Paola responded to Maxime's provocation with a grin, baring her teeth in amusement. She was more than willing to be his outlet for frustration, but it was clear she wouldn’t do so without expecting something in return.

“Don’t regret this later,” she teased.

“There’s nothing to regret,” Maxime replied confidently.

Paola bounced lightly on her feet, and in an instant, she was in front of Maxime. He responded by swiftly raising his sword from below, parrying her strike. To his surprise, there was no true intent behind Paola’s attack, no genuine swordsmanship. As Maxime glanced up, he caught Paola's expression—one of discontent. He readied himself for her next move, trying to decipher her intentions.

“The martial tournament,” Paola murmured as she swung her sword again. Maxime stepped back.

“What about it?”

“The Raven Order has been ordered to select participants for the tournament's preliminary rounds.”

Maxime frowned at this information but easily deflected Paola’s downward strike. Two more exchanges followed before Maxime found an opening. He swung his sword wide, creating enough space to ask a question.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Paola shrugged, her face still reflecting dissatisfaction. “I don’t know. I guess I just find the current situation suffocating.”

Maxime glanced briefly toward Prince Louis, who had expressed similar frustrations just a few hours earlier. Perhaps these two would get along well as teacher and student.

“Isn’t the vice-commander of the Raven Order, which serves the Second Prince, aiming too high?” Maxime retorted.

“You already know the answer, don’t you? Do you just want to hear it from my lips?”

Paola’s bitter smile appeared as she swung her sword with frustration. Though her strikes seemed chaotic, they unconsciously formed an intricate pattern. Maxime deflected them as though solving a puzzle. He chose not to respond, and Paola let out a sigh.

“The Raven Order is a finely sharpened sword, but our master doesn’t intend to wield it. He just keeps it on display, using it to intimidate.”

“So, your frustration stems from being excluded from the investigation of the Magic Tower?”

“It was always like that. Being left out of the investigation just poured fuel on the fire. Honestly, I preferred the days when we risked our lives slaying beasts in the wasteland.”

Maxime twisted his lips into a slight smile, remembering those times. Paola, misunderstanding the smile, joined in with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Yeah, you probably find the Raven Order laughable now.”

Maxime didn’t bother correcting her. Everyone goes through periods of doubt, and those moments often lead to important decisions.

“So, what is it you truly want?” Maxime asked. “I don’t see any loyalty toward your current master. Or do you plan to become a wandering thug, swinging your sword aimlessly?”

Paola responded sharply, “True loyalty isn’t about deep feelings of devotion. It’s about doing your duty as a subordinate, regardless of whether you truly feel loyal or not. What matters is fulfilling your role.”

Both paused, stepping back from their sparring as they sized each other up. Maxime remained composed, while Paola’s stance grew increasingly tense.

“We need to win the tournament and announce to the world that the Second Prince’s era has begun. I fear that might be the only purpose for the Raven Order,” Paola mused.

Maxime chuckled, resting his sword on his shoulder. “That’s quite an arrogant assumption. And an unnecessary worry.”

Paola raised an eyebrow, confused by his response.

“I mean, you’re talking as if victory is already guaranteed, which is rather presumptuous.”

Paola shook her head, laughing dismissively. “You clearly don’t know our commander’s strength. While your skills are impressive, they don’t compare to our commander’s. Barring any unforeseen events, victory is certain.”

Maxime considered correcting her but decided against it, lowering his sword instead. I know better than anyone how strong your commander is, he thought.

But at this moment, Paola was a potential enemy, and his thoughts drifted to Theodora. Was she also a potential enemy? Would she stand in his way at the end of his journey to recover what was lost, or would she walk alongside him?

Bang!

Maxime’s final thrust sent Paola sliding back, the fight effectively over. He shot her an annoyed glance, tired of the thoughts she had stirred up. It was clear that the sparring match had already been decided. Lowering his sword, Maxime waved dismissively at Paola.

“Our little therapy session is over,” he said flatly, signaling the end of the match.

Paola, still holding her sword, considered continuing but saw the firm expression on Maxime’s face and let it go, lowering her weapon as well.

“If you really want to continue this conversation, make it past the preliminaries first. If you can’t do that, maybe consider resigning from the Raven Order and joining Prince Louis instead.”

Paola scowled at the insult, but Maxime didn’t flinch. He knew she understood the underlying message in his words. Her hands trembled on her sword, but eventually, she sighed in resignation, acknowledging her defeat.

“I was out of line. Ever since I first met you, I’ve had this strange feeling, like I’m dealing with someone familiar. I guess that’s why I thought sparring would clear my head.”

Prince Louis approached, having observed the entire match.

“That was quite the spectacle. Watching such high-level combat is always enlightening.”

“I’m glad it was useful for Your Highness’s training,” Maxime said with a slight bow.

Paola returned the prince’s wooden sword, showing more respect now than when she had first arrived. Something in the earlier conversation had caused her to reflect, and her demeanor was calmer, more composed. Louis accepted the sword without a word, simply observing her.

“If my commander could hear what was said here, perhaps things would be different,” Paola remarked, looking at Maxime with a tired smile.

“We’ll likely meet again at the tournament,” Maxime replied.

If Theodora participated, it was inevitable that they would face each other. Maxime couldn’t imagine Theodora losing to anyone else, just as he couldn’t see himself losing to anyone but her.

“…Yes, the preliminaries are fast approaching. Make sure you prepare well.”

“I hope we get to face each other in the finals,” Maxime added.

Paola bowed respectfully to Prince Louis before turning to leave the palace gardens. Maxime and Louis watched her depart in silence. Eventually, Louis broke the quiet.

“Everyone has their own complex situation, don’t they, Arsen?”

“…I apologize for showing such an unsightly display, Your Highness.”

For a while, Louis stared at the wooden sword in his hand. Snow began to fall again, drifting down gently from the sky.

“The knights sent by the Border Count should arrive in the capital soon. They’re running late, but given the weather, I suppose that’s inevitable.”

“They are veterans, having survived many harsh battles in the wasteland. You can expect much from them.”

Louis nodded but couldn’t hide the worry in his expression.

“No matter how much I’ve prepared myself, now that the moment is upon us, all I can do is rely on my knights. It’s a rather complex feeling.”

“That’s why the knights exist, Your Highness. Your trust in them is their greatest motivation, the source of their strength.”

Louis sighed. “Before I met you and held a sword, I didn’t realize how important knights truly were. I might have even thought they were just skilled swordsmen and nothing more.”

Louis was growing, both as a swordsman and as a leader. Maxime watched him with a sense of pride and relief. Then, a thought crossed his mind, bringing a wry smile to his lips. Perhaps this is exactly what the king intended.

“When the knights arrive, I’ll personally see to it that they’re properly welcomed.”

“They will be honored, Your Highness.”

“I hope so,” Louis replied, gazing up at the darkening sky. What had once been a gentle gray was now ominous, filled with roiling clouds. Louis furrowed his brow, a sense of unease settling in his heart.

“I hope the knights arrive safely,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as he thought of the warriors making their way toward the capital.

 

Outside the gates of the capital, a group of five adventurers was slowly making their way forward. The wind was unusually fierce today. They were supposedly outfitted for a mission involving monster extermination, but their true objective was something else. The lead adventurer, hood pulled low, exhaled clouds of frosty breath as he glanced back.

“Damn it, we’re actually going out to meet them in this weather? My bald head is freezing,” the adventurer grumbled.

“That’s because you’re bald, Pierre. I’m not cold at all,” another adventurer teased.

“Shut up if you don’t want a bald man’s punch. Still, going out to meet guests? This is a hell of a mission.”

Some of the other adventurers nodded in agreement. These weren’t just any adventurers—they were highly capable. Pierre glanced over the group, his gaze stopping on the ‘Nameless Adventurer,’ who had been rather inactive recently. Oddly enough, the last time he had seen this person, they had been a man.

Does the royal family change the adventurers they send among us every time? Pierre wondered before turning back to continue through the snow, the horses’ hooves sinking deeper into the thickening drifts.

Some of the adventurers, along with their guild leader, were acting under royal orders. This time, they had been tasked with meeting and escorting important guests expected to arrive soon in the capital.

“Why are we even needed? Aren’t these guests knights? Feels like they should be escorting us instead,” one of the adventurers with red hair and a spear slung over his shoulder complained.

Pierre clicked his tongue. “I don’t know, but the guild leader seemed anxious when he passed on the order. Something’s off.”

He recalled the conversation with the guild leader back in the guild hall.

 

“You know the tournament is coming up, right? Because of that, knights are coming from the wasteland,” the guild leader had explained.

“All the way from the wasteland? It’s winter; the journey must be brutal,” Pierre had remarked.

The guild leader had nodded, rubbing his palms together in a nervous habit.

“Yes. It’s likely that the Border Count is sending them to support the First Prince. The king has ordered that we meet them outside the city gates… but something feels wrong. The knight who relayed the order didn’t look too confident either.”

 

Pierre had tried to lighten the mood at the time.

“What could possibly go wrong?”

“They’re late. The king seems worried about that,” the guild leader had replied.

“It’s not unusual for travel to be slow in winter. Seems like an overreaction…”

But the guild leader had shaken his head. He was a man with keen instincts, and unfortunately, his instincts were telling him that something bad was about to happen.

“Just carry out the order. And be careful. The king himself asked for caution.”

 

“Pierre?”

The voice snapped Pierre back to the present. They had traveled far enough that the city gates were no longer visible behind them. The horses were becoming restless, snorting and stamping the frozen ground.

“What’s wrong?” Pierre asked.

“The horses need to rest. It seems the cold is getting to them.”

Pierre patted one of the horses’ shoulders, noting how it trembled. He nodded.

“…Alright. Let’s stop in this wooded area for now.”

The adventurers dismounted, tying the horses to trees at the forest’s edge. As the others busied themselves, Pierre noticed the Nameless Adventurer staring intently into the woods. There was something unsettling about the way the person’s lips twisted beneath their hood.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“…There’s something off,” came the reply, the voice tense.

Pierre’s pulse quickened, and he lowered his voice to match the mood. “What do you mean?”

The adventurer gripped the sword at their waist tightly. “I smell blood.”

“Blood? What are you talking about?” the red-haired adventurer asked, frowning.

“Exactly what I said. I smell a thick scent of blood. We need to investigate.”

As the Nameless Adventurer moved, Pierre quickly followed.

“I’ll come with you. Lead the way.”

Pierre signaled for the others to follow, and though they seemed reluctant, they eventually fell in line. The atmosphere grew more unsettling the deeper they ventured into the forest. Though winter forests were always quiet, this silence felt different—unnatural, as if the very air had been forcibly muted.

“…We’re getting close. Let’s pick up the pace,” the Nameless Adventurer said, increasing their speed. The other adventurers hurried to keep up, each of them growing more tense by the second.

Signs of a struggle began to appear—fallen trees, some bearing deep slashes as though carved by swords. The adventurers exchanged grim looks.

“What happened here?” someone muttered.

“This looks like the aftermath of a fight involving knights using aura.”

As they neared the source of the carnage, their dread reached a peak. The ground was littered with blood, and they found the severed neck of a black horse, lying in the snow.

“—Damn it,” one of the adventurers cursed.

Without hesitation, the Nameless Adventurer, revealed to be Adeline, rushed toward the strongest scent of blood. The stench of death grew stronger.

This way.

Adeline stopped in front of a snow-covered mound, beneath which something—someone—was hidden. Pierre, following closely behind, spotted a boot sticking out from beneath the snow and branches. He shouted for the others, and they quickly gathered to unearth the body.

“…Shit.”

Pierre’s voice was low, filled with frustration. The adventurers swore quietly as they pulled the body from the snow.

It was the knight they had been sent to meet, now a bloodied corpse, his body riddled with wounds.