The Beauty of the Canary
And so I called for Saint Jeanne, so we could head out to the old Sabnac castle.
She arrived at my office and bowed.
“Demon King Astha. I have arrived.”
She said.
“…”
I had to pause, because there was something about Jeanne that was very different.
She was usually much more childlike.
And so I couldn’t help but feel a little strange to hear her speak in such a graceful manner.
I had to ask what had happened. She replied.
“I remembered that I am called a Saint.”
Apparently, she was now attempting to talk like the nuns from the town church.
It was fine that she looked to them for guidance, but it felt strange all the same. I asked that she be herself.
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