[Some times after]
Polma glanced up when Vel set a tome on the librarian's desk, her small face pinched in its usual disapproval.
"I'm returning—"
She waved him away with one hand while making notes with the other.
"Do you know anything about teleportation?"
Polma turned with a sharp gaze. A grunt left her mouth.
Vel flinched and left without another word.
One of these days, I'll get her to open up. Her knowledge as librarian could be extremely useful.
He walked down the corridor, his mind already elsewhere. The tournament had become a steady climb through the brackets. Most likely, opponents still didn't know what his team was capable of, but each match they won, they slowly lost that advantage. People were even starting to question if his team was cheating somehow. It's not like—
"Are you Velarian?"
Vel stopped short. Two guards had emerged from between the columns, blocking his path. Their armor gleamed with fresh polish, the design far more elaborate than anything the city patrol wore.
"Uh, yes?"
"Come with us quietly. You're under restraint for investigation. Do not resist, or we will resort to physical action."
"What? What is this about?"
"I said come quietly. No questions. Move."
Vel's hand drifted instinctively toward his sword hilt.
"Don't even think about it."
The guard's hand shot out, removing the weapon from Vel's belt in one experienced motion.
"Fine," Vel said, forcing himself to stay calm. "But can I at least ask who you're working for?"
"You'll know soon enough."
They led him away from the main grounds toward an area he'd never ventured into before—a utilitarian building stripped of decoration. The corridors grew narrower and darker, the smell of damp wood thick in the air. Torches dotted the walls at irregular intervals, casting shifting shadows. His footsteps echoed too loudly in the silence.
One of the wooden doors stood open.
"Sit," a guard commanded, gesturing to a simple chair inside. They withdrew without elaborating, closing the door behind them.
Vel lowered himself into the chair. His thoughts scattered in all directions—what had triggered this? What did they know? How much trouble was he actually in? He mentally prepared himself to fight his way out if these turned out to be bad people.
The door opened again.
Another armored figure entered. This one wore far more elaborate plating—edged with gold, rich blue fabric draped across the shoulders. On the chestplate was a crest: a winged horse poised for flight.
Vel pressed his palm against his face. Oh no. The Pegasus Knights.
The knight stood watching him, unmoving. Then lifted the visor.
A young woman's face emerged. Blonde hair spilled around the edges of her helmet. Her expression held no emotion whatsoever.
She removed the helmet entirely and set it on the table with deliberate care. Still, she said nothing, her gaze fixed on Vel.
"Judging from your reaction, you seem to know who we are."
Vel kept eye contact, staying silent and weighing the situation.
"That's it? No question?" She tilted her head slightly. "Not even why you're here?"
Of course I know why I'm here. It's pointless to ask.
She began circling him slowly, her armor clinking with each measured step.
"Generations," she said, "of protecting His Highness. And his father. And his father before him. Not once has our name come up outside the circle, or where it wasn't intended to be."
She paused behind him.
"Brother of a Saint. Ward of Lord Halen's patron. Son of an unnamed guard." Each fact landed like a stone. "Nothing about you should lead back to us."
She came around to face him and leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the table, her blue eyes cold.
"Answer this question carefully, or you can say farewell to your academic life."
A beat of silence.
"Where is it? Where is the seal?"
"I don't know—"
Her fist slammed down on the table, the sound cracking through the small room.
"Don't play coy!"
Vel flinched despite himself.
"Our name was evoked in the Academy grounds! Among students and faculty alike!" Her voice rose, the controlled composure cracking. "Everywhere we asked, your name came up."
She straightened, towering over him.
"Who are you? And how did you come to possess our seal?!"
Vel scrambled for an answer. He had no explanation—at least none that wouldn't sound completely insane. The truth? That he'd pulled it from a corrupted game inventory only he could access? They'd think him mad.
He could probably fight his way out. Cast a few spells, break through the door. But then what? They'd hunt him down. Worse—they'd go after everyone connected to him. Celia. Hileya. His family. Landre.
The consequences of escaping would be far worse than staying.
Think. There has to be something.
The knight's blue eyes bored into him, sharp and unrelenting. Every second of silence seemed to tighten the noose around his future here.
What do I know about them? What could possibly get me out of this?
Vel's thoughts churned desperately, grasping for anything that might work.
"I... I found it. Back in Elnor. Possessed by a person named... Trinon."
That's it. The only way out now was to shift the blame to the cult. At least it would buy him time. And if the Pegasus Knights started investigating the cult, it might solve a lot of his problems.
The knight narrowed her eyes but said nothing, still gauging his answer.
Vel pressed forward. "Four years ago, a cult member nearly killed me and my sister. In that confrontation, I found an envelope in his possession."
"I didn't know what it was at the time and decided to keep it." He kept his voice steady. "Just as a keepsake. A reminder that I was lucky to escape death."
"I didn't know its importance when I presented it publicly."
If she asks how exactly I survived, I'm done.
But instead, she asked, "Where is it now? Do you have it with you?" Her voice held no emotion, straight and cold.
It was best to cooperate. Vel reached inside his jacket and pulled out the envelope.
He placed it on the table and slid it toward her.
The knight's expression shifted the moment she saw it. "Impossible."
She snatched it up in one swift motion.
Her eyes widened. "It's empty." Her voice sharpened. "Why is it empty? What was inside?"
"It was empty when I got it. I swear."
Her face made it clear she didn't believe him. She reached into her own armor and withdrew a similar envelope, placing both on the table side by side.
His was black with intricate gold patterns. Hers was white.
She hovered her hands over both, whispering something under her breath. Both envelopes began to glow with magical light.
The knight went very still.
"This is impossible," she breathed. "It's authentic."
She turned sharply and whispered to one of the guards at the door. He left immediately. She continued speaking to the remaining guard in hushed tones Vel couldn't make out, all while keeping her eyes locked on him. His skin crawled under that unwavering stare.
When finished, the knight returned to the table.
She finally sat down, her armor settling with a metallic rasp. Her gaze shifted between Vel and the two envelopes.
Vel couldn't take the silence anymore. "Uh... what's going to happen now?"
The knight's fingers drummed once against the table. Then stilled.
After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
"I can't let you go."
"What? Why?"
"Taking you at your word, you may not have known of its importance—but you still took advantage of it when presenting it publicly." Her tone remained cold, matter-of-fact.
She leaned back in her chair.
"This will tarnish the honor of the Pegasus Knights. Such disgrace has never befallen our order." Her tone remained cold. "We serve in strictest confidence. When our name is invoked, it carries the weight of centuries."
"But—"
"We have to keep you here until we decide what to do with all this."
"How long will that take? You can't just keep me here. It's not right."
"In fact, I can."
A voice suddenly came from outside the room, stopping their conversation.
"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"
Both the knight and Vel turned toward the doorway. The guard was already bowing to someone.
An old man stepped inside, draped in white robes. Vel recognized him—he'd been among the special guests at Kein's match.
The knight stood instantly, her fist to her chest in salute. "Bishop Aurelion. What matter brings you here, Your Eminence?"
The bishop didn't answer her. He turned to Vel instead.
"Ah... Velarian Novalance." A warm smile crossed his weathered face. "We finally meet."
Vel's confusion had nowhere to hide. Meet? Why would a bishop want to meet me? Or even know about me?
"I've had the chance to see your sister's work. Like her words can speak forthright to the divines." The bishop's eyes twinkled. "She also mentioned she has a very talented brother."
His sister? Landre worked with a bishop?
"I also heard your knowledge helped with the matter in the north recently."
What knowledge? Oh—he must mean Alukah.
The bishop's gaze shifted to the knight, his tone gentle but pointed. "Surely, someone with good intentions and a good nature cannot be a bad person."
"But Your Eminence, he attempted to impersonate a royal dignitary."
"Unknowingly," the bishop countered. "It is not the act that defines us, but our intention."
He stepped closer to her.
"Elana. Justice served in the absence of empathy is the presence of tyranny."
The knight—Elana—stiffened but said nothing.
"Among Ignis followers, there is a saying: A flame can save a kingdom or consume it. One wrong stroke could foment a revolt."
The bishop's voice remained gentle, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable.
"Elana, you serve the Crown with honor and distinction. But this boy is brother to one of the Church's Saints." He let that settle. "While you have every authority to pursue this matter, such actions require... consideration. The Church and the Crown walk together in balance. When matters involve both, neither acts alone."
A pause.
"As mediator between both factions, I trust you understand the delicacy of my position, should this matter proceed further."
"Besides, I've grown quite invested in the tournament. It would be upsetting to see another team forced to retire by unjust cause."
Another? Vel thought. Who is he talking about?
Elana's jaw tightened. She glanced between Vel and the bishop, clearly wrestling with the decision.
Finally, she spoke. "Understood, Your Eminence. We will resolve the matter internally."
The bishop stepped closer to the table, picking up the black envelope with careful hands.
"Black," he mused, turning it over. "This should date back to even before the first Garnos. Yet it's brand new. Well preserved." His finger traced the gold patterns. "Even the enchantment hasn't faded. Fascinating. No one has been able to recreate something like this in decades."
"This certainly belongs among the relics."
An item Vel considered worthless junk in his corrupted inventory was apparently a priceless relic. He clearly had no idea what he'd possessed and should be far more careful in the future.
"What appeared to be misfortune," the bishop continued, setting the envelope back down, "may yet become providence. Young Novalance can rightfully return this to those who have sought it for so long."
If giving up this envelope guarantees my freedom, it's a small price to pay. What's so special about it anyway?
"Gladly," Vel said.
The bishop said nothing more. He offered a small nod and excused himself, mentioning he looked forward to Vel's next match.
Elana stood motionless, watching until the bishop's white robes disappeared around the corridor's bend. The silence stretched.
Then her shoulders dropped slightly.
She placed Vel's confiscated sword on the table.
"You can go." A pause. "But make no mistake—we will not forget about this."
Vel's hands unclenched. He hadn't realized he'd been gripping the chair.
He didn't wait for her to change her mind. He grabbed his sword from the table and headed for the door.
Outside, the corridor was empty. The bishop was nowhere to be found.
But someone else stood waiting near the entrance.
Voss Eliander.
Voss... if he's here, then...
They exchanged brief greetings.
"Unscathed, I trust?" Voss asked, his wire-rimmed glasses catching the light. "My intervention was on time?"
"How did you know?"
"Your servant came to me with the news." Voss's expression remained carefully neutral. "Though she didn't say how she came to know it."
Hileya. Did she sense I was in danger through the contract bond?
"It was also coincidence," Voss continued, "that I had news about your sister that needed reaching you. The bishop was actually the one carrying that message."
He smiled faintly, almost beatific.
"The divine must have aligned our fates."
"I owe you a debt of gratitude," Vel said.
"It was appropriate." Voss adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. "Thanks to you, my covenant has grown to great extent. I cannot let a brother face injustice while the gods show me a way to prevent it."
"You mentioned news from my sister?"
"Ah, yes." Voss's expression grew more serious. "A course of action has been established, led by Saint Landre. Their quest begins tomorrow to vanquish the creature you mentioned."
Tomorrow.
Worry surged through Vel's chest. Is she going to be fine? She's not supposed to be in danger. Why is she leading them?
"I believe you also have an important day tomorrow?"
Vel blinked, pulled from his thoughts. "Yes... our first match against the elite bracket. Severin's team." He paused. "What about you? I haven't seen you in the tournament."
"There are ways to forge ahead for the Church other than participating in academic dueling." Voss's smile returned. "At least for my circle."
Of course. He's related to one of the High Priests. His time here must be purely formal.
"May the divines bless you with utmost fortune, Brother Novalance."
The formal address made Vel's skin prickle. He almost shook it off physically.
"Thank you," he said instead. "For what you did today."
Voss inclined his head, and they parted ways in the corridor.
Vel walked alone back to his quarters.
His name was now in palace records. Tomorrow, Severin's team—and whatever that match would bring.
And somewhere in the north, Landre was heading toward a danger she didn't fully understand.