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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2024-04-09 23:06:05.

“I… The System asked me to relay you a message,” Firana muttered. “He said we are behind schedule.”

The damp, cold air of the underground shrine stuck to the gray walls. Far from the sun and the court intrigue, time stood still, and seconds became eternal. Firana’s words reverberated against the bare stone until silence reigned, but my brain refused to process the message. My eyes fell on the girl. Despite her carefree attitude, she was far from stupid and knew something odd was happening.

I glanced at the Zealot, hoping the headgear had muffled Firana’s voice.

“I know I always say we are behind schedule. You don’t have to remind me every time,” I stuttered, trying to project my best lighthearted teacher’s voice.

[Awareness] flooded my mind with information, and my heart raced inside my chest.

“No, the—” Firana said, but I interrupted her.

“The Class assignment ceremony is not the right moment to joke around,” I said, looking over her shoulder to see the Zealot’s reaction. A thin layer of cold sweat covered my forehead. I could do only so much damage control if the Zealot believed Firana’s words.

“Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t pretend to—" Firana mumbled, but the Zealot interrupted her.

“I saw it too.”

[Awareness] sent my mind on a whirl of several threads of thought. Silencing the Zealot was an option. The aftermath would be catastrophic. Did the inhabitants of Ebros know about heart attacks? A bribe might also work. Lady Jorn probably had access to her family’s funds. Unless the Zealot was completely loyal to the Church. Subterfuge. Trick the Zealot into believing you know more about their Quest?

All options were equally dangerous, but letting the Church know I had direct contact with the System might be even more risky. Being burnt at the stake wasn’t part of my short-term plans. However, being branded a false prophet by the High Priest was easier than proving that the System actually contacted me. I needed to convince the Zealot to take my side.

“The System talks to you. Why?” the Zealot asked.

I raised my arms in defeat.

“I promise I’ll tell you, but let’s take things with ease,” I said, turning to Firana. “I need to know what happened. What did you see?”

Before answering the Zealot’s questions, I needed a complete picture of the situation.

“I touched the Zealot’s hand and was transported back to Magnolia, outside the old Aias Manor. The city was deserted, but a sense of tranquility and peace filled me, and I knew there was nothing to fear,” Firana said. “I headed to the main square because I felt that was where I should go. Everything was as I remember: the gardens, the fruit trees, and the fountains where I used to play when I was little. Then, as I was approaching the market through the main street, a man stumbled outside a store. He was tired and sweaty as if something had been chasing him.”

I nodded in silence. Firana’s story was similar to what Elincia had told me about the Class assignment ceremony: a familiar place, a peaceful feeling. However, Elincia hadn’t mentioned a man stumbling out of nowhere.

“Was he blonde, a bit chubby, and dressed in a yellow shirt?” I asked.

“Yes!” Firana replied. “He signaled me to follow him to the main square while he mumbled something incomprehensible. Once we were on the square, the System spoke to me—not with words, but inside my mind. It was strange. Only when the System spoke to me to offer me the Classes, could the man in yellow speak clearly. I knew he was also the System somehow. He told me to relay the message to you, Mister Clarke, but…”

Firana tried to hide her face between her shoulders.

“But?” I asked, hoping that ‘but’ wouldn’t put me in a more precarious position.

“But he didn’t get to tell me the whole message. He told me you were behind schedule. He was so disturbed that I panicked, picked a Class, and the vision was over,” Firana said.

That was anticlimactic. However, the Zealot stepped forward and closed their hand around my shoulder like a pincer. I had underestimated their strength.

“Tell me, do you know why the System is two but one simultaneously? What does that mean? The Voice of the System doesn’t mention anything like that. Does this have anything to do with the Covenant of the Radiant Fountain?” the Zealot asked, burying their nails deeply in my skin.

I cursed my bad luck. I didn’t want to get involved in a fight between the three branches of the Church. The message from the System Avatar was worrying enough. Being behind schedule could only mean the System Avatar was losing the battle against the piling errors in the code, which meant more Corruption poured into this world.

“Listen. The System gave me a quest,” I said, minding my words.

“But you are not one of us,” the Zealot replied.

“Think about it. Why would the System give a Quest to a Scholar instead of a Zealot? The answer is easy. The System wants something only a Scholar can do,” I said, wincing in pain.

I needed to put the Zealot on my side, and I knew how.

“I think you might be part of that Quest; otherwise, the System wouldn’t have sent you in my direction,” I said.

The Zealot let me go and walked around the tiny shrine while I rubbed my shoulder. I could almost see the Zealot’s inner struggle through the golden mask covering their face. My words had the desired effect. I needed the Zealot to keep my secret at all costs, but to achieve that, I needed to topple some of the Zealot’s beliefs.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“I’m a Zealot. I’m not supposed to have a name as long as I wear the mask.”

Good. There was doubt in the Zealot’s voice.

“The System allowed me to disclose my Quest at my discretion, but I won’t share it with anyone I don’t trust. If you want to be part of this, you better show I can trust you. It’s your call,” I said, feeling the metallic taste of fear in my mouth.

I needed to be more aggressive.

“If you tell your superiors about this conversation, I will deny everything. I will even convince them you are preaching dangerous teachings. I will ask Prince Adrien to back me up, and you’ll be branded as a rebellious Zealot, a heretic.”

My throat was dry.

Slowly, with trembling hands, the Zealot removed their white headpiece and untied their golden mask. A cascade of black hair fell upon the Zealot’s shoulders. It was my first time seeing the Zealot’s face: sharp jaw, small nose, yellow eyes, thick eyebrows, and wolf ears. The Zealot was a woman.

“My name is Astrid,” she said, almost embarrassed without the protection of the mask.

“It’s nice to meet you, Astrid,” I replied, knowing I had already won half the battle. A Zealot from the capital would be a valuable ally; I just needed to convince her not to rat me out.

“What does the System’s words mean? Are we in trouble?” Firana interrupted us.

No matter how I tried to phrase it, the words stuck in my throat. A part of me refused to tell Firana the situation was dire. Putting that burden on a kid’s shoulders felt wrong, no matter if, in this world, she was already considered an adult. Firana would always be a kid in my heart, but that was also dangerous. Whether I liked it or not, Firana was already part of this mess.

Something was wrong. I expected to have more time to deal with the System’s quest.

“We are not in trouble, Firana. We are just behind schedule,” I said, approaching the small shrine and putting my hands over the orb. I needed to ask the System Avatar what the hell was happening.

The orb remained inert.

“We have been down here too long. If we stay longer, we will raise suspicions,” I said, pulling my copper bracelet and putting it on Astrid’s hand. “Find a Courier called Corin. Show her the bracelet and tell her I invited you. Make sure nobody follows you. Be discreet. Tonight.”

Astrid nodded, and my bracelet disappeared between the folds of her tunic. Then, she put back her headpiece and golden mask, and a moment later, we emerged into the audience room. The Marquis was still there, accompanied by the Captain, Abei, and Kellaren. They glanced at us with curious eyes.

“That took some time,” Abei said. “Did you have trouble selecting a Class?”

“Mister Clarke came up with the idea of giving a motivational speech just before I touched the orb,” Firana said, rolling her eyes.

When did she get so good at lying?

I wasn’t going to complain.

“Don’t be so harsh on him. We Scholars have a poetic vein. It shows, especially when we are moved,” Abei laughed. “So, little miss, with which Class the System bless you?”

Firana’s smug grin far surpassed Elincia’s most mischievous smile.

“Don’t say a word, kid. That’s not something Osgirians should know,” the Marquis said, casting a derisive glance upon Kellaren. “Is it a good class?”

“Yes, sir. The best,” Firana replied with a bow.

I had no doubt Firana would get a good class, but hearing confirmation was relieving. I smiled. Seeing her smug grin was enough to know she was thoroughly pleased with her pick. To Zaon’s detriment, I foresaw a lot of bragging in the near future.

Kellaren cleared his throat.

“I disagree with this secrecy. Firana is an important asset of the Aias Family, the information about her Class is instrumental to outline our future plans,” he complained.

I refrained myself from lashing out. Kellaren’s wording caught [Awareness] attention. Asset. The Aias name alone was enough to back up Kellaren’s mercenary operation, and it wasn’t a secret that he wanted to become the head of the famil…

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