The Orphan Crown

The Moonrise Trials(2)

Time bled away rapidly. The frantic pace within the territory and the Crozier estate showed no signs of slowing; if anything, it grew ever more relentless.

Seven days after Rebecca received Thomas’s letter, the official decree announcing the Moonrise Trials was proclaimed across the kingdom.

Duke Crozier and his heir personally received the imperial mandate from the Emperor, formally granting the Duchy of Crozier the authority to organize and prepare this year's grand event.

A month passed.

As preparations neared completion, invitations bearing the Crozier seal were dispatched far and wide throughout the nobility, strictly regulated to ensure no prominent bloodline was overlooked.

Throughout that month, Franziska had been instructed to increase the frequency of Rebecca’s healing sessions right up until the eve of the opening ceremony.

The healers noted that the poison within Rebecca’s body had been suppressed by forty percent. So long as the grand ritual was performed once every fourteen days, accompanied by bloodletting every two days during the final month preceding the trials, the toxicity would be half-neutralized. With fifty percent of the poison suppressed, Rebecca would be able to safely wield her ancestral mana during the preliminary rounds and at least two combat duels.

This meant the burden placed on Franziska would be lightened significantly during the trials themselves.

When Johannes sought her out to personally deliver news of this arrangement, Franziska was walking alone in the forest behind the estate.

"Do His Grace and the Duchess know of this change?"

She asked, slightly startled, instinctively turning back to look at Johannes. A stray white petal, swept up by the autumn breeze, chanced to settle gently upon her soft hair a detail Franziska herself did not notice. Yet somehow, it caused an unsettling flicker of irritation in Johannes's chest.

"Father and Mother have agreed. Even Rene believes this to be the best course," he answered.

He had actually answered her question. His gaze, seemingly indifferent, remained drawn to that tiny petal. The sudden anomaly in his own composure made him abruptly irritable. He snapped coldly:

"Do not ask unnecessary questions. Focus on your duties, and ensure you do not die. That is all."

"I understand. You need not worry, my Lord."

She lowered her head, her voice as light as a passing breeze. Franziska understood all too well that healing five times a day or enduring such frequent bloodletting far exceeded what her body could bear. Yet to the Crozier family, it was merely a quantified metric. She felt no anger toward Johannes; she simply steadied her breath, resolving to soothe her own aching body as best she could or perhaps discover a shorter, more effective path to ensure Young Lady Rebecca's success at the trials, just as they wished.

Franziska offered a faint smile the immaculate, practiced smile taught in her etiquette lessons yet her eyes reflected the gold-dappled light filtering through the quiet woods.

Seven days before the opening ceremony, the Duchy of Crozier began receiving representatives from noble houses across the realm. Carriages swept continuously through the gates, and the main manor bustled endlessly with banquets and greetings. Even Rebecca, having just awakened from her major healing ritual, was immediately whisked away by Lady Catrina to attend to hostessing duties. Not a single soul in the Crozier domain was granted a moment's rest.

Except for Franziska.

In truth, it was not that she lacked duties, but rather that she simply could not rise from her bed.

Franziska had fallen gravely ill with a high fever.

Her second growth rite had arrived unexpectedly. For two consecutive days, the fever raged without respite. At the crown of her head, the faint, shimmering outlines of two young horns—about a span long—began to take shape. Perhaps owing to her recent exhaustion, the pain of sprouting her horns this second time was far more agonizing than the first.

Franziska felt as though thousands of iron spikes were being driven into her skull, pulled out, and hammered in anew. The agony was so searing that she could not retain even a sliver of consciousness to remain awake. And thus, she never knew that someone had come to stand beside her, gazing at her silently before departing in haste nor did she know that someone, who had scolded her by day for being a burden, stood quietly beside her bed at night, waiting until she fell into a peaceful sleep before silently slipping away.