act12mini

Scorching golden light falls upon the campaign knight's armor, leaving behind burn marks.

You, who throws his life away callously, and refuses to turn back despite knowing that there is no hope?

...I don't want you to die here.

Your plan should not and will not succeed. What are you so obsessed with?

*cough*, *cough* *cough*...

Hey, you're awake.

Sorry, I was hired to cause you a bit of trouble.

By the way, we're on a pharmaceutical delivery truck, and the windshield was broken by a stray bolt.

It took quite a bit of effort to get you here. Fortunately, we can take a breather now that we're in the underground transport tunnels.

This place is most chaotic in the early hours of morning. Outsourcing, irregular transactions, vehicles turned over 'accidentally'...

Wh-What do you want? Where's Aloisia?

Your bodyguard? She should be waiting outside the city, if she cooperates. I needed her to create a distraction.

Don't worry, no archer is going to be a problem for a caster of her skills.

As for us... we're here to help, I guess, but we're not exactly doing this pro bono. And the client is a bit of a penny pincher, if you catch my drift.

So, we've got a few wounded, and I think we ought to discuss your ransom. To cover the medical expenses, so to speak.

Now, will you be so kind as to put away your wand? I've always found casters from Leithanien to be a headache.

...Very well. I will pay a reasonable ransom, I will ask no questions, and I won't attempt to track you down afterwards.

We shall negotiate like civilized people.

Excellent. I'm just doing my job. Once this truck gets the goods to the destination, it'll only be a short wait before we get out.

...I hear empty crates.

Oh, I'm not suggesting that you're the goods.

The truck was rented, and the permit borrowed. Gotta put up appearances, after all.

Plus, in the event that something happens to your bodyguard, this cross-border business permit will give us a reason to drop you off outside Kazimierz.

Who do you...

Never mind, I don't want to know.

Good. Now how about we talk money, to pass the time?

You ask what I'm obsessed with?

This society has clear-cut rules. When the price of everything in life is clearly marked and labeled, it doesn't take a calculator to make the optimum decision.

But why are we not allowed to choose less wisely?

I know the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi Kazimierz invited you, as they invited every Nearl.

Not to mention the businessmen who would have every last knight humiliated in the arena.

You could have had great power, great prestige, great wealth. You could have saved so many people.

But you didn't.

You're a stubborn one too. Why are you trying to persuade <i>me</i>?

I returned to the ranks of the campaign knights, to the path of vassalage, in order to seek those who walk the same path.

...Do not misunderstand, Młynar. It's not war that I seek. War is inevitable, and the knights must carry that burden.

Many have never seen the shadow beneath Leithanien's spire, never heard the wailing in the northern wind, which is why they can cheer for the blood spilled in the arena. But I bear no grudge against them.

Chivalry may shine among the campaign knights, but it does not come from the glint of a sword. It is not authority through violence that I want to show people, nor the bones and smoldering ruins spread across the barrenlands.

What I want to show them is that one does not have to trample upon other lives... That one can also choose to sacrifice oneself for others.

That's what a knight sheds their blood for.

The honor of a knight needs no testimony.

How can you claim to uphold chivalry, when you have given up the ground on which you stand and left your fate to a war you have no control over?

Can you continue to shed tears and feel sorrow for the dead who line your path?

A drop of rain falls upon the tip of the spear.

The forest's night fog glows, as though the dawn has come early in the drizzle.

Finally, you're not holding back your Originium Arts.

I'm in full gear, while you're not even wearing basic armor. Is this really a fair duel?

What armor can bear the full brunt of a campaign knight's blow? Especially one from you?

Yes, it's perfect.

Wait, you're...

Hey, good eyes.

Some nobles didn't even realize until two months into our partnership.

Others realized it immediately, but kept their mouths shut as though they didn't know anything.

Sarkaz mercenaries. Has the business machine of Kazimierz taken in your ilk too?

You flatter us. It's no skin off my nose whatever you think we are, but there are more than just Sarkaz hiding here.

Kazimierz treats us all equally... when it's deciding who to throw away.

Spooked?

The only thing unusual about a Sarkaz is that we live a bit longer than the average Kazimierzian. And I'm still pretty young.

...Although it's true that I have fewer and fewer old friends by the year.

*cough*...

Silver shards litter the ground in the falling rain.

The broken armor cannot keep the blood inside.

It's over.

No...

Who do you want me to admit defeat to?

The campaign knight grabs his lance again and lunges forward.

But his legs do not move.

...Who do you want me to admit defeat to?

The knight stumbles and falls to his knees as the golden light rains down on his cheeks.

He raises his head and gazes at Nearl, his eyes wide open in the rain.

To the nobles in the high tower of the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi Kazimierz, who spend their days in intrigue and vainglory?

Or to the merchants who cover up their dark deeds with false mirth, and disguise their twisted greed with contrived jest?

Do you want me to admit that I can never win against the tyranny of bloodlines?

Or do you want me to flee Kazimierz, abandon the struggle, and bow down to all that we despised?

*cough*...

I never saw another path worth taking.

You still won't admit the only possibility, will you? Then prove it with your sword.

If it's you who thinks I'm wrong, then... I'll accept it.

I didn't lose to power, to money, to the will to survive, or to inexorable time.

...No.

Młynar sheathes his sword.

The rain of light continues to fall from the cold night sky before the dawn.

Like I said... you don't need to die here.

If he turned back, it would stop, he thought.

...Hah.

How do you live with it, Młynar?

Even though your fury burns so much fiercer than mine, even though you've seen the same things I have?

Don't tell me you don't see it...

The G.C.C. meddles with the campaign knights at will. More and more knights sell their honor and their swords to those merchants, fueling their increasing ambition.

As for Leithanien... much time has passed since the fall of the Witch King's spire. I have seen with my own eyes their war preparations. There is no romanticism in it, only terror.

And there will always be those who roam the barrenlands, made pariah by Catastrophe, war, and the evolution of the cities.

You know all this, so... why do you not draw your sword?

His vision blurs and he cannot see Młynar's expression, only that he is still gazing down on him.

Why do you hesitate? What are you thinking?

He finds no answer in the rain, only golden starlight melting in his field of vision.

Every breath he takes is a struggle, as his life flows out along his cold armor.

...And that scornful sneer from up high, which awaits all who passionately pursue their ideals.

Not the numb spectators who snigger as I weep for the victims.

I feel equal sorrow from them as I do for the dead.

It's the ones who are even now sneering at my futile efforts against them.