"The Cavalry, was it?"
"I believe so. Kiolle has been making quite a stir over them."
The old man shook his head slowly, his brow furrowing.
"My ears are still ringing."
"Ah, yes. That incident where he was humiliated by a commoner not long ago."
"I still can't believe someone like that came from our family. We placed him in the knight's order to bring honor to our house, but instead of proving himself, he returned, disgraced by a mere commoner. It's troubling. He still doesn't understand the depth of his failure."
"Don't be too upset, Duke Diarca. Not all children turn out exceptional."
The old man, Duke Diarca, smiled at the young crown prince's cool attempt at comfort.
"You're right. It seems all the greatness in our bloodline has been passed to you, Your Highness."
"You flatter me,"
They turned their attention back to the game. At first, it appeared as though the crown prince's pieces were merely evading those of the duke. But as the game progressed, the seemingly retreating pieces began toppling the old man's one by one, the crown prince gaining the upper hand. What had appeared to be a retreat was, in fact, a calculated strategy.
In the end, the crown prince emerged victorious, knocking down the duke's last piece.
"His Majesty plans to bestow rewards on Duke Peletta and his men,"
"Making a name for themselves across the continent—nothing less would be fitting."
"I'm curious to see what grand plans they have, putting in so much effort. I have high expectations."
"Is that all you're curious about?" Duke Diarca asked, raising an eyebrow. "You'll finally get to see the famous stone. That's what I'm most interested in."
The crown prince grinned at the duke's words.
"Yes, everyone will see it soon."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Duke Kishiar La Orr of Peletta returned to the capital, having successfully completed the secret mission given to him by the emperor. Since both his departure and return had been kept quiet, few even realized he had left.
Only Kishiar and his men felt a mix of emotions as they re-entered the capital. The days of worrying someone might target the Red Stone before they could deliver it safely were finally over.
"You all did well," Kishiar said.
Upon arriving at the front of the Cavalry barracks, Kishiar dismounted and offered a brief word of praise to his men.
"It was a difficult journey, but thanks to all of you who willingly followed me, we've returned safely. Neither I nor His Majesty will forget your hard work. It's late, so get some rest now. After breakfast tomorrow, come up to my quarters."
The Peletta knights, who had kept a respectful distance due to the box containing the Red Stone, saluted with emotion. The members of the Cavalry wore expressions of both exhaustion and pride.
Kishiar glanced toward the entrance of the barracks. His adjutant, Nathan Zuckerman, was already waiting, his eyes lingering on the small box in Kishiar's hand, clearly aware of its contents.
"Nathan, return the Misty Wind Horse. Call someone to take care of it," Kishiar ordered.
"Understood."
"And after that..."
Leaving behind the conversation Kishiar was having with his adjutant, Yuder made his way into the quarters with the rest of the Cavalry.
The barracks, though enveloped in the quiet of night, were not entirely dark, thanks to the glowstones strategically placed throughout. These stones, mundane by day, gleamed like lanterns at night. Their price was so steep that even a wealthy household might only afford a few, but the fact that they were generously embedded throughout the quarters showed how highly Kishiar regarded his Cavalry.
"I'm exhausted from riding nonstop. I just want to wash up and sleep," one of the Eldore siblings murmured.
"Same here. I hope the place has been cleaned while we were gone," the other sibling replied with a yawn.
Nearby, Kanna and Gakane were discussing how it still felt like a dream that their mission had ended successfully. The mood was peaceful, the tension from their journey lifting, but Yuder remained silent and pensive.
His companions didn't find his silence strange. He had been reflective throughout the mission, and they knew well the remarkable deeds he had accomplished.
"Yuder, see you tomorrow,"
"Rest well, and don't overthink things,"
Yuder gave a nod of acknowledgment before entering his room. Though small, the space was well-maintained and equipped with everything he needed. It had been cleaned during his absence, but his attention wasn't on the spotless room. Instead, he sat on the bed and immediately rolled up his sleeve to inspect his hand.
'Still the same.'
The purple spot on his skin, which hadn't faded even after receiving healing from Kishiar's divine powers, remained unchanged. It hadn't grown or shrunk during the journey, but Yuder couldn't shake his unease. Despite pondering it on the way back, he still couldn't figure out why it hadn't disappeared completely.
Throughout the trip, he had kept the spot hidden by pulling down his sleeve or crossing his arms. He couldn't afford to let anyone notice the bruise-like mark, especially since it seemed to change size at will. Such attention could lead to questions he couldn't answer.
The injury had been sustained during a critical mission, one they had all sworn to keep secret. To avoid any unnecessary scrutiny, he thought it best to find a glove to conceal the mark.
'I need to find out if there are any curses or diseases that could cause something like this, and if it can be cured.'
Though he had planned to investigate other matters upon returning to the capital, this new development had shifted his priorities. He disliked the thought, but he had no choice—if his body was compromised, he wouldn't be able to accomplish anything else.
Yuder forced himself to stop worrying after reaching this conclusion. The fatigue that had built up from the long, sleepless journey hit him all at once, like a wave crashing down. Barely able to undress and ready himself for bed, he collapsed onto it. Sleep overtook him in an instant.
'…I have no regrets. Just a little… disappointed.'
The voice was weak yet eerily graceful, lingering in the air. Yuder blinked, his vision blurred, struggling to make sense of the figure before him.
A man sat upright at a beautifully carved desk, a faint smile playing on his lips. His once golden hair had faded, and his darkened red eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light.
Yuder knew immediately who the man was and the significance of this moment. It was Kishiar La Orr, as he had appeared on the day of his death at the Duke's mansion in Peletta.
The desk before him was carved from the unique wood that grew only in Peletta, as was the chair. The stone fireplace, rugged but stylish, stood cold and empty. The fire had long since been extinguished, leaving only shadows in its place. The divine sword, resting atop a transparent scabbard on the fireplace mantle, was the only thing in the room that retained its luster.
Everything felt so vivid, as if it were reality itself—but Yuder knew better. This was a dream, an old memory forcing its way back, replaying itself.
Despite knowing it was a dream, Yuder found he couldn't escape. Was this some form of punishment? A nightmare to be endured until it played out in full? He resigned himself to hope that it would end quickly, as he remembered the sequence of events clearly. Soon, he would move, and everything would come to a close.
But then—
"What are you saying?" Yuder's own voice broke the silence, startling him.
That wasn't part of the memory. He didn't recall ever saying that. Yet, here it was, as if the past had taken an unexpected turn. Kishiar, unaware of Yuder's confusion, continued speaking.
"...I wonder where it all went wrong. Thinking back, I believe it started when we retrieved the Red Stone."
"…"
"Yes… that was when everything began to fall apart. Even knowing that, I couldn't stop it. I had no other choice."
In Yuder's recollection, Kishiar had never spoken like this as he faced death. And yet, here he was, revealing thoughts that Yuder had never heard. Despite the disorienting confusion, Kishiar's words persisted, fragile but steady.
"If the injury I sustained from touching that stone hadn't shattered my vessel..."
"…"
With a sharp intake of air, Yuder jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
The familiar ceiling of his quarters greeted him, bringing him back to reality. But he couldn't calm himself easily, his chest heaving with the weight of the dream. It wasn't just any dream—it had felt too real, too vivid, to be mere delusion.
In the dream, Kishiar had spoken words that were not part of Yuder's original memory. He had mentioned the retrieval of the Red Stone and hinted that everything had gone wrong from that moment.
But that hadn't happened in real life. The one who had been injured by the Red Stone was Yuder, not Kishiar. Yuder's head throbbed as he tried to make sense of it all, his hand instinctively reaching for the spot on the back of his hand—the purple mark that hadn't changed since the mission.
'I may need to reconsider whether my memory of that day is truly complete.'