The rain followed us like it had been invited.
It did not fall hard enough to chase people indoors or loud enough to drown the city's noise. Fontaine simply softened beneath it. Pale stone darkened by degrees, windows blurred at the edges, and the canals caught every falling drop like the city was pretending it had not already been built on too many secrets. Citizens passed beneath umbrellas with practiced elegance, continuing their conversations as if rain were only another accessory Fontaine knew how to wear.
Navia walked ahead of us with her hat catching silver beads along the brim. She had gone quiet after saying it had rained on the day her father was judged, and none of us rushed her out of that silence. Melus and Silver stayed close behind her, their presence steady enough to become part of her outline. Lumine walked beside me, eyes forward, expression thoughtful. Nilou kept pace on my other side, her earlier softness replaced by a quiet focus. Paimon floated a little lower than usual, either because the rain made flying annoying or because even she understood that grief had entered the conversation and demanded decent manners.
Greg sat on my shoulder with his tail resting lightly against my neck.
Not as a muzzle this time.
As an anchor.
The line I had left outside Hotel Debord still hung in the damp air between us.
I know grief when it falls from too high to blame the clouds.
Nobody asked me to explain it immediately. That was good, because I did not have a version of the truth that would not break several routes, emotionally body-check a dragon, and possibly make me look like a man who blamed weather on sad authority figures. Which, to be fair, I absolutely did. I was correct. But correctness without timing was just another way to become the lunatic in the corner shouting spoilers at architecture.
Paimon finally broke the silence with a careful look upward. "So… does Fontaine always make investigations wet and depressing?"
I exhaled through my nose. "Fontaine has excellent commitment to theme."
Lumine glanced at me. "Don't encourage the nation."
"The nation encouraged itself first. I am merely appreciating narrative consistency."
Navia looked back, and though her smile was faint, it was real enough to ease some of the tightness around her mouth. "If Fontaine heard you, it might take that as praise."
"Dangerous," I said. "This city already has enough confidence."
Paimon nodded seriously. "And enough water."
My face tightened.
Lumine saw it and sighed. "Paimon."
"What? Paimon meant the rain! Not the boat kind!"
"All water is suspicious until proven otherwise," I muttered.
Nilou's hand brushed my sleeve with gentle reassurance. "The rain is different."
"Rain falls vertically. Respectable behavior."
Greg flicked his tail once in what I chose to interpret as reluctant approval. I appreciated vertical water. Vertical water understood boundaries. Horizontal water with polished transportation routes and smug Aquabus seating could burn in a place without boats.
We continued toward the fountain plaza in front of the Opera, but before the familiar shape of the Fountain of Lucine fully came into view, one of my hidden threads pulled.
It was faint. A tug so small it could have been mistaken for wind catching a loose strand of thought. But I had tied that thread myself beneath Hotel Debord's polished floor, weaving Dendro through the shadows and letting Anemo remember the movement of those who listened too carefully when Cowell's survival was mentioned.
The fish had touched the hook.
Now I only had to pretend I had not felt the line tighten.
Lumine's eyes shifted toward me immediately. "Thread?"
She was terrifying.
Attractive, but terrifying.
"One of our lunch listeners is swimming upstream," I murmured.
Paimon turned midair. "Why are we still fish-talking?"
"Because murder water people remain slippery."
Navia slowed slightly. "One of the people from the restaurant is moving?"
"The waiter," I said quietly. "Or someone wearing a waiter's face for professional convenience. He's heading away from the main flow too fast for someone who only spilled anxiety near our table."
Silver's hand moved near his weapon. "Direction?"
I lifted two fingers slightly, then let my gaze drift toward a side street where the trace pulled thin through the rain. "Northwest for now. But don't chase."
Silver's eyes narrowed. "If he reports to someone—"
"That is the point," I said. "If we grab him now, we get a nervous fish. If we let him swim, we may find the pond."
Paimon frowned. "Paimon is starting to think you like fish metaphors too much."
"I hate fish metaphors. The case chose the aquatic villain aesthetic."
Navia studied the street for a long second before nodding. "We let him lead us later, then."
"I strengthened the trace. He won't lose me unless someone very good cuts it."
Nilou looked toward the direction of the thread, her expression troubled. "And if someone tries to cut it?"
"Then we learn someone very good is involved."
"That does not sound comforting."
"It wasn't supposed to. It was an information snack."
Lumine gave me a look.
"Information meal," I corrected. "Very nutritious. Emotionally unpleasant."
Greg tapped my neck twice with his tail.
Marked. Moving. Still within reach.
Good lizard. Distinguished lizard. Internationally protected lizard.
The Fountain of Lucine waited ahead.
I had seen it before, but it felt worse now. The first time, it had already unsettled me, standing there beautiful and bright while something beneath its elegance whispered like a wound hidden under glass. Now, after Liliane's testimony, after the words Water from the Primordial Sea turned the court cold, after Navia spoke of verdicts that sat at family tables for years, the fountain no longer looked like decoration. It looked like Fontaine had built a monument over grief and taught tourists to admire the surface.
Water poured in graceful arcs, silver in the rain. The sound should have been soothing. In another city, another life, maybe it would have been. Here, every ripple felt crowded. The basin shimmered beneath the pale sky, and the coins at the bottom flashed like small wishes dropped into a place that already had too many prayers to answer.
Lumine slowed first.
Her expression changed.
Not fear. Not exactly. Recognition, maybe. The kind that came when the world spoke too quietly for anyone else to hear, and she realized she was standing closer to a secret than she had intended.
Paimon noticed instantly. "Lumine? What's wrong?"
Lumine stepped closer to the fountain, rain slipping along her hair and shoulders. "I hear something."
Navia turned sharply. "From the fountain?"
Lumine nodded.
Nilou moved beside her, dancer's instincts making her quiet where Paimon became restless. She looked at the water, then closed her eyes. "It feels… heavy. Not like ordinary sadness. More like many steps falling out of rhythm at once."
Greg went still.
That was the part that made the back of my neck tighten. Greg did not become still for normal creepy architecture. He judged it, saluted it, or attempted to bite its emotional ankles through posture. Stillness meant the thing in front of us had become serious enough that even his tiny scaly ego stepped aside.
I approached the edge of the fountain.
The water's voice did not arrive as words at first. It came as pressure. A mass of sorrow pressing upward through the sound of falling rain, whispers layered over whispers, names dissolved into feeling. Fear. Confusion. Longing. Regret. A woman calling for someone who no longer answered. Someone begging not to be forgotten. Someone remembering a promise made beside water that had later become a grave.
The fountain was not singing.
It was remembering.
And Fontaine, being Fontaine, had built something beautiful over a place where grief could not stop speaking.
Paimon hugged herself. "Shigeru? You hear it too, don't you?"
"Enough," I said.
Navia's voice tightened. "Enough for what?"
I looked down into the water. "Enough to know the water has witnesses."
That made her go very still.
The rain tapped softly against her hat.
Lumine's gaze remained fixed on the fountain, but I could tell the voice was reaching her differently. Canon had given Blondie the strange whisper, the first thread toward the truth swallowed beneath Fontaine. But I was not Lumine. I was the idiot who had died under Truck-kun's wrestling finisher, woken up in Teyvat, and begun collecting spoilers like cursed emergency supplies. So the fountain did not need to explain itself to me the same way. It only needed to touch what I already knew.
Vigneire.
Vacher.
Women erased by obsession wearing the mask of love.
Primordial water swallowing bodies, leaving grief behind like steam trapped under stone.
Then, beneath those voices, I heard something else.
Not a confession. Not the whole truth. Not the secret Furina had protected for five hundred years. The fountain did not give me enough to expose her, and even if it had, I would have bitten my tongue until it bled before handing her suffering to an audience.
It was only fragments.
A laugh too bright. A breath swallowed before it could shake. A smile forced wider while invisible hands pressed her shoulders down beneath a crown no one could see.
They are watching.
Applause roared somewhere far away, distorted by water and memory, and under it trembled a voice trying to sound delighted because delight was safer than fear.
Smile. Brighter. The people need their Archon.
Another ripple passed through the fountain. It carried the echo of footsteps on a stage, the rustle of costume fabric, the ache of standing alone in front of a nation that demanded certainty while the future waited with its mouth open.
Not yet. Just one more act.
The water shifted colder.
If I falter, they will see.
My fingers curled against the fountain's edge.
If they see, Fontaine drowns.
The whisper thinned until it was almost nothing, but almost nothing was enough when it belonged to someone who had been carrying too much for too long.
It is fine. I can endure. I have endured it this long.
My jaw tightened.
I already knew Furina's burden was heavy. I knew it from another world, from a story that had once been safely trapped behind a screen, where pain could be paused, replayed, analyzed, survived from a chair, and turned off before it could look back at me.
But knowing a wound existed was not the same as hearing it breathe.
Furifuri…
My eyes closed.
Don't worry.
I'm not going to expose you. I'm not going to steal your stage. I'm not going to turn your suffering into some heroic speech just because I know the ending. You have held that role longer than anyone should have to hold anything, and I am not going to make your burden public property just so I can feel clever.
But I am absolutely going to smack that dragon for not taking care of you and make him rethink his life choices.
Greg's tail pressed against my cheek.
I did not open my eyes.
Emotionally smack, I thought.
The tail pressed harder.
Probably emotionally.
Another press.
Fine. Negotiations remain open.
Nilou's voice reached me softly. "Shigeru?"
I opened my eyes. She was watching me, concern bright in her expression. Lumine had turned too, and there was something guarded in her gaze. She knew that look on my face. It was the one I wore when a future tragedy brushed too close to my hands.
"The fountain has too many voices," I said quietly. "One of them is still pretending not to cry."
Lumine's eyes sharpened.
Nilou understood enough for sadness to touch her face.
Paimon looked between us. "Wait. Are we talking about someone specific?"
"Maybe," I said.
Paimon stared. "That is the worst kind of answer!"
"It is legally safer than the other kinds."
Navia looked back at the fountain, and for a moment her grief widened beyond Callas. I saw it happen. Her father was still the wound closest to her heart, but the water had made the case larger. All those missing people. All those families. All those names that had never been returned to anyone who loved them.
Nilou stepped closer to Navia. "A stage can hold one dancer in the spotlight," she said gently, "but grief does not only belong to the person standing there."
Navia's eyes lowered.
Melus's expression softened with pride and sorrow. Silver looked at the fountain as if he wanted to duel the water and hated that no blade could cut what had happened there.
"My father's name matters to me," Navia said after a long silence. "But if this case only ends with clearing him, then we will have done too little."
Lumine nodded. "Then we find the truth for everyone."
Paimon raised one small fist, trying to be brave despite the atmosphere. "Yeah. For Callas, and for the missing people, and for everyone who got swallowed by scary murder water."
The phrase should have been ridiculous.
It still worked.
Sometimes Paimon's heart outran her vocabulary, and honestly, good for her.
The moment broke when metal screamed from the street behind us.
Silver moved first.
He stepped between Navia and the sound before the rest of us fully turned. Melus followed a heartbeat later, pulling Navia slightly back with a hand that was gentle but unarguable. Lumine's sword was in her hand before the first rogue Mek staggered through the rain. Its frame jerked unnaturally, gears grinding out of rhythm, one optical lens glowing with unstable light. Two more followed from the side street, movements too direct to feel random.
Rogue Meks.
Of course.
Fontaine had decided we were overdue for mechanical violence.
Navia's eyes narrowed. "Those aren't supposed to be here."
"No," Lumine said. "They're not."
The first Mek fired.
Silver shoved Navia back and raised his weapon, but my body had already gone cold in that specific way it did when canon's shadow put its hand near someone I had marked not this time. The shot cut through rain toward Melus's shoulder, too fast for a normal dodge, too clean to be accident.
Geo pressure shifted beneath Melus's heel.
Only a fraction.
Enough.
His step slipped backward as if the wet stone had betrayed him, and the shot tore through the air where his upper chest had been a heartbeat earlier. Melus stumbled, startled but alive. Silver turned to cover him, and a second Mek's limb snapped open, launching shrapnel toward the side of his neck.
Anemo curved.
The fragments bent aside like the rain had suddenly remembered a different direction.
To everyone else, it looked like luck.
To Lumine, Nilou, and Greg, it was my hand closing around death's wrist under the table.
Not today.
Not for them.
Not before Navia even knows how much she will need them.
Lumine surged forward with a clean slash that drove the first Mek back. Electro sparked along my fingers beneath the rain, subtle and tight, not a spectacle but a needle. I jammed the second Mek's core for half a second, just long enough for Silver's counterstrike to land with a metallic crack. Nilou pulled Paimon back from the line of fire, her movements graceful even in panic, while Greg dropped low on my shoulder with his tail rigid.
A third Mek turned toward Navia.
My Dendro threads snapped out.
They did not bind visibly. They touched joints, traced control signals, mapped the pulse of whatever had overridden the machines and sent them here. Information first. Damage second. Always the route. Always the thread.
Navia raised her weapon, eyes bright with fury. "If someone thinks sending broken machines will scare me, they have terrible taste in intimidation!"
I grinned despite the cold anger in my chest. Blonde storm behavior. Excellent.
Then a shot rang through the rain.
The third Mek's core sparked, its movement halting for the blink of an eye before a blade cut through its weakened frame with terrifying precision.
Clorinde stepped into the plaza.
The rain seemed to understand not to bother her too much. Her uniform remained severe and neat, her sword lowered at her side after the cut, and her eyes held the calm of thunder waiting behind a cloud. The remaining Meks turned toward her with the tragic confidence of objects that had not yet learned they were already dead.
My mouth moved before survival instincts arrived.
"Champion Duelist Mommy."
The world stopped.
Lumine slowly raised the evidence booklet.
I straightened instantly. "Ma'am."
Clorinde's gaze shifted toward me. "What did you say?"
"Ma'am," I said, nodding with the desperate confidence of a man rewriting history in real time. "Champion Duelist Ma'am. Yeah. That's what I'm saying. Ma'am. Respectfully. Legally. With continued interest in remaining alive."
Paimon stared at me through the rain. "You definitely said Mommy."
"I said Ma'am with emotional punctuation."
Lumine hit me with the evidence booklet.
"OW! Procedural violence!"
Navia looked between Clorinde and me, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement even with danger still smoking around us. "You have a remarkable talent for surviving sentences no one should say."
Clorinde's face remained perfectly calm. "Does he?"
"Allegedly," I whispered.
Lumine lifted the booklet again.
"Silently allegedly."
Clorinde regarded me for half a second longer, then turned away as if deciding the Meks were less confusing. Fair. She moved with controlled violence, each strike measured, each shot placed exactly where it needed to go. There was no wasted flourish, no panic, no attempt to dominate the battlefield through volume. Clorinde fought like a verdict delivered by steel.
My brain, because it had no respect for context, added another note.
Definitely shipping you with that duke who has an entire bakery in his rear.
Lumine's booklet twitched.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
"You heard nothing," I whispered.
"I heard your face."
"That is not legally admissible."
"It will be."
Terrifying woman. Love of my life.
The last Mek collapsed beneath Clorinde's blade, its core sputtering out against wet stone. Silence rushed into the plaza afterward, broken only by rain, the fountain, and Paimon's extremely offended breathing.
Melus exhaled shakily. "Is everyone unharmed?"
Silver glanced at him, then at Navia. "You?"
Navia nodded. "Fine."
I watched both men carefully. No blood. No fatal angle. No heroic wound hidden under loyalty. Good. My hands unclenched one finger at a time.
Nilou noticed and looked at me with quiet understanding. "You moved the attacks."
"Mechanical aim is overrated," I muttered.
"You saved them."
"I adjusted the weather of probability."
Paimon flew closer. "That means yes."
Greg flicked his tail.
Fine. It meant yes.
Clorinde approached Navia, and the air changed more sharply than it had during the fight. The Meks had been dangerous, but this was personal. Navia's shoulders squared. Silver and Melus remained behind her, but I could feel both of them become more alert. Lumine sheathed her sword slowly, watching the two women. Nilou's expression softened with concern.
"Demoiselle Navia," Clorinde said. "Are you injured?"
Navia's smile returned, but it had no warmth. "You arrived quickly."
"I was nearby."
"How fortunate."
The rain fell between them.
Paimon whispered near my ear, "Why does it feel colder now than during the attack?"
"History," I whispered back. "Terrible temperature control."
Clorinde's gaze did not leave Navia. "Those Meks were not behaving normally. Their control systems may have been tampered with."
Lumine nodded. "We suspected the attack wasn't random."
Navia's eyes sharpened. "Because Cowell survived?"
I looked toward the wreckage. Dendro threads still clung to the ruined cores, drinking in traces of control, signal, residue, movement. "Rogue Meks do not panic because a magician was acquitted. People panic because a witness survived."
Navia's face darkened. "Cowell."
"And you," I said.
Melus straightened.
Silver's jaw tightened.
Navia did not look away from me. "Me?"
"You walked into court, pulled the trial toward the serial disappearances, and tied today's incident to older cases. If someone wanted the old wound closed, congratulations. You kicked it open in public."
Her smile returned, sharper now. "Good."
Ah. There she was.
Blonde storm in a hat.
Clorinde watched Navia's reaction with something complicated behind her calm. "That determination is dangerous."
Navia turned toward her. "So is silence."
The words landed like steel drawn slowly.
Clorinde did not answer immediately.
Navia stepped closer, rain catching along her lashes. "You were there when my father died. You followed the law. You stood where justice told you to stand. So tell me, Champion Duelist, was today's attack another convenient accident? Or is this another case where I am expected to trust proper channels while people bleed around me?"
Melus looked pained. Silver looked furious in a controlled, loyal way. Lumine's gaze lowered for a moment, not in avoidance, but because she could feel the wound opening and knew not to step into it carelessly. Nilou's fingers pressed lightly against her own palm.
Clorinde's voice remained calm, but quieter. "Your father's duel was not as simple as the records made it appear."
Navia went still.
The rain seemed louder.
"What?" she asked.
Clorinde's face did not change, but something in her eyes did. A restraint. A regret kept behind discipline for too long. "There are things about Callas's final choices that were not understood by those who only read the verdict."
Navia's hands tightened at her sides. "Then why did no one say that sooner?"
No answer came quickly.
That silence was worse than any defense.
I knew too much. Callas. Clorinde. The duel. Navia's safety. Sinthe. The ugly knot of truth and sacrifice tangled around a daughter who had inherited the grief but not the explanation. I could say something. I could ruin the timing, throw Marcel's name into the rain, crack open the full story early, and watch everyone scramble around a truth with no evidence strong enough to hold it.
I hated restraint.
I practiced it anyway.
Lumine glanced at me.
She knew.
Not the full story. Not the details. But she knew I was standing beside a locked door with the key burning in my mouth.
"Not yet," I said quietly.
Navia turned toward me, eyes bright with anger and desperation. "Not yet?"
"If we open everything in the middle of the street, the people who sent those Meks will learn which parts of the truth we have and which parts we are missing. They will adapt before we can trap them."
Her jaw tightened. "You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
Paimon looked between us anxiously. "Paimon hates that Shigeru is making sense again."
"So do I," I said.
Clorinde studied me. "You believe this attack is connected to Callas's case."
"I believe too many dead things are moving in the same direction."
Navia inhaled slowly through her nose, fighting herself into control. It was not surrender. It was discipline, and it looked painful on her. "Then where do we go next?"
Lumine looked toward the ruined Meks. "We examine these before anyone removes them. Then we compare what we find with Cowell's evidence."
"I already marked the control traces," I said.
Silver's eyes moved to me. "When?"
"During the fight."
Melus blinked. "While dodging?"
"I multitask poorly but effectively."
Nilou smiled faintly. "You multitask dangerously."
"That too."
Clorinde stepped near one of the collapsed Meks and crouched, inspecting the damage with practiced focus. "If the control signature can be traced, Palais Mermonia should be informed."
Navia's expression cooled. "Should it?"
Clorinde looked up.
There it was again. That blade between them. Callas's ghost had joined the conversation, standing invisible in the rain with his daughter on one side and the woman who had killed him in a duel on the other.
Clorinde's voice softened by a fraction. "Not all proper channels are enemies, Navia."
"No," Navia said. "But some of them arrive after the grave is already dug."
Melus closed his eyes briefly.
Silver looked away.
Even Paimon had no response.
The fountain whispered behind us, and for a moment I wondered how many people in Fontaine had stood in this same rain believing the law had already failed them. How many had smiled politely because anger did not bring back the missing. How many had learned to speak carefully because the truth, said too early or too loudly, could be buried faster than bodies.
Greg's tail brushed my cheek.
I breathed in.
Then I stepped beside the nearest Mek and let a thin Geo seal settle over the control core. "No one touches the cores until we copy the traces."
Clorinde looked at the seal, then at me. "You are assuming authority."
"I do that."
Lumine stepped beside me. "He's also right."
Navia nodded. "The Spina di Rosula will assist."
Clorinde rose slowly. For a moment, I expected her to object. Instead, she inclined her head. "Then we proceed carefully."
Paimon released a long breath. "Good. Careful is good. Paimon likes careful. Paimon would also like fewer machines trying to kill people during emotional conversations."
"Fontaine may not offer that package," I said.
"Then Fontaine has bad customer service!"
Navia laughed once, brief and sharp, but it helped. She looked at Paimon with genuine fondness for half a second before turning back to the rain.
The chapter of the case had shifted again.
The fountain had whispered.
The rain had testified.
The enemy had moved.
Clorinde had entered with steel, silence, and unresolved history.
Melus and Silver were still alive.
And somewhere ahead, the thread tied to our false waiter continued pulling through the city.
I looked toward Navia as she stood between her loyal attendants and the Champion Duelist, her grief no longer hidden enough to be mistaken for confidence. The old wound had opened wider, yes. But this time, it had opened with witnesses, allies, and invisible threads tied to the ankles of shadows.
The rain wrote over the stone around us.
The Fountain of Lucine whispered behind us.
And as Navia walked forward with Melus and Silver close at her back, I followed with my hand curled around a line the enemy did not yet know it had touched.
__________
End of Chapter 195
Quests Completed:
Reached the Fountain of Lucine while Fontaine committed fully to wet emotional atmosphere.
Detected movement from one of the Hotel Debord listeners through Shigeru's Dendro-Anemo trace.
Allowed the suspicious waiter to keep swimming upstream instead of catching only a nervous fish.
Confirmed murder water people remain slippery.
Heard the Fountain of Lucine whisper with the grief of dissolved witnesses.
Let Lumine sense the strange voice from the fountain while Nilou felt the sadness in its rhythm.
Allowed Shigeru to hear Furina's actual emotional fragments without exposing her secret too early.
Confirmed Shigeru already knew Furina's burden, but hearing the wound breathe was different from knowing it as canon.
Silently promised not to steal Furina's stage, expose her suffering, or turn her pain into heroic speech.
Also silently promised to smack the Hydro Dragon for not taking care of Furifuri and make him rethink his life choices.
Confirmed Greg does not approve of assaulting the Iudex, emotionally or otherwise.
Helped Navia understand that clearing Callas is only one part of a much larger wound.
Survived a targeted rogue Mek attack near the fountain plaza.
Quietly shifted Geo, Anemo, and Electro to prevent Melus and Silver from taking canon-flavored fatal angles.
Marked the rogue Meks' control traces with Dendro threads.
Introduced Clorinde with maximum Champion Duelist aura.
Blurted "Champion Duelist Mommy" out loud and immediately attempted to correct reality into "Champion Duelist Ma'am."
Received procedural violence from Lumine's evidence booklet for emotional punctuation crimes.
Seeded Shigeru's future Clorinde/Wriothesley bakery-duke shipping agenda.
Exposed the unresolved tension between Navia and Clorinde over Callas's death.
Hinted that Callas's duel was not as simple as the official records claimed.
Preserved the full Callas truth for later instead of detonating it in the rain without enough evidence.
Confirmed the attack was likely triggered by Cowell's survival and Navia's public involvement.
Rewards:
+1 Fountain Whisper Heard
+1 Furina Whisper Fragment
+1 Furifuri Protection Promise
+1 Hydro Dragon Smack Threat
+1 Greg Iudex Assault Prevention
+1 Navia Wider-Grief Realization
+1 Melus Survival Adjustment
+1 Silver Fatal Angle Denied
+1 Clorinde Cool Entrance
+1 Champion Duelist Ma'am Correction
+1 Lumine Evidence Booklet Strike
+1 Dendro Control Trace
+1 Hidden Enemy Trail
New Passive Unlocked: Knowing the Wound Is Not the Same as Hearing It Breathe.
New Hidden Quest: Make the Dragon Rethink His Life Choices.
New Debuff Acquired: Ma'am With Emotional Punctuation.
New Ship Agenda Added: Champion Duelist x Bakery Duke.
New Investigation Status: The Enemy Has Moved First.
Warning Added: The Fountain Is Remembering Names Fontaine Forgot.
Next Quest: When the Uncrowned King Still Bleeds.