“Hello, sir knight. Would you be willing to lend us a little help?”

Kiole, who had planned to head straight home, came to a stop as a group of women approached and spoke to him. Each of them wore wide-brimmed hats draped with cloth veils that obscured half their faces. Though their clothes were plain, their posture and speech exuded unmistakable refinement.

Though he rarely did anything knightly, Kiole la Diarca was a knight. And a knight should, of course, be courteous to ladies. He squared his shoulders, subtly shifted so that his sword at his hip would be more visible, and lowered his voice to respond with formal politeness.

“What seems to be the matter, my ladies?”

“We’re here to assist a noblewoman with charitable volunteer work. But her condition has suddenly worsened, and we could use a strong pair of hands to help us finish things quickly. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough strength among us. If it’s not too much trouble, would you be willing to lend a hand?”

Among the nobles of Orr, it was tradition for aristocratic women to occasionally venture out and volunteer anonymously in the name of the divine. Most just donated money, but the truly devout and charitable would sometimes go out in person, even to far-off places. So their request didn’t strike Kiole as particularly strange.

‘Well, obviously I’d look more reliable than half the riffraff on this street!’

He’d never done this kind of charity work before, truthfully. But how could he coldly reject a request from delicate noblewomen?

After clearing his throat, Kiole agreed. The women thanked him with great enthusiasm and led him down another street. There, he found massive tubs of pickled meat, mountains of bread, and a noblewoman veiled so completely in thick black fabric that not even her hair could be seen.

“We’ve brought someone to help. How fortunate that such a strong and dashing knight happened to be passing by.”

“Ah... hello. I’ll be helping out for a bit.”

The noblewoman looked at Kiole. After a short pause, she brought her gloved hand to her chest and offered him a polite gesture of thanks. Her movements were far more elegant and flawless than those of the other women.

As she was led back behind the work area, Kiole furrowed his brow. Something about the way she moved was oddly familiar. She hadn’t spoken a word, but her gait, her posture—they stirred something in his memory.

‘Have I... seen her somewhere before?’

But then again, it wasn’t so strange. As a son of House Diarca, Kiole had seen more than enough high-ranking nobles to last a lifetime.

‘Whatever. If she feels familiar to me, that just proves she’s a proper noble. Nothing to worry about. Let’s just finish up and get out of here.’

He put the thought out of his head and followed the ladies’ directions.

The noblewoman’s intended charity work was distributing food to the poor. It was the most common and straightforward form of service—and one that certainly required someone strong to help.

Soon, a crowd of impoverished commoners had gathered, and Kiole began handing out parcels of food. Many smelled unpleasant, but with the ladies constantly praising his work beside him, he didn’t dare show any disgust as he usually might.

“As expected of a knight, you’re doing wonderfully.”

“Ah... not at all.”

“At this rate, we’ll be finished in no time! It’s all thanks to you. You’re so incredibly strong—how is that even possible?”

It was hard work. He was sweaty and annoyed. But as long as there were people who acknowledged his effort and sweetly praised him for it, he didn’t mind helping. Lately, everything in his life had been a pain, so this—at least—wasn’t too bad. Putting on a solemn face, he quietly basked in the praise.

He even did something he’d usually scoff at—carrying boxes like some common porter.

“I’ll handle those empty containers. Where should I take them?”

“Oh my... how kind of you. Thank you. Just go around that alley and stack them behind the noblewoman’s carriage. It’s a black one—you’ll recognize it easily.”

One of the women, who had been staggering under the load of an empty crate, covered her mouth and gave him a grateful bow. Kiole hoisted the box and headed toward the location she described.

Turning down the quiet alley, he found it just as she’d said—a large black carriage with identical boxes already stacked behind it.

‘She must be resting inside because of her condition.’

He adjusted his grip to lift the crate again—when suddenly—

Thwip!

A dagger flew out of nowhere, slicing just past Kiole’s head. If he hadn’t paused to shift the box, it would’ve gone straight through the back of his skull. He dropped the box and immediately drew his sword. Almost instantly, masked figures leapt down from the rooftops.

‘Assassins targeting the noblewoman!’

As he deflected the incoming weapons, Kiole turned toward the carriage and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“There’s an ambush! Please get to safe——grk!”

He tried to finish his bold declaration but had to twist away to avoid another projectile, and his voice cracked midway.

‘Damn it!’

Praying that the noblewoman hadn’t heard that embarrassing shriek, Kiole continued to swing his sword. He’d never fought opponents who only aimed for fatal points before—every move was strange and unpredictable. It felt like he was about to die at any moment.

And yet, somehow, he was doing better than he expected.

Of course, that was thanks to having been utterly wrecked multiple times by Yuder Aile. But Kiole didn’t realize that.

He rolled across the ground, kicked off walls, and fought back purely on instinct—all just to buy a little more time for the noblewoman to escape.

“You bastards! Do you know who I am?! I’m Kiole la Diarca, knight of House Diarca! If you harm me, my father will never—aargh!”

As one of the assassins slashed his leg, Kiole fell to the ground. The masked figure sneered down at him.

“Yeah. That’s why we came, rat bastard.”

‘...What?’

“Came for... me?” As another blow came down from above, Kiole barely managed to roll aside. Shock and confusion swirled in his head.

‘Wait... they’re not here for the noblewoman?’

“Get down!”

BOOM!

Before that thought could finish forming, someone crashed into the space between Kiole and the assassins. A hand struck him square in the chest, sending him flying backward. He tumbled violently, slamming into something hard with the back of his head. Pain exploded through his skull. He dropped his sword and curled up, clutching his head in agony.

As he groaned, he heard it—dozens of violent, sickening sounds. Bones breaking. Flesh bursting. All within seconds.

He couldn’t see what was happening. He was scared. He couldn’t breathe. All he could glimpse was something brown, flickering in and out of view amid screams.

As Kiole teared up and trembled, someone knelt beside him and gently tapped his head.

“My, you’re hurt. But hey, it’s better than dying, right? This much’ll heal quickly with a priest.”

“W-Who dares...”

He turned his head. Through blurry vision, he saw a brown-haired woman with a short bob. He knew who she was. Even in civilian clothes, he recognized her—

‘The ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ Cavalry Deputy Commander... the one beside Yuder Aile...’

“Ever unni! All done over here! This one’s okay, too! You can tell Her Majesty the Empress it’s safe to come out now!”

Her Majesty... is in the carriage?

Not a noblewoman?

As that realization hit him—

Kiole lost consciousness.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a guest chamber in the Imperial Palace.

“...This is... the palace?”

His voice came out hoarse and dazed. A priest beside him beamed and nodded.

“That’s right, Sir Diarca. You bravely intervened during an ambush on Her Majesty the Empress while she was volunteering, and she’s ordered that you be treated here in gratitude.”

“...Me? I did that?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember?”

Kiole’s head spun with dizziness.

‘The last thing I remember... was someone mentioning the Empress. That... wasn’t a dream?’

He remembered it clearly now. The Deputy Commander of the Cavalry—she had spoken of the Empress. At the time, he thought it was absurd.

But it had been real.

‘Something... something’s seriously wrong!’