It was, admittedly, a difficult task to sneak about. The halls were filled with much less hustle and bustle now that it was in the evening hours, or at least that was what he assumed since there were no windows around, but a few servants did pass by occasionally. Lucius would much prefer to avoid an awkward confrontation. The solution, then?

  He clung to the ceiling.

  Lucius leapt into the air and held himself firmly in place between the corner overhead. With the right pressure and an impeccable balance, one could scale even the steepest of inclines - like the esteemed mountain goat.

  “Oh-hoh, this reminds me of the time I infiltrated the U.S federal gold reserve, Fort Knox,’ he mused to himself. “Security here is much less strict compared to back then. But, a gentleman must never let his guard down. Let’s proceed with due caution, old sport.”

  Fortunately, the edges had no shortage of shadows he could hide himself in. The people below were none the wiser to the man skulking about.

  After a jolly good period of exploration, Lucius came to a conclusion: the castle was really, truly, absolutely stuffed to the brim in treasure. Every corner of the place was filled with such excessive indulgence - gold, jewels, trinkets and paintings - that it would make even the wealthiest Arabian oil baron seem humble in comparison.

  The decorations were no mere attempt to show off, either. From the kitchens to living quarters, chambers both big and small alike, and even more personal spaces such as lavatories… every single room flaunted the vast wealth of this, supposedly, holy nation. Judging by its conditions, this wasn’t fitted recently either. They showed signs of wear likely decades in age.

  Luxury was all well and good, but it wasn’t quite what Lucius was looking for. He wanted to find a clue into the Emperor's whereabouts. So far, though, the gentleman had yet to come across anything of worth.

  Lucius decided to change his strategy. Instead of wandering aimlessly, he would follow someone of higher rank. The more noble they looked? The more likely they’d visit more juicy locations.

  Lo and behold, he found one after a bit of searching. His target was a sharp, studious looking man, with slicked back curls and a pair of thin frames that seemed to resemble glasses. He wore long robes that’d compliment a scholar more than a warrior, but there was no mistaking the emblem on his sleeve: a gold and black eagle. This man was one of the Twelve Peers.

  He rushed off in a hurry with a bundle of important-looking documents barely contained in hand, unaware of the one scuttling behind him. Eventually, after traversing through multiple turns, stairways, and long corridors, the man reached a hidden room that had a coat of arms carved above.

  He opened the door, and there, waiting for him on the other side, was the Head Paladin Roland himself. The stern and rigid countenance he presented during the banquet dinner was gone, replaced by a haggard soul buried under a mountain of paperwork.

  “Roland, my friend, your eyes droop with a weariness not-so dissimilar to our academy days,” the scholarly fellow chuckled, walking over and adding to the pile.

  Roland raised his head. No sooner did he gaze at the man that his once-gloomy mood quickly lifted in spirits. “Olivier, you are a welcome sight in these tiring times. Please, take a seat. I would greatly appreciate your company.”

  He stood up and tidied the room to the best of his ability. One could hardly take a step without crunching on some poor, abandoned parchment, but eventually he wrestled enough space for the two of them to somewhat relax.

  But before he could sit down, Roland suddenly jerked his head up and almost discovered Lucius—almost. “How odd. Did you come alone, Olivier?”

  “Indeed I did. Is something the matter?”

  Roland sighed and shook his head. “... Perhaps it is merely my nerves. I have been ill at ease ever since the Archbishop began rambling on about receiving a revelation from our Lord. I care for the man, yet I cannot deny that I thought he had lost his mind, then. Who would have believed his words to be true? Now we must accommodate these foreigners from another world.”

  “It is certainly puzzling,” Olivier murmured. “Has the Chivalric Star ever intervened so directly in our affairs? I am privy to this empire’s history more than any other, yet I simply cannot find a single instance of such involvement. The closest would be Their descent as the Mother, upon which the first Emperor was birthed.”

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  “Such is why I dismissed his plea. I did eventually allow him to meddle with the southern wing in the hopes it would appease his delirium, but what am I to make of this now? Our God, the avatar of chivalry… I cannot understand why They would entrust this land’s fate to another, rather than grant us faithful power to begin with.”

  “Because we are in no good condition to accept such power, my friend,” Olivier said. “It is not yet time for his Holiness to lead. We are serving as his substitutes for now, but the people grow restless. They will not trust the paladins if we were to overstep our positions - especially not whilst they heckle us as the cause for the prior war’s tragedies.”

  Roland clenched his fists, and let out a bitter groan. “Oh, how I wish they could gaze into my memories. If they witnessed the hysteria of Pepin the Vicious then, the scorn we face would not nearly be so scathing.”

  “But they cannot, Roland. And it is our duty as the empire’s servants to ensure it remains as such. To lose trust in the holy bloodline will only lead to the slow undoing of the faith. Let us bear the wounds, so that they need not suffer God’s divine retribution.”

  “I suspect it has already come for us, Olivier. The Demon King’s raids, the friction in the court, and now the arrival of these pitiful souls they would thrust upon the title of God’s chosen… what has this land become, if not already mad?”

  Olivier raised his brow and leaned forward, intrigued by Roland’s lack of hostility. “I am surprised. You speak of these foreigners with sympathy, unlike before: twas only a few hours ago that my aides regaled me of your dismissive display in the banquet hall.”

  “It is true I harbored suspicion, but do you know what I saw when I looked into their eyes, Olivier?”

  Roland clasped his hands and looked down at the floor. His face was still covered by a helmet, but Lucius had no doubt in his mind that the man’s lips were curled into a somber frown.

  “It was fear. They were no warriors of God, no sacred beings come to save us from our plight. What I saw were frightened, scarred people: ripped from their homes, cowering under a constant terror, trembling and shaken. It was as if they saw us as monsters, Olivier. They thought we would attack them at any moment.”

  Olivier listened quietly to Roland’s grave account. The candlelight flickered between them, casting great shadows and rising in intensity. The air narrowed. Their conversation was no longer about the present day, for with every bitter word, Roland descended further into his memories. He spoke with the vestiges of his past, seeping through, drenching his tongue in unresolved regrets.

  “When they looked at me, I was reminded of the raids,” he continued. “Of the homes and villages we were ordered to raze. His late Holiness called them heretics, declared them a danger to the sanctity of the faith, but the ones I witnessed were no fiends. They were innocent: sons and daughters stripped away from their parents, civilians weeping in the street at the sight of their loved one’s corpse. We brought fire and ruin to them for five long years, until their spirits were crushed and their bodies exhausted of all remaining resistance. That is what I see in them, Olivier - the very same anguish we once wrought on others.”

  “You feel guilt, then?”

  Roland laughed. “How can I not, when we are sending those who have never held a sword to their deaths? I understand now: the Lord chose to grant these otherworlders power so that they would suffer in our place. No matter how desperate our empire has become, must we stoop to such lengths? Pass on our burdens to those undeserving?”

  Roland stood up and paced around the room, head buried in his arms. Olivier said not a thing and comforted him in silence.

  “It will not come to that, my friend,” he said after the man regained his composure. “Our paladins will stand alongside them in battle. We cannot change the circumstances of their arrival, but know that they shall not be alone. I have heard tell that Lady Bradamante and Sir Ruggiero will personally serve as their instructors once the morning comes: trust in their insight, and if these people truly are unfit to face the Demon King, then we will find another way that they may help.”

  “... You are right. Combat need not be their only approach at assistance. Such a decision shall likely displease the fundamentalists of the court, but I will intervene should they attempt to pester our new fellows.”

  Olivier grinned and, in a light-hearted move, locked his arm around Roland’s shoulder. “Your temper has always been your worst enemy, Roland. I imagine secluding yourself in this stale office helps not with the nerves. Throw the papers away for a moment and stroll around the castle; a bit of fresh air will do you wonders.”

  Roland sighed, begrudgingly, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. “I wish not to hear those words from you of all people, Olivier. The number of times I had to pull you away from the administrative office is far too plentiful to count.”

  “How very fortunate, then, that I now choose to come along willingly!”

  Roland laughed and walked toward the door. “Very well, lead the way my stubborn friend.”

  The two departed in much lighter spirits, leaving Lucius to be in the company of a treasure trove of documents and information. The gentleman was a bit worried for a second that the head paladin would spot him, but all turned out well: now he could peruse to his heart’s content.

  That was, until he heard a voice.

  “Um, what are you doing up there?”

  Lucius looked down, and locked eyes with a boy no older than fifteen years just outside the door. After evading the detection of, not one, but two of this empire’s finest, here he was - caught red-handed by a young man dressed in servant attire.

  Hm, he thought to himself. Now this is a conundrum, isn’t it?

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