Behind the council hall,
in a small room used as an archive.
The moment the door closed, the air in the room changed.
The murmuring outside was muffled by the stone walls,
and a single candle lit only the edges of the documents on the table.
Councilor Raymond of the moderates, seated at the end of the table, looked straight at Yun.
It was not a wary gaze, but a calculating one.
Yun was not wearing a hood.
There was no need to hide.
There were only two people in this room, and each already knew the other.
“I truly… didn’t think you would come this far, Yun.”
Raymond spoke first.
His voice was low.
“Yun. There was a time when you sat in this council. That is why I ask all the more.”
“Some here already know that you are now the leader of the Silver Moon Order.”
Yun only nodded once.
“I know. And I know that makes this meeting dangerous.”
Raymond tapped the table with his fingertips.
“You’re not the only one in danger.”
“If word gets out that you came here, I’m finished too.”
Yun said quietly,
“That must be why you arranged this meeting ‘unofficially.’”
“This isn’t a request… it’s a verification.”
Raymond’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
“A verification?”
“I’ll say this in advance. Your words are not free of self-interest.”
Yun placed a folded sheet of paper on the table.
It looked like an ordinary commission request, but there were signs it had been crudely copied in haste.
“That’s right.”
Yun readily admitted it.
“So don’t trust me. Instead, don’t trust the conclusion you’re about to reach either.”
“The conclusion that the bombers were the Silver Moon Order.”
“Whether it was an organized order, or someone acting on their own,”
“or whether an entirely different hand was involved. Right now, the council has confirmed nothing.”
Raymond exhaled as if scoffing.
“Then what are you saying?”
“That the explosion wasn’t the Silver Moon Order’s doing?”
Yun did not answer immediately.
Instead, she spoke after a brief pause.
“I… don’t believe any of my members did such a thing ‘intentionally.’”
“But the possibility that a member I don’t know about acted independently? I won’t say that’s impossible.”
Raymond’s gaze sharpened.
“That sounds like an admission, Yun.”
Yun shook her head.
“No.”
“It means ‘that is why it must be verified.’”
Yun pointed at the paper with her finger.
“This document is made to look like an order from the Silver Moon Order.”
“But the format is wrong. The titles are different. The choice of words is different too.”
“Most of all, this seal. We don’t use things like seals.”
Raymond picked up the paper and scanned it.
Breaking the brief silence, Raymond spoke.
“Even so, does that prove it wasn’t the Silver Moon Order?”
Yun laughed softly.
There was exhaustion in that laugh.
“It isn’t proof. It’s circumstantial.”
She pressed the document with her fingertips.
“So I’m not telling you to overturn the conclusion based on my words.”
“On the contrary, I’m saying no one should confirm anything yet.”
Raymond stared at Yun in silence.
Yun continued.
“The military police report, the site records, the testimonies of the survivors.”
“And where this document came from.”
“Verify them again, according to council procedure.”
“I’m not asking you to believe me.”
“I’m telling you not to nail down the wrong thing.”
After a brief silence,
Raymond asked in a low voice,
“So in conclusion, what you want is…”
Yun steadied her breath once.
“Deferral of judgment.”
The words were short and firm.
“Do not declare the Silver Moon Order as the bombers.”
Raymond narrowed his eyes.
“You’re not asking us to overturn it.”
“No.”
Yun answered at once.
“I’m just asking you to stop.”
“Don’t confirm it. Turn it back into an investigation.”
“After that, handle it according to the council’s procedures.”
Yun pushed the paper forward once more.
“This is the minimum basis I can give you.”
“Confirm the rest with your authority.”
“You know the truth as well.”
“That’s why we’re having this conversation.”
Raymond looked out the window for a moment.
Footsteps passed by in the direction of the council corridor, then grew distant.
He looked back at Yun.
“Fine.”
Raymond’s fingertips stopped on the table.
“We will not confirm the conclusion regarding the bombers and will turn it into a matter for reinvestigation.”
“We’ll establish a subcommittee, review the military police records and site reports again, and take survivors’ testimonies once more.”
He pressed the paper with his fingertips.
“We’ll also compare the documents and evidence.”
“And if they were involved in the investigation, the Empire cannot be an exception.”
“We will demand the materials secured by the Empire and the list of requests from the branch of the Church of the Sun God.”
A moment later, his voice dropped even lower.
“We will also move up the audience with the paladin.”
At those words, Yun bowed her head.
“Thank you.”
Raymond glared at Yun one last time.
“It’s not time to thank me yet.”
“If your words are wrong… then you will be held responsible.”
Yun did not avert her gaze.
“I know.”
“That’s why I came in person.”
The door opened again.
The air from the corridor seeped into the room.
Just before Yun left, Raymond added in a low voice,
“Yun.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to sit in the council again?”
Yun paused for a moment, then smiled very faintly.
“I don’t want to sit there.”
“But… I can make the city see me as ‘necessary.’”
Yun closed the door and disappeared into the corridor.
In the room where only the candle remained,
Raymond pressed the paper once more with his finger.
‘Deferred.’
That single word could delay a war—
or hasten it.
—
After finishing his preparations, Raymond left the room, feeling the scent of candle smoke lingering on his collar.
The corridor was still busy.
The council does not stop for one person’s resolve.
But depending on where that resolve is driven in, its direction changes.
Raymond took a breath—
and opened the door to the council chamber.
Inside, it was still cold.
The echoes of the commander’s words still lingered in the air.
The chairman’s notice that it would be “recorded,” the word “control line,”
and the rumor of “requisition.”
As soon as Raymond sat down, he raised his hand.
“Mr. Chairman.”
The chairman lifted his head.
“You may speak.”
Raymond did not raise his voice.
If a voice rises, it becomes a battle of emotions.
What was needed now was not emotion, but procedure.
“I submit a motion to temporarily halt the procedure… of ‘confirming’ the conclusion regarding the bombers.”
Ripples spread through the chamber.
One hardline councilor immediately leaned forward.
“Halt? Now?”
“If we don’t know who the bombers are, the city will be shaken even more!”
Raymond nodded.
“That is correct. Which is why I am not simply suggesting we stop— I am suggesting we verify.”
He held up a document.
It was a form he had already prepared.
The “orderly” impression of that paper made the air in the chamber turn even colder.
“I propose the establishment of an investigative subcommittee.”
Raymond spoke without looking down at the document.
“We must defer any definitive judgment on the culprit and investigate the incident again.”
“We will bind into official record once more the site and evidence records secured by the military police and guards, the testimonies of survivors and related parties, and documents related to the incident.”
The chairman’s eyebrow moved faintly.
“Authority?”
“There are three parts.”
Raymond answered immediately.
“First. Review of site records and reports.”
“Second. Reorganization of survivor and related-party testimonies.”
“Third. Reexamination of documents secured or submitted in relation to the incident.”
After a brief pause, he added,
“And in the course of that investigation, the Empire too cannot be an exception.”
“The details of additional supplies requested by the Imperial Army and their intended use.”
“The list of authorities requested by the branch of the Church of the Sun God.”
“These too must be submitted in writing.”
From one side of the chamber came a low breath, as if saying, “That again.”
Raymond did not stop there.
He brought out the final item last.
“And the audience with the paladin.”
Everyone’s gazes gathered at once.
After choosing his words, Raymond added clearly,
“If he is the person in charge involved in support and investigation, then his testimony cannot be excluded from the scope of the investigation.”
He took a short breath and said,
“Let us shorten the deadline.”
“By noon tomorrow.”
The murmuring grew louder.
That timetable was not negotiation, but pressure.
The chairman lightly struck the table.
“Order.”
The chairman looked at Raymond.
“The commander has already blocked it as ‘confidential.’”
Raymond nodded.
“That is precisely why we must verify it.”
“What we are demanding is not the entirety of the operation.”
“It is the minimum basis and the testimony of those responsible regarding the explosion that occurred in this city, and the support and intervention that followed.”
The hardline councilor cut in again.
“By noon tomorrow? Are you trying to humiliate them?”
Raymond answered coldly.
“It is not humiliation, but procedure.”
“If we say we will defer judgment on the bombers, yet refuse to look at the relevant materials and the testimony of those responsible,”
“then that would not be investigation, but neglect.”
He slowly looked around the chamber.
“If we fail to establish procedure today, then tomorrow, rumor will take the place of procedure.”
Those words lodged themselves in the chamber.
The chairman struck the table.
“We will accept the motion.”
A brief procedure.
A brief vote.
It did not tilt completely to one side.
But—
it passed.
The chairman read the final wording.
“Establishment of an investigative subcommittee.”
“Deferral of definitive judgment regarding the bombers.”
“Review of military police records and site reports.”
“Reorganization of survivor and related-party testimonies.”
“Reexamination of documents related to the incident.”
“Demand for submission of Imperial Army materials.”
“Audience with the paladin, by noon tomorrow.”
The clerk lifted his brush.
Ink seeped into the paper.
It became record.
Now in a form difficult to reverse.
Raymond exhaled.
Only then did he realize his fingertips had gone cold.
—
Soon after, outside the walls of Arku.
In a tent at the Imperial encampment, the commander received the official notice.
A sealed paper.
Courteous handwriting.
But its contents were not courteous.
The commander’s eyes moved down the sentences.
The commander could not set the paper down.
The moment he set it down, it felt as though defeat would be confirmed.
The adjutant asked cautiously,
“…Will you refuse?”
The commander bit his lip.
If he refused, the city would turn its back.
Support would be cut off.
All that would remain was the distance between the walls and the enemy.
He said in a low voice,
“I cannot refuse.”
The adjutant swallowed his breath.
“Then… the paladin…”
Before he could finish, urgent footsteps came from the back of the tent.
A medic rushed in, panting.
“Commander.”
The commander lifted his head.
The medic’s face trembled.
Whether from surprise or fear.
“…The paladin has awakened.”
In that instant, the commander’s eyes changed.
Relief.
And immediately, vigilance.
He rose from his seat.
“His condition.”
The medic hesitated, then spoke.
“His body… can move.”
“But….”
From that “but,” the commander understood everything.
—
Inside the tent, in a darker space.
Adel was sitting on the cot.
His red armor had been removed, and fresh bandages were wrapped around his side.
His face was pale, but—
his eyes were strangely clear.
That clarity was the problem.
The commander lowered himself as if kneeling.
“Paladin.”
Adel did not look at the commander.
His gaze was directed somewhere far away, toward something “not there” beyond the tent.
Adel’s lips moved ever so slightly.
“…Black hair.”
A chill ran down the commander’s spine.
Only then did Adel turn his head and look at the commander.
“I heard the council is summoning me.”
The commander forced himself to maintain his composure.
“They demand an audience by noon tomorrow.”
The corners of Adel’s mouth rose very slightly.
It was a smile that did not look like a smile.
“Good.”
The commander spoke carefully.
“For now, your recovery—”
“Recovery?”
Adel cut him off.
With that one word, the air inside the tent froze.
Adel slowly stood.
The bandages pulled taut, but his face did not distort in the slightest.
“I will go.”
The commander swallowed his breath.
“Paladin, the council is… sensitive right now.”
Adel tilted his head ever so slightly.
“Noon tomorrow.”
He murmured in a low voice.
“Then tonight will be enough.”
The commander could no longer open his mouth.
Adel added quietly,
“I won’t let them get away this time.”