Not long after Rem took her leave, Reinhard returned from the castle, his steps as composed and unhurried as ever as he stepped into the sitting room.
“Reinhard! Welcome back!” Merope called out, spinning around to greet him with a wide smile, as though the hours he’d been gone had passed like mere minutes instead of most of an afternoon.
“I’ve submitted your case to the Council of Wise Men,” Reinhard said, returning the greeting with a brief nod before continuing.
“As we expected, they want to hear directly from you why you chose to make Elsa Granhiert your knight.”
Merope nodded, understanding the weight of that—but her thoughts had already drifted half a step ahead, toward something far more pressing: tonight’s meeting at Crusch’s estate, and the promise of Puck still hanging warm and bright at the edge of her mind.
“Okay, let’s put that on hold for now, Reinhard,” she said, quick but polite, already moving on before he could fully register what she’d just brushed past.
Reinhard’s brow creased slightly, catching something different in the tone of her voice—not her usual deflection, but the sense that something far more urgent was waiting to be said.
“What is it?” he asked, immediately alert, his easy posture sharpening into something more attentive.
Merope drew a breath and began explaining—Rem’s visit, the alliance offer from Emilia’s faction, the subjugation of the White Whale that would involve Crusch’s and Anastasia’s factions as well, and finally, the promise of a meeting with Puck, who might be able to help her recover pieces of her forgotten past.
Reinhard’s expression, usually so carefully composed, hardened steadily as her explanation went on.
“The White Whale,” he repeated quietly, more to himself than to her, before fixing his eyes on Merope directly.
“Do you understand that creature has killed hundreds of knights and hunters over the past four centuries? This isn’t some ordinary mission.”
“I know,” Merope answered, keeping her voice steady even as she felt the tension gathering in the room around her.
Reinhard let out a long breath, accepting the decision even though it was clear he wasn’t entirely at peace with it.
He shifted his focus instead to something far more immediate—something that actually needed preparing for.
“Merope, in a situation like that, you’ll inevitably have to use your power,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” Merope answered.
“Your power,” Reinhard continued, his tone serious, “put simply, could be considered almost limitless. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? You need to be careful about how you use it, so it doesn’t get discovered.”
“Yes, you’ve warned me about that very, very seriously,” Merope answered, nodding as she recalled that old, familiar lecture.
“I want you to use your power in only one aspect tonight,” Reinhard said.
“One aspect?” Merope tilted her head, confused.
“Essentially, you’re allowed to use your power, but only to carry out a single, specific function—so the other factions don’t catch a glimpse of what you’re truly capable of,” Elsa explained, cutting in smoothly from beside her.
“For example, you could limit yourself to only using levitation.”
“I’m still really, really confused, though.”
She looked between the three of them in turn—Reinhard, serious and unwavering; Elsa, calm and patient, waiting; and Felt, standing a little apart but watching just as closely, arms crossed.
“So which power do you all think I should use?” she asked, her voice hopeful, handing the weight of that decision fully over to the people she trusted most in the world.
The three exchanged a glance, each weighing the question in silence before anyone was willing to speak first.
“Maybe you could pretend to heal someone, to help minimize casualties?” Felt suggested.
“Or you could use teleportation, to reposition troops and make battle formations easier to execute,” Elsa offered.
“I’ve heard the White Whale flies,” Reinhard said.
“So what if you could add weight to your target—enough to bring it crashing down?”
Merope turned each suggestion over in her mind, her fingers twisting quietly at the hem of her white cloth as she weighed three paths that couldn’t have been more different from one another—each one a different way to help without giving away the full truth of who, or what, she really was.
“Alright,” she said finally, “I choose…”
…..
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