The streets of Schia were as noisy as ever.
The clash of metal on metal,
laughter bursting out of taverns,
air tangled with curses and shouts.
This city had always been this kind of place.
Which was why it stood out all the more.
One set of orderly footsteps.
Three more, spaced evenly behind.
And behind them, one priest and three attendants.
Among them, Adel was the only paladin.
The red armor engraved with the imperial crest was covered in dust,
but its shape had not fallen into disarray in the slightest.
The clamor naturally fell a beat behind.
And what had fallen behind was not the clamor, but the people’s judgment.
When Schia saw something unfamiliar, it calculated its value first.
Whether to draw a blade, avoid it, or laugh it off.
That calculation paused for a moment.
Those orderly steps were not a threat.
And yet, in this place, they felt like one.
Here, anyone would shoulder past another as they walked by,
but that procession left no “space” for shoulders to collide.
The dust on Adel’s armor smelled different from the dust of this city.
“…What the hell.”
Someone muttered under their breath.
“It’s a paladin.”
With that one word, gazes gathered.
They were not many in number.
In Schia, a few mercenaries with swords would have been enough to surround them.
And yet no one approached.
“What are such noble folk doing in a shabby place like this…”
The words were laced with mockery.
Someone spat openly onto the ground.
“Imperial bastards have crawled all the way here now, have they?”
The people did not hide their displeasure.
Schia had no reason to like the Empire,
and it was a city that had no intention of bothering to hide its hatred either.
Adel felt those gazes, but did not turn his head.
Irritation was caught in the back of his throat.
Needlessly noisy,
needlessly rough,
needlessly hostile.
But—
there was nowhere left now but here.
It had been a forced march.
They had not entered this place as if fleeing.
And yet it was no different from fleeing.
The sound of metal scraping against metal was changing little by little.
Oil had dried,
straps had loosened,
and each time a buckle rattled once more, it revealed the “time they had not been able to spend on maintenance.”
The moment one attendant swallowed a breath,
a rough sound leaked from his throat.
As if to hide it,
he lowered his head further and matched his steps.
Adel saw all of it, but did not change his pace.
If they stopped,
they would leave traces of having “stayed” here.
They had not rested.
They had not stopped.
The three knights had not had time to maintain their equipment,
and the attendants’ steps had already grown heavy.
The priest steadied his breathing as he surveyed their surroundings.
Even so, Adel did not slow his steps.
“Here.”
It was a short word.
Rather than certainty, his tone was closer to confirming the remaining option.
The priest carefully nodded.
The crease between Adel’s brows deepened a little more.
There was no plan.
No time to make one,
and no reason to.
Simply confirm, find, and retrieve.
That was all.
The people of Schia looked openly uncomfortable as they watched the procession.
They did not know why a paladin was in a place like this,
but one thing was clear.
They were not beings suited to this city.
And—
that discomfort was no different for Adel.
The gazes gathered on Adel and would not leave him.
He was neither bothered by them,
nor did he consciously ignore them.
He simply—
looked over the people standing before him one by one, as if confirming what he needed.
Then he spoke.
“I am looking for someone.”
His voice was not loud.
But it stretched out straight, as if cutting through the surrounding noise.
“A black-haired girl.”
“She moves together with Dullam and white-haired Haraya.”
The air of the street instantly hardened.
Adel did not wait for their reaction and continued.
“She may be carrying a box wrapped in chains,”
“or else—”
He tilted his head slightly.
“they may be people carrying a sword of unusual form.”
It was not an explanation.
Nor was it a question.
It was merely a one-sided listing of the things he wanted to know.
A brief silence passed through the street.
And then—
“Is this bastard insane?”
Someone spat out a curse mixed with laughter.
“What does he think this place is, shouting like he’s putting out a warrant?”
Spit splattered onto the ground.
“Get the hell out, imperial bastard.”
It was open hostility.
A reaction without even the intention of hiding it.
Adel showed no response to those words.
He did not ask back,
nor did he threaten them.
That attitude instead grated on the people’s nerves.
Then—
from behind, a cautious but clear voice cut in.
“Sir Adel.”
It was a knight,
Rina.
She swept her gaze over their surroundings once, then spoke in a slightly lowered voice.
“First… let’s enter an inn somewhere.”
It was not an attempt to persuade Adel.
It was simply a judgment made to control the situation.
“At this rate, it will be difficult to confirm anything.”
The gazes on the street were growing rougher and rougher.
Rina saw that precisely.
Adel came to a brief stop.
For a very short moment.
Then he nodded.
“Very well.”
He concluded with a single word.
“We move.”
With those words, the procession turned toward one side of the street.
Curses poured at their backs.
“Don’t ever come back!”
“Damn bad luck!”
But Adel did not look back.
Now was not the time to clash.
That much, even he knew.
Even after the group vanished beyond the end of the alley,
one gaze remained, following them.
Beneath a railing,
mixed among the people with an unconcerned face.
A black-haired girl.
And—
an unusual sword.
He thought only of those two things.
Whether it had been a box wrapped in chains,
or a sword, no longer mattered.
What mattered was that it was definitely worth something.
“Hmm.”
The low sound that slipped out held anticipation.
He had been a member of the gang that had stolen Bido’s sword.
After the day their boss went mad, the organization had fallen apart.
But he knew.
The black-haired girl who had survived that day and returned,
and the group moving with her.
They often changed places in these streets.
But they had not disappeared completely.
Where they stayed,
which districts they avoided.
That much, he knew.
He checked once more the direction in which the paladin’s group had gone into the alley.
Then he slowly turned his body toward where they had headed.
Opportunity came to those quick on the uptake.
This time, he had no intention of letting it slip.
—
The inside of the inn was not quiet.
Instead, blatant gazes were fixed on them from everywhere.
A hand stopped midway while lifting a cup,
voices lowered as if whispering,
eyes meeting theirs openly.
The paladin’s party was merely sitting near the entrance, wetting their throats for a moment.
Even that alone was enough to make them an uncomfortable presence in this space.
The priest closed his eyes and steadied his breathing for a moment.
Then he shook his head.
“Right now…”
“I sense no response.”
It was an uncertain report.
The priest gripped the bone fragment once, then let it go.
It was neither cold nor hot.
The fact that there was no response
instead remained all the clearer against his palm.
The gazes inside the inn were clearer than drunkenness.
They were eyes waiting to see who would mock first,
who would flee first,
and in what order.
Adel set down his cup, but did not take his hand away.
His fingers remained stiff around the neck of the cup.
As if, in that very place,
he were holding himself back to keep from breaking something.
Adel’s mood had visibly sunk.
This city, this air,
these gazes.
All of it was provoking his irritation.
“This will be difficult as it stands.”
Rina said, looking around once.
“It would be better to look for another way.”
Adel did not answer.
Instead, only the short sound of the cup being set down rang out.
Then—
someone approached their table.
At a glance, he looked like someone who had lived in back alleys.
Unkempt clothing and practiced tact.
Adel lowered his gaze at him.
It was a look that judged him as worthless noise.
Until the man opened his mouth.
“Excuse me.”
His voice was low, but there was conviction in it.
“The black-haired girl and—”
Adel’s hand stopped for the briefest moment.
“that sword.”
The man continued.
“I think I know about them, you see.”
At that instant,
Adel’s eyebrow twitched faintly.
—
“It will be all right.”
Rangnan said.
It was a declaration, but not a light one.
“What are you talking about?”
Miryeong immediately retorted.
“They said the paladin came right up to our doorstep.”
Her voice did not hide her discomfort.
She folded her arms and swept her gaze once over the inn floor.
Aslo continued in a low voice.
“This is Schia.”
“It is not a place they can recklessly turn upside down.”
A city of mercenaries.
A place where blades and interests were intertwined.
It was not a place where the Empire’s authority would immediately take effect.
Rangnan picked up his words.
“That’s right.”
“But it is only a matter of time before information about us reaches them.”
Miryeong’s eyebrow rose slightly.
“Even so—”
“Even so,”
Rangnan continued without cutting himself off.
“there is not much they can do inside this city.”
Those words were an assessment of the situation, not optimism.
Mendel hesitated briefly before opening her mouth.
“Rather…”
Everyone’s gazes turned to her.
“it might be better not to leave the city as much as possible.”
Bido listened quietly to those words.
The paladin, Schia,
the judgment that they should not leave the city.
Even with her mind, she could understand it.
But—
Adel’s eyes suddenly came to mind.
A gaze that tried only to confirm, without questions,
without hesitation.
And Roan.
The moment when he had done nothing, yet the world had already been on his side.
Bido felt again the place where she stood.
She was not fleeing,
nor was she standing against them.
She was merely—
standing in a place where she was entangled.
And that fact alone made her breath grow a little heavier.