Adel hated the mornings in the fortress.
To be precise—
he knew what was coming soon, and yet,
he hated that moment when unknowing faces moved about as usual.
Three days from Arku.
A border fortress of the Empire, and a gateway city.
The walls were high,
the gates were heavy, and the warehouses were always full.
Here, the army was not something 'special.'
They were always ready to go somewhere,
and when they left, they left quietly.
Their original destination was Robenhaim.
To suppress the rebellion that had spread through Imperial territory adjacent to the warring Kingdom of Myuto,
logistics and wagons were already gathering.
Blue oxen stood tethered in rows,
and dried mud clung to the wagon wheels.
Officers hammered pins into maps and strung threads, calculating the route of march.
Adel watched those preparations and thought different thoughts.
Not Robenhaim.
That thought caught on the tip of his tongue.
A folded sheet of paper tucked in his bosom revealed its presence like a burning stone.
A classified document.
Once the 'request' arrived from Arku, the mission had to be changed.
Procedure had to be omitted wherever possible.
They must not give the Silver Moon Order time to respond.
Every time Adel recalled those words, his innards twisted.
By rights, he should demand procedure.
If he valued honor, he should question the justification.
But he was already someone who 'knew.'
And in this expeditionary force,
he was the only one who knew.
A map of Robenhaim lay spread across the conference table.
A senior officer appointed as operations commander
scanned the map, organizing his final orders.
His gaze was dry,
his tone accustomed to command.
Then the door opened, and a messenger entered.
A face drenched in dust and sweat.
He caught his breath,
and held out a document stamped with the seal of the Arku Council.
The operations commander received the document, broke the wax seal, and unfolded it.
As he read, his forehead creased ever so slightly.
"Arku... Council explosion."
"A priest and a knight are dead."
"The suspect... Silver Moon Order. Requesting support."
The conference room fell silent for a moment.
Low breaths escaped among the officers.
Someone swallowed a curse; someone else ground their teeth.
Adel felt rage rising.
A priest and a knight had died—
that alone set his blood boiling.
But what surged even hotter than that was something else.
So this was how they would 'use' it.
The speed at which death was processed into justification.
The fact that he was the one pushing that speed forward.
The operations commander set the document down and spoke.
"If it's a support request... the procedure is—"
Adel cut him off.
"We move at once."
The operations commander looked at Adel.
Those eyes held a question.
A sensible question: why was he so certain?
Adel spat out words that had already been decided.
"Robenhaim is secondary. Change the expedition's destination to Arku."
In an instant, the conference room froze.
An officer unconsciously opened his mouth, then closed it.
The muscles at the back of the operations commander's neck stiffened ever so slightly.
"Holy Knight."
He spoke cautiously.
"The command is mine—"
"You command."
Adel cut low.
"Troop strength, logistics, the route of march. That is your domain."
"But the mission changes."
The operations commander's eyes narrowed.
"Based on this document alone...?"
Adel clenched his teeth.
"Not the document."
"Death."
Those words were a dagger to himself as well.
Words laden with anger, yet also an excuse.
He was leaning on 'death' as the reason he had to push this through now.
Adel closed his eyes for a moment.
A priest and a knight.
He knew neither their names nor their faces,
yet the word 'death' was all too vivid.
That vividness made him even more nauseous.
As if he were pressing that death down with his own finger, stamping it onto the order.
He swallowed the saliva in his mouth.
Adel opened his eyes again.
His gaze did not fall on the document,
but on the hands of those transcribing it.
Whenever the pen nibs moved, something inside him was scraped raw.
The operations commander asked no more.
Within the chain of command,
he was a man who knew the moment he asked further, it would become his own peril.
"Understood."
His voice was dry,
but it was not the voice of one fully convinced.
That incomplete conviction scraped further at Adel's insides.
The operations commander poured out orders to the officers.
"Change the map. The Robenhaim plan is postponed."
"Only half the blue oxen and wagons. Speed is priority."
"Load only three more days of rations, minimize the tents."
"Attach the reconnaissance unit to the vanguard. Assess the situation immediately beyond the gate."
As the orders fell, the entire fortress began to move.
The blue oxen let out low groans,
and the sound of wagons rolling forth at once reverberated through the walls.
Chains were pulled taut,
warehouse doors opened, and soldiers' feet fell into step.
The yard became a 'workshop' in an instant.
They lifted the wheels,
pried stones from the wooden spokes,
and greased the axles.
The blue oxen's breath billowed white.
The sound of straps tightening,
iron hooks clashing,
and someone under a wagon hissing out a low curse.
The lines drawn on the map
seemed to leap out and begin rolling forward as they were.
Adel listened to those sounds, his heart roughly split.
This easily, they stretched their hands toward another's land?
And the filthy truth surfaced again.
This speed was no coincidence.
They had merely redirected force that had already been prepared.
Adel could not hide his displeasure.
Because he would look like someone who had 'prepared' this.
And because it was the truth.
The operations commander, looking at the messenger's document again, spoke low.
"The Silver Moon Order... is this group certain?"
Instead of answering, Adel lifted his chin.
"The conclusion is already decided."
The operations commander fell silent for a moment.
From where the question had been swallowed, the officers in the conference room nodded without being able to say 'yes.'
Adel hated that tacit approval even more.
Because it was not an order, but complicity.
The threads on the map of Robenhaim hung limp.
After the words left his mouth, Adel hated himself even more.
The mouth that spoke of principles was now forcing a 'conclusion.'
A roar erupted outside the conference room.
The roar climbed the walls and spread, descending into the yard.
Word that a priest and a knight had died had already spread.
Rage was turning into the soldiers' fervor.
Someone beat the butt of his spear against the ground.
The fact that he had to lean on that heat nauseated him further.
This expedition had already begun,
and if it stopped, his honor, the Empire's dignity,
and the names of the dead would all fall to the ground.
The true objective rode atop all of that.
Adel pressed the classified document in his bosom deeper.
The sensation of paper crumpling remained at his fingertips.
And very quietly,
muttering so that no one could hear:
"Filthy."
Whether those words were aimed at the expeditionary force, the top brass,
or at himself moving within it—
even Adel could not say for certain.
But one thing was certain.
The target was not the city.
The Holy Relic, and the Silver Moon Order.
All the wheels began turning toward those two.
—
The morning in Arku was dim.
There was commotion,
yet voices were unusually low.
People walked with their heads bowed,
while constables swept the streets with narrowed eyes.
Inside the constabulary post, the smell of wet earth and iron mixed.
The floor had been wiped; no blood remained,
but the air still held that incident.
"Casualties... one."
The reporting constable said, swallowing.
"And one... is miraculously still breathing."
His superior's eyes narrowed at once.
"Can he speak?"
"For now... only in broken words. But he told us the situation."
The air inside the post tightened once more.
More terrifying than death was living testimony.
The superior spoke low.
"The suspects."
"They fled."
"How many."
The constable swallowed.
"The previously wanted criminal... Haraya of the white hair."
"And two more."
His superior's hand struck the desk sharply.
"Additional?"
"The escaped suspect, a woman with black hair."
"Her face was... unnaturally beau... distinct, they say. She carried a small knife."
"And... another is a girl in a hood. Small in stature, they say she wields a long sword."
"Her face?"
"They didn't see. Because of the hood."
"Instead... they said she had black hair."
The superior exhaled.
It seemed like anger, but closer to fear.
Those who had killed inside the 'city' and escaped.
The fear those words created.
"Lockdown."
The superior spoke decisively.
"Random inspections. Block all outer district traffic."
"Sewers, warehouses, homes, underground passages. Search every place they could hide."
"If they resist..."
The superior paused, then spoke.
"...Do not hesitate."
Constables spilled out of the post.
On the streets, carts stopped,
baggage was overturned, and people's hands trembled.
The inspections drew closer to 'hunting' than 'checking.'
Someone had glued papers to the plaza wall.
Onto the wet paste, sheets of paper were attached one by one.
First, white hair.
An already familiar face.
Next, the woman with black hair.
As eyes passed over them, the people grew quieter.
And the last sheet.
A small-statured girl with a hood pulled deep.
Black hair.
Long sword.
The superior looked at the papers and spoke low.
"Form search parties."
The moment those words fell,
all of Arku narrowed once more.