"I'd like you to meet my friends," Nymphica told her while the two paced quickly through the streets. They a small building. "It is actually one friend," Nymphica corrected herself. "I met her here in Vahara Arta, but I've known her since we were children. I was so surprised to see her here!"
A young woman just came out and she hadn't even seen them when Nymphica shouted at her,
"Hey, Pressianna! What a coincidence! I was just coming to see you! Come and meet a new friend of mine. This is Elyre," Nymphica said.
Pressianna turned around to greet them. Suddenly, astonishment was written all over her face. She was like paralyzed.
"No," Pressianna said quietly. "You shouldn't have brought her here." For a moment, she seemed to ignore Elyre.
"What?" Nymphica raised an eyebrow. She racked her brains, trying to figure out why Pressianna could be saying that. She wondered, "Could it be?... Is this the firine who is with the archmage?"
No doubt it wasn't very smart of her to mention it so casually, but she couldn't believe it and so she didn't think before uttering the words. The three of them exchanged looks.
Pressianna was thoughtful. Aristhaeus usually hid his identity so the firine probably didn't know who he was. Now Nymphica had revealed this secret and also Pressianna's name.
How could Nymphica be so careless! Maybe Elyre wasn't aware of Aristhaeus's identity at all! Now, she only needed to speak with him and Pressianna's name was likely to pop up… which was not good.
Elyre was just as surprised as Pressianna at what she heard. Perhaps this was a misunderstanding?
Pressianna did the only thing that came to her mind. She desperately fell to her knees and said to the firine,
"Please good miss, don't mention my name in front of the archmage!" She thought she didn't have a choice. If she didn't warn the firine about that, Elyre would surely casually mention to Aristhaeus her name and what had happened today.
Elyre stepped backward and away from her,
"You must have mistaken Mage Phabian for the archmage, I suppose?" she said, trying to keep her composure. "Stand up!"
Pressianna was silently kneeling.
"There is no archmage here," Elyre exclaimed.
"Call him as you will, but please do not mention my name to him," Pressianna insisted, still on her knees.
"What do you mean 'call him as you will'? That's the only mage I know. He is Mage Phabian," Elyre retorted. "Why would you claim that he isn't?" Elyre rolled her eyes on noticing that Pressianna still stubbornly refused to get up from the ground, "Oh, of course, I won't mention your name to anyone if you don't want that!" she exclaimed.
"Thank you," Pressianna stood up. She was silent, but Elyre was astounded at Pressianna's seriousness. She hadn't forgotten her question,
"Why do you claim that he is the archmage?"
"...I ...have met him before," Pressianna said.
"Can you prove that he is the archmage?" Elyre crossed her arms. Pressianna looked sideways and tried to avoid direct eye contact. Then she murmured in a voice that betrayed uncertainty, lowering her head,
"Well… now that I think better of it... If you say that the mage is called Phabian, maybe… I made a mistake. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," Pressianna waved her hand carelessly in the air.
The conversation seemed to be over and the problem – resolved, but Elyre suspected that Pressianna wasn't completely honest.
"Alright," Elyre said as if she was about to drop the subject. "I'm glad we agree." She sighed and added, "Then, I will tell him about this funny incident today and he..."
She was about to say that he would have a good laugh, but Pressianna didn't even let her finish,
"No! You promised that you wouldn't mention my name!"
"Hah!" Elyre exclaimed, "I knew it! You are not telling me everything. If you believe you may have taken him for another person then why are you so nervous I may tell him something?"
Pressianna didn't want to reply and wondered how to change the subject. When she found herself unable to do that, she finally admitted in a voice that could hardly be heard,
"He is the archmage."
Elyre, however, continued to insist,
"No, he is not."
"I don't understand, why do you make me admit he's the archmage just to tell me he's not?" Pressianna frowned. She was irritated. "Why would I lie to you about that?" Pressianna raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"It seems that you are not lying. You truly believe he is the archmage. But that doesn't mean he really is. I don't know, maybe his looks are similar to the archmage's..."
Pressianna listened in astonishment. Elyre's ardent vindication prompted her to reply in a similar manner,
"You believe what you want. I never wanted to convince you. If you want proof, in his robes he has the ring that connects him with the Seventh Fire. There is the image of a phoenix on it. He keeps it in his pocket because he wants to hide his identity. He must bring his royal seal as well. Check for yourself and you will see. Go and check on it! Will you?"
What was she talking about? Did she want Elyre to rummage through his personal possessions?
~This is ridiculous,~ Elyre thought. Some people were so stubborn in their views. So far she only claimed to have proofs, but she didn't have a single proof for certain. How could she so carelessly bring dishonor on someone's name? Such claims were offensive at best.