened.

Matthew sits drowsily on a stool, his head unconsciously leaning against a pillar of wood for support. Meanwhile, Florina observes me with childlike wonder, her hands tightly gripping a cup of tea and her mind pleasantly combing over the knowledge of my misadventures.

She said, "Woah...I had no idea. That hand...does it hurt?"

I lightly nod and take off the white leather glove covering it. Its matte texture melts into the landscape like melted chocolate, though infinitely more strong than that delicate candy.

I said, "Sometimes. But I don't regret losing it. I always honor my promises, and I have a sweet spot for little girls. I hope to find her so this sacrifice wasn't in vain."

I clench my fist and let a bit of rust fall onto the floor. I added, "Genuine carbon steel. A very hard metal to create. In fact, it took me three weeks to pull it off. However, it's much more structurally sound than the aluminum I used before, and if I need to, I can crush a blade of iron on a whim."

"Eh…"

Waking up from his nap, Matthew rolls his eyes. He said, "You sound very proud of it. Cocky much?"

I said, "Perhaps. But I think I earned that right. Anyway, as much as I'd to gloat about my accomplishments, there's the task at hand. Florina, are you willing to help us out?"

Florina replied, "I...I don't know. If Lyn or the m-military found out I was working with you...I'd be in b-big trouble. Why can't I just tell the c-commander about the morph? Maybe he can f-figure it out what to do."

I disagreed, "I thought of that path myself, however we musn't. I have suspicions that the morph might be someone high in the ladder. Whether that be the commander, a lieutenant, or somebody else...we just don't know. We need to make our investigation in absolute secrecy, otherwise the morph may strike at a less than opportune time."

Florina frowns, and then rubbed her chin. According to her intuition and training, the correct thing to do in this situation would be to report me to the proper authorities, and allow the administration to find the morph themselves. However, whether it be her love for her friend, or some unspoken protectionism towards me, she ultimately came around.

But, not without a catch.

She said, "S-Samuel. I want to help you, but your past actions make me want to t-turn you in. You n-need to a-answer for the dozens of l-lives lost."

I replied, "But I didn't kill them. Azazel d—"

Florina does something I'd never seen her do in all the time I've known her. She raises her voice.

She said, "Y-You were s-still complicit to his actions. You allowed it t-to happen, Sam. There's p-people out there that w-want justice. P-Please, you k-know running away like t-this isn't right."

"..."

I'm...ashamed. Florina had a point. I was complicit in Azazel's rampage, and even though I was not in the right state of mind, it still doesn't detract from the consequences of that decision. These people want to hang me, and they have every right to do so...

I think back when I nearly hung from a scaffold in Höger. The vengeful crowds, the jeering, the rough texture of the rope strung tight around my neck. That experience was unforgettable, and it was partly the reason I wanted to avoid the forceful arms of justice. That and the several other episodes I spent either locked up or enslaved.

But this puts me in an unfortunate dilemma. If I allow the forces of justice to apprehend me, that means no one will be present to take care of Lani. No one will be around to watch after her once I'm locked up, and she'll inevitably end up on the streets. I can't in good conscience allow that to happen, no matter what.

S: I suppose you could ask Canas to care for her. I doubt he'd mind doing that.

Yeah, but would only strain on his meager resources. Canas is not rich by any means, and should he and Camille die in the wastes of Illia (as people often do), she'll be left in a worser predicament than if she'd just stayed with me.

I feel my stomach sink to the center of the earth. What do I do? There doesn't seem to be any good way to get through this.

I said, "Florina...I don't know what to do. I can't go to jail or Lani will have no one to look after her..."

Florina replied, "There's a dozen or so kids that don't have a f-father anymore. Does her p-personal needs outweigh theirs?"

Another strong piece of rhetoric from Florina. Despite her stuttering, I can't help but admire how far she'd gotten as a speaker. I wondered who went out of their way to be her teacher, or if this resulted from her own doing.

However, it was quickly becoming clear that the ending to this story was less than optimal for me.

I said, "Florina...I don't know how to say this lightly, but I just can't afford to waste time in jail. There's too much at stake."

Understanding my words, she nods and begins to walk away. She said, "I-I can't just let you wander the halls of Castle Caelin. I'm g-going to tell the commander who you are. You mus— Eek!"

Acting quickly, I take a piece of white cloth and cover her mouth. She squirms and made every attempt to scream for help, but the cloth soaked up every decibel of sound. After several moments of struggling, she lost strength...eventually succumbing to the chloroform I had covered the cloth with.

Surprised at my sudden aggressiveness, Matthew said, "Did you just..."

I replied, "You go through enough stuff like me and you learn to have a fail-safe for everything. If you can, help me lie her down by her room. I spiked her tea with a special forgetfulness potion, so when she wakes up she shouldn't remember a thing."

Impressed, Matthew raises his brow. He said, "You sly dog. You don't just have an accent potion in that sack do you?"

I nodded, "You'd be right. Knowing a witch gives you certain privileges."

I sigh and pick up Florina from the ground. I felt guilty for having to do this for her, but I had no other choice...

Matthew said, "It's clear we're on our own now. What's the game plan?"

I think about what to do from here. Not having Florina to assist will prove to be a setback, but a minor one at that. However, as I claimed before, I always have a fail-safe.

I replied, "I...we're going to have to be sneaky about this. Fortunately, I have something to do just that..."

I motion for the thief to retrieve a potion from my sack. He obliged and hands me two flasks containing a red liquid.

He asked, "What is this?"

I replied, "It's our disguise. You'd better get yourself ready, we're going undercover."


Mademoiselle Estele taps her ruler over Lyn's desk. She observes her pupil closely, meticulously correcting her marks as she hoped to guide her through the mess that was arithmetic. Today's subject was basic algebra, and Lyn struggled.

Grimacing as her eyes danced around different letters disguised as numbers, Lyn said, "So...what's so important about this?"

Estelle replied, "Algebra is one of the most elementary subjects that every noble understands. Thus, you must as well. Please, Lady Lyndis, determine the root of this polynomial."

Lyn frowned and then digs herself deeper back into the textbook. She absolutely loathes anything involving math, not dissimilar to a certain purple-haired noble from another reality.

This is hard. She thought. Why can't I be doing something else...like horseback riding back in my beloved Sacae?

Lyn thinks back on the plains of her birth. She remembers the cool wind brushing against her hair, the wide open spaces, and the quiet nights spent in happiness. She was so much freer then...so much more content with life...

Interrupting her train of thought, Mademoiselle Estella jotted some numbers down on the chalkboard directly in front of Lyn. The sound is loud and obnoxious enough to send the princess back down to Earth, and she refocused back on the topic at hand. Algebra.

Find the roots of the following binomial. F(x) = x - 2x 1.

Drat. Lyn thought. She didn't know where to begin...

...

[Knock] [Knock]

A moment passed, and Lyn notices some knocking on the door. She looks over at Mademoiselle Estelle to see if she will answer it, but she appeared too preoccupied with smoking out of her pipe by the window. Stubborn silence filled the air, and Lyn wonders if she herself should answer the door.

She said, "Mademoiselle, there's someone at the door. Should I go answer it?"

Estelle lifts her nose like the posh aristocrat she was, and replied, "No. I'll do it myself, darling. Stay with your work."

She stood up and answered the door. Peering her head from her work, Lyn realized that there were two men in finely tailored suits. They had black and brown hair respectively, while also carrying the finesse of a man of service.

One of the men spoke, his accent a similar form of upper class to Estelle. He said, "Mademoiselle Estelle! Pleasure seeing this fine evening. We are the servants here to attend to Lady Lyndis. I am Monsieur Jean, and this is my peer Nemo."

Estelle raises her eyebrow in suspicion at both the man's claim and his accent. It came from the same region she grew up in and rubbed off on her the wrong way. Regardless, both Jean and Nemo bowed respectfully.

She said, "I don't remember Lord Hausen mentioning the hiring of new butlers. Tell me, Jean, do you have a surname?"

Jean nodded and replied, "I do. That would be Passepartout."

Passepartout. In Estelle's home region of northern Etruria, they were one of the few places in the world that carry surnames among their populace. Passepartout was an uncommon name there, but a valid one.

Estelle smiles and firmly shakes Jean's hand. She said, "It's a pleasure having another one of my countrymen here at the castle, Monsieur Jean."

Estelle took a moment to observe the two new butlers before her. Jean was a dapper fellow wearing all black, and sported matching hair slicked back with lime juice. In contrast, Nemo was much less graceful in his appearance, and although his suit suggested nothing was wrong, his unkept hair set off a red flag for Estelle. It was Estelle's responsibility as governess to make sure competent servants attended to Lady Lyn, so she didn't hesitate on what she was about to do next.

Looking at Nemo, she said, "Nemo...that is your name, correct?"

Nemo nodded, "Yes, misses. I specialize in every c—"

Estelle cuts him off, astonishing both Jean and Lyn. She said, "That won't be necessary. As of this moment, your contract is terminated. Please leave the castle at once."

"What?!"

Estelle grabs a cane and pushes Nemo out from the classroom. Jean can only look out with horror as his sole companion disappeared behind an open door.

Estelle said, "I will not allow simple thieves to attend Lady Lyn. Get out."

Nemo pleaded, "I am not a thief! I am a valet!"

"Out!"

Estelle closes the door shut, locking Nemo on the other side. Now content with the current state of things, she turned her attention back towards her pipe, and silently smokes out of it again. Meanwhile, Jean looks on with silent anticipation, and he mutters something underneath his breath. "Drat, that changes things..."

Lyn can't help but feel...a sense of familiarity over Monisuer Jean. She couldn't figure out why, as his accent and demeanor were foreign to her. But it's there and she can't shake it off.

Not wanting to appear idle, Jean looks over at Lyn's work and scratches his chin. Noticing this, Lyn scrunches over on her seat so that Jean could more easily look over her shoulder...

Jean said, "Huh, this a simple binomial. Lady Lyndis, do you require assistance in finding the roots?"

Lyn sighed and then nods her head in defeat. There was zero chance she'd be able to figure this out on her own while Estelle was preoccupied to her devices, so she accepted the help of this mysterious butler. She said, "Please..."

The butler smiles, and he pulls a chair beside her. Inspecting him, she realized he's a younger man in early twenties. His fancy suit didn't have a single stain on it, and his dapper red tie shined under the gloss. His finely trimmed face reminded her of an eccentric neighbor she grew up with, and his tanned skin of that of an old lover...

What am I thinking? She thought. This butler isn't Samuel. There's no way...

His voice had none of the twang of that southern Hispanic, and his hair contained no hint of curls. Samuel didn't have a history of clean-shaven faces either, and loved to keep a beard on his chin. His eyes weren't heterochromic either, reflecting a deep shade of brown. There's no reason to believe this man was anything else besides Jean, and so Lyn rested her suspicions.

Jean scribbles an "X" at the side of Lyn's paper, putting a "1" on the top quadrant and a "2" in the bottom quadrant. Lyn recognized these as the coefficients of the third and second values of the equation, respectively. Smiling like a mad scientist, he asked, "Do you want to see some magic?"

Lyn doesn't care much for magic, but she does care for the right answer. She replied unenthusiastically, "I suppose."

Undeterred from his student's lack of motivation, Jean asked, "What's are the factors of 1?"

That's easy. Lyn thought.

She replied, "That'd be 1 and 1..."

Jean nods approvingly, "Correct! Now, what happens when you add those two numbers together?"

"You get...two..."

Jean scribbles down two pairs of parentheses, implanting an x in each. He said, "Okay, here's the magic. You take those pairs of ones and flip the signs..."

(x-1)(x-1)

He asked, "Now...what is the root of the function?"

Coming to her answer, Lyn smiles and scribbled her answer on the sheet. Her butler was an excellent tutor, and she appreciated his help.

She said, "That would be 1. Thank you, Jean. You really helped me out."

Jean shook his head, "You had the ability to do this all along. Do you have anything else you need me to go over?"

Lyn nods and takes out another assortment of paperwork from her bag. She replied, "I do. We can work on this until my doctor's appointment in an hour..."


Later...

Jean asked, "So, what's the purpose of this doctor's appointment?"

Jean and Lyn were walking through the hallway en route to Dr. Swift's office. The place was hectic with soldiers, staff, and others preparing for the inevitable siege. Soldiers marched in straight lines towards their defensive positions, and servants brought vital supplies to far-flung corners of the fortress. It seems odd that the princess and her servant were doing nothing to assist in the war preparations, and Lyn understood that.

Ignoring Jean's question, she quipped, "My grandfather has barred me from sparring or assisting in any war tasks. He says a Lycian princess has no place on the battlefield."

Shifting her eyes, she blankly gazes at the soldiers sparring outside. There were blades of steel clashing at each other, sparks flying as the practice blades sit idly nearby...

Is that sadness? Jean thought.

She added, "I fear I've picked up some disease. I struggle to get up from bed in the morning, and I have no energy anymore. I think Dr. Swift can help me. He's the only person who can help me."

Thinking back on the day, Jean thinks about how Lyn appeared perfectly healthy during class. She never coughed and didn't seem to suffer from nausea or head pain...

Suddenly the young valet comes to bear with a painful truth. What if this disease isn't a traditional ailment, but something much deeper? Something much more personal.

Searching for answers, he said, "Mademoiselle Lyndis, does something trouble you? I can reassure you that as your servant I will not hold any prejudices against you."

Lyn shakes her head weakly, but Jean understood her complacency was a lie. She continues to hang her head down in silence, the front cowlick of her hair dropping like it were affected by rain.

She said, "No. All I want is for someone to spar with me, for an opportunity to shake the rules and regulations of nobility for a short while. I feel...so isolated around here. Not even my best friend Florina can hope to understand my troubles..."

Lyn's eyes water, and Jean responded by politely (and discreetly) offering a handkerchief. A brief moment of repose passes by, and this gives Lyn the strength to continue on down the hallway.

Jean asked, "If I were to offer myself as a sparring partner, would that make you feel better? Don't worry about your father or the soldiers finding out, I can reassure you I am a man of silence."

Lyn smiles softly, the first time Jean's seen her express happiness on this journey. She truly appreciated her servant's worthwhile attention.

She replied, "Yes, that would please me greatly..."

"Oh, I see we've arrived."

Lyn stops beside a large door. They were somewhere in the east wing of the castle, a section notable for its isolation relative to the rest of the building. The dark air sends a chill down Jean's spine. He didn't like this place one bit.

He said, "Mademoiselle, are you sure this is the doctor's office? There's nobody around..."

Sure enough, the once bustling corridors were now empty of all activity, as the vast majority of war preparations occurred elsewhere. Not a soul comes out here save for a single sentry at the end of every hour.

Lyn replied, "I am certain. Recently the doctor changed his office to the east wing so he could more effectively carry out his research."

"Research?"

Lyn added, "Yeah. He mentioned there was a new disease spreading around in the peasantry in the countryside. I sure hope he finds the cure soon."

Those words strike Jean like they were a bolt of lightning. His hands quiver, and his eyes quickly dash around the perimeter like a soldier searching for hostiles. Still, he needed more information.

He asked, "Lyn...about this disease. Was it named the Pestilence?"

"..."

"Yeah. How do you know about it? Did you speak with Dr. Swift?"

Jean's eyes widen with fright. He lurches himself between the door and Lyn, blocking the latter from touching the handle.

Surprised, Lyn said, "What's the meaning of this? I need to open this door!"

Jean shook his head, "I can't allow you to do that. Listen to me, Lyn. You need to run as far away from here as possible. There's a creature in this castle hellbent on turning you into a monster, and I think it's taken the form of Dr. Swift."

Lyn can't believe what she was hearing. This man had clearly taken a right turn straight into crazy town, and now he stood in the way of her getting the help she needed.

She said, "That's preposterous! Step aside, Mr. Passepartout. I respect you for your service, but don't make me do something I'll r—"

BOOM!

Suddenly, a beam of dark energy streaks through the wooden door and crashes into Jean's back. He tumbled into the air, narrowly missing Lyn and hitting the opposing stone wall hard.

Lyn exclaimed, "Jean!"

Lyn glances back at her wounded servant and then back at their attacker. Standing at the door frame was a man wearing a bird mask that covered his entire face, a man that by every indication should be Dr. Swift.

But he wasn't.

He said, "Ah...that spell was meant for you m'lady. My condolences to your servant that I just killed."

Killed?

A shot of anger courses through Lyn's veins. She didn't understand what was going on, but her emotions compel her to fall back on her warrior instincts. She lowers her hand to her waist to draw her trusted sword...

!

But it's not there. Royal princesses don't carry weapons around them in their day-to-day lives, and Lyn did the same after she settled down in Castle Caelin. She was unarmed and helpless, just as the "Doctor" had planned.

Lyn takes a step back. She now understood the precarious situation she was in and wanted to keep as much distance between them as possible.

She exclaimed, "Dr. Swift! What is the meaning of this?!"

The doctor chuckled, sending a new wave of fear down Lyn's spine. His voice was a corrupted version of that man's likeness, but the difference is as clear as day.

He replied, "Dr. Swift? Hehehe...he's no longer with us, I'm afraid. He impeded my research...so I rid this body of him for good. It was a shame really, without his insight I never would have existed."

Lyn cried, "What?!"

The doctor shakes his head, and then whispers an incantation underneath his breath. With those words a trio of gray faceless men erupt from the stone earth, their hands grasping rusted steel weapons.

The doctor said, "I've said too much. My master Ephidel will never allow me to continue my research if I don't cure you as soon as possible."

Lyn braced herself as the faceless men lurched towards her. She clenched her fist and buried it into the first monstrosity that went for her shoulder and followed that up by kicking the second one in the face...

"Hwaaaaugh!"

The creatures fall onto the ground with a triumphant crack. Despite her status as a princess, she still held all the knowledge of combat from her earlier experiences. She was not defenseless by any means, but that doesn't mean she's invincible.

"Waaaaaaagh..."

One creature grabs her by the arm and digs its razor-sharp teeth into her shoulder. She screams out in pain, flailing her arms to push the creature away. Eventually, she succeeds in this task, but not without losing some flesh in process...

Lyn said, "Ack! You fiend...that thing didn't have teeth be—"

Lyn stops mid-sentence, and gasps. The creature stares at her silently, its mouth covered in a waterfall of blood. Her blood. She looks down on her right shoulder where the creature had bitten her, and nearly faints at the sight. That thing had punctured an artery...

"Ugh..."

!

Lyn catches herself before falling onto the ground, but just barely. The pain surrounding her wound was nearly unbearable now, and it took everything within her not to cry out again. She couldn't show weakness to this medieval brute, especially when these might be her final moments.

She raises her head and meets the gaze of her assailant, the dishonorable plague Doctor. He chuckled lightly at his prey and then befalls into a villainous monologue.

He bellowed, "Hehehehe. Finally, I have you here. I will cure you of this Pestilence that infects your body. I will remake you into a better version of yourself, a stronger image that will serve me and my master. Quintessence fills your body to the brim, and I know that with your assistance I will take over this castle with little trouble..."

The doctor raises his hands towards the sky like a preacher praising their god. He said, "Mwuahahaha! Your servant nearly succeeded in dismantling my plan! Had he acted sooner, I never would have been in the position to fell him with one easy sp—"

"HOLD UP!"

A voice penetrated through the grim air, its tone live with vengeance. Suddenly, a masked figure walks in front of Lyn, with his attire startlingly similar to the late valet. In his grasp...no attached to his wrist was a single darkened blade that glistened under the dim sunlight.

The doctor exclaimed angrily, "Didn't I just kill y— wait a minute. That mask...that aura. I recognize it from somewhere. Are you a—"

"Pulvis ex igni summam potestatem ades!"

A single brush of purple flame extrudes from the man's left fingertip and towards his foe. The doctor couldn't react fast enough to dodge it, but he didn't need to. He simply raised his black cloak, and the magic dissipated around him harmlessly.

The doctor cackled, "Hahaha! Was that supposed to hurt?"

The man bites his lip, but doesn't back down. Still, he muttered, "Damnit. I'm still too weak to touch him with my spells..."

Meanwhile, Lyn sits nearby on a single knee. The surrounding air was turning hazy, but her curiosity pushed her to ask the single question that's curtailing her mind...

She asked, "You! Who are you? What did you do to Jean?!"

The man looks back at Lyn and smiled confidently. He digs into his suit and retrieved a small vial containing blue liquid. He throws it at the wounded princess and fixed his attention back at his foe. Sword firmly raised, he stares down that bird-faced villain with fire in his eyes.

He said, "Heal yourself up, Lady Lyn. You have no reason to be afraid of me as I am with Lord Eliwood's army. My name is Lieutenant Kenan Vacia. You have a right to a proper and thorough explanation, but I'm afraid that will have to wait. We need to take care of this accursed oath breaker..."