That shout of "true champion" stirred a sharp ache in Vyke's chest.
The world before him was nothing like the glorious age his ancestors had spoken of with such pride.
And now, at last, he had met someone who shared his ideals.
They had only exchanged a few words on their first meeting, yet Nolan had stepped forward without hesitation to defend him, a wanted fugitive.
How could Vyke not be moved?
Still, a trace of unease lingered in his heart. He feared that someone as spotless as Nolan might not wish to associate too closely with a man like him.
Catching the rapid shifts in Vyke's expression, Nolan let out a quiet laugh. The kid hadn't seen much of the world yet.
It was too early to tell anything for certain, but he was willing to take the risk.
If this really was that champion Vyke, he might prove useful in the future.
And even if he wasn't, Nolan found he didn't dislike someone like him.
When the Morton family's cavalry finally disappeared from sight, Nolan warmly invited Vyke to rest in the village for a while and talk things over.
They found a modest tavern along a sparsely traveled street and went inside.
The air carried the faint scent of ale mixed with the hum of conversation. The two of them picked a table at random and sat down.
As cups clinked and drinks were poured, the mood gradually loosened.
Nolan showed no trace of disdain. He sat among the others, laughing, chatting, and raising his glass with ease.
His bearing was open and composed, his smile warm and unforced, putting everyone at ease without effort.
The simple act of sitting together like this struck a deep chord in Vyke's heart.
In this age of endless war and suffering, champions were like stars in the night sky, admired from afar yet impossible to reach.
For ordinary people, a distant glimpse was already a rare blessing. To sit side by side with one and drink together like this felt almost unreal.
...
Far to the east, a grand estate rose from the land.
Time had left its marks on the structure, yet compared to the crumbling thatched huts surrounding it, the manor still stood imposing, a clear display of its master's status.
At the very top of the estate, in its highest chamber, stood an intricately carved high-backed chair.
A middle-aged man sat upon it, his gaze deep and cold.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint chill flashing across them.
In a low, commanding voice, he said,
"Bring me the man who ruined our plans. Immediately."
His name was Hadley, patriarch of the Morton family and father of the noble youth standing at his side.
The young noble frowned at once, unease written plainly across his face.
"Father, the man you're referring to is the famed Carian Knight. If we rely solely on our own strength to deal with him, I'm afraid it won't end well."
In truth, it was far more than a simple inconvenience. It was wishful thinking.
They were part of the Rebel Alliance, yes, but only as minor figures within it.
The true power of the Rebel Alliance rested in the hands of the great lords, men of strength and reputation.
Compared to them, minor nobles like the Mortons were hardly worth mentioning.
Hadley watched his only son shrink back so timidly and felt a flash of anger at his weakness. He let out a heavy sigh before speaking at last.
"Do you really think he's a Carian Knight?"
"Well..." The lord's son hesitated.
It was true. Judging a man's identity solely by the armor he wore was rash.
But the moment he thought of the legends surrounding the Carian Knights, fear and awe drowned out any rational thought.
Letting him oppress the common folk was one thing. Bullying the weak was practically his talent. But standing against a champion was another matter entirely.
Hadley gave a faint nod. At least the boy hadn't completely lost his wits to wine and women. He still knew how to think.
"Back then, I retreated with the Godefroy coalition forces. We passed through Liurnia of the Lakes, so I know the situation there."
"At the time, the Queen of the Full Moon kept to herself, shut away inside the Academy of Raya Lucaria."
"In all these years, there's been no word of any new Carian Knight being appointed."
"And Godrick holds the passage into Liurnia. There's no way they crossed that line and came from there."
As Hadley recalled those years soaked in blood and slaughter, his body trembled slightly. Fear lingered in his eyes.
Luckily, he had been nothing more than a minor noble. If his rank had been just a little higher, he might have qualified to attend the council meetings in the great war tent.
If that had happened, then on the night the Golden Needle Knights stormed the camp, he would likely have been just another corpse among the many strewn across the ground.
"So Father means the Carian Knight is a fake? But he's Tarnished. Maybe some ancient champion..."
The lord's son stopped mid-sentence, stunned by his own realization.
In those distant years, Caria and the Golden Order had been locked in relentless war.
It was only after Radagon and Rennala were wed that tensions finally eased.
Under those circumstances, a Carian Knight could never have received the blessing of the Golden Order.
And there was no way one could have endured through the ages and returned to the Lands Between as Tarnished.
Damn it. We've been fooled.
That armor was probably stripped from the corpse of some long-dead Carian Knight. Those wretched Tarnished.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
"I'll take men and kill them right now."
"Hold it."
"Father!"
"If you're this impatient, how will you ever shoulder the family's future? A house head must learn to use his mind. Leave the servants' work to the servants."
...
The moon was especially bright that night, its pale light spilling across the land.
Several large holes gaped in the tavern's aging walls. From inside, one could easily see the entire night beyond.
Vyke rarely had a moment of peace like this, and as he watched the moonlit scene, he felt at ease.
The man seated across from him was a stranger, yet his words were straightforward and sincere.
Whether it was the easy confidence with which he raised his cup or the frankness in his conversation, it was hard not to feel drawn to him.
After draining another cup, Nolan asked bluntly,
"When this is over, what do you plan to do?"
The young Tarnished paused for a moment, then answered honestly,
"Hmm... to tell you the truth, I haven't really thought about it."