The shadow blade had finally learned to cut cleanly through the practice cloth. Several days had passed since then. The feedback from training accumulated slowly, grain by grain, and the shadow circuits were beginning to settle into Seriana's body. That sensation of keeping light essence and shadow essence in separate drawers—finally, she understood it not through words but through her flesh. On the first floor of the Black Wedge Tower, morning. As Seriana prepared for training as always, Walter descended from the laboratory. Jet-black short hair. Blue-gray eyes. The index finger of his right hand tapped rhythmically against the back of his left gloved hand. A habit when he was thinking about something. "You're going outside today." [cold] "You're going outside today." Seriana looked up. "Not training, then?" "Information gathering. On the eastern mid-slope of the Verna Spine Mountains—there's an abandoned fortress called Graufalke. The Sunset Brigade, an independent mercenary knight order, has established their base there." [cold] The Sunset Brigade. Seriana had heard the name before. An independent order of about eighty knights, belonging to no nation. She'd heard scholars in a tavern on Grundel's Shadow Lantern Street talking about them. A group that moved under the premise of being recovered by neither the Church nor the Autonomous City Alliance. "That brigade is rumored to possess documents related to fusion magic—specifically, documents concerning the Fusion Taboo Edict that prohibits a single person from wielding both light and shadow essence. Confirm this." [cold] "That brigade is rumored to possess documents related to fusion magic—specifically, documents concerning the Fusion Taboo Edict that prohibits a single person from wielding both light and shadow essence. Confirm this." "Confirm, meaning...?" "Look and return. Don't reveal your identity. That's all." [cold] Brief. That was all. Walter turned to leave—and then, for just an instant, he stopped. The briefest of moments. His index finger ceased tapping against the glove, then resumed. Seriana didn't miss that single instant. It seemed as though he'd started to say something, then swallowed the words. But the next moment, he returned to the laboratory as if nothing had happened. Seriana left the Black Wedge Tower alone. * The mountain path leading to the eastern mid-slope of the Verna Spine was rocky and difficult to walk. The sky was covered in gray clouds, and the wind was cold. Following the map, Seriana climbed the slope of the mountain range that ran from Grundel toward Seraphim Alta. As the altitude increased, the density of conifers thinned. White rock faces became visible through the gaps in the trees. Her breath began to turn white. She'd worn a thick overcoat for warmth, but still her fingertips grew numb. The fortress came into view about two hours after she'd begun climbing. A stone keep stood upon the rocky ground. It was a refurbished watchtower from the Border War era—the great conflict that had raged for eight years, roughly a hundred twenty years ago, between the Church Nation of Ortrieshé and the Autonomous City Alliance of Dispersia. The keep was four stories tall, with what appeared to be barracks extending beside it. Small, but sturdy-looking. Seriana concealed herself in the shadow of a tree and attempted to observe the fortress's exterior. "What are you doing there?" [serious] "What are you doing there?" She had no time to turn around. A voice came from behind, and by the time she realized it, she was already surrounded. Two men were closing in from left and right. Lookouts for the brigade, no doubt. She was brought before the fortress's main gate. There, a man stood waiting. Dark chestnut-brown short hair. Warm, reddish-brown eyes. A thin scar on his left cheek. Tall, broad-shouldered. Perhaps in his late twenties. Even standing still, he possessed a presence that seemed to pull at the very air around him. Arms crossed, he regarded Seriana directly. "This is the brigade's base. It's not a place for tourists." [serious] "This is the brigade's base. It's not a place for tourists." His tone was straightforward. Rather than intimidation, it seemed merely factual. "I lost my way while passing through." [cold] "If you were lost in the mountains, I could guide you. But you were observing the fortress from the shadow of a tree. That's not what someone who lost their way would do." [serious] "If you were lost in the mountains, I could guide you. But you were observing the fortress from the shadow of a tree. That's not what someone who lost their way would do." There was nothing to say in return. "Are you... the commander of the Sunset Brigade?" "Elshard Ferlinc. That's right." [serious] "Elshard Ferlinc. That's right." He tilted his head slightly. His gaze fixed upon Seriana's face. It was the kind of look that made itself known—not an assessment, but a confirmation of something. "You're the former Saint, Seriana." [surprised] "You're the former Saint, Seriana." Seriana's feet stopped moving. How could he know? The Proclamation of the Fallen Saint—the incident from half a year ago when she'd been stripped of her position in a single night on charges of collusion with shadow essence—was information contained within the Church. There was no way a man leading a brigade in a fortress on this western mountainside could know her face. "I'm not going to turn you away. Come. We need to talk." [gentle] "I'm not going to turn you away. Come. We need to talk." * The small room inside the fortress was cramped, containing only two wooden chairs and a small table. The mountain ridge was visible through the window. Elshard sat across the table, arms crossed. Seriana remained wary, settling only on the edge of her chair. "The brigade is conducting an independent investigation." [serious] "The brigade is conducting an independent investigation." "What kind of investigation?" [serious] "The matter of the evidence documents used against you. The Proclamation of the Fallen Saint—the documents used to strip you of your position—are forgeries." [serious] "The matter of the evidence documents used against you. The Proclamation of the Fallen Saint—the documents used to strip you of your position—are forgeries." Seriana remained silent. "What's your basis?" [cold] Elshard withdrew a folded paper from the table's drawer and spread it open. "This is a fragment of a copy of the original document. When you compare the authentic copy with the copy the Church submitted as evidence, the handwriting habits differ. They couldn't have been written by the same scribe. The date the Church claimed the document was created doesn't match the actual production period of the paper used." [serious] "This is a fragment of a copy of the original document. When you compare the authentic copy with the copy the Church submitted as evidence, the handwriting habits differ. They couldn't have been written by the same scribe. The date the Church claimed the document was created doesn't match the actual production period of the paper used." Seriana took the paper. Fine characters covered it. Using the precision her eyes had developed through Walter's training, she traced the flow of the writing. Certainly—it was subtly different. Not the work of the same hand. Something trembled in the depths of her chest. "There's a mastermind within the Consistory. Someone among the seven members of the Claustra Consistory—the highest decision-making body of the Church Nation of Ortrieshé—orchestrated this. You were framed." [serious] "There's a mastermind within the Consistory. Someone among the seven members of the Claustra Consistory—the highest decision-making body of the Church Nation of Ortrieshé—orchestrated this. You were framed." She had known. Dimly, she had always known. But this was the first time anyone had spoken it aloud to her as words. "Why... are you trying to help me?" [serious] Elshard paused for a moment. "A sense of justice, I suppose. I can't stand by and watch innocent people trampled by state conspiracies. That's why I formed the brigade. And..." [serious] He looked away slightly. Was he embarrassed? Did he find it difficult to say? "I couldn't sit still. The more I investigated your case, the more wrong it seemed. I can't explain it well, but... that's how it is." [gentle] "I couldn't sit still. The more I investigated your case, the more wrong it seemed. I can't explain it well, but... that's how it is." It was an awkward answer. Not logical. But she didn't think he was lying. His reddish-brown eyes looked directly at her, unflinching. Something in Seriana loosened, just slightly. Since Walter had taken her in, she'd barely spoken to anyone other than her master. Except for when she'd reunited with Hannah Rüthel on Shadow Lantern Street. This man's straightforward sincerity—to Seriana now, it seemed almost dazzling. (Should I trust this?) She still didn't know. The information might be true. But she hadn't seen all his motives. Yet she couldn't entirely reject him either. * She left the fortress as evening approached. As she descended the mountain path, Seriana repeated Elshard's words over and over in her mind. Forged documents. A mastermind in the Consistory. You were framed. Those words overlapped with the memory of that night when her crown shattered—burning quietly in the depths of her chest. She returned to the Black Wedge Tower as the sky began to turn orange. Walter stood before the bookshelf on the first floor, his back turned, returning a volume to its place. The moment Seriana opened the door—he didn't turn around, but his fingers stopped moving. "I'm back." [serious] "I'm back." "...Yes." "...Yes." That was all. But Walter slowly turned to face her, his gaze fixed upon her. One second. Two seconds. His blue-gray eyes observed her face intently. "Did you meet someone?" [cold] "Did you meet someone?" "...I was discovered by a lookout. I was brought inside the fortress and detained by the brigade commander." [serious] "...I was discovered by a lookout. I was brought inside the fortress and detained by the brigade commander." She had hesitated about whether to be honest, but lying felt wrong. Walter's jaw tightened slightly. "You spoke with the brigade commander?" [cold] "You spoke with the brigade commander?" "Yes. A man named Elshard Ferlinc. He said he was conducting an independent investigation into my exile. He told me the evidence documents were forged—" [serious] "Yes. A man named Elshard Ferlinc. He said he was conducting an independent investigation into my exile. He told me the evidence documents were forged—" "That's enough." [cold] "That's enough." He cut her off. Walter's expression—for just an instant, it twisted. Only for an instant. The next moment, it had already returned to his usual impassiveness. But Seriana had seen it. That brief distortion. "Don't meet that man again." [cold] "Don't meet that man again." "...Why?" [serious] "...Why?" "It compromises your position. Nothing more, nothing less." [cold] "It compromises your position. Nothing more, nothing less." It was a logical pretext. Perhaps it was true. If it became known that the former Saint was in contact with an independent mercenary brigade, it could certainly cause complications. But—the pressure in that phrasing. It wasn't logic. Something else was mixed into that single command: "Don't meet him again." It wasn't the tone of the efficient, economical orders Walter usually gave. Something was seeping through. Seriana didn't argue. She couldn't. She simply replied, "I understand," and headed toward her room. * Night. The room was quiet. Beyond the window, the tips of conifers swayed. The darkness of Grundel, where shadow essence drifted, was entirely different from that of the eastern capital, Seraphim Alt