Traces. (4)
The continent's knight orders fall into three broad categories.
First, the national knight orders operated by the imperial or royal families.
These national orders are massive in scale. Not only knights but also a large number of university-trained beast and dungeon researchers serve in them, and in times of crisis, their knights are mobilized as the nation's executives.
Only the absolute top talents among the knight academy cadets can join these orders.
Second, family-operated knight orders.
As one might expect, only major territories dare to maintain them.
Only families with vast lands plagued by frequent beast outbreaks and high risks of dungeon generation can afford to sustain a knight order.
Among them, the Yukline's Hadekan Knights stand out, thanks to their prime location and the advantages of a major metropolis—they're a top choice for knight academy cadets.
Third, private knight orders.
More than half of the empire's 108 knight orders are private ones.
While national and family orders are often tied to specific regions, private orders base themselves in major cities and embark on expeditions two or three times a month.
They handle missions like beast subjugations in remote areas, village clearances, and dungeon assaults, funding themselves through spoils and sponsorships.
However, the requirements for establishing a knight order are so stringent that new ones are founded only once or twice a year.
"...Thank goodness."
In the main hall of Freheim, a newly formed private knight order, Julie let out a sigh of relief as she reviewed the ledgers. It looked like they'd close out the first half of the year comfortably in the black.
Whether it was the beast village subjugation or the dungeon raid, everything had gone their way this year.
"Yes, if we keep working this hard... we'll be fine."
Julie leaned back in her chair, savoring a languid sense of joy.
Knock knock—
Someone knocked on the office door and entered.
"Captain Julie."
It was Julie's senior knight and Freheim's vice-captain, Rockfel.
"Yes, Sir Rockfel. What is it?"
"Terh Company has requested an escort for their express train."
Rockfel fiddled with his scraggly goatee as he handed over some documents.
"You mean the Verhert conference?"
"Yes."
Private knight orders occasionally take on adventurer-like missions.
But the level of trust required is on another plane. Knight orders only accept missions from verified institutions or the state, ones with a strong public good.
"It's been fifteen years since the last Verhert summons, and they've come to us."
The Terh express train—a magitech marvel that precarious threads its way over the Cliff Mountains, the only route connecting to the heights nearest the Verhert range.
"I don't know why it's come to us all of a sudden."
Rockfel said it with evident distaste.
And understandably so. Deculein would be attending the Verhert summit, and Julie's knights broke out in shivers at the mere mention of him.
"It's fine. No need to decline."
"Pardon?"
Rockfel's eyes went wide. Strangely, it was Julie herself who shook her head.
"Are you sure? Veron did say he wanted it."
"Veron, you say?"
Julie asked sternly. In official settings, she was always the rigid, by-the-book superior.
"Yes. The request specifically named him. He's been making a name for himself in VIP protection lately."
Veron. A commoner without a university education, but through his innate knightly spirit and sheer grit, he'd reached a level rivaling the imperial knights of his age group.
He had a habit of brooding alone now and then, but Julie had witnessed firsthand his valor in the Graknen Dungeon and his deep regard for his comrades.
"Perfect, then. Veron can handle it. I approve."
In short, Veron was the knight most trusted by every member of Freheim, Julie included.
Even the fastidious Zeit had lavishly praised him, saying he carried the scent of the rare old-school breed.
"But... are you really okay with this?"
"Yes. Really."
"Really? We basically raised him from a pup."
"...Sir Rockfel. If you keep doubting me, I'll have to get angry."
Julie narrowed her eyes. His constant "are you sure?" was starting to make her not sure.
She really was fine, though.
"And you know this too, Sir Rockfel. Escorting the express is a major mission. If Veron pulls it off, it'll boost the order's reputation—and his career."
"Yes, that's true, but..."
Rockfel paused, thinking.
Could she have made peace with Deculein?
He'd heard rumors of a meeting yesterday.
No, no way!
Zeit must've given him a thorough thrashing! Otherwise...
"Don't even think such nonsense."
Julie cut him off sharply, as if reading his mind.
"Ah, yes. Ahem. Anyway, Captain. What are your plans today?"
"I have somewhere to be."
"Hm. I was thinking of a team dinner, but if you're busy... I'll head out, then."
Rockfel scratched the back of his neck and left.
"...Sigh."
Julie sighed. She glanced under the desk. At her feet sat a bouquet meant as a gift for someone today.
She didn't know the person's face or name, but morally, she felt she owed them at least one visit—hence the flowers.
"I still can't quite believe it, but..."
Of course, she didn't trust Deculein. Not at all.
But if he truly stuck to his word and changed, and one day confessed his sins and apologized...
Julie looked around.
No mirror in sight.
She'd never much cared for makeup before.
Resigned, she picked up the nameplate on her desk.
It reflected decently enough.
Julie puffed her cheeks and tried a smile. Pulling at the corners of her mouth made them quiver.
Awkward.
Well, she hadn't properly smiled in nearly three years.
"Oh! Um, Captain...?"
Rockfel poked his head back in.
He beheld Julie holding the long nameplate to her face, grinning grotesquely.
"......"
"......"
They blinked at each other until Rockfel retreated first.
Julie quietly set the nameplate down. Crossing her arms, she resumed her composure as if nothing had happened.
Express train escort. A train guard duty was an opportunity. Veron would protect them well, and it would showcase his underrated skills to the world.
If the imperial knights scouted him, she'd gladly let him go...
Knock knock—
This time a proper knock, and Rockfel entered again.
"Captain. One more report."
"Yes. What is it? Speak."
Rockfel acted like nothing happened, and Julie replied as if she'd been waiting, but for some reason, both their faces burned.
A graveyard stirs fresh emotions with its atmosphere alone.
Just a field dotted with tombstones.
The breeze feels like a hand brushing by; the chirp of grasshoppers sounds like voices from some distant world.
Alone there, what I felt was solitude.
...Solitude, and nothing else.
I walked the paths, searching for someone.
Deculein's late fiancée. I didn't know her name or face, but given his personality, her grave would stand out.
I scanned the area, grass crunching underfoot.
Ornate tombs, humble plaques, well-kept headstones, weeds-overgrown markers... Every spot my eyes touched held a story of the departed.
"Hm?"
As dusk's glow settled and the sky smeared pink like watercolor, something caught my eye.
"...As expected. Yeriel's been here."
A fresh bouquet, as if just placed. The buds carried the scent I'd smelled that morning.
Yeriel's perfume.
I gave a wry smile and stood before the headstone cradling the flowers. A late-afternoon shower had left droplets glistening on its surface.
"......"
I simply stared at the name carved into that small, modest stone.
For a long time.
I had no choice.
"You really..."
Genius? Excessive? I just found it ironic.
A mere name in letters. Yet it stirred such sorrow in me.
"...Why."
This wasn't Deculein's.
No one's but my own, purely.
Emotion ignited in my heart, rippling through my body.
All I'd tried to forget came flooding back.
It hurt like flesh flayed. My throat tightened; breathing grew hard.
All because of the name on that stone.
Yuara von Vergissmeinnicht
(Yuara von Forget-Me-Not)
The person who always thanked you
An Easter egg, probably.
Just as Deculein's model was Kim Woojin.
A secret nod to his own name.
I was dumbfounded.
Perplexed, angry, curious.
Why did you give your name to Deculein's late fiancée?
And why did you thank me?
"...Thanks, my ass. Was it before we broke up?"
I muttered jokingly, but the ripples wouldn't stop.
The trembling persisted.
Your voice whispered in my ear, dragging up endless old memories.
Closing my eyes, they revived vivid as yesterday.
You, shyly praising my drawings one day; draping your coat over me on a winter night when my lips turned blue; whispering "I love you" as you nestled in my arms; lifting my broken self back up; always by my side through seven years—crying, angry, unwavering; laughing together unchanged; the only one for the family-less me.
Even now, you make my heart quake.
Like snow falling belatedly...
No, like snow long piled up,
You blanket my heart.
I dropped to one knee.
Removed my glove and wiped the moisture from the stone.
Your name sharpened into focus.
You wouldn't know.
That your name,
This playful engraving,
Weighs so heavily on me now.
"......"
My breath came ragged. Vision blurred.
Never like this before.
Right now, as Kim Woojin, not Deculein...
I still love you.
—Rustle.
A sharp leaf-crunch snapped me alert. Tension spiked.
I pulled myself up, composure shattered. A single tear trailed my cheek. Stray hair stung my eyes.
And someone was watching me.
"...You."
I scowled instinctively.
She just stood there, silent. Rare surprise etched her face.
Back in the world, what I felt above all was shame. The deepest shame.