[Valene Fortress, The Elician Empire – Before the Arrival of Darius and the Imperial Knights]
"Huhhhhh…"
A long, dreary sigh escaped into the winter air, carried by the wind as a young man dutifully swept snow off the rough stone floors atop Valene's towering outer walls.
His nose was bright red, like a freshly plucked cherry. Reflected in the icy puddles beneath him were his frost-bitten fingers, his pale blond hair, and his spring green eyes. A newly appointed knight of Valene with no particular reputation or skill, he'd been stuck with the most glorious of knightly duties—cleaning.
Of course, he looked like he had much better places to be. And if one listened closely, his muttered regrets echoed faintly down the tower steps:
"'Become a knight,' they said. 'Bring honor to your family,' they said…"
He winced as the cold bit deeper into his fingertips.
Still, he kept sweeping—motivated by the thought of a warm stew and a crackling fire waiting for him at home.
That was the path for young men in the Elician Empire. If they didn't have some extraordinary talent to offer society, they'd either become knights… or die trying.
And this particular blond had no extraordinary talent.
At first glance, it seemed like any other dull day—until a faint cough caught his attention from the left.
Like a cat jolted awake from a nap, he sprang upright, nearly dropping his broom. He grabbed a torch from a nearby wall sconce and swept it in frantic arcs through the air.
"H-Hello? Is someone there?!"
To his horror, lying slumped on the snow-covered stone was a woman. Unmoving. Raven-haired, with skin like porcelain and eyes—barely open—that shimmered like the Seraphin Sea.
"MA'AM?! C-Can you hear me?!"
Koff— The woman stirred, snow clinging to her lashes. She blinked rapidly, brushing frozen debris from her face as she sat up—only to begin coughing violently.
The knight's voice cracked with urgency. "HELLO—CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
She jolted fully awake, wide-eyed and alarmed, glancing around like someone struck by lightning. Her gloved hand brushed the cold ground—and where there had once been a deep crack in the stone, now it was perfectly smooth.
"Wh-who the hell are you?!" she shouted, stumbling to her feet in panic.
"Wh—Me? Who the hell are you?!" the blond yelped, instantly dropping into a stiff, defensive stance that looked a bit too rehearsed. He puffed out his chest. "S-State your name and business! How did you get up here undetected?!"
He threw a quick glance around, clearly nervous, muttering, "Lord Rolan's got enough on his plate without dealing with spies…"
Lucia froze. "Lord…?"
Her eyes swept over the fortress—and her confusion turned to horror.
The walls were pristine. The Elician banner fluttered proudly overhead, unscarred and whole. Down below, the town bustled. Clean streets, intact buildings, the unmistakable signs of a thriving city.
"This—this can't be…" she whispered, her breath visible in the cold air.
"Where… am I?"
The knight blinked. "What? This is Valene, of course. The shield of Elicia."
Lucia's eyes widened more than she thought humanly possible. "No… no, there's no way…"
She began to pace in a frenzy.
"Nonononono… this is a joke, right? Father—?! CYNTHIA, YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!"
The knight watched her with raised brows and a mix of concern and confusion. "Miss, if you don't start making sense, I'm gonna have to arrest you."
Then, pausing, he looked into her eyes with a flicker of recognition. "Wait a second… You must be with the Association!"
Lucia, trembling, grabbed him by the shoulders. "Who is the current emperor?!"
He blinked again, then gently peeled her hands off his armor, clearly thinking she was drunk—or worse. "Uh… His Majesty, Leon IV, obviously."
Lucia staggered backward like she'd been struck.
"Hey! Kid! Get your ass over here!" a gruff voice shouted from the watchtower above.
"R-right away, sir!" the young knight called back. He turned to Lucia one last time and gently ushered her toward the stairs. "Look… miss, I don't know what tavern you came from, but if you're with the Association, they're not gonna be happy about this."
"Tavern…?" Lucia echoed, blinking. "He thinks I'm drunk?"
As he rushed off, she stood motionless, eyes still wide with disbelief.
"What's the Association? Leon IV… why does that name sound so familiar…?"
Lucia stared out at the fortress. Everything was wrong. Everything was whole. But even among the pristine stone, something didn't sit right.
Despite the intact buildings, the town below was strangely still. No people on the streets. No chatter. Just... silence.
She hugged herself, rubbing her hands together and blowing into her palms for warmth. In the distance, she spotted a flickering fire sheltered between two stone buildings and hurried toward it.
"What in the Saint King's name is happening to me…?"
And then it came.
A strident horn pierced the silence, echoing from the fortress walls.
It was followed by a low murmur—growing louder. Louder. Dozens. Hundreds of voices.
Panic.
Lucia's heart pounded as she turned back toward the gates. Something was happening.
Something big.