The decision was final. When Ranni moved, she left the magic professors trembling in her wake. They all thought like Moongrum—that Caria's recent maneuvers were mere survival tactics, or perhaps the knights acting alone. The Academy had never truly prepared for war.
That icy Lunar Princess changing her stance? Unthinkable. If Raya Lucaria had been the goal, they should've seized it back when Radagon still stood among them. A single command from him would've had them rolling out the red carpet for her.
Bang.
Leon, head of the Haima Classroom, slammed his fist onto the table. Cups jumped.
"She abandoned her duties first. Now she wants to take it all back? Since when does The Lands Between hand out second chances?"
The meeting room stayed silent.
This was a trap. If she'd made her intentions clear earlier, would they have bothered with rebellion?
"Those fools are just as bad. She took part in the Night of the Black Knives—why does she still breathe?"
Still, no one spoke. The mages couldn't touch the Two Fingers, let alone guess their schemes.
"Maybe she's too powerful," Oritis muttered. "Matthews mentioned the Cuckoos tried to negotiate once."
"Then try again," Aila snapped. The 'Initial Witch's' voice cut like a whetstone. "Are we really cowering from a demigod holed up in some ruin?"
The Academy had suffered. Expelling Caria was meant to purge heresy, to let them focus on pure study. Instead, chaos followed chaos. They'd have been better off enduring the old ways.
"Who here can command Them?" Oritis's smile was sickly sweet. "Don't fret. The Lunar Princess hasn't shown her face in years. Something's keeping her pinned."
The professors relaxed—barely. As long as they weren't facing a demigod's wrath, they could endure. But war? That took spine.
Caria was spreading too fast. With their current hand, victory was slim.
"Throw the Cuckoos under the wagon. Pin everything on them."
A scoff. "Wait for the Carian Knights to kick down the door and argue with steel, then?"
"Not like that. But how do we respond?"
Chelona snatched the document, shook it, and tossed it onto the table. "Establish a sixth classroom under the Dean's name. Elect a Lazuli head. We've got no grounds to refuse."
Ranni's decree had already reached the courtyard notice board. The argument died mid-breath. Awkward glances passed between them.
For years, they'd fought Caria in all but name. Everyone knew the truth, but neither side had drawn the line. It was internal strife, technically. If they'd truly wanted war, they'd have dragged Rennala from the Grand Library and made an example of her.
No one keeps the enemy's leader in gilded comfort.
Rennala ruled Caria Manor—merely under Ranni's stewardship. Rennala was still Dean of Raya Lucaria. The professors? Just caretakers.
"Kill the Queen of the Full Moon. Sever the Academy from Caria. That's the only way."
Leon slammed the table again. The others stared at him like he'd sprouted a second head. Veins bulged in the bear-like mage's neck.
"Am I wrong? They're strong. We're weak. Everything's tangled. From lecturers to apprentices—who'll lift a finger?"
The truth hurt.
Malenia had been right—the war in Liurnia was children playing at battle, no resolve to fight to the death. Before a victor could be decided, they were already scheming to pin everything on the Cuckoos.
"Cough. Professor Leon, calm yourself." Oritis cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "No one doubts you. But this... it can't be done. It's not just about capability. The consequences would be catastrophic."
Leon's finger jabbed toward the ceiling. "If we act together, it's possible. The royal family's grip has weakened to nothing after all these years. Or are you afraid Radagon will crawl back from whatever hole he's hiding in to punish us?"
His voice dropped. "We could defect to the Two Fingers. Given the Lunar Princess's actions, righteousness is on our side."
The room stirred. He wasn't wrong. This was their only chance. Before, contacting the Two Fingers had been impossible—but hadn't they cooperated with the Roundtable Hold during the Ainsel River expedition? Everyone knew who pulled their strings.
"Worth considering. We can't let those Carians in regardless."
"Foolish to trust our fate to enemies."
"We should deliberate further. The Two Fingers' demands remain unclear."
Oritis studied his hands. This was no longer a petty Carian squabble. Higher powers were at play. The Roundtable's obsession with the Eternal City reeked of danger.
"Stall them. Agree for now." He leaned back, chair creaking. "Use the time to reach the Roundtable Hold. Learn what the Two Fingers truly want. Keep the Cuckoos supplied. Don't shut the Academy yet—steady morale before they collapse."
One professor slammed the table. "After all our preparations, to surrender? To be chained by the Full Moon again—"
"I won't accept it!"
"They agreed."
......
At Caria Manor, Ranni tossed a letter to Throne without looking. They weren't in the cramped tower tonight. The full moon had drawn them to the open Moon-Gazing Grounds.
Throne skimmed the page and scoffed. "A delay tactic. If they truly yielded, they'd send us Cuckoo heads, not keep feeding them supplies."
Transparent as it was, Caria couldn't retaliate fully without handing Leyndell an excuse.
"They're hunting reinforcements."
"Obviously. And probing my intentions."
"Your stance shifted too sharply. Made this mess inevitable."
Ranni's lip curled. "I was preoccupied then. By the time I noticed, retreat was the only move. Now the advantage is ours."
Melina blinked from her high-backed chair. The moonlight was lovely, the silence lulling her toward sleep—until the messenger arrived. She snatched the letter, scanning for hidden meaning. Just flowery praise and deference.
With Ranni nearby, Throne couldn't give her a tutorial, so he spelled it out: "The Roundtable Hold lurks in the Ainsel River. The Two Fingers back them. Seems the Academy's professors aren't complete fools."
Ah. They sought the Tarnished. Of course—this princess and the Two Fingers were at war.
Melina understood now and continued to listen quietly.
"So we cannot give them this time. Any ideas?"
"Don't attack the magic academy; wipe out the Cuckoo first. Given the nature of those mages, what do you think they will do?" Throne smiled.
Ranni didn't even need to think and blurted out: "Betray the Cuckoo, close the gates, and wait for reinforcements. Under no circumstances would they let those lowly Cuckoos enter the academy."
"So we force them to close the school gates, and then I go in, targeting only a few professors." Throne leaned forward and asked with a smile: "Feasting, decapitation, and taking them as dogs—what is Your Highness prepared to do?"
"Leave all judgments to you." Ranni seemed not to want to waste energy on these matters.
Throne laughed wantonly: "Hahaha, you manage strategy, I manage tactics. It's a bit like the husband manages the outside, and the wife manages the inside..."
Before he finished speaking, he was glared at fiercely by Ranni, and he realized he had gone too far. In ordinary families, it seemed only husbands and wives divided labor like this.
But perhaps because she had been shamed too much, Ranni didn't get angry from embarrassment and said proudly: "For the sake of the same epic, I will not take advantage of you."
"Actually, I don't mind. If you want to take advantage, go ahead."
"Heh, then who was it that couldn't even be seen a few days ago, dumping everything on me?"
Throne laughed dryly and scratched his cheek: "That was to ensure your majesty; after all, you are the King of Caria."
This flattery was seamless, but unfortunately, Ranni no longer fell for this trick. She looked deeply at the man: "In front of you, do I still have majesty?"
"You have always been full of majesty." Throne replied solemnly, then saw Ranni's strange look.
There was some shyness, and some calmness, and then she looked away. "Anyway, remember, if you make me feel ashamed, you will pay the price sooner or later."
Throne wanted to ask what price, but in the end, he didn't ask and just looked at the witch with a smile.
The full moon was silvery gray and gentle. Melina, who was nearby, moved her body. For some reason, she felt uncomfortable all over.
After watching for a few seconds, Throne slowly stood up: "Then I will set off."
"Wait, are you really not taking that sword?" Ranni called him back.
"It makes too much noise, and I can't use it this time, but the other one is quite useful." Throne blinked.
"Dream on. At most, I'll lend you the Sword of Night and Flame." Ranni also stood up.
She was not a dawdling person either, and waved her hand: "Go quickly. I will give you a gift when you return." She paused, then looked at Melina who was following, her eyes meaningful: "And you will have a gift too."
Melina, who was already a bit annoyed, turned her head, stunned for a few seconds, and soon understood what she was saying, and couldn't help but open her mouth—
"Let's go, let's go." Throne covered her mouth and dragged the blockhead away.
Ranni bathed in the moonlight, just quietly watching the two disappear into her field of vision, and finally, a bit of gloom appeared on her face. It was her first time having the urge to leave the manor. She looked at the beautiful and lonely Moon-Gazing Grounds and sighed softly.
When will she be able to cut these shackles and see The Lands Between with her own eyes?
......
The Spirit Steed stepped on the road, its hooves splashing some muddy water. Looking back, hundreds of soldiers in neat armor formed a river of iron, and ahead was a well-organized military camp.
Throne was not setting off alone. Along with him were reinforcements from the Manor: Troll-like iron puppets, veterans who had survived a hundred battles, and giant carriages.
The carriage rolled forward, its weathered tarp concealing an iron box. No one knew what lay within.
Commanding this expedition wasn't Throne, but a Carian Knight recently returned from some distant duty. Moongrum, a seasoned warrior who'd guarded the Queen of the Full Moon for years, studied Throne with sharp curiosity.
Rumors swirled about the swordsman—disappearance, disgrace, exile. Moongrum dismissed them. This man, he decided, belonged to the Princess's inner circle, much like Blaidd, the wolf-man. But Throne was… different. More refined. If the Princess ascended, she'd need an heir. This one might serve as a contingency.
Throne shifted under the old knight's gaze. It felt like being sized up by a nosy grandmother intent on arranging a marriage.
He kept Melina hidden; sharing a horse wasn't dignified, and Moongrum's stern silence made conversation impossible. Better to focus on the task at hand—commanding the troops, directing Allen and the others. His blade was sharp, his purpose clear. Killing left little room for pleasantries.
The man who'd carved through Limgrave and claimed Godrick's great rune was a force unto himself. Even the Carian Knights, legendary warriors all, couldn't match him. Only Moongrum stood close.
Allen and Bolls trailed behind. Four knights now—Moongrum, Allen, Bolls, and Throne. A quartet. Like some tale of doomed heroes. The thought unsettled him.
"Lord Throne, we're almost there." Moongrum's voice cut through his reverie. The knight's face remained as stiff as ever.
"Yes. Allen and Bolls are waiting." Throne gestured toward the camp entrance, where a troll and a young knight stood. He slowed his horse. "Lord Moongrum, life at Raya Lucaria Academy must've been… taxing."
"Every word had to be measured. Eventually, I stopped speaking altogether."
Throne nodded. No wonder the man was so withdrawn. He'd have drawn his sword and fought his way out of such monotony long ago. "At least it's over. The Princess is reinvigorated. Your efforts weren't in vain."
"Indeed. Thanks in part to your influence." Moongrum's pride was palpable.
Throne smiled but stayed quiet. Knights like this—stubborn, honorable—were trouble if they knew too much.
He patted Torrent's head. The Spirit Steed surged forward, racing toward the camp.
"Throne, you're back!" Allen's voice rang out, as cheerful as ever.
Throne dismounted and embraced the blonde knight, then turned to Bolls. The troll towered over him. Their greeting was a fist bump—the best they could manage with the size difference.
The three shared a bond forged in the fires of war, a camaraderie tested in the Manor's blood-soaked fields.
After the greetings, Allen circled Torrent. "Where'd you get this beast?"
"On my travels. Someone gifted him. But don't touch him. He's got a temper."
"It's just a horse. Don't be stingy. Let me take him for a ride." Allen laughed, but the sound turned to a grunt as Torrent's hooves swept past his head, knocking him flat.
Throne hurriedly pulled the reins and kept stroking the horse's head to calm Torrent. The Spirit Steed snorted, baring its teeth at Allen in warning.
"See? I told you."
The knight rose with a harsh chuckle. He brushed the grime from his battered armor, his movements sharp, deliberate. His gaze lingered on Torrent—too long, too close. Something twisted in his chest.
Envy burned cold, then hot behind his eyes until they glowed crimson.