It had been nearly a month since the Ashveil incident had shaken the Kingdom of Fiester to its core. The kingdom had slowly returned to a semblance of normalcy, the streets bustling again with merchants and townsfolk, though whispers of unease still lingered in quiet corners. Rhen Calder, Royal Knight Captain of Fiester, sat in his office, the sunlight cutting across his polished wooden desk. He stared at the parchment before him, frowning.

  The sealed letter had arrived that morning, carried by a messenger from the Crown. Rhen broke the wax seal, reading the contents with a careful eye.

  "Captain Calder, you are hereby ordered to investigate the sudden appearance of decayed, lifeless bodies in the Crestfall Kingdom. The other Royal Knight Captains, Gideon Falk and Sevrin Hale, are currently occupied. You are to depart within two days. Use all resources necessary. – The Council of Fiester."

  Rhen leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep breath.

  “So, it falls to me,” he muttered, running a hand through his orange hair. “Of course… because I’m the only one available.”

  Lemon, the small talking spirit lemming perched on the edge of the desk, twitched his whiskers and looked up at him.

  “You really do have the worst timing, boss,” he said, his tiny voice carrying more judgment than reproach. “A month of peace and they throw you straight into a corpse-filled kingdom.”

  Rhen smiled faintly, brushing the comment aside. “I have no choice. If the Council wants answers, I’ll provide them. But… this isn’t going to be simple. Crestfall has always been temperamental with Valenreach. The political tension will make this… unpleasant, at best.”

  Lemon squeaked. “Unpleasant? You mean it’s probably going to get your ass killed.”

  “I’ve handled worse,” Rhen said quietly, though the thought made him tighten his grip on the edge of his desk. “Prepare the horses. We leave in two days.”

  The next morning, Rhen Calder strode through the corridors of the Royal Stables, inspecting his horse, a jet-black stallion named Obsidian. Beside him, a figure approached silently, shrouded in a dark hooded cloak. The low light of dawn caught only the faint glint of a sword at their side.

  Rhen turned his head slightly, his sharp orange eyes narrowing. “You’re coming?”

  Akitsu Shouga didn’t answer immediately. He adjusted the hood over his face and stepped closer, his white katana with the red cloth around the sheath catching the early sunlight.

  “I’ll accompany you,” he said finally, his voice calm, almost whispering.

  Rhen raised an eyebrow. “And what is that sword you carry?” he asked, nodding toward the katana.

  Akitsu’s hand brushed the sheath lightly. “It’s called Joyeuse,” he said. “A gift from someone I knew.”

  Lemon blinked, spinning in midair above Rhen’s shoulder. “A gift, huh? Fancy name. Does it… do anything special, or is it just pretty?”

  Akitsu shrugged, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s more than pretty.”

  Rhen nodded, unconcerned. “As long as it doesn’t slow you down. Keep close. We can’t afford mistakes—not with the Council expecting answers.”

  Using his authority as a Royal Knight, Rhen passed through the guards at the outer gates without raising suspicion about Akitsu. The hooded figure remained in silence beside him, their identity hidden from prying eyes. They mounted their horses and set out toward Crestfall, the morning sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets.

  The tension in the air was palpable. Rumors had spread through Fiester about escalating hostilities between Crestfall and Valenreach. Rhen felt the unease tighten like a vise around his chest.

  “We need to move quickly,” Rhen said, breaking the silence as the horses trotted along the road. “The Council wants answers, but Crestfall’s political climate… it won’t make things easy.”

  Akitsu’s voice was soft, almost contemplative. “Do you think Valenreach will interfere?”

  Rhen shook his head. “Not directly. They’re waiting for Crestfall to make the first move. But if our investigation causes friction, we might find ourselves in the middle of something… far larger than just a few bodies.”

  Lemon hopped to the front of the saddle. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. Creepy, decayed bodies, political tension, a potential war… what could possibly go wrong?”

  Rhen shot the spirit a sharp glance. “Everything, Lemon. Everything could go wrong.”

  Meanwhile, far from the unrest of the road, Kaoru tended to her mother in their home. Rikuya, six months pregnant, sat in a high-backed chair, the curve of her belly pronounced, almost the size of a watermelon. Kaoru gently rubbed her mother’s back as Rikuya winced at a particularly strong kick from the baby—or perhaps twins.

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  “Easy, little one,” Kaoru said softly. “Mama is okay. Just… gentle.”

  Rikuya smiled tiredly, placing a hand on her daughter’s. “You’ve always been so gentle with me, Kaoru. Thank you.”

  The soft sound of a knock at the door interrupted their quiet moment. Liora, one of the household maids, moved quickly to open it. Standing there was an elderly woman with a kind, but firm presence—Headmaster Itsuki Shiraishi, holding a basket brimming with baby products, fruits, and other gifts.

  “Good morning, Headmaster,” Liora said politely, stepping aside. “Please, come in.”

  Itsuki entered gracefully, placing the basket carefully on the living room table. “I brought some things for Rikuya,” she said, her voice warm but carrying the weight of authority.

  Kaoru approached, bowing slightly. “Thank you, Headmaster. We appreciate this.”

  Itsuki’s gaze softened as she looked at Rikuya. “It will be alright. You are one of the top students of the Academy, Kaoru. If I were to lose you… I would consider it a failure on my part. But I trust that everything will proceed safely.”

  Kaoru nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We’ll do our best.”

  The maids brought in snacks, placing them neatly on the table. Itsuki’s eyes twinkled as she accepted them. “Thank you. I’ve been traveling much of the morning. A bite will help.”

  Rikuya laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Kaoru has grown so much since entering the Academy. I don’t know where the time went.”

  Kaoru chuckled, brushing her mother’s hand gently. “Time moves fast, Mama. But you’re always here. That’s what matters.”

  At that moment, the door opened again. Renjiro, Rikuya’s husband, returned from his work. He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene: the headmaster seated comfortably, the maids attentive, Kaoru and Rikuya sharing a gentle moment.

  “Good evening, everyone,” Renjiro said, his voice warm. “I see we have company.”

  Kaoru rose slightly, bowing. “papa, this is Headmaster Itsuki Shiraishi. She brought gifts for Mama and some advice, as always.”

  Renjiro smiled, setting aside his coat. “It’s good to see you, Headmaster. Always a pleasure.”

  The group settled into the living room, conversation flowing naturally. Itsuki shared stories from her travels, Kaoru recounted events from the Academy, and Rikuya occasionally laughed or commented, the baby kicking in rhythm with her smiles. The maids hovered respectfully, refilling drinks and offering treats.

  Kaoru noticed the way her mother’s hand rested over her belly, protective, loving, and yet tired. She reached over and squeezed it gently. “It’s almost time,” she said softly. “Soon, we’ll have more little ones running around.”

  Itsuki’s eyes softened. “And you’ll guide them as carefully as you’ve guided yourself. Kaoru, you’ve grown into someone remarkable. Never forget that.”

  Kaoru nodded, her heart full. “I won’t, Headmaster. Thank you.”

  Renjiro placed a hand on Kaoru’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. “We are blessed. Truly.”

  The room felt warm, a stark contrast to the cold tension that Rhen and Akitsu were riding into on the road to Crestfall. Outside, the world waited—decay, politics, and unknown dangers. But for now, inside the quiet home, there was laughter, reassurance, and the sense of family holding strong against the uncertainties to come.

  Two days later, Rhen Calder and Akitsu Shouga rode through the rolling hills that separated Fiester from Crestfall. The sun had just begun its descent, painting the horizon in streaks of crimson and gold.

  “Keep your eyes sharp,” Rhen warned, his voice low as he tightened his grip on the reins. “Crestfall’s not welcoming strangers these days. Especially not knights from Fiester.”

  Akitsu remained silent, letting the wind whip against his cloak. Lemon hovered near Rhen’s shoulder, twitching nervously.

  “Do you think the bodies… the decayed ones… could be tied to the political tension?” Lemon asked.

  Rhen’s jaw tightened. “Possibly. Or it could be something far worse. We’ll know soon enough.”

  As the kingdom’s walls loomed in the distance, Rhen felt a familiar chill—the kind that told him the calm before the storm was over. Crestfall awaited, and whatever horrors lay within its borders would test them both in ways they could never anticipate.

  And so, the journey continued, the shadow of decay stretching long across the horizon, and the Kingdom of Fiester’s knights riding straight into the unknown.