Morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
Nothing happened all night.
No alarms. No sudden presences. No disturbances beyond the usual creaks of an old castle settling into itself. The kind of silence that made you more alert instead of relaxed.
Varein and I had stood guard outside Saintess Lumiel's door the entire night. The others were asleep inside the adjacent chambers—Kazen, Liam, Kai, Arion, Theon, Seraphyne, Aelira, Liraeth, and Sir Aldred. They needed the rest. No one argued that.
I was fine.
Varein, on the other hand… not so much.
I watched him fight sleep like it was a personal enemy.
He'd straighten up suddenly, blinking hard, spear nearly tipping as his grip loosened. Then ten minutes later—head dipping. Another jolt awake. Again. And again.
I chuckled under my breath.
He shot me a tired glare.
"Didn't see you volunteering for first watch again," he muttered.
"You didn't stop me," I replied quietly.
That shut him up for about thirty seconds before his eyes drooped again.
Honestly, watching him struggle to stay awake was the most entertaining part of the night. A good way to pass time. Better than staring at the same hallway for hours.
I stayed alert regardless.
Listening.
Feeling.
Letting my aura stay low but ready.
The saintess' door remained closed. No movement. No sound. The holy knights were stationed further down the hall, disciplined and unmoving, like statues carved from white and gold.
Eventually, dawn light filtered in through the tall windows.
That was when the door finally opened.
Saintess Lumiel stepped out.
She wasn't wearing her ceremonial robes. No gold filigree, no layered silk. Just… normal clothing. Clean. Simple. Almost plain.
And yet—
She radiated.
It wasn't aura exactly. Or maybe it was, just… different. Warm. Overwhelming. Like staring at the sun too long. I felt my eyes squint without meaning to whenever I looked directly at her.
She noticed.
"Everyone is asleep?" she asked softly.
I nodded. "Yes, Saintess."
She glanced past me toward the rooms. "Let them sleep."
Then she looked back at me.
"But where are you headed, Saintess Lumiel?" I asked.
She studied me for a second before answering. "On a stroll. To the garden."
A pause.
"Are you going to accompany me, sir…?" She trailed off deliberately.
I straightened. "My name is Rain, Saintess."
She nodded once, committing it to memory.
"Then let's head to the garden, Sir Rain."
I nodded and fell into step beside her.
We walked through the corridors of the Newoagan castle, the stone floors cool beneath our boots. The castle felt different this early in the morning—less crowded, less performative. No nobles whispering. No knights posturing.
Just space.
When we reached the garden, it opened up into a wide expanse of trimmed hedges, flowering plants, and stone paths winding through it all. Dew clung to the petals. The air smelled clean.
The saintess slowed immediately.
She admired everything.
Every flower. Every branch. She crouched at one point, brushing her fingers lightly against a bloom as if afraid to damage it.
I didn't relax.
My eyes were everywhere.
Bushes. Corners. Statues. Rooftops. Windows. Paths leading in and out. Places someone could hide. Places someone could shoot from.
Old habits.
The saintess spoke without looking at me.
"So, Rain. How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"And what are you doing here?"
I thought for a moment before answering. "My friends and I were on summer break. Then General Izekel assigned us this task."
She stopped walking and turned toward me.
"Do you feel burdened by it?"
I shook my head immediately. "Of course not. This is a duty for knights."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you a knight, though?"
"No," I said honestly. "Just a student at Lionhearth Academy."
She smiled at that.
"How is it there?" she asked. "I don't know much about… normal life."
That caught me off guard.
For the first time since meeting her, I really looked at her—not as a saintess, not as a political problem, not as someone important enough to get us killed if we messed up.
Just a person.
"…It's loud," I said finally.
She tilted her head.
So I started talking.
About Ignis.
About the slums. The heat. The way the streets smelled after rain. About the Red Tide. About surviving instead of living.
I told her about my journey to Lionhearth. About training until my hands bled. About learning what it meant to stand on my own. About Class 1-S. About fighting things we shouldn't have survived.
About getting here.
I didn't embellish.
I didn't dramatize.
I just told it how it was.
When I finally stopped, she was staring at me.
"…Are you human?" she asked quietly.
I blinked. "Of course I am."
She shook her head slowly.
"No normal fourteen-year-old boy does any of this."
I thought about it.
"…Fair," I admitted.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The garden was quiet.
And for the first time since this task began, the tension felt… different.
Not gone, but no longer aimed like a blade at my throat.
The saintess walked a few steps ahead of me, hands folded behind her back. No golden robes. No halo of ceremony. Just simple white and pale blue cloth, light enough to move with the breeze. Still, she radiated. Not aura—something else. Presence. Like the sun didn't know how to ignore her.
She broke the silence first.
"You follow orders very easily," she said, almost casually.
I blinked. "Is that a bad thing?"
She stopped walking.
Turned.
Looked straight at me.
"At your age?" she asked. "Yes. And no."
I waited.
"If General Izekel told you to die here," she continued, voice calm, measured, "would you?"
The question hit harder than any insult the Newoagan knights had thrown at me.
I didn't answer right away. Not because I didn't know—but because I knew too well.
"If that's what it took to protect Lionhearth," I said finally, evenly, "then yes."
No dramatics. No pride.
Just truth.
Her expression didn't harden.
It… shifted.
Not offended. Not impressed.
Unsettled.
"That answer," she said quietly, "sounds practiced."
I exhaled through my nose. "It probably is."
She studied me like she was trying to find the seam where something had been stitched back together.
"I was chosen," she said after a moment.
I frowned slightly.
"For this," she clarified. "For the temple. For the title."
I nodded. "Yeah. I figured."
"You," she said, "survived."
I didn't argue.
Neither of us did.
And that was the problem.
We kept walking.
After a few steps, I said without thinking, "Lumiel—"
She glanced at me.
Didn't correct me.
The word hung there between us.
A name.
Not a title.
Behind us, metal shifted.
One of the holy knights—helm turned just slightly.
I felt it immediately. The pressure. The unspoken warning.
Before I could say anything, Lumiel stopped and turned sharply.
"That won't be necessary," she said, tone flat.
The knight froze.
"Yes, Saintess," he said, stiff.
She didn't look at him again.
When we resumed walking, I realized something uncomfortable.
She wasn't guarded just because she was important.
She was guarded because the temple didn't trust her to be herself.
A few minutes later, she asked, "If my holy knights and you gave opposing instructions… who would you obey?"
The answer came instantly.
"General Izekel."
No hesitation.
She raised an eyebrow. "Even if I ordered otherwise?"
"Yes."
Not defiance.
Just clarity.
She hummed softly, thoughtful. "Interesting."
We didn't resolve that. We couldn't.
The question wasn't theoretical. It was a fault line.
We passed a cluster of flowers—gold and white. Luminara colors.
She crouched slightly to examine one, fingers hovering but not touching.
"I wasn't sent here willingly," she said.
I looked at her.
She straightened too fast.
Changed the subject immediately.
"These are cultivated with imported soil," she said. "The kingdom doesn't have the right minerals naturally."
I nodded like I hadn't noticed.
But I had.
And so had she.
We were both being used.
She just had a prettier cage.
A little later, she asked, "Do people really argue over bread prices?"
I blinked. "…Yes?"
"Over small differences?" she pressed. "Copper-level changes?"
"Sometimes knives get pulled," I said.
She stared at me.
"…Why?"
I shrugged. "People don't like feeling cheated."
She mulled that over. "Is it strange to eat the same food every day?"
"No," I said. "It's strange when you don't know if you'll get it again."
She went quiet after that.
Tried to tell a joke a moment later.
Something about clergy schedules and incense rotations.
It landed like a rock.
I didn't laugh.
Just blinked.
She sighed. "That usually works with clergy."
"That explains a lot," I said.
She smiled despite herself.
Then admitted, in a quieter voice, "I like gossip."
I glanced at her.
"I hate that I do," she added quickly. "But I do."
"…You want academy scandals?" I asked.
"Yes."
I hesitated. Then gave the most boring answer possible.
"Someone cheated on a written exam once."
She stared at me.
"…You're protecting them."
I shrugged. "They'd kill me."
That got a real laugh.
She asked about failure next.
"What's the worst mistake you've made?"
I told her. Bluntly. No heroics.
She listened.
Then said softly, "Saintesses aren't allowed to talk about failure. Only trials. Failures are edited out."
I didn't know what to say to that.
When we entered back into the newoagan castle and walked, there it was.
A thud.
Varein.
Asleep. Standing up.
Muttering something about wind vectors.
He saluted a curtain.
Lumiel watched, fascinated.
"…He's better awake," I said. "I promise."
"I don't believe you."
She tried to walk like me after that.
Copied my posture.
Overdid it.
Stiff as a statue.
I stopped walking.
She didn't notice at first.
Then sighed.
"This is exhausting."
Later, she almost swore.
Caught herself.
Glanced at me.
"…You can say it."
She muttered it anyway.
Looked relieved.
Breakfast became a whole issue.
She wanted normal food.
Holy knights protested.
I backed her.
"I'll eat it first."
She stared.
"You'd poison-test toast?"
"I've eaten worse."
That ended the argument.
Near the end of our stroll, she said something that made me stop.
"Students shouldn't be involved in politics."
I looked at her.
"Then stop dragging wars into our lives."
Silence.
She didn't get angry.
She got quiet.
Before leaving, she asked one last thing.
"What do you want, Rain?"
Not duty.
Not goals.
Just want.
I couldn't answer.
That scared me more than any knight.
When she returned to being Saintess Lumiel, the distance came back.
But before she left, she said quietly—
"Thank you… Rain."
Just my name.
And the dispute remained.
Unresolved.