Two days earlier.
The second floor of an inn in Schia.
The door was closed, and the window was narrowly open.
The noise of the street did not rise this high.
Inside the room sat four knights.
All of them were still wearing armor.
Bandages tightened around their bodies beneath it,
and though the bloodstains had been wiped away, they had not vanished completely.
No one had removed their armor.
It was courtesy.
Even if they had been defeated in battle,
a knight did not remove his silver armor.
Adel sat at the end of the table.
His red armor was torn in several places.
The plate over his chest was deeply split,
and the metal at his shoulder was twisted.
The damage had been put in order,
but it was not hidden.
For a while, he stared down at the tabletop without saying a word.
Lina sat opposite him.
Her silver armor was scratched and torn,
and the plate on her left side looked as though it needed to be replaced.
The ribs beneath it were surely far from intact.
And yet she sat with her back straight.
And—
At the center of her chest.
The place where the silver fibula should have been.
It was empty.
That absence
caught the eye before any wound did.
What flowed through the room was not the smell of defeat,
but an unresolved silence.
Adel was the first to speak.
“The mission failed.”
His words were brief,
and there was no further explanation.
“We failed to secure the sacred relic.”
His voice was low, but it did not waver.
No one made an excuse.
Adel shifted his gaze.
One by one.
And at the end, it stopped on Lina.
Lina did not avoid his gaze.
“The knight order is disbanded.”
The air above the table seemed to stop for a moment.
Adel looked at the place where Lina’s fibula should have been.
“What happened to it?”
His words reached Lina precisely.
She could not answer at once.
After taking a moment to steady her breath,
Lina asked quietly.
“Am I still a knight?”
The question was not emotion, but confirmation.
Adel’s gaze lowered to Lina’s chest,
to the empty place, then rose again.
“You have lost your honor.”
He spoke calmly.
“You have lost your right.”
For a moment, he closed his mouth and narrowed his brow.
“But knighthood is not a right.”
His words continued.
“A right can be stripped away.”
“But knighthood disappears only when one casts it aside oneself.”
Lina’s eyes trembled ever so slightly.
He was silent for a while before speaking in a low voice.
“Regain your honor.”
Adel did not tilt his head.
“Then I will ask you again.”
It was brief.
And that was enough.
Adel did not rise from his seat.
Still seated as he was,
he spoke for the last time.
“I am going to Cain.”
“I will report the failure to reclaim the sacred relic.”
Those words were directed toward the Empire.
Lina did not answer.
Her hand moved very slowly
to the empty place over her chest.
Over the plate.
The place where there was nothing.
Then it quietly lowered again.
There were no more words left in the room.
—
A private room in the inn where the knight order was staying.
The room was small.
When the door closed, the sounds outside grew distant.
Lina did not move for a long while.
Her silver armor still wrapped around her body.
Bandages tightened beneath the plate,
and every time she drew a deep breath, her ribs throbbed.
But the pain was not the problem.
She slowly raised her hand and touched the center of her chest.
Cold plate.
And beneath it—
The place where there was nothing.
The place where the fibula should originally have been fixed.
That spot was clearer than any other wound.
Lina closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.
And her hesitation did not last long.
She began to undo the fastenings of her armor one by one.
The low sound of metal striking metal echoed through the room.
Shoulders, chest, waist.
She had thought her body would become lighter once the plates came apart.
But it did not.
The weight remained the same.
Rather, it became clearer.
A cautious knock sounded from beyond the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and a young-faced attendant entered.
He stopped for a moment when he saw Lina without her armor.
“Sir Knight—”
Lina did not interrupt him.
She merely waited until the attendant stopped speaking.
It took longer than she expected for her words to leave her mouth.
“I am no longer a knight.”
Her voice was low, but there was no tremor in it.
The attendant’s eyes shook greatly.
“That cannot be—”
The room fell quiet for a moment.
Unable to find words, the attendant lowered his head.
Lina lifted the silver armor she had taken off.
The silver plates were scratched and torn, but they were still firm.
For a moment, she felt their weight.
The day of her investiture,
the moment she had worn this armor for the first time, flashed through her mind.
But now, she did not hold on to that memory.
“Please keep this for me.”
Lina handed the armor to the attendant.
The attendant received it with both hands.
His hands shook slightly under the weight.
Lina said nothing more.
The moment the armor fully left her hands,
cold air touched her skin.
It felt unfamiliar.
She slowly drew in a breath.
Now, only ordinary clothes remained on her body.
A simple dark top and trousers.
At a glance, she looked like an ordinary traveler.
At her waist was a single rapier.
That alone remained.
In place of the vanished fibula, the weight of the sword felt more distinct.
The attendant asked again, carefully.
“...Then where will you go?”
Lina thought for a moment.
“I am going to find the conclusion of that day.”
It was a short answer.
There was no explanation to follow it.
Just before leaving the room,
she looked around one last time.
The silver armor was now in the attendant’s hands.
Its light was still dazzling.
But it was no longer hers.
Lina turned away.
It was around evening.
The streets of Schia were still noisy.
Lina passed through the crowd.
There was no silver armor anymore.
No one saw her as a knight.
It was strangely quiet.
As she crossed the boundary, she turned her head one last time and looked back at the city.
Schia remained as it was.
As if it knew nothing
of defeat or disgrace.
Lina faced forward again.
She walked on.
The rapier at her waist swayed low.
Lina did not look back again.
Not to reclaim her fibula.
But to reclaim the honor that had been taken from her.
The conclusion of that day was not over yet.
Now, she was neither knight
nor Empire.
But she did not stop.
—
The next morning was overcast.
On the road outside Schia.
Two people walked side by side at a fixed distance.
Adel was in front.
Behind him followed one attendant.
Adel was still wearing his red armor.
The damaged parts had been temporarily reinforced,
but they had not been fully repaired.
He had not replaced his equipment.
Concealing the traces of defeat
was not the way of a knight.
Silence continued for a while.
The attendant cautiously opened his mouth.
“Sir Paladin.”
Adel did not turn his head.
“Speak.”
“When you arrive in Cain... will you report it yourself?”
“Perhaps.”
The answer was brief.
“It will be recorded as the knight order’s failure.”
The attendant’s words were cautious,
and Adel did not answer.
Only the sound of footsteps struck the road.
After a moment,
the attendant asked again.
“What will happen to the sacred relic... now?”
Adel spoke slowly.
“We will secure it.”
The attendant stopped speaking for a moment.
“Then... will you form the knight order again?”
Adel’s gaze turned into the distance.
Beyond the horizon,
to the north.
In the direction where Cain, the imperial capital, lay.
“No.”
At his answer, the attendant lifted his head.
“It is no longer the knight order’s matter.”
Those words fell onto the road.
The attendant swallowed the question he could not carefully ask.
Adel added on his own.
“The Silver Moon Order has the sacred relic.”
Adel’s eyes narrowed.
He paused in his steps for a moment, then continued.
“Now it is a matter between the Empire and the Silver Moon Order.”
The wind brushed the edges of his armor.
The attendant asked no more.
Without withdrawing his gaze, Adel added in a low voice.
“I will report.”
“The Empire will judge.”
“And the Empire will move.”
Those words were not a simple declaration, but a listing of facts.
After a moment,
low words followed, like Adel’s monologue.
“This is not a war to recover a sacred relic.”
“It is a holy war to recover order.”
The words scattered in the wind.
The sound of footsteps filled the road once more.
Cain was still far away,
but the war had already begun.
—
The Silver Moon Order’s headquarters looked quiet on the surface.
But the air was different.
Bido was the first to feel it.
An indescribable sensation,
as though something were being pressed down.
When they passed through the gate and stepped inside,
several members raised their heads.
“Lord Rangnan...”
Someone spoke in a low voice.
There was more hesitation than gladness in that voice.
The others wore similar expressions.
No one approached with any great enthusiasm.
Normally, reports would have come first.
But not now.
Miryeong’s eyes narrowed.
Muryeong also swept a glance over the surroundings.
Bido could not tell the reason,
but a faint chill crept up his spine.
Rangnan did not stop walking.
But his pace slowed ever so slightly.
“What is it?”
His voice was no different from usual.
The members glanced at one another before opening their mouths.
“Well...”
No answer followed.
At that moment,
Rangnan’s gaze turned upward.
The upper part of the central structure of the headquarters.
The railing.
Someone was sitting there.
With one leg lightly hooked over it,
as if they had been there since long ago.
Their body leaned back as though against a backrest.
The moment he drew breath,
the air grew a little hotter.
Rangnan’s eyes stopped for the briefest instant.
Then he spoke in a low voice.
“...Maho.”
Bido heard that name for the first time.
But at that moment,
the presence on the railing slowly raised its head.