Zatria studied the boy as they approached the towering walls of the Free Knights' Academy. The boy, Ron, was a strange genius, one who defied everything she understood about aura. Wielding aura at such a young age? It was unheard of. No matter how incomplete or unrefined his aura appeared, the fact remained—it was aura.
She herself had awakened her aura just before graduation at 25, and most knight prospects found theirs between 30 and 40 years of age. But this boy, barely 20, had managed to unlock his potential, however flawed. That alone was astonishing.
Zatria's mind wandered as they neared the academy. She had been following the trail of her brother's madness for months, chasing rumors and whispers of his fall into banditry. Along the way, she had overheard a folktale—a young hero, cutting down bandits with cold efficiency, emotionless in battle yet strangely compelling. It was only after crossing swords with Ron that she realized the folktale's hero was standing right in front of her.
His swordsmanship was flawless, almost mechanical in its precision. But that was what troubled her most. It felt wrong—too calculated, too detached, as though the boy was moving through the motions without truly being present. It was as if he was empty inside, and Zatria's instincts as a knight screamed that something was off.
She bit her lip without realizing, her mind preoccupied as they dismounted the horse. In front of them, the academy's high walls loomed, the stone casting long shadows on the ground. This place, her alma mater, had once been her home, the place where she had learned everything she knew about being a knight.
"It's a ten-year course," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "But it's up to the Master to proclaim you a knight, not the time you spend here."
Zatria reached into her pocket and tossed a token to Ron. It was her token—a symbol of her status as an alumna, and now, proof of his candidacy. The boy caught it, but his expression remained blank and unreadable.
"This academy is different from others," Zatria continued, her eyes narrowing as she studied his reaction. "The Free Knights are not bound by a single code or belief. This place was created with the idea that knights are free to believe what they want, to find their own purpose."
She paused, searching his face for any sign of emotion. "Do you have something like that, Ron? Something you believe in?"
Unlike the Knight Academies tied to nations and royal courts, the Free Knights operated within a unique culture—more like a brotherhood of adventurers than soldiers bound by a single monarch. It was a place where individuals sought their own truth and meaning, free to forge their paths in a world of endless battles. Zatria knew this well. The Master enjoyed teaching, shaping raw talents into something more, and despite Ron's coldness, she believed he would be able to learn something here.
She recalled their conversation about revenge, the flat, emotionless way Ron spoke of it. It unsettled her. Even though she had the advantage in their sparring, there was something in his demeanor—an almost eerie calm—that intimidated her in a way she hadn't expected.
"I can't tell you," he had said when she asked him about his beliefs, his reasons for fighting.
"Why?" she pressed, genuinely curious.
"Because I know I won't be satisfied with my own answer," he replied, his voice as cold as ever.
Zatria had let the conversation end there. There was no point in pushing him further if he wasn't ready to confront whatever it was he sought. As they neared the towering walls of the academy, she watched as Ron moved ahead, his steps deliberate but distant, as if he carried the weight of something far heavier than his sword.
She couldn't bring herself to approach the Master yet. Not with her own Labor unfulfilled—a knightly tradition that required her to complete a personal quest or task before being recognized as a fully realized knight. It was a tradition that stretched across knightly orders and cultures, and for Zatria, it was finding her brother and putting an end to the madness that had consumed him. Until then, she wasn't ready to stand before the Master.
So, she let Ron approach the gates alone. There was a part of her that hoped the academy could help him find the answers he couldn't give her. But as she turned away, her heart felt heavy with the knowledge that her own journey was far from over.
Zatria knew deep down she was being selfish. Her reasons for guiding Ron, for curtailing the bloodlust that so clearly burned within him, weren't purely out of kindness or duty. It was personal.
Red. The Red Dog. Her brother.
"My brother…" she muttered under her breath, the name tasting bitter on her tongue.
Her mind spun with the memories of the man he had once been and the monster he had become. Why was she so invested in keeping the young Ron from following a similar path? The answer was simpler than she cared to admit. It was part of her Labor.
What exactly was a Labor? It was more than a quest. In the culture of knights, especially within the Free Knights, a Labor was a defining task, a personal journey that shaped the soul of the knight. It wasn't enough to simply graduate from the academy or master martial prowess. To become a true knight, one had to face something deep and transformative, something that tested not just their strength but their very identity.
For Zatria, her Labor was tied to her brother's fall from grace. He had once been a promising knight-prospect, admired and respected. But something had gone wrong—something had twisted him into a figure feared across the land, a fearsome bandit known as the Red Dog. Zatria had sworn to stop him, to either save him or, if necessary, end his madness.
That was why she intervened with Ron. His hunger for revenge, his cold determination—it reminded her too much of Red. And though Ron wasn't her brother, she saw a chance to guide him away from the darkness that had consumed Red. In a way, helping Ron was part of her Labor. If she could save him, perhaps she could save her brother—or at least, save herself from the regret that haunted her every step.
But Zatria also knew that she was projecting her own fears onto Ron, hoping that by guiding him, she could somehow fix what had gone wrong with Red. It was selfish. But it was all she had left.
Zatria's horse raced through the open plains, the wind whipping at her face as memories from her childhood flooded her mind.
The shadows of her past lingered, thick with fear and uncertainty. Even then, as a young girl, she'd sensed that something wasn't right. There had always been secret movements behind the scenes, whispers of schemes and betrayals that she didn't fully understand.
She clenched the reins tightly, her eyes narrowing as the past and present blurred together. Her brother, Red, had once been her hero. But something had changed—something dark had twisted him into the monster he was now. That transformation haunted her, and she was determined to uncover the truth behind it.
What had driven him mad? What force had pulled him into the shadows, turning him into a feared bandit instead of the knight he was meant to be?
Zatria's heart ached with the weight of unanswered questions. Someday, she would confront him. Someday, she would learn the truth. But until then, she would ride forward, chasing down the secrets that had shattered their lives.