Tomlin had finally gotten used to waking up in a feather bed that didn't smell like hay. He even stopped flinching when servants called him "Your Reverence."
But peace never lasted long when Bessy was involved.
Just after dawn, a palace maid whispered at his door, pale as moonlight.
"Sir Tomlin… Her Majesty requests your presence. Privately."
Tomlin blinked. "The Queen?"
"And… she insists you bring the cow."
Of course she did.
They were led through silent marble corridors, lined with tapestries and guards pretending not to stare.
Bessy trotted casually, humming, her hooves clopping rhythmically.
"I told you we'd end up in royal affairs," she said. "I'm irresistible."
Tomlin sighed. "One day, your mouth is going to start a war."
"And your face will negotiate peace. We're a team."
The Queen's private chambers were nothing like the throne room.
No gold, no pomp—just quiet elegance, with ivy curling around the balcony and sunlight spilling through pale curtains.
Queen Elara of Verdelune stood by the window, dressed in simple linen.
She turned, her expression warm but weary.
"Thank you for coming," she said softly. "I needed to speak without the court's… noise."
Tomlin bowed awkwardly. "Your Majesty. I, uh, hope this isn't about the pudding incident."
A faint smile ghosted across her lips. "No, Farmer Tomlin. Though that story has already reached three neighboring kingdoms."
"Excellent," Bessy said proudly. "Publicity is key to influence."
The Queen's smile deepened. "Indeed." She motioned for them to sit—Tomlin in a chair, Bessy on a velvet rug that she immediately claimed as "mine now."
After a long pause, the Queen spoke, her tone softer.
"Tell me truthfully, Farmer… is your cow truly divine?"
Tomlin hesitated. "Your Majesty, with all respect, I'm not sure what she is. Loud? Yes. Holy? Debatable."
"Rude," Bessy muttered.
Queen Elara folded her hands. "I suspected as much."
She leaned closer. "You see… I have a secret. My son, the Crown Prince, has not spoken a word in two years."
Tomlin blinked. "Oh."
"Is he shy or broken?" Bessy asked bluntly.
The Queen sighed. "Both, perhaps. After his father's illness, he withdrew from everyone. He won't speak to priests, doctors, or even me."
She looked directly at Bessy.
"Yet when I heard of a creature who speaks wisdom, I wondered… perhaps the gods sent you for him."
Tomlin frowned. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, she mostly gives unsolicited life advice and commentary about hay quality."
"And yet," Bessy interrupted, "I accept the challenge."
Tomlin turned to her. "Bessy, this isn't a—"
"Shh, Druid. A child in need outranks your anxiety."
Moments later, they were brought to the royal garden—a quiet space where the young prince sat by a pond, sketching silently.
He was small, pale, maybe twelve years old, with solemn eyes that looked far too old for his age.
Bessy walked right up to him.
"Nice drawing," she said gently. "But your ducks look depressed."
The boy froze. His pencil dropped. Slowly, he turned to face her.
His eyes widened. His lips parted—but no sound came.
Bessy tilted her head.
"Don't worry. I'm real. Most people don't believe their first talking cow either."
The boy's expression shifted—first disbelief, then wonder… then something Tomlin hadn't seen before.
A small, trembling smile
Hours passed.
Bessy told stories about "herds with attitude," sang horribly off-key songs, and made the boy laugh so hard he nearly fell into the pond.
From the balcony above, Queen Elara watched, tears glimmering in her eyes.
And Tomlin… Tomlin just stood there, quietly amazed.
For once, Bessy wasn't showing off. She wasn't sarcastic. She was simply kind.
That evening, as the sun bled into the horizon, the Queen approached Bessy and Tomlin again.
"Thank you," she whispered. "He hasn't smiled like that since his father fell ill."
Tomlin rubbed the back of his neck. "Glad we could help, Your Majesty. Mostly her, really."
Bessy bowed her head (as regally as a cow could).
"Children need laughter more than miracles."
The Queen smiled. "Then perhaps laughter is the miracle."
As they walked back to their quarters, Tomlin looked at Bessy, genuinely curious.
"Why did you help him? You usually can't stand humans."
"He didn't ask for anything," Bessy said softly. "He just needed someone to talk to. Reminded me of a lonely calf I once knew."
Tomlin blinked. "You… were lonely?"
"Once." She grinned suddenly. "Then I found an idiot farmer who talks too much."
He chuckled. "Lucky me."
"Luckiest human alive," she said smugly.
That night, as the palace settled into silence, a new rumor began spreading among the servants:
"The Sacred Cow healed the Prince's heart!"
By morning, it would spread through the entire kingdom—
and by the next day, beyond it.
The next week began with chaos—again.
Dozens of people arrived at the castle gates. Peasants, merchants, even traveling knights.
All of them shouting the same thing:
"We've come to see the Holy Cow!"
Tomlin nearly dropped his breakfast bowl. "You've got to be kidding me."
Bessy peeked out the window. "Oho, looks like we've got fans."
"Fans? They're pilgrims!"
"Same thing, just less merchandise."
By noon, the castle courtyard looked like a festival ground.
People carried offerings—flowers, milk jugs (ironically), bread, and one confused chicken.
Tomlin tried to reason with the guards. "You can't just let everyone in! It's a security nightmare!"
"The King ordered it," said the captain. "He says it's… good for morale."
"And tourism," Bessy added proudly.
Tomlin groaned. "You've turned religion into an attraction."
"I prefer the term movement."
As Bessy "blessed" pilgrims with sarcastic advice and nose boops, Tomlin's head spun faster than a windmill in a storm.
Then came the bards.
They sang songs—badly rhymed ballads—about "The Cow Who Spoke and Saved a Kingdom."
"I like that one," Bessy said, nodding along. "Catchy."
"Catchy? They called me your disciple of moo."
"Accurate."
That evening, the King summoned them again—this time with both excitement and terror in his eyes.
"Farmer Tomlin! The people adore her! But… the clergy are furious. They say I'm promoting heresy!"
Tomlin paled. "Oh great. We're going to be excommunicated and famous."
"Relax," Bessy said, licking her hoof. "Let the priests come. I'll convert them too."
The King buried his face in his hands. "I should've stuck to gardening."
If you had told Tomlin Hayfield a month ago that he'd be attending an Academy for Spirit Tamers, he'd have laughed you off the farm.
Now, he wasn't laughing.
He was sweating through his tunic, standing in a courtyard surrounded by glowing runes, floating stones, and dozens of smug teenagers in fancy robes.
Beside him, Bessy flicked her tail.
"You sure this is the right place? I don't see any spirit tamers—just a bunch of overconfident candle-snuffers."
"Bessy," Tomlin hissed, "please, we're here because the Queen personally recommended me! Let's try not to offend anyone before the exam starts."
"No promises."
The Spirit Tamers' Academy of Verdelune
A sprawling citadel of glass towers and moss-covered arches, where mages communed with elemental spirits, beast souls, and divine echoes.
It was said that the strongest tamers could command storms, speak to dragons, or even summon the spirits of ancient heroes.
Tomlin just wanted to go home.
The head examiner, a tall man with silver hair and a voice that could polish steel, stepped onto the platform.
"Welcome, apprentices," he said. "Today, you will demonstrate your spiritual affinity. Those who succeed will enter the academy. Those who fail… may try again next year."
"What happens if they explode?" Bessy asked loudly.
The entire courtyard went silent.
The examiner blinked. "…What?"
"Just asking. I like to know my odds."
The crowd erupted into whispers.
"Is that… the Sacred Cow?"
"She talks!"
"Maybe she's a Spirit Beast!"
"Wait, that farmer—he's her tamer?!"
Tomlin buried his face in his hands. "Oh no. Not again."
The Spirit Affinity Test
One by one, students stepped up to touch the glowing crystal orb.
Some radiated blue light (Water affinity), others red (Fire), some white (Light).
The best among them—a proud young noble with twin daggers—summoned a shimmering hawk spirit that circled above the crowd.
Applause thundered.
Then it was Tomlin's turn.
The examiner eyed him skeptically. "Farmer… Hayfield, is it? You're not on our mage registry. And your companion—?"
"Bessy," she said. "Professional divine cow and emotional support disaster."
"…Right. Proceed."
Tomlin hesitantly placed his hand on the crystal.
It flickered faintly. Then—nothing.
Snickers rippled through the students.
"A non-talent," someone muttered. "He's probably only here because of the Queen."
Tomlin sighed. "Well, that's that—"
Suddenly, the crystal burst into light.
A blinding, golden hue filled the air—mixed with… mooing?
The orb spun wildly, glowing brighter, until it exploded into a burst of radiant mist that shaped itself into—
"A cow made of light!" someone gasped.
Indeed. A massive spectral cow floated above the courtyard, mooing like a herald of the heavens. Flowers bloomed where its hooves touched the ground.
Bessy smirked.
"Oh, look. I have a fan club in the spirit realm."
The examiner stared in shock. "This… this energy! It's divine-class resonance! No human has ever—"
"Technically," Bessy interrupted, "he's just borrowing my aura."
The crowd gasped. The noble who'd summoned the hawk turned green with envy.
"Team Moo" Makes History
The examiner cleared his throat. "I… I suppose we must accept you. Farmer Tomlin Hayfield and his… divine familiar, Bessy the Radiant."
"Good choice," Bessy said, striking a pose.
The other tamers eyed them warily. Some with awe, some with annoyance.
A pink-haired girl with a fox spirit approached Tomlin afterward.
"You're the Druid of Verdelune, right?" she asked. "The one who healed the Prince?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sort of. Mostly my cow did."
The girl grinned. "I'm Lira. Spirit Tamer candidate, third class. I'll be watching you."
"Careful," Bessy said. "He blushes easily."
Tomlin turned crimson. "BESSY!"
The Academy's New Rumor
By sundown, the entire Spirit Tamers' Academy was buzzing with gossip.
"A farmer with divine resonance?"
"His familiar is literally holy!"
"They say he tamed a celestial cow!"
Meanwhile, Tomlin sat in his dorm room, holding the academy's uniform with disbelief.
"I can't believe we actually got in."
"Believe it," Bessy said, reclining on his bed. "We're officially scholars now. Next step: take over the school."
Tomlin groaned. "Please don't."
"Too late. I already applied to teach Advanced Moo-mancy."
Outside, the moon rose high above the academy towers.
Tomlin didn't know it yet, but his arrival had stirred more than gossip.
In the shadows of the west tower, cloaked figures whispered:
"So, the Holy Beast has entered our domain."
"Then the prophecy is true. The Balance shifts again."
And far below, the crystal cow statue in the courtyard glowed faintly…
as if another spirit had just awakened.