The moon gradually tilted toward the horizon.
The members took turns standing guard,
while the rest changed bandages beside the wounded or gave them water.
Only the sounds of breathing and cloth brushing softly against cloth continued in the quiet.
In one corner sat Langnan, Miryeong, Yeonhwa, Taejin, and Bido.
Yeonhwa and Taejin were the first to recount what had happened here,
and Bido swallowed the ends of her words more than once.
Each time the name Kalen came up, the air seemed to buckle.
By the time the story ended,
Langnan lowered his head.
“…This is my responsibility.”
Miryeong replied in a low voice.
“…To think the knights would cast aside their honor and try to lay hands on the wounded…”
Langnan continued quietly.
“It should never have been possible. And yet it happened.”
“I underestimated that possibility. I mistook this place for somewhere ‘outside the battlefield.’”
Miryeong looked at Bido.
Her eyes still seemed tinged with red.
“Mind Sword.”
Miryeong brought up the words first.
“So you’re saying you succeeded with that passing-through thing?”
Bido nodded carefully.
“Yes… Somehow… I felt like I could do it.”
“But as I said, after that…”
Langnan nodded.
“The Moon Blood that opened for the first time, the full moon, and the loss you just experienced.”
“Those emotions and that pressure pushed you to the threshold of the Mind Sword.”
Langnan looked at Bido and spoke in a low voice.
“You said the knights suddenly changed their attitude and tried to kill you.”
“That was not simply because the tide of battle had turned against them.”
“They saw it. The mark of the Moon Blood revealed on your body.”
“At that moment, they must have been certain.”
“That the blood of the moon, which the Empire still fears, lies within you.”
Langnan’s voice sank even lower.
“Now you are no longer merely a girl holding a dragon weapon.”
“To the Empire, you have become a target that must be eliminated.”
Bido could not answer.
A chill settled beneath her throat.
The moment when the knights had aimed for her
returned belatedly with a different meaning.
They had not merely tried to kill her.
They had believed they had to kill her.
Miryeong’s eyes slowly hardened.
“…Then something worse will come next.”
After a brief silence,
Miryeong immediately looked at Langnan.
“The Mind Sword.”
“First of all, can Bido use it at will now?”
Langnan firmly shook his head.
“No.”
“The recoil Bido felt does not mean she ‘lacks power.’”
“It is a sign that the vessel is not yet ready.”
“If she tries to force it, this time it will not be you who breaks first, but those around you.”
Miryeong exhaled.
“…That’s complicated.”
“First.”
Langnan said.
“Learn the sensation of opening and closing the gate.”
“Just as you closed it earlier,”
“distinguish between ‘the moment when it may be opened’ and ‘the moment when it must be closed.’”
“The Mind Sword comes after that.”
Bido thought with her head lowered.
Since the day she had first taken the box and left,
one full turn of the moon and thirteen more days had passed.
Many things had happened in that time.
But greater than all of that was—
the fact that she herself was changing.
She had become aware of Mirkin,
learned ‘how to use’ Tiamar’s sword,
and now there was even the Moon Blood and the Mind Sword.
The things she could do, and the things she had to do, had increased.
And the more they did,
the more choices she could make increased as well.
If those choices
could become the strength to protect without losing anything more.
Herself,
and her people.
Bido slowly raised her head.
The tremor lingering in her eyes subsided,
and in its place, a direction appeared.
Seeing Bido’s gaze, Miryeong smiled faintly.
The breath that had seemed clouded until just moments ago
had returned, at least a little, to where it belonged.
“Bido.”
“You should rest a little now too.”
Langnan added,
“Yes.”
“When morning comes… the outcome of tonight will be decided.”
And so the night flowed on.
The footsteps of the night watch.
The sound of bandages being changed.
The breathing of the forest heard from far away.
Now—
it was time to wait.
—
The great, bright moon slowly hid itself,
and the morning sun rose over the walls at a measured pace.
It was a dawn so quiet
that it was hard to believe a brutal battlefield had been there.
And before the gates of Arku—
the commander, supported by others,
Kyle standing beside him,
and a priest appeared.
The commander’s armor was stained with dirt and blood,
and his gait leaned to one side.
Kyle caught his breath and cast his voice forward.
“We request an emergency audience!”
The guard watching from atop the wall called back,
“Wasn’t today’s audience… conveyed to be at noon?”
The commander spoke briefly.
“The situation has changed.”
“Please inform the Chairman of our request for an audience immediately.”
The guard was flustered.
The Empire, which had always held its head high—
was now standing before the gate with a voice that was making a request.
“…Understood.”
“I will convey it first.”
—
After some time, the city gate opened.
Raymond walked out under the escort of the military police.
The guards hurriedly brought out a simple table and chairs,
and the commander and Raymond sat facing each other.
Kyle and the priest stood behind him.
Raymond spoke first.
“What is the matter?”
“Where is the paladin?”
The expressions of the commander and Kyle stiffened.
Then the commander slowly said,
“The paladin… has fallen in battle.”
Raymond’s eyes widened.
The military police standing behind him also froze for an instant.
“What do you—”
The commander continued.
“There was a raid last night. The Silver Moon Corps… it was them.”
“In the process, our supplies and some of our facilities were destroyed…”
“And the paladin, Sir Adel, was killed in action.”
Raymond lowered his head, suppressing his astonishment, then raised it again.
“Such a thing…”
Kyle cut in sharply.
“The city must have heard the noise as well, no?”
Raymond let out a short breath.
“Yes. We heard it.”
Without looking at Kyle, he kept his gaze on the commander and continued speaking.
“That is why I came out immediately like this.”
“It was difficult to confirm anything at night. Not opening the gate was best for both sides.”
He immediately returned to the point.
“So… what is your reason for suddenly requesting an audience?”
The commander said,
“Our army can no longer properly function as an army.”
“Therefore, we would like you to swiftly carry out the proposal you made yesterday.”
“We request supplies for the withdrawal of our army.”
Raymond nodded.
“I see. Then I will first send investigators.”
“Please hand over the numbers of the dead, the damage, and the wounded.”
“Based on that, I will expedite the support procedures.”
The commander’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.
An attitude as though he had been waiting for this.
But as things stood, there was nothing more he could do.
“…Yes. Thank you.”
“Last night’s events alone caused many casualties.”
“We will likely need additional carts and blue oxen to transport the wounded.”
Raymond said,
“As soon as the investigation is complete, we will provide support so that there is as little shortage as possible.”
He rose from his seat first.
“You said it was urgent… so I will go in and proceed at once.”
The commander and Kyle clenched their teeth.
—
Things moved quickly.
Raymond had already persuaded the Chairman the day before and set aside supplies to be used for “withdrawal support.”
As if the Empire had come prepared in advance for an expedition to Arku—
the Imperial Army began marching as though chased by something.
The swagger they had shown when they first stood before the gates was gone,
and all that remained were weary footsteps and lowered voices.
The carts moved,
and the blue oxen pulled against their yokes.
The wounded were carried away,
and only the traces of torn tents and broken wagons remained in the encampment.
Eight days after arriving at Arku,
the Imperial Army came to leave this place.
And now,
there were two matters the city had to handle.
First, the treatment of the Silver Moon Corps.
Second, informing the Duchy of Carmen of this news.
The fact that the Empire had blown up the council in order to create a “justification,”
then tried to lay the blame on others and invade Arku.
—
The council chamber.
The Chairman lightly tapped the table.
“Order.”
The councilors’ breathing settled.
Raymond opened the door and entered.
The exhaustion that had piled up through the night remained on his face,
but his steps did not falter.
The Chairman looked at him and said,
“I have been informed that the Imperial Army’s withdrawal is underway.”
“Yes.”
Raymond answered without even taking a seat.
“Before the sun reaches its zenith today, the front of the gate will be empty.”
Those words shook the council chamber once.
Not with joy,
but with the weight of emptiness.
The Chairman immediately said,
“Then we will move on to the agenda.”
He unfolded a sheet of paper.
The writing was neat, but the paper was crumpled.
“The treatment of the Silver Moon Corps.”
The air in the room hardened again.
“This matter,”
the Chairman said as though reading a sentence aloud,
“was already agreed to be postponed until the issue of the Imperial Army outside the walls was resolved.”
The Chairman raised his head.
“It is now ‘resolved.’”
“Therefore, today, we must reach a conclusion.”
At once, one councilor spoke without even raising his hand.
“If it is a conclusion you want, it is simple.”
“The Silver Moon Corps is an illegal organization. They were a group that existed outside the law.”
“If we take them in, even if we drove back the Empire today, tomorrow we will be the ones shaken.”
Another councilor followed.
“The citizens still remember them as the bombers.”
“And… a military policeman died.”
At those words, the council chamber stirred faintly.
Raymond said slowly,
“Regarding that ‘murder of a military policeman,’ Yun has already acknowledged it.”
“And he also said that if he becomes a citizen, he will accept punishment according to due process.”
“With words?”
A hard-line councilor spoke with a sneer.
“Anyone can say things with words.”
Raymond narrowed his eyes.
“Yun did not back down from that position.”
“That is what matters.”
“If they remain outside the law, there is no subject who can be held responsible.”
“The fact that they have said they will come inside the law is the beginning of ‘control.’”
The Chairman continued,
“Yun said it before as well.”
“That this was not aid, but an agreement.”
“And he made a request.”
“To accept the Silver Moon Corps… as citizens of Arku.”
Murmurs rose again among the councilors.
“Citizenship is a right, and power.”
An opposing councilor muttered lowly.
“And we are to give that power… to those who live by the sword?”
Raymond replied,
“Yun said he would accept that power as ‘responsibility.’”
“That he would accept surveillance, registration, and regulations.”
“It is still dangerous.”
Another councilor shook his head.
“There is already a wound called an explosion inside the city.”
At those words, someone bit their lip.
Light streamed down through the gap in the broken ceiling.
That light showed the “wound” more plainly than any words could.
Raymond said quietly,
“That is precisely why.”
“The longer we keep them outside, the less means we have to control them.”
“And it was not only the guards and the military police who got us through tonight.”
One councilor ground his teeth and said,
“So? Are you saying we should accept them as citizens and call them a vigilante corps next time?”
Raymond nodded.
“Yun said that first.”
“That they would work as Arku’s vigilante corps.”
“A hand that obeys the Republic’s commands and faces the Republic’s enemies.”
The Chairman slowly exhaled.
“The problem is not ‘justification,’ but ‘public opinion,’ then.”
Raymond answered at once.
“Because Yun knew that as well, he set a condition.”
“That we calm the citizens’ public opinion.”
“He said that if the citizens fall into fear, the walls will collapse from the inside first.”
The council chamber fell quiet for a moment.
In the end, what they were fighting here
was not the sword, but fear.
The Chairman tapped the table again.
“Very well.”
“Then we will do this.”
He began counting the points on his fingers.
“First. The Silver Moon Corps will be recognized as a ‘temporary cooperating organization.’”
“But only temporarily. The period will last until the moon completes one cycle.”
“During that time, we will establish registration and regulations, and form a supervisory body.”
“Second. The case of the military policeman’s murder, which Yun acknowledged.”
“We will take custody of the member in question.”
“As the price for the Silver Moon Corps’ promise to enter the law, the law must function first.”
“Third. Operation of the vigilante corps.”
“Not outside the gates, but only in designated districts of the city.”
“They will be bound to shift duty with the guards and military police, and independent action will be forbidden.”
The Chairman looked at Raymond.
“Councilor Raymond.”
“Call Yun.”
Raymond nodded.
“Understood.”
The hard-line councilor clenched his teeth one last time.
“Chairman. This is… a gamble.”
The Chairman answered in a low voice.
“No.”
“We have already had a gamble called an ‘explosion’ forced upon this city once.”
He lifted his eyes and looked at the gap in the collapsed ceiling.
“Now we must be the ones to choose.”
“So that we do not repeat the same mistake.”
The Chairman added one last thing.
“The next agenda item is notifying the Duchy of Carmen.”
“But that— comes after we reach this conclusion.”
Tap.
The Chairman’s hand struck the desk.
“Then we will briefly recess.”