“Flora Emerald, resident of Ode Town, Delan Autonomous Territory, half-elf. Lady Moria Delan, the Duke of Delan’s eldest daughter, believes her healing abilities are exceptional, her character virtuous, and that she has developed a special medicine for frostbite. She meets the Imperial definition of talent according to law.”
“Therefore, by exercising the right of recommendation, I hope to bestow upon her the honor of a Knight.”
Bishop Sherman calmly finished reading the imperial edict of appointment for Flora and looked at her.
“The frostbite remedy, I’ve heard of it as well. Since it came out, deaths among those engaged in Icefield business and adventuring have dropped significantly, and the Church receives fewer, less severe injuries.That’s a true achievement. If you are indeed the creator of this medicine, and as excellent a healer as Lord Delan claims, then this honor of knighthood is truly deserved.”
Or perhaps, she deserves even more.
Sherman thought that those who could save others were worthy of further reward.
As the bishop the Emperor trusted, he had the authority, and he was prepared for it.
However, before that, he needed to understand this young lady more fully.
Of course, he did not doubt what was written in the investiture document.
Flora was certainly an outstanding healer, definitely connected to that special medicine, and her character likely wasn’t lacking either, but there was something else he wished to know.
“To wear the crown is to bear its weight. You said you are prepared. So now, as His Majesty’s special envoy, witness to this investiture, and Bishop of the Imperial Church, I ask you to confirm: Are the deeds stated in the investiture Flora Emerald’s doing, and are you Flora Emerald herself?”
This girl named Flora was rumored to closely resemble the figure in the Church’s prophetic mural.
A half-elf with no visible elven features.
A pain-sharer said to possess the ability to heal all.
A flawless soul, whose eyes held the clear sky.
He saw her today and she did match that description, but as a man of faith, he knew better than anyone that gods did not exist.
If the person in that legendary mural painted by the gods had truly appeared, then at this age—so close to death—should his faith be shaken?
Sherman was pondering this question.
Flora, on the other hand, remained unfazed.
In his eyes, the girl showed not the slightest ripple of emotion under his gaze or questioning.
“If I’m not, will I be executed?”
She asked quietly, with a calm acceptance of life and death, without any reverence, and betraying no hint of whether she was lying.
Yet Sherman knew that such composure would only convince others of her innocence, and also proved her elven blood—this was the arrogance of one who bore the blood of long-lived races.
Sherman tucked away his wavering faith and spoke evenly: “Deceit is a crime. To deceive the Emperor for honor, to claim another’s achievement—such acts are enough to warrant being tied to the pyre and executed in the Flower Square of the capital.”
This was the law; he was merely stating facts.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Flora replied just as calmly.
Her attitude only reinforced the words of the self-proclaimed mentor from earlier, and the guests’ whispered discussions diminished even further.
Flora said nothing more along those lines.
She knew that seeking death was meaningless—after all, ordinary means couldn’t kill her.
The shackle bound to her soul meant that as long as Moria and the others wished it, she could always be resurrected in a new body.
For now, her only choice was to follow the arrangements set by Moria and the others.
“So, am I supposed to prove my abilities to the gentlemen and ladies in the audience, as well as the truth of what’s written in the investiture?”
Flora glanced toward those who doubted her.
More precisely, she looked straight at Moria and the others.
With her gaze, she asked how she should continue this performance.
She wanted to know as well.
The unease brought by Tatashimi was growing stronger and stronger since she’d stepped onto the stage, urging her to catch any abnormality around her, to prepare for their next move before they acted.
Even if only in her heart.
Yet, they too seemed to be waiting for the right moment.
“Yes, the gentlemen and ladies present have raised doubts, so you must respond. However, whether your answer suffices is for me to decide. Having been appointed by His Majesty, you need not worry that I’ll make a biased judgment.”
“So…”
Flora knew that the bishop’s words were just procedure—routine bureaucratic phrases.
How to prove herself was not for her to consider.
Her task from start to finish was merely to use the etiquette she had learned these past days at tonight’s banquet.
As for anything else, she wasn’t prepared—it was supposed to be handled by Moria and the others.
“Bishop, I have no intention of becoming a useless noble leeching off His Majesty’s graces. If proof is needed, it’s simple.”
Feeling the moment was right, Moria stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention and giving a wide smile as she spoke clearly.
“Since I am recommending Miss Flora for knighthood, naturally I am prepared to have her tested by everyone.”
She turned aside.
Tatashimi stepped forward to meet the crowd’s gaze.
“Our team’s scholar, Miss Tatashimi, was late this evening. She owes everyone an explanation, and her explanation will suffice to answer your doubts.”
As she spoke, Moria fixed Flora with that unsettling, expectant look.
“And let everyone remember, tonight’s banquet is not only a gathering of us young people and Miss Flora’s knighthood ceremony—there’s another theme as well.”
“What other theme?”
The long-silent Amyar played along.
Who knew how the sisters had reached an agreement, but now they coordinated seamlessly.
Flora grew more and more uneasy at this change.
She did not think it was a good sign.
Tatashimi’s words soon confirmed her intuition.
“Due to the sale of inferior frostbite remedies causing serious harm, and with the whereabouts of former Emerald Heart healer Fros Camille currently unknown, our team has decided: Tonight, at this banquet, we will publicly issue a wanted notice for this counterfeit peddler.”
Her gaze, unreadable as to whether it was icy or taunting, never left Flora.
Her official tone made Flora instinctively hold her breath.
“At the same time, the Emerald Heart Team will take responsibility for the ill effects he caused. Bishop, esteemed guests, if you wish to see proof of Miss Flora’s abilities, all she needs to do is cure those made gravely ill by the fake medicine—will that suffice?”
Gravely ill from fake medicine?
Flora was stunned, then saw Tatashimi clap her hands.
Her eyes followed toward the right-hand door of the hall.
Fifteen injured people were carried in on stretchers by guards.
Even from over ten meters away, it was plain to see—they all suffered from festering skin, and some already bore the pallor of death.
Flora’s eyes widened and she instinctively wanted to cry out in protest.
But before she could, the collar on her neck tightened, and her voice was cut off by magic.
A sudden sense of suffocation made her vision darken.
In her blurred sight, she could only make out the face of Moria, standing calmly in the crowd, still smiling.
She had always been watching Flora’s reactions.
Whether joy, rage, or contorted pain—
To her, they all seemed to be a form of entertainment.
Were it not for the magical restraint, Flora knew she would not have the strength to remain standing.
She searched the crowd for any different kind of gaze.
Erca watched her with concern, but could offer no comfort.
Tatashimi’s gaze was shadowed and contemptuous, as if Flora’s behavior was simply weak and pathetic.
She instinctively glanced at Linko.
The maid’s face was blank, not even looking at her—strangely, this brought comfort.
Maybe she hadn’t expected things to turn out like this either.
Soon, Flora saw Lisette’s face.
She was watching calmly; her expression made it clear that everything was within the princess’s expectations.
So perhaps the bishop also knew this would happen—was that why he seemed so unflustered?
She thought about it, feeling as if everything was slowing down.
Even the sounds around her began to blur.
“Naturally, this method of proving Miss Flora Emerald’s abilities, I believe, will leave no room for objection among the guests. As the leader of the Priestly Order, I can see these are indeed adverse reactions from misuse of medicine.If one is not intimately familiar with such medicines, it would be nearly impossible to heal their injuries.”
Flora’s every reaction was caught by Bishop Sherman at her side.
He clearly noticed the abnormality of the collar on her neck, but chose to ignore it.
Before coming to this banquet, he had already prepared himself mentally.
However, he greatly admired Flora’s furious expression—even under magical suppression—and looked forward to her next move.
Soon, with everyone’s eyes on them, Moria strode up onto the stage, walked straight to the frozen Flora, took her hand in front of everyone, smiled at the bishop, and then quietly spoke: “I know you’re angry. I said I’d make you a noble, and you wanted nothing to do with it. You’re someone who doesn’t want to put on airs, who cherishes everyone, a kind girl. Even if Fros did such a terrible thing, even if these innocent people have suffered because of him.”
“You still want to protect his reputation, to tell everyone he had no ill intent, that he only made fake medicine because he was too hasty. But if you do that, no one will thank you.”
She spoke slowly and clearly.
Everyone understood she was not just speaking to Flora, but also to all those who had doubts about Flora.
They were surprised to see this gentle side of Moria.
Could their relationship really be as ambiguous as previously displayed?
Poor Fros, they thought. Moria’s previous public statements implied quite a special relationship with someone, after all.
The crowd’s looks toward them grew more suggestive, but Moria continued with her prepared speech.
“Some means are necessary. If you want to prove your ability to everyone, you must make sacrifices. These people need urgent treatment. I’m at fault for not letting you heal them earlier.”
“But what else could I do? Look at it from another angle—if I hadn’t gathered them here, no other doctor could have cured them. So hurry and treat them now. Afterward, you can blame me all you want.”
“Moria, you…”
How could you say such things?
You didn’t profit from selling fake medicine, but created victims to use as props for this display.
How could you do something so cruel so easily?
Flora could not ask aloud.
She knew Moria understood what she would ask, and even if she voiced these words, the woman would feel no guilt.
She would only relish Flora’s expression.
“As nobles, this is already the greatest mercy we can show to commoners. Once you become a noble, you’ll find that some things are simply done differently. I’m sorry to make you endure this.”
Moria put on a look of guilt and turned to the crowd.
“Everyone… please forgive me for asking a knight to humble herself and treat their wounds.”
Flora knew nothing she said would matter.
Everything was within this woman’s control.
All she could do now was obey.
“I’ll kill you.”
She whispered so only Moria could hear.
“Will you, now.”
Turning, Moria looked into her eyes, hands pressing down on her shoulders, and answered in a matching low voice.
“I look forward to that day.”