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“––Young Master, please take a rest. I haven’t seen you sleep at all these days...”
“Don’t worry, granny. The Divine Protection of Panacea and the Child of Wind will prevent me from getting sick.”
A faint smile accompanies the red-haired knight as he retorts to granny’s genuine concern. Behind her, grandpa remains silent, wearing a similar expression of worry. He bears a scar on his neck; most likely that’s what's restraining him from talking too much.
“More importantly, how are Flam, Grassis, and the others doing? Have there been any improvements even in the slightest?”
Shaking her head, granny purses her lips as if attempting to hold back her emotions. “Unfortunately… They can hardly move their limbs or even hold a conversation… When healers cast magic on them, they can be conscious and talk slightly, but they hardly manage that for more than a minute.”
“––I see.”
…The impact of Aldebaran’s Aggressor Mode.
Completely shattering both Emilia Camp and Felt Camp members presented in the battle of attrition, not their lives but their mental fortresses. It’s something even the greatest healer in Lugunica, 'Blue,' isn’t capable of curing, nor does their exceptional mage, 'Grey,' have any solution to.
Two weeks have passed ever since everything fell into a grim conclusion with sacrifices. The unharmed members have been trying various methods to cure the fallen ones, yet the progress has been stagnant for both sides. Any attempts made are akin to a long, hollow tunnel with no light at its end.
Currently, the Felt Camp members are recuperating at the second Astrea Manor, located at the Royal Capital under the old couple’s care. This is also the same place where Reinhard's Mother slumbers. It’s clear just by looking at their state now, bound to their beds, they have lost their liveliness and quirkiness completely.
Clenching his fists, he straightens his posture to meet the old couple’s gaze; sadness and guilt are reflected in his narrowed sky-blue eyes. “Carol, Grimm.” He calls out their names with a serious tone before bowing his head slightly regardless of their hierarchy. “––I apologize. If only I were more capable, your granddaughters wouldn’t have ended up in this state.”
His action receives a surprised look from the old couple. Granny immediately steps forward, putting her palm on her chest. “Please do not apologize...!” She protests, “Young Master has done his best to stand up against the threat of the world; if not, we might not even still be standing right now. Besides…” Bowing deeply, followed by grandpa behind, they offer the esteemed young man their highest respect. “Presenting our loyalty towards the Astrea family has been the chosen Remendis’ duty for generations.” They rise up, showing a determined face. “Putting our lives on the line for that sake if it means fulfilling our masters’ orders is the extent of risk we are prepared for—that's what our granddaughters have been aware of too.”
While Carol has changed her surname to Fauzen, it’s the House Remendis’ upbringings that have been passed on specifically to their granddaughters. In their case, after the friction in the Astrea family, they have been siding with Reinhard and Lady Felt, whom Reinhard pledges loyalty to.
“...They have… no regret.” Grimm finally spoke on behalf of the twin maid, having confirmed after he has conversed with them that his words brim with certainty.
Flamm and Grassis are endeared individuals to Reinhard. While his childhood was lonely, there were times when the old couple would bring them for him as accompaniment. He has watched them grow since they were babies; they are already akin to little sisters to him, so it’s only natural that he has grown especially concerned over them.
…Somehow, the old couple’s words have saved a little part of him.
“No matter the price, we will always be on your side, Young Master.” Carol states firmly, sealing the final statement, which Grimm nods to.
His mouth is slightly agape at such unwavering resolve, but it slowly melts into a melancholic smile.
Their words earn his gratitude, but it won’t lift the pain gnawing his heart from their current circumstances.
“––Thank you, Carol, Grimm. From now on, we will keep searching for ways to improve the situations.”
Standing solely at the center of the world's stage, the Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea, has fended against the Witch of Envy for three days without a single break. It’s an extremely incredible feat, unimaginable to be achieved by anyone less extraordinary.
And yet, within the period, so many things have happened beyond his sight.
How his mistress truly lived up to her words to take care of the rest; how the other individuals have aided her the best they can to stop Aldebaran; how some… unknown dispute happened, leading to the state of his unconscious Grandfather and missing Father…
––And how he arrived after everything was too late.
That being said, even with conflicted feelings, he decided to trust in his intuitions about his secret judgments of his friend, Natsuki Subaru—as he is the one and only who is capable of turning around the situations and creating a ‘better ending' in some time this version of him won’t ever be able to witness.
Therefore, he had deliberately allowed the blue-haired maid to deliver the final blow, ending Subaru’s life in this time. Silently, having faith in himself to always be the sword for his friends, regardless of which ‘fragment.’
Among them, there was also another one standing … A short orange-haired girl with a red ribbon headband. Her green cape seemed tattered; it seemed that she was one of the fighters. Strangely, Reinhard did not have the slightest idea of who she might be, but she must be someone from Emilia’s Camp. He tried to approach her to obtain more explanations, but she seemed so dejected and wasn’t in a right headspace to engage in conversations, so he decided to leave after giving Subaru’s corpse a proper burial with them after they returned.
Even with his countless blessings, the Sword Saint can only improve things within his capabilities. Even after leaving the healing people task—something he isn’t capable of—to other parties, there are still permanent damages scarring many individuals that are beyond revitalizing. The scars are far too severe for both parties to even consider returning to the stage of Royal Selection… Leaving Lady Anastasia solely to thrive.
The Knight has vowed to walk on the thorny and dark path along with the one he revered as the King towards the throne, but at this point, such a goal has gone to the back of his head. That is definitely no longer the priority.
After all––
“Lady Felt, may I come in?” He knocks on the familiar door twice, expecting a lively reply as how it usually is.
…Yet, as expected, there is none. Thus, he decided to come in voluntarily.
Inside, a very young woman with short blonde hair is lying on her bed, enveloped in a white nightgown. The bed sheets are still neat, unmoving from how he arranged them yesterday, which means she, uncharacteristically, made no movement at all. However, her chest rises and falls, indicating that her life remains ignited.
––Just seeing her still alive and breathing is more than enough for him.
He moves closer to her as he pulls a chair, sitting beside her bed.
As expected of Felix Argyle’s healing magic, all of her injuries, including the thread-slices on her neck are completely gone. Right now, she simply seems like a maiden in her peaceful sleep.
“...Lady Felt…”
He whispers under his breath; the silence in the room makes the lone voice audible.
“Accept the enemy’s invitation and go wild! Unleash your crazy strength! I’ll clean up your ass and pick up the rest from there.”
That day, her crimson eyes were blazing with unwavering determination—reaching his soul to the point that it momentarily broke his Sword Saint facade.
His mistress has chosen the dangerous path of engaging in an arduous battle she has the choice not to for his sake. As her radiance was reflected in his eyes from such a close distance, it’s something Reinhard can never forget. After all, she is one of the very few people to acknowledge that regardless of being a monster... even as the strongest Sword Saint in history, there are matters he simply doesn't have enough hands to handle alone.
Honestly, he had planned to immediately fly to her side after he had subdued Aldebaran. Little did he expect that the fellow knight had such a well-prepared trump card up his sleeve, outmaneuvering him.
“...I apologize.”
He is currently feeling a lot of negative emotions, but guilt stands out the most of all. While protecting the world is also essentially his unwritten duty, being bound to it makes him inevitably sacrifice his other duties.
“...I have failed as your knight.”
Closing his eyes as his brows are furrowed, he brings her frail hand close to his forehead, expressing deep regret that knows no bounds.
“––If only I was able to overcome the witch…”
It doesn’t matter even if the whole world praises his deed to have done the impossible. If it weren't for some miracle happening that the witch disappeared mysteriously, he would have been locked in the battle of eternity; the ending would have been a lot worse.
As he mourns for the death of his good friend, the sight in front of him only serves as another harsh reminder of a failure he is. Such is an immense feeling of being defeated.
“...If only I could have handled everything alone…”
The usual composure of his voice is gone; it’s only dripping with regret in each sentence escaping his mouth.
‘Then, Your Ladyship didn’t have to lend me a hand.’
He chanted the second half inwardly.
“...Shut…up.”
The weak source of voice widened his eyes. He lowers his master’s hand, loosening his hold to examine the situation more clearly.
“...Just say.. Thanks.”
“...”
His surprised expression only grows even more palpable at her response.
Turns out that… all these times, she has been conscious and listening.
She had the right to blame him—that's what he thought—but instead, she demanded something else. As always, she is behaving outside of his expectations.
“...You have made a good point. If I kept wishing for different scenarios, that would be disrespectful to the efforts you have made for my sake.
Thank you, Lady Felt.”
At his last line, respect echoed from his voice. Albeit it was slightly strained with sadness, the knight tried his best to convey his genuine gratitude, appreciating the length of her consideration to him.
And that’s why, for such an amazing lady…
He would get down on his knee, performing his perfected chivalry as he properly takes her hand, while another palm is placed on his chest. Seriousness spreads on his face as his gaze is locked onto her flickering red.
“I will remain by your side as your first knight. This, won’t ever change.”
This is something that he has recited more than once, though something is different in this very moment. Those that were initially driven by pure fate and a sense of duty … now have the touch of his own genuineness.
The Knight truly desires to be able to return the favor.
Exhaling a soft sigh, his esteemed lady simply responds with a faint, lopsided smile.