People jostle endlessly in the morning crush—who wouldn't want to catch the parade of the "Seven Saints," after all? They're one of the most powerful guilds in The Platinum Keystone.
Still, my knight loved the festive atmosphere—the calm that settles over you, and the joyful spirit in the air. He tried all the booth games and played with the kids. Even though his armor looked intimidating, he seemed more like a little boy inside that massive suit.
Then there's Katya… always trying to ruin my mood. Why is she hovering around my knight so much? Does she think I haven't noticed? It's only gotten worse over the past four days, ever since she first met him.
I did my best to keep them apart, especially as she led us through the crowded streets scented with sharp gunpowder and spicy grilled food. I was annoyed, so I cast a low‐tier breeze spell toward that climber—but she deflected it in an instant, then flashed me a sly smile.
When I looked over, my knight was holding something that looked like a toy.
"Alruna, look!" he called, sketching on a ceramic plate at a nearby booth. He was drawing himself… and he even sketched me and Katya, with painstakingly ridiculous detail.
Katya looked irritated, and I couldn't help but laugh at how my portrait resembled—of all things—an ear of corn! I was about to march up to him, ready to unleash some scorching words, when I collided with something solid and tumbled into the crowd.
A painted clay pot clattered beside my slender hand—but it wasn't a pot at all. It was a porcelain egg, vivid with color, beautiful and surprisingly heavy. As I tried to pick it up, a tall, striking woman with ghostly white hair and pale, flawless skin scooped it away and said quietly, "That's not yours, miss. My apologies."
She joined her companion—possibly her sister, I thought, given how alike they looked—and in seconds they vanished into the crowd, their exotic cloaks helping them slip away unseen.
The festival passed in a blur, and when the Seven Saints came out of the church, the crowd erupted in cheers after their long absence from The Platinum Keystone, led by the distinguished Leon.
I can't deny how all the girls swooned over him—until I caught him glancing my way… For a moment, I felt a warm flutter in my chest, something almost romantic.
But I quickly realized his look wasn't for me; it was for my knight. A frozen, silent gaze—time seemed to stop between the lofty Saint Leon and down below, my knight… a rough quiet in the middle of the cheering masses.
We returned home under the scorching afternoon sun, and the place we stayed was… the worst lodging in the city.
Most brothels are shabby, but this? The absolute worst you could imagine.
I complained to Katya while watching the dozens of courtesans and predators crowding around my knight, vying for his attention.
Katya sipped from a glass the pimp handed her—my knight's untouched cup sat beside hers—and said,
"Sweetheart… you'll get used to it, I promise, even if it's tough."
I leaned in close and murmured, as softly as I could,
"Didn't I tell you? Last night, late… a very drunk client thought I worked here and dragged me into a nearby room… I would have been done for if my knight hadn't shown up. I don't know what he was doing up at that hour, but… he saved me."
Katya laughed at my story, smiling like it amused her. Still, I pressed on firmly:
"Tomorrow—or sooner—I'm finding us a proper place to rent… and we're moving."
She shot me a bold wink and teased,
"So, you won't be taking my knight away?"
I bristled and shot back,
"Why wouldn't I? Who ever said he wants to stay with you?"
She leaned back, swinging her chair and shrugged,
"Why not? I like my men quiet, strong, few words, rough hands and body…"
Then, with a daring grin that made my blood boil, she added,
"And I love being beneath a giant body!"
My knight tried to intervene, but he looked helpless against our banter. He stood, waving his hand,
"Stop, stop…"
But we didn't.
The bell on the tavern door jingled as two customers entered.
It wasn't unusual—the place was always packed with people coming to drink, eat, or seek pleasure on the second floor reserved for the courtesans.
But this time was different… the newcomers were two men from The Church of the Sacred Relic. In fact, from the very Seven Saints. Who doesn't know them?
First came Alexander—the tall, resolute one with midnight-blue hair. I noticed Katya staring at him hard, her eyes never leaving his. Beside him sat John, his older companion, wearing that ever-present mischievous grin.
They took seats near us, right by my knight, and ordered two goblets of wine. The barkeep hesitated for a moment before serving them. No sooner had the cups been set down than John began drinking, quipping sarcastically about "this difficult crowd."
Alexander, however, didn't touch his wine. He spoke in a cold, thunderous voice:
"I admire your armor."
He said it with a closed smile—partly friendly, partly mysterious. My knight didn't respond; he remained silent. John kept drinking, and Katya finally chimed in, swaying with laughter:
"I've never seen saints drink wine before!"
John smiled and said,
"You're right… I'm trying to kick this habit. I don't know why I asked for two cups—maybe for me, maybe not."
Then he picked up Alexander's goblet and drained it too.
That's when Alexander stood up. He looked furious and barked:
"I don't know why it has to be me… or someone else!"
He smashed his chair to splinters and stood face-to-face with my silent, steadfast knight. Raising his hand, he gathered a massive wave of water magic and intoned in a booming voice:
"This must be done…
The prophecy must be fulfilled…
Here, now.
I—and The Church of the Sacred Relic—must exact vengeance on your spirit… you tyrant!"
The spell erupted in the tavern, filling the air with freezing steam.
I collapsed in shock and exhaustion, not understanding what was happening. Why had Alexander done this?
All I remember afterward was Katya raising her dagger to John—who hadn't stopped drinking—people fleeing the tavern or rushing to the second floor, clothed or not! Magic blasted through the ceiling, shattering four floors, wrecking wood, tile, rooms—even the roof.
I heard Alexander mutter to himself:
"As I expected… he didn't die."
Then he leaped to the roof with incredible grace and strength, as if untouched.
Katya, seething with rage, held her dagger steady at John's throat. He didn't flinch; he simply finished his cup to the last drop. I still hear the ringing in my ears so loudly.
Katya's voice was charged:
"What do you two think you're doing in my home? Treating it like your personal watering hole? Facing one of my acquaintances? I want answers… before I drive this dagger through your skull. It'd be so easy to never pull back."
John, sloshed and exhilarated, replied:
"As you see, ladies…
This is the will of the prophecy.
Cleansing has been decreed.
Non-interference… is our duty.
Here and now, the Church must decide the fate of the one who came from the North… that knight."
He stood tall with grim conviction and added in a chilling tone:
"And if you try to stop us… you will die here."