The corridor stretched long and silent beneath the dim glow of wall-mounted lamps, their light flickering softly against polished stone. Each step Sylva took echoed faintly, swallowed almost immediately by the stillness of the building.
This place felt different.
Not like the streets of Stonehaven.
Not like the battlefield.
This was order.
Control.
Power.
Knights stood guard at measured intervals along the hallway, their armor reflecting the dim light as they remained perfectly still. Not a single one spoke. Not a single one moved unnecessarily. Their presence alone was enough to tighten the air.
Sylva's gaze drifted across them briefly.
Disciplined.
Trained.
Ready.
…Not surprising.
This was where Kael stayed.
The center of command.
If something were to happen here, the entire southern capital would feel it.
Her footsteps didn't slow.
Neither did Johan's beside her.
They reached the end of the corridor.
A large wooden door stood before them—simple in appearance, yet heavy with presence.
Without hesitation, Johan pushed it open.
The door creaked.
And the room revealed itself.
—
The discussion room was quiet.
Too quiet.
A large table occupied the center, surrounded by chairs that had yet to be filled. Maps and documents were spread neatly across its surface, as if waiting for decisions that hadn't been made yet.
But they weren't alone.
Two people were already inside.
Sylva's eyes shifted first to the girl.
She wore dark blue armor.
The armor fit her frame cleanly, its structure light but reinforced, designed for mobility rather than brute force. It lacked the heavy intimidation of frontline knights, yet something about it carried a quiet authority.
But the girl herself—
Didn't match it.
She sat with her shoulders slightly drawn in, her posture small despite the armor she wore. Her fingers rested carefully on her lap, as if she was afraid of making even the smallest noise.
Her gaze flickered toward Sylva for a moment—
Then immediately dropped.
Shy.
Almost… out of place.
And yet—
She was here.
Inside this room.
That alone said enough.
Sylva didn't look away.
Then her attention shifted.
To the other one.
An elf.
Long silver hair flowed past her shoulders, smooth and untouched, catching the soft light like threads of moonlight. Her sharp red eyes were focused—not on them, but on the book floating in front of her.
The book hovered in the air.
Pages turning on their own.
Not randomly.
Precisely.
Controlled by wind.
A faint current of air moved gently around it, lifting each page before flipping it with quiet accuracy.
She wasn't touching it.
Both of her hands were occupied.
One hand moved steadily across a sheet of paper, writing without pause. The sound of ink brushing against parchment was soft, but constant—like a rhythm she had long grown accustomed to.
The other hand held a porcelain cup.
Steam rose faintly from its surface.
Tea.
She took a slow sip without lifting her eyes from the page.
Not once.
Not even when the door opened.
Not even when Sylva and Johan entered.
Her focus didn't break.
Her breathing didn't change.
Her presence alone made one thing clear—
She was not someone who tolerated interruption.
And she didn't need to say it.
The room already understood.
—
Sylva and Johan stepped forward without a word and took the empty seats across from the two waiting figures. The chairs were arranged around a round table—wide, polished, and deliberately neutral, as if no single position held more weight than the others.
But that illusion didn't last long.
Kael entered a moment later.
He didn't announce himself.
He didn't need to.
The air shifted the instant he stepped inside.
He walked to the space between both sides of the table and sat down, placing himself directly at the center—between Sylva and Johan… and the two who had arrived before them.
Five people.
Only five.
Kael rested his hand lightly on the table.
"This discussion," he began calmly, "will proceed with the five of us."
Sylva's gaze lowered slightly.
Five?
Her mind moved quickly.
For something this large… this dangerous…
Only five people?
Her instincts whispered the same thing over and over.
That's not enough.
Before she could question it—
Kael continued.
"Before we begin," he said, his tone unchanged, "introductions."
His gaze shifted toward the two across the table.
"Start."
The girl in dark blue armor stiffened slightly.
Then—
She stood.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Too carefully.
Sylva noticed it immediately.
The subtle sway in her posture.
The way her fingers fidgeted briefly against each other.
The almost imperceptible movement of her shoulders rising and falling, as if she were trying to steady her breathing without anyone noticing.
…She's nervous.
Despite the armor.
Despite the rank.
Despite being here.
The girl took a small breath.
Then another.
Her hands brushed lightly against each other—once, twice—like she was grounding herself.
Then finally—
She spoke.
"M-My name is… Elmira Valenrose."
Her voice was soft.
Clear—but fragile at the edges.
"I am…" she hesitated for the briefest second, then forced the words out, "…the commander of the knights of Stonehaven."
Silence.
Sylva didn't react immediately.
Her mind processed the sentence once.
Then again.
Then—
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Commander…?
She looked at the girl again.
The slight trembling.
The uncertain posture.
The way her gaze avoided direct contact.
And yet—
The title remained unchanged.
Elmira Valenrose.
Leader of all knights in Stonehaven.
Sylva didn't speak.
She felt something close to disbelief.
For a brief moment after Elmira finished speaking, the room fell into a quiet that felt deliberate rather than empty. The only sound that remained was the steady scratching of ink against paper, a soft, consistent rhythm that seemed to anchor the entire space.
Then it stopped.
The elf's pen hovered just above the page, suspended mid-stroke. At the same time, the book floating before her paused as well, one page caught halfway through its turn as if the wind itself had chosen to wait.
She rose from her seat with effortless composure.
"My name is Vaelithra Moonveil," she said, her voice calm and precise, carrying a quiet authority that did not need to raise itself to be heard. "I serve as Commander Kael's secretary, as well as his right hand."
There was no emphasis, no attempt to impress. She spoke as though she were stating something self-evident, something that required neither validation nor acknowledgment. After finishing, she adjusted her glasses lightly and returned to her seat, her pen resuming its motion without hesitation. The book followed, its pages turning once more under the gentle guidance of invisible currents of wind.
Sylva watched her for a moment longer. She could not see what Vaelithra was writing, but the speed and consistency of her movements made one thing clear: whatever she was recording was not trivial.
Sylva stood next.
"My name is Sylva Rosaline," she said evenly. "I am a second-tier mage from the Sanctrum of the Three Arts."
She waited, if only out of habit, for some kind of response. None came. Vaelithra did not look up, her pen continuing its work as though Sylva's introduction had simply become another line to be recorded. Elmira lowered her gaze slightly, murmuring something under her breath, not as a reply but as if she were quietly repeating Sylva's words to herself.
Sylva sat back down, her expression unchanged, though the silence left behind carried a subtle weight.
Then Johan stood.
Unlike the others, there was no hesitation in his movement. He did not adjust himself, did not prepare his words. He simply rose, as though introductions were nothing more than a formality that did not require effort.
"My name is Johan Ravencroft," he said calmly. "I am a Veteran Supreme Commander."
The change in the room was immediate.
The scratching of ink stopped completely.
Vaelithra's pen froze mid-motion, and for the first time since Sylva had entered the room, she lifted her gaze. Her red eyes, sharp behind the thin frame of her glasses, fixed directly on Johan as she slowly set the pen down and closed the book in front of her. The faint currents of wind dissipated, allowing the book to rest quietly against the table.
She adjusted her glasses once more, then gave a small, deliberate nod.
Recognition.
Respect.
Sylva felt a flicker of surprise. That reaction alone was unexpected.
But before she could process it further, another reaction followed—far less restrained.
"W-Wait—!"
Elmira shot to her feet so abruptly that her chair scraped harshly against the floor behind her.
"You're… you're Mr. Johan? The Veteran Supreme Commander from the Age of Darkness in Aurelion?"
Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with disbelief and something far closer to awe. The composure she had struggled to maintain moments ago was gone entirely, replaced by raw, unfiltered shock.
In her agitation, she brought both hands down onto the table.
The impact was immediate and violent.
A deep, resounding crack split through the room as the force traveled through the wood. The massive round table, thick and solid enough to endure years of use, fractured under her strike. The surface split cleanly down the middle, the two halves shifting apart as splinters scattered across the floor.
Silence followed.
Not the quiet from before.
This was heavier.
Sharper.
Sylva stared at the broken table, her mind struggling to reconcile what she had just witnessed. The table had not been fragile. It had been reinforced, sturdy, built to withstand weight and time alike.
And yet it had broken—completely—under a single blow.
Slowly, her gaze lifted back toward Elmira.
The girl stood frozen in place, her hands still resting on what remained of the table, her eyes wide as realization finally caught up with her actions.
—
The silence that followed did not last.
"ELMIRA."
Vaelithra's voice cut through the room like a blade.
It was no longer calm.
No longer measured.
It carried sharp irritation—controlled, but unmistakable.
Elmira flinched.
Her entire body stiffened before she immediately lowered her head, her posture collapsing into itself as if the weight of that single word had forced her down.
"I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—I wasn't thinking—I—"
The apologies spilled out of her without pause, one after another, her voice trembling as she bowed repeatedly. There was no attempt to defend herself, no attempt to explain—only pure, unfiltered panic.
Vaelithra exhaled slowly, the tension in her gaze sharpening rather than fading.
A faint current of wind gathered around Elmira.
Then, gently but firmly, it lifted her.
Elmira's feet left the ground for a brief moment before she was set back upright, forced into a proper standing position as if the air itself refused to let her shrink any further.
"You being surprised is understandable," Vaelithra said, her tone returning to something calmer, though the edge had not disappeared. "But you are not allowed to express that surprise by destroying property."
She paused, adjusting her glasses slightly.
"This is the fifth time today."
Elmira's shoulders trembled.
"…I'm sorry," she repeated softly, her voice much smaller now.
Sylva said nothing.
She simply watched.
Her mind struggled—not with the destruction, but with the contrast. The same girl who had shattered a reinforced table with a single strike now stood there like a child being scolded.
Slowly, Sylva turned her head.
Johan stood beside her.
Calm.
Completely calm.
His expression hadn't changed at all, as if what had just happened was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
As if he had seen things far stranger than this.
Sylva blinked once, then looked back.
Vaelithra raised her hand slightly.
The air shifted again.
This time, not as a force—but as something precise.
Controlled.
The broken halves of the table trembled.
Then moved.
Wood slid back into place as if guided by invisible threads. Splintered edges aligned perfectly, cracks sealing themselves as the structure reformed piece by piece. Within seconds, the table stood whole again, its surface smooth and intact as though it had never been broken.
Sylva watched the reconstruction quietly.
She wasn't surprised.
She could do the same.
And yet—
It hadn't even crossed her mind to fix it.
That realization lingered longer than the magic itself.
—
Before the tension in the room could fully settle, a new disturbance rose from beyond the walls.
Voices.
Not one or two—but many.
A growing murmur that swelled into something louder, heavier, as if the entire building had begun to breathe differently.
Kael moved first.
Without urgency, he stepped toward the window and looked down at the courtyard below. For a brief moment, his expression remained unreadable.
Then—
He smiled.
Not widely.
Not warmly.
Just enough to suggest recognition.
He turned slightly and gestured toward Sylva and Johan.
"Take a look."
Sylva didn't hesitate. She stepped closer to the window, Johan following beside her.
The moment her eyes fell on the scene below—
She froze.
A crowd had gathered.
Dense.
Restless.
Knights and civilians alike had formed a wide circle, their armor catching the light as they shifted, whispered, and pressed inward. At the center of it stood two figures, separated by only a few steps.
One wore silver armor.
A knight.
The other—
Sylva's breath caught.
"…Vein."
He stood there.
Not ready.
Not composed.
Just… there.
Confused.
Uncertain.
His left hand still wrapped in bandages.
Kael's voice came quietly from behind her.
"It seems the duel is about to begin."
Sylva's eyes sharpened instantly.
"I can't allow this," she said, her voice firm as she turned away from the window.
Without another word, she moved for the door.
But before she could take more than a few steps—
A hand caught her wrist.
She stopped.
Turned.
"Let me go," Sylva said, her voice low.
Kael met her gaze evenly.
"He will be fine."
There was no hesitation in his tone.
"He has faced this before," Kael continued. "He has even stood against a commander from the south."
Sylva's grip tightened.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
She pulled her hand free.
"…Fine."
The word came quietly, but not without resistance.
She turned back to the window.
Her eyes found Vein again.
Still standing.
Still unprepared.
Still unaware of the weight of what he had stepped into.
Behind her, Kael spoke again.
"Elmira."
The girl stiffened immediately.
"I-I'm here, Commander."
"Do not allow chaos to spread," Kael said calmly. "But do not interfere with the duel."
Elmira nodded quickly.
"Y-Yes!"
Without another word, she turned and rushed out of the room, her armor echoing sharply against the stone floor as she disappeared down the corridor.
Silence returned.
But it was no longer still.
Sylva remained at the window, her gaze locked on the figure below.
Vein.
Standing alone in the center of something he did not fully understand.
Her eyes softened—just slightly.
"…Vein."
She didn't say it out loud.
But the thought lingered, quiet and heavy.
Please… be safe.