Edith groaned as her consciousness returned.

A burning ache permeated her body. Every part of her below the neck felt numb and sluggish. Even the warmth of her phoenix's aura, which usually soothed her with a gentle touch, seemed oppressive and stifling.

It was as though her muscles were in open rebellion after the brutal treatment they had been put through. It wasn't the first time, as this had happened on every occasion after she led the army into a major battle.

"Edith," she heard the gentle voice of Mother Abbess Anne.

She felt the cool touch of a damp cloth wipe her sweaty forehead. Her eyelids fluttered open as they met a pair of deep-emerald eyes heartbroken with worry.

"M-mother..."

Edith pressed her elbows against the bed as she struggled to push herself up to even a sitting pose.

"Don't..." Anne spoke as she laid a tender hand on Edith's arm. "Your body is exorcising all the damage it accumulated. Let it rest."

In other words, she was in a 'controlled fever'. Instead of being a natural response to disease, her 'fever' had been purposefully induced to accelerate internal cleanup and repair.

It was no wonder why her body burned hot and her lips felt parched. The atmosphere seemed sweltering compared to the usual aura from her phoenix Durandal. Edith then noticed that there were in fact two phoenixes standing atop her comforter. Her familiar Durandal was joined by his best friend Hauteclaire, both of whom chirped as they looked up towards her with caring gazes.

In addition, she could feel the mana streaming through her familiar link. Durandal was not just feeding her magical energy. He was cycling his innate power through her, burning away all contaminants with the blazing heat of purification.

"W-water... please..."

Anne placed one arm around Edith's back and slowly helped the latter up just enough to sip from a bowl held in her hands.

"You almost died this time, you know," the Mother Abbess said in a pained voice. "You've been unconscious for three days and two nights! Even though the backlash from the sword is supposedly 'non-lethal', there's only so much that your body can take!"

Edith finished the entire bowl before she laid back down, albeit against a few extra pillows this time.

"You know I have to do it, Mother," the Saint smiled weakly. "I am the only one who can do it, and therefore I must do it. It is... the Holy Father's will."

The Mother Abbess pursed her lips. It was clear just how much she hated those words in this instance.

"Were it not, I would take that sword away from you in a heartbeat," Anne declared. "You may be the Holy Father's daughter first, but I'm the one who raised you! Saint of the Church or not, I am still your mother!"

"--And I will never forget that, Mother," Edith beamed with gratitude. "None of us will."

...

"How is everyone?" Edith asked some minutes later. She had drunk two more bowls of water in the interim, and Hauteclaire had departed back to his master.

"We've retreated back north of the Gwilen river." Anne began, though her words soon turned acidic. "Her Highness, or more precisely, that Weichsen fiancé of hers, has more or less taken command of the army using her authority."

"It matters not who is in command as long as the soldiers managed to withdraw safely," Edith smiled with relief.

"But he has completely rewritten our strategy and began reorganizing our forces, without even the courtesy of consulting you -- the official commander in charge of this front -- or even your plans first!"

Edith tilted her head. Whereas others might see it as an insult to their honor, she felt that it was only natural.

"Well, I have been rather... unconscious. The war waits on no one."

"That's no reason to scrap all of your arrangements without so much as a word!"

"Mother," Edith returned a calming smile. "I don't mind. I really don't. We all know that I am by far the least experienced of the front commanders."

"As if that pretentious, insolent brat has any more experience than you do," Anne scoffed. "At least you've had practice commanding a border garrison for the past decade."

"Nevertheless," the Saint patiently added, "if the Holy Father has sent Her Highness, then her fiancé is just as much a part of his plans. After all, His Grace is the prodigal son of the famous Marshal of Weichsel. If our Lord wishes to make use of his talents to aid our country in repelling the infidels, then whom are we to say no?"

But Anne wasn't convinced in the slightest:

"Who is to say that the Holy Father has sent them? I should remind you that she is the daughter of an apostate! Her father was excommunicated by the representative of our Lord!"

Edith winced at those words. If Princess Sylviane could be tainted by her birth, then what about herself? After all, Edith's father didn't, couldn't even acknowledge her as his own.

"...And I am a bastard in the eyes of the Holy Father," she remarked with a stabbing feeling in her own chest.

Anne's expression softened instantly as her lips twisted under an apologetic frown.

"The sin is your father's! You, my daughter, are innocent! The Holy Father himself has expressed that you are blameless. How could a sinner be recognized as a saint?"

"Then... surely, Her Highness also cannot be held responsible for the wrongdoings of her father," Edith countered.

This was especially the case when they were accusations that Edith wasn't convinced of. Geoffroi was an emperor who had toiled for the good of his people, who had shown her such personal generosity, who had risked his own safety in order to meet the demands of this war. It was because he insisted on stripping the capital's defenses and sending her every soldier whom he could spare that resulted in the loss of his life in a palace coup.

How could such a man be condemned to hell for all eternity?

"It is not the same," Anne sighed. "You were brought up within the sanctity of the Church and taught all that is good about the world. The Princess, meanwhile, was groomed by the apostate emperor."

Edith felt uneasy as she opened her lips again to counter, only to halt when the Mother Abbess stopped her with a raised hand.

"You were not there at the meeting yesterday." Anne's sad tone rang with disappointment. Her voice revealed an agitation that was fuelled by disillusion. "You did not hear how she callously advocated that we forsake our vows and abandon the innocent. You did not see how she lashed out at the officers for bravely making our stand. How she raved with the fury of one possessed! She even stated that we should have just retreated -- turned our backs upon helpless women and children! -- while those immoral disbelievers overran the main refugee column.

"Why? Why would she say such things, if she was truly the Holy Father's chosen?" Anne exclaimed. "No virtuous woman would speak such blasphemy! Unless, of course, she was not sent by the Holy Father, but by the Devil to trick and deceive us, to tempt us into damnation instead!"

Edith took a deep breath before she returned an uncertain gaze. She doubted she could ever forget that moment when Princess Sylviane's white-blue hew soared in from the horizon. When all hope seemed lost, when nearly thirty thousand Lotharins found themselves in the noose of Cataliyan cavalry, the Cerulean Princess had descended like the Holy Father's own angels to save the day.

It seemed too perfect, too beautiful not to be the work of the Almighty.

"I don't know, Mother," Edith shook her head. "If the Holy Father worked in such a straightforward manner, then he should have crushed the Tauheed uprisings before they ever forged the Caliphate. Yet rather than allow the Imperium to spread the Holy Scriptures far and wide, he allowed one nation after another to break away..."

"That is because the Imperium is decadent and sinful," Anne stated flatly.

"But surely, it is still better for the people to be educated in the true words of our Lord?" Edith thought aloud. "Even if the state is sinful and most of its people corrupt, would it not still be better than an empire of false religion that sought to lead everyone astray?"

This time, even Anne could not answer.

"What are you trying to say?" She asked with a troubled expression.

"I am saying that whatever plans the Holy Father has, they are well beyond our comprehension." Edith gently grasped her foster mother's hand. "It is folly, if not outright arrogant of us, to believe that we can understand his work. When he is all knowing, while we see but a few kilopaces before us."

"You believe we should place our faith in the Princess then? When her words actively seek to lead us astray?"

With no clear answers to guide her, Edith could only frown and look out the window.

O Holy Father... just what is your will?

However there came only silence, only dark clouds that continued to obscure the heavens.

She had to think for herself, to remember those learned words that, in a fit of irony, had been taught to her by the same emperor who was now considered an apostate by the Church.

Would our blessed, merciful savior do thus?

"I would like to give her the benefit of the doubt first," Edith decided. "After all, we are but imperfect creations of the Holy Father. None of us are without sin. After such catastrophic losses, perhaps her judgment merely erred in a moment of helpless frustration. Father knows I have done similar."

Her gaze then returned to Anne.

"However, mother, you are also right: the Holy Father would never love someone who gladly abandons the innocent. Thus," Edith added as an increasing discomfort gripped her chest and conscience, "we must also prepare ourselves for the worst possibility -- that she is indeed tainted by evil, and therefore unworthy of the throne."

Just like the king-and-kin-slayer Gabriel.

Edith had avowed years ago that she served only the Holy Father, and would not take part in any petty conflicts between fellow Trinitians. Yet despite Duke Gabriel's papal backing as the Defender of the Faith, she... just couldn't pretend to approve of him.

For a long minute, the Crusader Saint simply stared at the subordinate who was also her foster mother. Then, with her mind decided, she declared her intent as the road forked before them.

"Mother, privately contact every duke and senior commander whose character you can trust. Tell them that for now, we should follow Her Highness. However, should she fail to correct her behavior and follow the virtues and responsibilities entrusted to her by the Holy Father, then make sure they're ready."

"After the number of toes Her Highness stepped on yesterday, acquiring their support will be easy." Anne scoffed.

Edith gave but a simple nod in response before dropping silent again. She didn't want to plan this, to think this, to consider any of this. Yet she knew that it was her duty to uphold the virtues set down by the Trinitian Church.

Therefore, with another deep breath, the Crusader Saint announced her firm resolution:

"Should that time come, I shall lead the coup myself."

Though I pray that day will never arrive, she silently hoped.