***
Twisting the tap on the wall, I watched as water surged through the hose, swelling it with pressure before spilling into the newly remade pond.
Cleaning it out had taken longer than I'd expected—definitely not as simple as the pond-making tutorials I'd watched online had made it seem. Maybe it had been just a big hole before, but now it was a proper pond. The water flow was slow, so it would take until morning to fill completely.
As for the rest of the compound's garden, Evan had brought me some flower seeds and fertilizer, which I'd already dug in. Now, it was just a waiting game until they sprouted. There were still quite a few open patches of soil around the buildings. Maybe I could plant potatoes—they were easy to grow and quick to harvest.
The glass door of the lodge slid open behind me. I turned slightly, glancing over my shoulder as Vice-Commander Monica stepped onto the stone path, her gaze sweeping over my work. Her face was as unreadable as ever, the same cold, impassive expression she'd worn when I met her this morning.
As she neared, stopping just a few feet in front of me, I instinctively snapped to a saluting position and greeted her. "M-morning, Vice-Commander."
She didn't respond immediately, merely standing there, studying me. Or maybe the pond. I wasn't sure. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, and I forced a nervous smile. Normally, officers and instructors were quick with their words, efficient with their presence. Having someone of her rank simply stare at me like this was... new. And terrifying.
I shifted my weight slightly before gathering the courage to speak. "I-is there an issue, Vice-Commander?"
Her blue eyes squinted as she asked, "Why are you decorating the backyard?"
The question caught me off guard. I'd expected something more intense, more scrutinizing. Not... that.
"I-it would be wiser to spend time training yourself," she added, tone flat.
"Y-you're correct, Vice-Commander, but I've already done my training for the day." Her stare didn't waver. If anything, it sharpened, clearly waiting for elaboration. "My routine is a 10-kilometer run through the forest, 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, and 100 squats, accompanied by some stretching. I would do more but my teacher emphasised being able to do it all well and quickly while also looking after my body." I listed quickly. "Its just... I wanted to do something for everyone in the battalion. A way to thank you all for taking me in."
Monica's expression remained unreadable, but something about her gaze intensified. A spike of fear rattled through me. Had I said something wrong? Had I overstepped?
Then, after a long, weighted pause, she finally spoke. "My favourite flower is the Givantian iris. Try planting a few of those somewhere." The statement was so casual, so abrupt, that I barely processed it before she moved on. "What are you planning to do with the area behind the lodge house?"
I shook my head, snapping back to reality. Maybe this was some kind of test?
"I was thinking of adding small crops as well," I explained. "Evan told me potatoes are easy to grow and they are good for eating, so I was considering planting some there."
Again, silence. I wanted to ask her something—several things, actually—but as a Second-Lieutenant, it felt inappropriate. If this was a test, then I had to be careful.
A sharp snap cut through the air. I blinked, head tilting toward the sound. Another snap. Monica stood still, yet the sound had clearly come from her direction.
I glanced down. Just barely peeking out from under her elbow, the lens of a phone camera caught my eye.
'She's... taking pictures of me?' I didn't have time to process that thought before Andromeda's voice chimed in through my earpiece.
[Pilot, I have a message from CK-45 Borealis, Vice-Commander Monica's unit. It reads: My pilot wishes to hug yours but is very shy. Could you help meet my pilot's wish? End message.]
'What?'
Before I could even begin to comprehend what was happening, Monica abruptly turned and closed the distance between us. I stiffened on instinct.
She raised a hand—And patted my shoulder. "If you ever need help with the garden, let me know," she said coolly. "I'll get you some iris seeds."
The sudden, casual approval caught me off guard. Despite the awkwardness of her touch, I couldn't help but smile. "Where is your room's window, Vice-Commander? I'll make sure you can see them in the mornings."
A tiny, almost imperceptible squeak slipped past her lips. She coughed immediately, recovering, then pointed toward the Commander's separate building. "Ahem. Mine is that side of the Commanders' quarters."
"Thank you for telling me, Vice-Commander." I saluted, though I noticed she still hadn't removed her hand from my shoulder. It was... weirdly persistent. I fought the urge to shift uncomfortably. "...Is there something else?"
At last, Monica withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened. "No. That's all, Second Lieutenant. You can continue as you were. Just wait until a tasking is assigned to you, and do as you like with your free time."
Then, with sharp efficiency, she turned and strode back toward the lodge, sliding the glass door shut behind her.
I stood there, perplexed. "What... was that supposed to be?" I murmured, rubbing my shoulder.
[An analysis of character, perhaps,] Andromeda offered.
It made sense. Probably.
[We should focus on trying to achieve the mission.]
I frowned at Andromeda's words. "Mission? We haven't been assigned any yet."
[The mission from CK-45 Borealis. Let Vice-Commander Monica hug you.]
I nearly choked. "That wasn't a mission. It was a request, Andy. What part of Borealis' message made you think it was an assigned task?"
Andromeda went suspiciously silent, as if embarrassed. I sighed, shaking my head as I surveyed the garden.
Until the pond filled and the plants started growing, there wasn't much else I could do here. I needed something to occupy the rest of my day. Then, an image flickered in my mind—the orphanage church.
Jason had explained religion to me before, but I still didn't fully understand it. Maybe visiting an actual church would help me learn more about it. About the Empress, even.
"I wonder what Traveler's thoughts are on religion," I mused. "A lot of his stories involved made-up gods. Maybe I should see what 'religion' is?" I murmured to myself.
Suddenly, a prickle of unease ran down my spine—an instinctual warning that I was being watched. Without hesitation, my fingers wrapped around the knife at my belt, drawing it in a single motion and hurling it toward the source of my unease.
The blade spun through the air, embedding itself in the outer wall of the gym with a dull 'thunk'. But it hit nothing.
I moved forward, yanking the knife free from the stone wall before glancing around the corner into the forest's depths. The trees loomed in silence, their shadows stretched by the beams of light breaking through the canopy. The woods appeared empty, but I knew better.
Someone was out there. Watching.
Only a handful of people in the Rogue Raven Battalion could avoid my senses, and beyond the commanders, I couldn't think of anyone else who'd be capable of such concealment.
Pretending to give up, I turned on my heel, heading toward the lodge. I kept my pace relaxed, waiting for my hidden observer to make a mistake and reveal themselves. But whoever it was—they were careful. No hasty movements, no signs of pursuit.
Fine. I'd inform the commanders before I left.
Inside the lodge, Peter and Tony were seated at the bar, sharing a drink while Maya poured them another round.
"Yo," the red-haired woman greeted as she spotted me. "Finished the upgrades on your gear, Firefly. Head down to the underground bay and grab them when you're ready."
"Thank you, Maya." I hesitated for a moment before shifting my focus to the higher-ranking officers. "Uh, excuse me, General, Commander."
Only Tony turned his attention toward me, while Peter took a long, heavy swig of his beer.
"I'm heading into the city to check on something," I informed them. "Also, I think there are infiltrators hiding in the woodlands around the compound."
Peter let out a grunt, some beer dripping down his chin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "No doubt that's Oscar and his squad," he huffed. "They hate being associated with the others. Take care in town, kid." He waved me off dismissively.
Tony, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol, cocked his head. "What're you going into the city for? Part of Monica's test?"
I frowned. "Test?"
"She mentioned something about testing you," he muttered. "Came back a few minutes ago looking all flustered before rushing upstairs."
That was... odd. But I pushed it aside. "No, I'm just curious about religion," I explained. "I saw a small church yesterday and wanted to learn more about it. I'll be back in time to help Jason with dinner."
Tony gave a lazy wave in farewell, and with that, I stepped outside.
Summoning Andromeda's knight body, I watched as the towering metal frame landed before me, its chest opening to allow me inside. As I climbed in, Andromeda's sensors scanned the surrounding treeline.
[Five individuals detected,] he noted.
Must've been Oscar and his squad, just as Peter said. No immediate threat.
Andromeda's jets flared to life, and in a surge of heat and force, we ascended into the sky, streaking toward the city.
An hour later I arrived at my destination. Before me loomed a monolithic structure, ancient and utterly unlike the glowing steel architecture that filled the cityscape. Its presence alone was jarring—a cathedral standing defiant amidst the modern skyline, its gothic appeal so alien to everything I'd seen before that my mind struggled to process it.
The orphanage church had been practical, structured with function in mind. This, however, was gaudy. White statues of saints and monarchs adorning the exterior, each figure frozen in solemn devotion. Runic engravings covered every surface, whispering an artistry I couldn't comprehend. Even the steps beneath my feet bore intricate carvings, as if no part of the structure could exist without embellishment.
Reaching the entrance, I hesitated beneath the towering metal gate before slipping through a smaller door within it. Inside, the cathedral's main hall was bathed in solemn light, dim yet warm. A sermon was in progress.
"We give our thanks to the Monarch's stars," a man in white robes declared, standing at the head of the gathered congregation. A black scarf draped over his shoulders, his voice calm yet resonant. "We give our prayers to the Monarch, and we give ourselves to their divine love, for without the Monarch, we would be lost in the hollowness—unable to behold the light of the stars that shield us from the terrors that threaten our existence."
I slid onto one of the wooden benches at the back, observing quietly. A few rows ahead, a woman clasped her hands together, holding a three-pointed star between her fingers. Her lips moved in a quiet murmur—a prayer, I assumed.
On the pedestal, the priest's voice continued. "Tell me, lambs. What is the Monarch's intention for us?"
"To live and persevere," the congregation responded in perfect unison.
"Why is it we persevere and live?"
"To bring prosperity and peace to all of humankind." The hall echoed with their words.
"Yes," the priest affirmed. "The Monarch engages in violence so that we, their people, may rest calmly, unburdened by the terrors of the Hollow. They have tamed the stars, clad them in armours of steel, and tasked them with their great work—for the better future only they know." With that, the sermon drew to a close. The priest clasped his hands behind his back. "May the stars guide the Lord. Thank you for attending today."
"May the stars guide the Lord."
The crowd repeated his words before rising, murmuring among themselves as they began to file out of the cathedral.
I remained seated, my thoughts churning. The people of the Nymphas Empire praised the Empress in an odd way. The priest had never referred to her as Empress—only Monarch. And the way they spoke of her... it was almost as if they were trying to dehumanize her.
Which didn't make sense to me. Most ordinary citizens recoiled when they realized I was an artificial humanoid—disgusted by my existence, by my lack of "real" humanity. So why worship the Monarch, who was also not human? If I was deemed unnatural, then by their own logic, shouldn't the Monarch be the same?
"Greetings, O Star of Andromeda." The sudden voice jolted me from my thoughts.
I turned, startled, and found myself staring up at the same priest who had been delivering the sermon. His eyes, old yet sharp, studied me with familiarity.
"H-how do you know me, sir?" I asked cautiously.
The elderly priest chuckled. "I recognize you from the broadcast of this year's graduating knights, Miss Firefly."
My mouth went agape slightly.
"Huhuhu. Not that shocking, is it?" he mused, clearly amused by my expression. "You are famous, after all. Andromeda's pilot? There are few across the galaxy who wouldn't know your face."
I blinked. "Oh. I-I guess you're right."
With a quiet groan, the priest lowered himself onto the bench beside me, sighing as he settled in. "Ahh... I am getting old," he muttered with a chuckle. "Not as spry as I once was. Can't even stand for ten minutes without needing to sit! Hahaha! I remember when I could run for hours without exhaustion, yet now I heave for air after a few steps."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Only showing a meek grin in response.
"You may call me Father Doverie, O Star," he said, offering a warm, knowing smile.
"Uhm... o-okay?" I murmured, still trying to gauge his friendliness. Hesitantly, I asked, "Uh... w-what did you mean by calling me a star?"
"I suppose a soldier wouldn't know," Father Doverie mused, his voice carrying an air of amusement. "Tell me, Miss Firefly—what's the first word that comes to mind when you look up at a clear night sky, when you see the cosmos staring back at you with its millions of bright lights?"
"Beauty," I answered without hesitation. "When I saw them for the first time, I was absolutely mesmerized. To think that something so strange, so unimaginable, actually existed... Before that, all I knew was a barren steel roof."
"Hehehe~. What a strange girl," he chuckled. Leaning his head back, Father Doverie shut his eyes briefly before continuing, "I asked you what you thought about when you saw the stars, not how you saw them."
A flush of embarrassment crept over me. Sliding slightly away from him on the bench, I muttered, "Sorry."
"But beauty, eh?" The old priest hummed thoughtfully. "Yes... that's what anyone should think when witnessing the grandeur of the cosmos. The stars—so brilliant from afar, so eternal in their splendour—but we are mere mortals. We can only gaze upon them. Reach too close, and they will burn us away, for their divinity is not meant for human hands. And yet your kind—the Star Pilots—ride the Astra in the Monarch's name, wielding the power of the very stars after they were tamed and trapped within the Constellation Knights."
Something about his words felt... off. I frowned slightly, feeling like I was missing something fundamental. Tamed? Trapped? That made no sense.
"Constellation Knights, much less regular knight-units, have nothing to do with stars," I said slowly. "They're made from alloys and materials harvested from the Dream Swarm. The only real connection to stars is the solar rings that orbit some of them for energy extraction."
"Hahaha! Oh, don't look at me like I'm an old fool, Miss Firefly! Pahahaha!" Father Doverie laughed, clearly enjoying his own antics. Shaking his head, he eventually calmed, stroking his chin. "Hehehe... I don't mean it literally. No, no, what the scriptures mean is that the stars bless the Constellation Knights, granting them their power. They become forces of nature, beings that no ordinary army can ever hope to stand against. A little bit of mysticism keeps the imagination alive, you know." He grinned.
I pursed my lips, trying to process his words. Blessed by the stars? As far as I knew, knights were built, not gifted. Their construction involved brutal science, raw materials, and precise engineering. There was no divine force at work—just the relentless march of technology.
Still... the Constellation Drive—the core of every CK-unit—was a top-secret technology, shrouded in classified documents that even I, Andromeda's pilot, had never been allowed to access. I'd pored over Andromeda's schematics countless times, yet I had never seen his core. Could it be possible that there was something beyond my understanding?
Father Doverie watched me, his expression unreadable, as if he could see my thoughts shifting. Then, with a warm smile, he asked, "So, what brings you to this humble church on such a fine day, Miss Firefly?"
My gaze drifted past him, settling on a towering statue at the back of the ceremonial hall—a knight carved in white stone, clad in celestial armor, with a helm crowned by a burning star.
"I'm trying to learn about faith," I admitted. "I hope you can help me with this endeavor, Father Doverie."