The memory endures, even though I cannot fully recall how it all unfolded: the blood, the screams, the wails… etched indelibly in my mind. I wasn't known. I was just a child, yet the memory lingers, vivid, haunting every corner of my mind.
"Armin, Armi, come here!"
Sighing, Armin rose from his large bed, draped in silk and natural cotton, and planted his feet on the floor, covered with a luxurious carpet. He slowly opened the door. Sunlight reflected off walls adorned with gold and carved wood, casting a faint, warm glow over the hall. At the entrance stood Lili, wearing a simple yet elegant dress, her eyes carrying unspoken concern.
"Armin, are you all right?"
He answered softly, his voice calm: "What happened, Lili? Is something wrong?"
She smiled faintly. "Nothing serious… but there are soldiers at the door. They sent someone to request your presence. Hurry, please."
"Thank you, Lili," Armin said, planting a light kiss on her head before returning to his room with deliberate steps. In front of his wardrobe, he selected his blue velvet coat, embroidered jacket, and tight trousers. Dressing methodically, he adjusted every button, smoothed each crease, and combed his hair back with meticulous precision.
"Where are my boots?" he asked.
"Under the stairs," Lili replied.
Armin retrieved the boots, put them on, and walked steadily toward the stairs, his demeanor that of a man performing a familiar ritual rather than embarking on an uncertain journey.
His footsteps echoed across the ornate floor. Guards flanked him, shoulders squared, swords glinting in the sunlight streaming through the high windows. Across the palace courtyard, stone reflected daylight, and carefully tended flower and vegetable beds lent life to the austere surroundings. Tall palm trees swayed gently along the path to the great gate—a delicate balance of nature and luxury.
At the iron gate, decorated with gold and solid wood, Armin's approach prompted the guards to step aside. He opened the gate and found Flock waiting, a presence that immediately set his instincts on edge. Twilight Brigade members rarely appeared without reason.
"Sir, there's no need for formalities. I bring news…" Flock said, his voice low and hesitant.
A shiver ran through Armin, though he maintained his composure. At forty, a simple man by nature, he relied on calm authority to control his nerves. "News? About… whom?"
Flock hesitated. "Those we were assigned to protect… things went terribly wrong. We don't know exactly who is behind it, but we are not implicated. We've been released from guarding the Eastern Colony… Broz Colony."
Armin's heart skipped slightly, yet his calm remained intact. His gaze pinned Flock, seeking the truth behind the words.
"Sir Ceylit sent you a message…" Flock continued, producing a scroll—a direct accusation from Ceylit himself.
Armin paused, his voice calm but firm. "Gather fifty of the palace guard here immediately."
Flock straightened, shocked. "Sir! We were released from that duty! We have no obligation—"
Armin fell silent for a moment, then spoke evenly, his tone imbued with quiet authority: "Send word to Ceylit. Gather forty from the Twilight Squad. I will handle this myself. Forty is enough."