The dining area was larger than expected.
The ceiling was not low,
and there were no decorations on the walls.
Instead, long wooden tables had been placed at regular intervals.
People sat scattered throughout the place.
Most of them barely spoke.
But the silence did not feel awkward.
Bido slowly lifted his spoon.
It was thin porridge.
The grain had softened fully, and the saltiness was faint.
Beside it lay a piece of coarse bread.
It was a meal meant simply to fill the stomach.
Across from him, Miryeong was tearing into dried meat.
Now and then came the sound of her ripping off small pieces and chewing.
Aside from that, there was only the clatter of bowls.
Even during the meal, the gazes of the Silver Moon Corps members brushed over him from time to time.
They were not blatant.
They were only confirming an unfamiliar face.
Bido neither avoided those gazes,
nor met them.
He simply moved his spoon slowly.
For the past few days, he had barely slept.
His eyelids were heavy.
And yet, strangely, his hands did not tremble.
This was a place where he no longer had to be chased.
That sensation entered his body first.
A small cough came from the seat beside him.
“Miryeong.”
It was Hureuta.
His voice was on the low side.
Miryeong did not raise her head.
“That… I’m sorry.”
It was brief.
There seemed to be nothing more he could add.
Miryeong tore off another piece of dried meat and put it in her mouth.
Only after chewing and swallowing did she speak.
“Shut up. Just eat your damn food.”
Her tone was rough,
but her voice was not loud.
Hureuta said nothing more.
Instead, he lowered his head and focused on his meal again.
The others sitting around them showed no reaction.
The apology had been accepted,
and that was the end of it.
Bido quietly watched the scene.
The Silver Moon Corps did not speak at length.
Nor did they explain.
Mistakes were brief,
and so were the ways they were dealt with.
That seemed to be the way of this place.
Mendel had nearly finished his meal,
and Erdin was slowly chewing bread he had split into two pieces.
Someone spoke about the next training time,
and someone confirmed the order of the guard shifts.
There was grief,
but no disorder.
Bido swallowed his final spoonful.
Something warm slowly went down.
His body grew just a little heavier.
It felt as though his fatigue had finally found a place to settle.
Miryeong rose from her seat.
“Bido. If you’re done eating, follow me.”
There was no explanation.
Bido brushed the bread crumbs from his fingers and quietly stood.
As they left the dining hall,
she looked back once.
The people had already returned to their own tasks.
This was
not a place that stood still.
Miryeong led the way without a word.
Once they left the dining area, the temperature of the air changed a little.
The heat of gathered people fell away,
and the chill of the stone walls slowly touched his skin.
The passage was not long.
But neither did it stretch straight ahead.
It turned once,
dipped lower again,
then grew a little wider.
Bido traced the structure with his eyes.
It was a path deliberately made not to be simple.
A person stood at the midpoint.
His back was leaning against the wall,
but his gaze was fixed.
He was not holding a weapon.
Instead, his hand rested in a position where it could move to his waist at any time.
When he saw Miryeong, he gave a very brief nod.
He let his gaze rest on Bido once more,
then said nothing.
Miryeong spoke shortly.
“The first path is upward.”
Bido did not ask.
“If it’s urgent, leave through here.”
That was all the explanation she gave.
At the end of the passage, the faintest flow of air leading outside could be felt.
It did not feel like a completely sealed space.
The Silver Moon Corps was not a group that merely hid,
but a group prepared to escape.
Miryeong began walking again.
The next space had no door.
Instead, a thick cloth covered the entrance.
When Miryeong drew the cloth aside,
the sound of metal striking metal flowed out first.
A short, solid sound.
It was a storage room.
Various weapons were arranged along the walls.
Spears and daggers, bows and quivers.
Their shapes varied, but each had its place.
In the center stood a long workbench,
and on it lay a disassembled sword.
A person stood beside it.
He was bent over, concentrating.
Short hammer strikes continued at regular intervals.
The sound of metal being refined.
A blacksmith.
He seemed unaware that Bido and Miryeong had entered.
As if trying to pick out a single tiny flaw,
he was peering into the blade.
Miryeong said,
“Shared weapons and equipment are here.”
Her voice was low,
and her words were not long.
“Everyone keeps what they use personally.”
Bido moved along the wall.
Handles worn by hands,
patched leather,
traces of repeated repair.
These were not things placed here merely to be stored.
They were used,
repaired,
and used again.
On one side, chains and hooks,
thin ropes and folding shields were arranged.
Bido paused his gaze for a moment.
“Are they all for combat?”
Only after asking
did he realize he had spoken first.
Miryeong tilted her head slightly.
“Yes and no.”
It was a short answer.
“Nothing gets thrown away.”
Those words seemed to explain the entire storage room.
Just then, the person standing at the workbench stopped his hammer.
For a very brief moment.
He did not raise his head,
but he seemed to have sensed that the air in the room had changed.
Then he began striking the metal again.
He did not separately check who had entered.
It seemed there was no need to.
Bido found the sight strangely not unfamiliar.
The people here did not ask who was doing what.
Each person’s place had already been decided,
and holding that place came first.
Miryeong did not linger any longer.
“Let’s go.”
When they stepped out past the cloth, the air changed again.
The smell of metal fell away,
and the chill of the stone walls returned.
The passage led a little deeper in.
The farther they went, the more clearly their footsteps echoed.
Miryeong did not slow her pace.
After a few more steps, the passage was blocked.
There was no door.
Instead,
a single massive boulder stood across the end of the passage.
It looked like natural stone,
but it fit together far too precisely.
It had clearly been placed there to block the way.
In front of it sat an old wooden chair,
and someone was seated on the chair.
His back was straight,
and no weapon could be seen.
However, his hands were neatly placed upon his knees.
When Bido and Miryeong approached,
he raised his head.
“Ah, Lady Miryeong. Greetings.”
His tone was polite.
Neither exaggerated,
nor casual.
Miryeong gave a short nod.
“Mm. It’s been a while.”
That was the end of the greeting.
The one seated on the chair asked nothing more.
Not whom she had brought,
nor where she was going.
His gaze rested briefly on Bido, then withdrew naturally.
Bido looked at the boulder.
There was almost no gap to be seen.
It was difficult even to guess whether it was a structure that opened.
As Miryeong passed by, she said,
“This is the records room.”
The words came out lightly.
“Usually, you can only enter with permission.”
That was all the explanation.
Miryeong looked up at the boulder for a moment,
then shrugged.
“Not that I care, since I don’t know how to read.”
The words sounded like a joke,
but her expression did not change.
The one seated on the chair gave a small laugh.
But it did not last long.
Miryeong was already moving on.
Bido looked at the boulder once more.
He could not see what was inside.
But the mere fact that someone sat before it
was enough to know
that this space was not a simple room.
The Silver Moon Corps hung weapons on the walls
and left passages open, but—
they sealed away their records.
Bido did not bother asking what that meant.
Miryeong was walking ahead.
The sound of footsteps striking the stone walls continued again.
The passage led farther inward.
The passage turned once more.
The chill of the stone walls grew a little fainter,
and the air changed.
When they emerged from the narrow path, a small space opened up.
Sections divided by cloth,
low lamps,
the voices of people speaking quietly.
It was a living area.
Someone was sewing clothes,
someone was carrying water,
and someone sat on the floor, tending to something.
It was neither large nor splendid.
And yet,
it somehow resembled the scenery of a small village.
Before the name Silver Moon Corps,
this place first gave the impression of somewhere people lived.
Miryeong did not stop.
She simply passed through.
Then,
Bido’s gaze caught on one side.
It was the Haraya couple.
Both had long ears,
and the tips of their noses were wet.
The man was saying something in a low voice,
and the woman was stroking the hair of a child seated on her lap.
The child’s laughter burst out briefly.
It was a very small sound.
The man lifted the child up.
The woman smiled and reached out, taking the child back into her arms.
The movement was natural.
Like a familiar gesture.
Bido did not slow his steps.
But his gaze lingered a moment longer.
Something deep inside his chest
tightened ever so slightly.
It was not enough to be called pain.
Just—
an unfamiliar sensation.
Miryeong said,
“This is just where people live.”
It was a short explanation.
Bido nodded.
He began walking again.
The child’s laughter was already growing distant.
Once they left the living area, the air changed again.
At first, it was faint.
The sound of metal striking metal.
A short, solid ring.
After a few more steps, the sound became clear.
The sound of iron scraping,
the sound of straw bundles splitting,
the sound of someone steadying their breath.
Mixed in among them were other sounds.
The sound of flowing water.
The sound of small flames burning.
The sound of wind swirling and striking the wall.
The training ground was drawing near.
There was no separate door at the entrance.
A wide space simply opened before them.
It was about the same size as the dining hall.
The ceiling was higher,
and equipment hung on the walls.
Wooden swords and real swords,
spears and shields,
chains and hooks.
On one side stood target boards for shooting practice,
and on the other, bundles of straw were stacked in several layers.
Dense marks left by passing blades remained on them.
In one corner of the space was a small pond.
It was not deep.
But the water was clear.
Beside it was a low platform made of piled earth,
and several torches were planted upon it at regular intervals.
The flames burned low.
Even without anyone explaining, their purpose was clear.
When someone stretched out a hand,
the surface of the pond rippled shallowly.
On the other side, wind swirled sharply for an instant, then vanished.
It was Arquin training.
But the movements were not exaggerated; they were controlled.
Bido shifted his gaze.
At the center, two people stood facing each other.
A short distance apart.
One moved first.
A sword was swung.
Iron collided.
It was Aslo.
He received his opponent’s attack and lowered his body.
His foot pushed against the floor.
He closed the distance again.
His movements were fast,
but not impatient.
He did not use excessive force.
His opponent retreated, then drove in again.
Aslo’s sword flicked up briefly.
The sound of iron clashing rang out once more.
For a moment, the training ground seemed to catch its breath in time with that sound.
Miryeong came to a stop.
Aslo did not yet seem to have seen the two of them.
His gaze was fixed solely on his opponent.
The tip of his sword lowered again.
He was preparing for the next movement.
Bido unconsciously became aware of the sword on his back.
This place—
was not a place for explanation.
It was a place for proof.