Performing is ultimately a matter of location.
In other places across Terra, a minor performance error might be laughed off by the audience, or at worst, lead to a musician being quietly dismissed from the orchestra. But the Voice of the Empress is an entirely different caliber of institution; it is a grand ensemble reserved exclusively for performing in the direct presence of the Twin Sovereigns and during various large-scale national celebrations.
Within such high-stakes environments, dropping the ball at a critical juncture doesn't just mean professional ruin; it can result in losing one's head entirely, and the fallout might even sweep up those who had originally recommended the offender for the position. Naturally, the technical standards expected during these trials are incredibly severe.
Just like today, a performance that Flandre and the others had considered to be quite pleasant was actually riddled with subtle flaws to the highly discerning ears of the senior adjudicators seated in the front row. The panel had written a mountain of notes across their clipboards; many of the students would likely suffer immense academic pressure once they returned to their classrooms.
However, none of this had anything to do with Flandre.
After thoroughly enjoying the music, the trio had strolled out through the grand arched doorways of the hall to continue their carefree exploration of the capital. They didn't return to their leased courtyard until the sun had nearly dipped below the distant horizon.
Upon their arrival at the gateway, they happened to cross paths with Remilia, Sakuya, and Patchouli, who had also just arrived back at the doorstep. Given that they had finally gathered in Leithanien, everyone agreed that they should make an effort to sample the local culinary specialties. After all, they had already traversed so many miles to reach this place.
Stepping back out into the cooling evening air, they asked several local passersby for recommendations, eventually navigating their way to an upscale restaurant that possessed an outstanding reputation among the capital's residents. They secured a spacious table and ordered an abundance of local delicacies to sample.
The seasoned dishes received high praise from the entire table. Flandre took a few bites of the savory plates; while the spices were indeed refined, the flavor profile was clearly geared toward the mature palates of adults. Fortunately, the establishment also featured an extensive menu of traditional desserts. She excitedly ordered a massive assortment of sweet pastries, causing the others at the table to chuckle.
"Consume fewer confections! What will we do if your teeth begin to decay?"
Gazing at the mountain of sugary pastries stacked in front of Flandre, Remilia unhesitatingly exerted her supreme authority as the elder sister, sweeping half of the plates directly to her side of the table. She then casually claimed that her actions were entirely for Flandre's own physical wellbeing, declaring that she could not allow her to overindulge to avoid a painful toothache.
...
Everyone seated at the table was well aware of the real reason behind the confiscation, but not a single person dared to voice the truth out loud. After all, the absolute dignity of the Head of the House had to be maintained at all costs.
As for Flandre, although she looked a bit pained by the sudden loss of her treats at first, she immediately became cheerful again upon realizing it was her sister who was enjoying them. Sharing her food with Remilia was more than enough to keep her perfectly happy.
Following their hearty dinner, the group strolled along the lantern-lit cobblestones, chatting casually about the day's events. Remilia nodded slightly in approval after hearing how they had successfully utilized the improved Confusion Charm to shake off the persistent government tail.
"As far as capitals are concerned, the active security presence within Zwillingstürme indeed far surpasses the disorganized patrols of Londinium and the grand avenues of Kawalerielki ," Remilia noted. "We also encountered several subtle instances of being watched while we were reviewing the archives today. We must pay extra attention to our surroundings from this point forward."
She paused, turning her gaze slightly. "And... Patchy, did you not have a matter you wished to address?"
Once the focus of the group had shifted entirely onto her, Patchouli spoke in her typical calm, measured register. "I spent the afternoon browsing the municipal library here. Curiously, there were far fewer volumes related to the historical development of Originium Arts than I initially anticipated, while the shelves were heavily dominated by... classical music."
She adjusted her grip on her sleeve. "Based on my current reading speed, I will likely finish parsing the relevant local archives by tomorrow afternoon. Flandre, I will require you to draft an application letter to that professor tomorrow, informing him that we plan to visit the university to meet with him the following day. Ideally, my primary objective is to secure formal borrowing privileges for the institution's private library."
"I came across a piece of administrative history in a reference book today," Patchouli continued. "Ludwigs-Universität, where that professor currently holds his tenure, has offered advanced courses in Originium Arts for many decades. The academy's restricted archives should contain an abundance of specialized research documents that cannot be sourced anywhere else in the country. If we can successfully obtain an institutional library card, it would be of immense value to our ongoing research regarding the comparative development of Victoria's own arcane sciences."
Hearing the request, Flandre patted her chest confidently, declaring the assignment was as good as done.
Sakuya stepped forward, smoothly presenting Flandre with a clean envelope, a sheet of fine paper, and a pen. Flandre quickly found a nearby stone bench and began to write.
Curious as to how the young girl would draft a formal academic inquiry, Clever leaned over her shoulder to inspect the page. The sight of the script left her entirely speechless.
Preachy Grandpa Fremont:
Hello, I'm Flandre. I asked you about those soul-related questions before. I'm back again! I brought my teacher Patchouli with me this time. She wants to learn about Originium Arts from you. We will come by tomorrow, so please set aside some time for us.
By the way, my teacher hopes to obtain borrowing privileges for the university library. Could you please help us get a card, Grandpa?
(＾－＾)V
Below the text, Flandre had painstakingly hand-drawn a tiny, stylized caricature of herself flashing a cheerful victory sign.
Was this even a letter? The intended recipient was a highly respected university professor; shouldn't the phrasing be decorated with at least a baseline level of formal etiquette and academic respect?
Clever felt as though she had a mountain of sharp criticisms to voice, but the sheer absurdity of the draft left her unsure of where to even begin. She watched in disbelief as Flandre satisfactorily folded the paper, slipped it into the envelope, and neatly labeled the front: To Professor Fremont — From Flandre Scarlet.
She glanced around at the rest of the household, only to find that not a single member of the Scarlet Devil Mansion had even bothered to check what the girl had written. Were they truly this relaxed regarding such matters?
Clever's mind boggled. If such an incredibly blunt letter could actually secure an audience with an elite university academic, then standard social protocols meant absolutely nothing.
Then, a detail clicked in her memory. "Speaking of which, isn't Ludwigs-Universität the exact same campus where the concert we attended today was held?"
Flandre nodded cheerfully. "Yes, I thought it was quite lucky when we passed by. We'll just head over to the school gates together tomorrow and hand the letter over."
"But do you actually know how the internal administration of these academic facilities operates?" Clever countered, trying to inject some practical reality. "Do you truly believe the gatekeepers will deliver your letter directly? They are far more likely to hand it off to a low-level courier, toss it onto an unorganized sorting pile, or leave it sitting in a basement for weeks before it ever reaches the professor's desk."
Flandre rubbed her chin as she digested the administrative roadblock. "That is indeed a minor problem, but it's not as though we lack the means to bypass it."
She turned a bright smile toward the librarian. "Patchy, I need a spell capable of hypnotizing and commanding others."
"What on earth!" Clever nearly jumped out of her boots upon hearing the casual request.
"We will simply locate an unsuspecting student near the gates, place them under a gentle hypnotic suggestion, and command them to deliver the letter directly into the professor's hands," Flandre explained, her face radiating smug satisfaction. "That way, we can guarantee a hundred percent delivery rate without dealing with any of the bureaucratic delays. See how smart I am?"
Hearing the child's bizarre logic, Clever clutched her forehead in sheer exasperation. She turned an imploring gaze toward the other members of the group, silently begging someone—anyone—to correct Flandre's highly unconventional line of thought.
Instead, she watched in horror as the members of the household actually nodded their heads in quiet agreement with the plan.
Clever felt like a classical scholar trying to debate logistics with a band of lawless mercenaries—there was simply no common ground to be found.
"What exactly did your family do for a living before you arrived in this country?" she muttered, her voice strained. "Why is it physically impossible for any of you to consider a conventional route? I merely pointed out a potential mail delay, and you are already plotting to subvert the minds of innocent citizens."
She gestured dramatically with her hands. "Setting that aside, aren't mind control and hypnosis considered highly dangerous, taboo arts across most of Terra? Shouldn't the deployment of such spells involve a massive sequence of ritual preparations, and once a target is secured, shouldn't they only be used for major strategic operations? Why do you speak of such magic so casually, and only to deliver a basic letter? Wouldn't it be infinitely more reasonable to simply find a student and offer them a small handful of coins to run the errand?"
While Clever was venting her internal disbelief, Patchouli had already produced a blank slip of parchment and begun tracing a precise, glowing incantation onto the surface.
As for why the scholar was handling the inscription herself instead of delegating the task to Flandre, it was simply because the delicate, structural nature of the ward was far too precise for Flandre's chaotic energy to manage.