Vesta flapped its wings and glided onto the Emperor's desk—a table carved from rich mahogany, its surface polished to a deep sheen and lined with intricate craftsmanship.
Visil took his seat once more.
He gestured for Lord Elbus and Kaiser to stand before him as the discussion began.
"Mighty Vesta… how has Ayumu been living all this while?"
Vesta was silent for a moment.
Then—
"The child has gone through much," it said slowly. "From the very beginning… not long after I was bound to her, she witnessed atrocities committed against her mother."
Visil stilled. A quiet dread crept into his chest.
So it was true.
Ayumu had seen things—things he had always hoped she never would.
He let out a slow breath, the weight of it pressing heavily on him.
"…Is that why she is afraid of me?" Visil asked.
"Not just you," Vesta replied calmly. "She fears men in general. But… you could say that fear has allowed her to survive for as long as she has."
Its gaze softened slightly.
"White magis are, by nature, pure and kind-hearted. They are often taken advantage of."
Visil pressed his fingers to his temple. Another headache was coming.
Lord Elbus stepped forward, his tone measured.
"Your Majesty, I believe the more pressing concern is whether the young lady is capable of serving as your advisor. She has appeared… quite suddenly. Dropping from the sky, literally. If she were to be appointed, without just reasons, it may not sit well with others."
"And there is more," Kaiser added, his voice steady. "Others will seek to obtain a white magis for their own selfish desires. Not only her safety is of concern, a war might even breakout again for the right to claim a white magis power and skill."
Visil fell silent.
Such a sudden appearance—and yet, the consequences came flooding in all at once.
All this time, he had only wanted one thing for her.
To keep her safe. To protect her. His dearest sister whom was separated from him for 10 long years.
Visil wanted to give her a life where she could be cared for. Even spoiled, without worry.
But, he knows that went against everything a white magis was.
They were like wandering souls, guided by their own will. To confine them… would only break them.
"Ayumu's capabilities are beyond anyone here," Vesta said, ruffling its feathers slightly. "Of that, I am certain."
Its voice carried quiet authority.
"Test her. She will excel in every regard."
A pause.
"You are speaking of a child who has received the finest education from many lands… a child who has endured hardship, and in doing so, honed both mind and body to their limits."
Visil considered it carefully. What the Mighty Vesta had suggested was not a bad idea at all.
If Ayumu were to be tested—and if she excelled, as he already believed she would—then there would be no better candidate to stand beside him as an advisor.
At the end of the day, Ayumu was a White Magis. A rare and capable existence, one whose potential could not be ignored. And if she proved herself through sanctioned assessment, her authority would naturally command acceptance—no noble would openly question her standing, no officer would doubt her directives, and even the public would have little ground to dispute her role beside the throne.
"We will proceed with that plan," Visil said at last, his tone decisive. His gaze shifted to Lord Elbus. "Lord Elbus, I believe you would be best suited to relay this matter to the ladies."
He straightened the documents neatly on his desk, the soft rustle of paper filling the brief silence, before continuing.
"I have high confidence in Ayumu. She is Lord Eomer's daughter after all."
He paused briefly, letting the weight of the name settle in the room before continuing.
"Kaiser, I want you to arrange for the finest instructors from the Volance School, as well as scholars from the Magis Department, to prepare a proper evaluation for her."
Kaiser stood with his arms crossed, listening intently. After a brief pause, he spoke in his usual measured tone.
"Lady Jadeite also holds one of the highest authorities within the Volance School. Given her involvement in this matter today, it would be more appropriate to exclude her from the evaluation process—for the sake of fairness and impartiality."
Visil leaned back slightly in his chair, studying him for a moment before a faint smile crossed his lips.
"I am impressed by how thorough and strict you are," he said. "Very well. Let it be done as you suggest."
Without another word, Lord Elbus bowed respectfully and turned to leave the chamber, the heavy doors closing softly behind him.
The moment the sound faded, the room seemed larger, emptier.
Visil exhaled slowly, a deep sigh that carried more weight than he intended. His thoughts lingered, and despite himself, he found the need to ask Vesta more about his sister.
Mighty Vesta was perched nearby, calmly preening its feathers as though the conversation held no urgency at all.
"Mighty Vesta," Visil began, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "I know it is much to ask, but… how has Ayumu lived all this while? How is she—physically, mentally… how is she truly?"
The questions tumbled out, one after another, betraying the concern of a brother that was separated from the one he sought to protect for nearly 10 whole years. Regret and worry were tightly woven into every word.
Vesta paused its grooming. For a moment, it simply watched him.
"It is not within my nature to explain everything," it finally replied. Its voice was calm, but carried a weight that quieted the room further. "However… I can tell you this much. Ayumu has endured far more than most would survive."
It tilted its head slightly, as if seeing something distant beyond the walls of the chamber.
"In my eyes, her future is one of greatness. But greatness, for her, will come at a cost."
Visil's expression tightened.
"She smiles," Vesta continued, "but it is a mask she has learned to wear well. She hides what lies beneath it. So I advise you—treat her with care. Within her is a crumbling castle, desperately trying to remain standing."
Silence followed.
The words settled heavily in Visil's chest, sinking deeper with each passing second.
Kaiser, who had been listening quietly the entire time, showed little outward reaction. Yet something in his gaze shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible.
Even he, who rarely allowed emotion to surface, found himself unsettled.
And for the first time, both men shared the same thought and care without speaking it aloud.