It had been nearly a month since the Ashveil incident had shaken the Kingdom of Fiester to its core. The kingdom was slowly regaining a semblance of normalcy—the streets filled again with merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they chased each other through alleys, and townsfolk moving with a careful rhythm that betrayed lingering unease. Yet, in quiet corners, hushed whispers carried remnants of fear and suspicion, a reminder of the darkness that had nearly consumed them.

  In his office, Rhen Calder, Royal Knight Captain of Fiester, sat rigidly at his polished wooden desk. Sunlight cut across the surface in stark lines, illuminating the fine scratches and marks of years of service. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the sealed letter that had arrived that morning, carried by a breathless messenger from the Crown.

  Breaking the wax seal with methodical precision, he unfolded the parchment, reading each word carefully:

  "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 let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair, the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders.

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

  Atop the edge of the desk, Lemon, a small, talking spirit lemming, twitched his whiskers, eyes narrowing at Rhen.

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

  Rhen allowed a faint smile, brushing the remark aside.

  “I have no choice,” he murmured. “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… it will make this mission… unpleasant, at best.”

  Lemon squeaked, spinning in midair above Rhen’s shoulder.

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

  Rhen’s fingers tightened briefly around the edge of his desk.

  “I’ve handled worse,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Prepare the horses. We leave in two days.”

  The next morning, Rhen strode through the corridors of the Royal Stables, boots echoing softly on the polished stone floor. The early sunlight spilled through high windows, illuminating rows of horses in their stalls. He approached Obsidian, a jet-black stallion whose muscles rippled beneath his sleek coat. Rhen ran a hand over the animal’s neck, feeling the tension in the muscles as if it mirrored his own.

  A shadow detached itself from the dim end of the corridor. The figure approached silently, a dark hooded cloak concealing most of their form. Only the faint glint of a sword at their side caught the morning light.

  “You’re coming?” Rhen asked, voice sharp but controlled.

  The figure adjusted the hood over their face. Sunlight glinted off the white katana sheathed at their side, its red cloth wrapping the scabbard catching the first rays.

  “I’ll accompany you,” the figure said finally, voice calm, almost whispering.

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

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

  Lemon blinked, spinning around 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.”

  With authority born of rank, Rhen passed through the outer gates without raising suspicion. The hooded figure remained beside him, silent, identity hidden from curious guards. Mounted on their horses, they set out along the road to Crestfall. The morning sun cast long shadows across cobblestones, the air thick with the faint scent of dust and dew.

  The road ahead was quiet, save for the rhythmic pounding of hooves. Tension clung to the pair like a second skin; every crackling twig, distant cry, and rustle of leaves seemed magnified. Rumors had spread throughout Fiester about the escalating hostility between Crestfall and Valenreach, and Rhen could feel unease tightening like a vise around his chest.

  “We need to move quickly,” he said, voice low, breaking the silence. “The Council wants answers, but Crestfall’s political climate… it won’t make things easy.”

  Akitsu remained silent, letting the wind whip against his cloak. His hand rested casually near the hilt of Joyeuse, as if expecting trouble at any moment.

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  “Do you think Valenreach will interfere?” Akitsu asked finally, voice quiet, measured.

  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 flitted nervously near Rhen’s shoulder. “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 on the road, Kaoru tended to her mother at home. Rikuya, six months pregnant, sat in a high-backed chair, the curve of her belly pronounced, almost the size of a watermelon. Kaoru’s hands moved with careful tenderness, rubbing her mother’s back as Rikuya winced at a particularly strong kick—or perhaps twins, Kaoru mused silently.

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

  Rikuya smiled, her hand brushing over her daughter’s. “You’ve always been so gentle with me, Kaoru. Thank you.”

  A soft knock at the door interrupted their moment. The door opened to reveal Headmaster Itsuki Shiraishi, an elderly woman exuding both warmth and quiet authority. A basket brimming with baby supplies, fruits, and small gifts rested in her hands.

  “Good morning, Headmaster,” Liora, one of the household maids, said politely, stepping aside.

  Itsuki entered gracefully, placing the basket on the table. “I brought some things for Rikuya,” she said, her voice warm, though carrying the weight of responsibility.

  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 everything will proceed safely.”

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

  The maids set snacks neatly on the table. Itsuki accepted a cup, eyes twinkling. “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. “Time moves fast, Mama. But you’re always here. That’s what matters.”

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

  “Good evening, everyone,” he said warmly. “I see we have company.”

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

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

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

  Kaoru noticed the way her mother’s hand rested over her belly, protective yet tired. She reached over, gently squeezing it. “It’s almost time,” she whispered. “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, heart full. “I won’t, Headmaster. Thank you.”

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

  Inside the quiet home, laughter, reassurance, and family warmth held strong—an oasis against the cold tension that awaited Rhen and Akitsu on the road.

  Two days later, Rhen Calder and Akitsu Shouga rode through the rolling hills separating Fiester from Crestfall. The sun had begun its descent, painting the horizon in streaks of crimson and gold. Shadows stretched long, merging with the rising chill of evening.

  “Keep your eyes sharp,” Rhen warned, 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, the wind whipping his cloak around him. 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, voice trembling slightly.

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

  As the walls of Crestfall loomed in the distance, a familiar chill ran down Rhen’s spine—the calm before the storm had ended. The shadow of decay stretched long across the horizon. Whatever awaited them within the kingdom’s borders would test them both—and the Kingdom of Fiester—in ways they could not yet imagine.