Even after the master and his guest had vacated their shared room, Peleta Castle remained tranquil. That wasn’t merely because nothing had happened in the meantime. It was a stability that could only be maintained because those who knew—and even those who didn’t know—why the two had shut themselves inside, were determined to uphold their usual demeanor, each holding onto their own conviction and composure.

Nathan Zuckerman, known as the aide closest to Kishiar la Orr and now building a reputation for himself as a Swordmaster even without his master’s name, played a particularly critical role in maintaining that atmosphere with his composed demeanor.

But just because he was capable of keeping calm better than anyone else, didn’t mean he was entirely at ease.

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong?”

It was during a meeting between Nathan Zuckerman and members of the Northern Branch, in place of the absent Yuder, when [N O V E L I G H T] one of the members suddenly frowned and flinched. Sitting at the head of the table, Ishias turned her gaze to him.

“Just now, something... didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“Ah. Right. I forgot I’m the only second-star Awakener in our branch.”

Scratching his head with an embarrassed look, the man gestured with his chin toward the door.

“I thought I smelled something... like a faint scent. But it’s gone now. Must’ve been my imagination.”

“Are there any other Awakeners besides us at Peleta Castle?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not impossible, right? After all, this is the Commander’s domain. I heard there were a good number of people from the North who awakened and came here for help. Isn’t that right, Sir Zuckerman?”

Nathan Zuckerman, who had been unusually lost in thought, raised his head slightly late.

“Yes, that’s correct. Some of the people who work here came for those reasons.”

“Wow, really. I guess that makes sense. A lot of Awakeners ended up working with the Cavalry after coming to ask for help too...”

“I heard the Cavalry wasn’t the beginning—it all started here.”

Though it had become less common as the Cavalry’s influence grew, there were still cases where newly Awakened individuals were cast out of their hometowns or forced to flee. In such cases, the one person they could think to seek out in this empire was Duke Peleta, the highest-ranking and most famous Awakener in the realm.

Kishiar had made it a rule that no one coming to the Cavalry in such a state should ever be turned away. Temporary lodging, mediation with their origin towns, or even new employment—every kind of assistance was offered. For Awakeners, it was practically salvation.

The most well-known person to receive such help was, of course, Revlin Shan Apeto. After his departure from House Apeto and temporary stay in the Cavalry, Kishiar officially revised the rules and made the policy public. Many commoner Awakeners benefited from it thereafter.

But few knew that Kishiar had been doing that sort of support personally, long before the Cavalry was even founded. And even fewer knew it all came from his own private funds.

The members of the Northern Branch found themselves once again moved by the character of the Commander they served. As they continued chatting and forgot about that fleeting scent from earlier, Nathan Zuckerman quietly rose from his seat.

“Sir Zuckerman, heading out already?”

“Yes. I have another engagement.”

“Right, you’re not just meeting with us. Must be a busy day.”

Though they had once found Nathan Zuckerman quite intimidating, the members had long since grown bold and now expressed their disappointment freely.

“If only Yuder hadn’t suddenly stepped away for a mission...”

“Can’t be helped. With the abnormal rifts appearing all over the country, the Commander and Yuder must have their hands full.”

“Yeah... but they really should rest more. Tsk, tsk.”

“Well, I heard His Majesty sent people to help...”

Leaving those voices behind, Nathan Zuckerman walked out. His strides, steady and ordinary at first, suddenly grew swift the moment he stepped into an area with no one around—moving as though folding the ground beneath him. The other members didn’t know, but hidden under his sleeve was a magical artifact bracelet that responded to specific signals. It had been silent all this time, but now it was vibrating—faint, yet definite.

The knight swiftly passed through the empty inner-dining area on the first floor and moved under the stairs leading to the second. At the top of those stairs, by the railing, stood someone cloaked in a black winter mantle, covering them from head to toe.

Though still at a distance, Nathan Zuckerman sensed a peculiar scent from the figure. It wasn’t something one could easily describe in words—but it wasn’t the first time he had encountered it.

He had smelled something similar when Yuder Aile entered his rut. Though now far fainter, any Swordmaster with sharpened senses could recognize it.

“...Sir Aile.”

“You came quickly. I thought it might take some time.”

Yuder Aile replied calmly. Though his face was obscured and his expression unreadable, his voice was unmistakably deeper than usual.

His tone was still flat and slow as always... but something about it was different.

Was it fatigue?

Trying to identify the unfamiliar quality in the air surrounding Yuder Aile, the knight first spoke.

“Are you alright?”

“The Commander is well. His vessel and body are both in perfect condition.”

For once, Nathan Zuckerman was momentarily at a loss for words. He’d never cared much that people often thought him unskilled with speech, but this time he found himself regretting not having picked up more of his lord’s conversational talent.

“No, my question... was directed at you, Sir Aile.”

At that, Yuder fell silent for a moment.

“...Not the Commander, but me?”

“If you were here, and calmly called for me, then nothing serious could’ve happened to His Grace. There’s no need to ask what’s already obvious, is there?”

Only then did the wordless tension—almost as if questioning Zuckerman’s sanity—begin to ease.

“I’m fine.”

“Truly?”

“Why would I hide my condition from you, Sir Zuckerman?”

That icy precision in his judgment... it was unmistakably the Yuder Aile he knew. Nathan relaxed slightly—but did not withdraw his observant gaze. That, after all, was his duty. He had served a lord who endured pain in silence for many years.

And the one standing above him now was someone he must protect no differently from his Commander.

“Very well. If you need anything, say the word.”

“I need food. And towels. Something that won’t spoil quickly, if possible.”

“I’ll bring it right away.”

“And... has it been several days since I came up here?”

Just as the knight turned to head toward the kitchen, his steps halted. He spoke while sensing the gaze from beyond the black mantle behind him.

“From the day you went up with Steward Enk until now, it has been exactly five days.”

“...Five days.”

Yuder Aile softly echoed the words—his voice sounding a bit astonished, and a bit relieved.

“Long, if you think of it that way... short, if not. I had thought we’d finish sooner than this...”

His trailing words were so low even a Swordmaster’s ears could barely catch them. Zuckerman, assuming Yuder was worrying about external affairs, added—

“You needn’t worry. There’s been no major news concerning Peleta or the Empire.”

“If there’s been no major news, that implies there’s minor news, doesn’t it?”

“If we’re counting minor news... then, His Majesty sent people to help Peleta. They haven’t arrived yet, but once they do, the workload should ease.”

They had reportedly entered the Northern region, so it was only a matter of time before they arrived at Peleta. Traveling at that pace likely meant riding Mist Gale Beasts with barely any sleep, so even once they arrived, it would take a few more days before they could truly begin assisting. Still, the fact that the Emperor had clearly understood the situation at Peleta and taken action was significant.

Yuder Aile, having realized that even without it being said, gave a deep nod.

“That’s good to hear. Anything else?”

“Sources say Crown Prince Kachian may soon be summoned to court over formal accusations. The capital seems stirred up over it.”

Yuder stood in silence for a moment before replying slowly.

“...That’s really not important news at all.”

“No, this is about the extent of it.”

“Understood.”

Nathan Zuckerman headed to the kitchen and brought back the prepared food and towels. Supplies had been stocked there in advance so they could be delivered quickly if summoned.

Returning with a large basket full of items, Yuder Aile asked him to leave it at the top of the stairs. When he placed it down, a cool breeze stirred and lifted the basket into Yuder’s arms as if swept up by the wind.

His powers were functioning perfectly—but the breeze had stirred the cloak, briefly exposing part of his face. And that brief glimpse, caught by the Swordmaster’s keen vision, was more than enough.

In all the time Nathan Zuckerman had known Yuder Aile, not once had he seen vitality radiating from him. Yuder’s appearance had always been pale, bloodless lips, eyes heavy with darkness, and limbs too lean for the power they held—a young man marked by cold clarity.

But the face he saw just now—

For a moment, he thought he was looking at Kishiar.

Like a corpse turning human at last, his cheeks and lips flushed with life, his eyes gleaming with light, his features softened in subtle joy—was it strange to say he looked startlingly like his master?

He wanted to verify what he’d just seen—but Yuder had already turned away.

“...”

Nathan Zuckerman stared silently at the stairs where the black cloak had disappeared, then turned without hesitation.

And to those who were worrying, he went and delivered the message:

There was absolutely nothing to worry about.