By the time she finally managed to sneak in, Sikakama collapsed onto her bed. She had been awake the entire night without a single moment of rest. She barely closed her eyes, burying her face into the pillow, when the clock began to strike.
The day passed normally. Sikakama, dressed in her standard knight training uniform—marked on the left side of her chest with the county's silver emblem shaped like a cuckoo bird—carried out her duties as usual, but her mind remained occupied by the story Milo's roommate had told her.
Every question circling her thoughts revolved around the identity of that nobleman.
He needed to be caught and brought to justice.
Yes… that's what he deserves, she thought, unable to hide the growing resentment she felt toward a man whose face she didn't even know.
But she couldn't allow her emotions to control her—just as Mr. Corin had warned.
Otherwise, she would end up like those groups who hated every noble and aristocrat without distinction.
What mattered now was setting her feelings aside and figuring out how to reach him.
There were many nobles in Pendralice, and investigating all of them was far from a simple task.
So how was she supposed to find that one man?
Then suddenly, she remembered the silver knife found among Milo's belongings.
A silver piece like that—there was no way someone of Milo's social standing could afford it.
She slipped her hand into her pocket, fingers brushing over the engraved silver hilt.
She drew it out halfway—just enough for its polished edge to catch the light—before keeping it close to her side as she stared at it.
What if it belonged to the nobleman?
And hadn't Milo been a thief before?
What if he had stolen it from the nobleman's belongings before he met his end?
The thought struck her, sharper than she expected, and this time it felt almost conclusive… as if Milo had indeed returned to stealing.
A quiet discomfort stirred in her chest.
She was leaning against the wooden railing, lost in her thoughts.
She didn't hear the young man calling out to her—his voice separated from her by several meters—until it finally reached her.
She quickly pushed the knife back into her pocket and turned toward him.
His face carried a warm smile, his features gentle, and his wide brown eyes radiated friendliness.
"It's been a while since I last saw you, Sikakama," he said.
They walked along the wooden fence as the sounds of nature hummed around them.
"What brings you here?" she asked.
He had been one of her classmates in the Knight Academy. His name was Thomas Linton.
With his pleasant appearance and average height, he continued speaking:
"I received an invitation to work with the knights of Westmere County.
The job was good—no real problems.
But after my father passed away, my mother decided to return to her hometown.
So I submitted a transfer request, and it was accepted.
Despite my city-sounding accent… I'm really just a countryside boy."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Sikakama replied quietly, her voice carrying a note of sympathy. She barely knew what to say—even these words, the customary phrases humans use in such moments, slipped out on their own. What can you say to someone who's lost their father?
"No need to apologize. Father had been sick since I was a child.
He suffered for a long time before he passed.
Even the doctor couldn't do anything."
Sikakama observed him—his expression was calmer now, though the faint smile lingered.
She asked gently, "What illness did he have… if you don't mind telling me?"
He chuckled lightly.
"It's fine… it was a lung disease."
"A lung disease?"
"Yeah. My father worked in a factory that produced a lot of smoke.
Years of breathing that in… it ruined his lungs.
I'd hear him coughing violently every night.
We always knew it was going to happen eventually.
It devastated my mother."
Thomas exhaled, then continued:
"That's actually why they sent me to the Knight Academy.
They didn't want me ending up in a factory too.
And since the academy had opened its doors to the lower classes… I got accepted."
The smile never left his face, even as he spoke of small, random details woven into the story of his father's death. Was he trying to soften the sting of the story… or simply acting normal to hide his grief?
He spoke almost without pause, to the point where Sikakama began to wonder whether this was his true personality—or if it was simply that Thomas, who had always been the type to go unnoticed at the academy, strictly adhering to rules, exceptionally polite, and never misbehaving, had finally found someone to share everything he had kept bottled up for years. Perhaps this was his way of trying to feel better.
Then he turned to her and asked,
"And you—looks like you achieved your dream and became a knight.
Were you invited to work in this county?"
He glanced around.
"It's a quiet place… not much happens here."
Sikakama answered only with a small nod. She had no intention of telling him what truly happened between her and Sir Aldric, or the real reason she ended up in this county.
He continued speaking, resting his hands on the wooden railing and gazing at the surrounding nature,
"Here in this county, you won't find many people getting hired either. The chances are always low.
My mother wrote to Sir Corin and told him everything.
I think that's why he accepted it. He's still the good man he's always been."
Sikakama looked at him, noting the faint glimmer in his brown eyes despite their brightness. No matter how much he tried to hide it behind a friendly smile, it was obvious to someone with a keen sense of reading expressions. A sudden calm fell over them, broken only by the soft rustling of grass stirred by a gentle breeze.
"Since we're working in the same county, we'll be seeing each other often. I'll see you again," Thomas said.
He waved as he turned away, leaving her standing there. Sikakama returned the gesture with a small nod and a faint wave. She never imagined she would meet anyone from the Knight Academy again—what a small world, as they say, she thought.
She drew the silver knife from her pocket once more. Its faint reflection caught the light, mirroring the sharp glint of her piercing blue eyes against its polished edge. A serious expression settled on her face as she stepped forward and began to walk.
From afar, Thomas turned to watch her walking away. His smile faded, replaced by a faintly sorrowful expression. "You've changed," he murmured.