"Do you think Saint Cethleann likes fish?" Ignatz asked. He was standing on one side of the fishing pond, right next to Flayn, for whom the fishing contest was being held for. He kept both hands tightly wrapped around the rod, but his eyes fluttered back to the girl's colorful image as often as possible. "I mean, that's why there's the Goddess Messenger, right?"

"I think she does," Flayn answered confidently. Ever since she took an interest in Ignatz's artistic renditions of what Saint Cethleann looks like, the two of them had been in each other's company much more often. "Legend has it that the Goddess Messengers were followers of Saint Cethleann, as well as the other saints. And the Goddess herself, of course."

"Of course."

"Anyway, I wanted to express my thanks to you for participating in the fishing contest. I know it's an odd time to be having it, but I can think of nothing better to lighten the mood."

"No, I completely understand what you mean!" Ignatz scrambled to say. "Besides, to be honest, things have been kind of grim lately…"

"I can hardly blame you for feeling that way," Flayn muttered. She stared at the ground with a sigh, her long curls of emerald green hair drooping with her. "I'm sure it doesn't help that I caused such a panic last month...and to think I was useless in the entire fiasco with the death knight…"

"You weren't useless!" Ignatz insisted. In truth, his arms ached from holding the rod for as long as he did, but he had no desire to let go of it now, more than ever. "It wasn't your fault that you were kidnapped. You and Monica and Professor Manuela...even more victims that we might not have heard of, you're all victims of the same cause: The Death Knight. Besides, trust me when I say that no one blames you for what happened. I'm sure with time, all will be forgiven."

Her eyes sparkled with a renewed hope. "You think so?"

"I know so." He held the rod with one hand, and used the other to brush over Flayn's with utmost kindness. His fingers were calloused—no doubt a result from the constant archery—but somehow reassuringly soft as he brushed them over the whites of her knuckles. "It's alright. I'm here for you, if nothing else."

Flayn, for the first time since the incident, laughed brightly at his gesture. "You're so sweet, Ignatz. What can I ever do to repay you?"

Even if he wanted to answer, he didn't have the chance to, as the end of the line began to bob violently. They were now both focused on whatever monstrosity was hidden beneath the waters. Ignatz's lithe body bent, shook, and wiggled as he attempted to rein in the fish, and Flayn cheered him on all the while, their struggle earning the attention of onlookers as they shouted and floundered over themselves as if they were ten people, instead of two.

With a final "Yah!" and a dramatic backwards-arch, Ignatz finally dredged out the fish, and the two of them gasped as its giant body flew over them like a shadowy bird, only to sparkle radiantly in the sun all the while.

It was the Goddess Messenger.

The glory was short lived as it hit the ground behind them with a loud thud, and a group of monastery cats—one of which Ignatz recognized as the "representative" of House Gloucester—set upon it like thieves.

"Oh, darn. Well, there's always a next time," Ignatz reassured her, in a voice that wasn't as convincing as it should have been.

Despite the wasted effort, Flayn giggled happily, and beamed up at him with a brilliance befitting Saint Cethleann herself.

"Don't worry, Ignatz," she said to him. "You get first place for style!"