Beneath the Sareid estate lay a cramped, forgotten chamber—a relic from the days when the realm teetered on the brink of civil war. A row of holding cells stretched into the dim corridor.

As a result, moss and grime had seeped through every corner of the many cells lining the halls, and rust had been welcomed to the steel bars with open arms. No words were needed to explain the metallic taste of the air.

Kyrat seldom thought of this place, much less visited. It had long since served its purpose—until now.

For days, reluctant hands had been scrubbing it and restoring it. All of it for the sake of one captive.

A noble… A child, even.

Raymond Aldreid.

He stood alone in his cell, the furthest from the hall, pushing towards the wall and leaning his head against it.

Kyrat watched him through the bars. His eyes were narrowed forward, seeing the young boy in front of him as nothing more than a criminal. But his heart was… conflicted.

He could hear the quiet grit of Raymond’s teeth. That was all the sound coming from the boy.

Kyrat didn’t mind it. He wasn’t here for a conversation.

Steps echoed down the halls. A knight appeared, clad in the lighter version of the Royal Knight armor meant for patrol. She carried with her a small Luminite lantern, its eerie green casting a hue over her dirty blonde hair and the solemn expression on her face.

She walked to Kyrat’s side and turned her head towards the holding cell. Her eyes widened, only to narrow immediately.

“Raymond.” Her words came out cold, direct, and abrupt.

The boy flinched. Slowly, and reluctantly, he pushed away from the wall and turned to face Kyrat and the woman who had just arrived beside him.

“S-Sister Reysha—!”

Raymond didn’t waste a single second. He rushed towards the bars, hands gripping them like it was his lifeline.

“Please, Sister! I need you to listen to me!” His voice cracked as he talked frantically, as if he was on borrowed time. “T-This was all a misunderstanding! I didn’t mean to—!”

“Be quiet, Raymond.”

“Wh—!”

Raymond froze mid-sentence, his eyes wide in disbelief. Kyrat didn’t need to guess why—the sting of betrayal was written plainly across the boy’s face.

Reysha’s gaze shifted away from her brother, and for a moment she hesitated. Then she turned to Kyrat, eyes lowered. Her jaw tensed as she bit her lip, before bowing low.

“On behalf of the Aldreid family, I ask for your forgiveness, Your Grace.”

Kyrat exhaled and shook his head. “This isn’t the time for bowed heads, Reysha.”

She straightened reluctantly, her golden hair falling around her pauldrons. Her fists clenched, the metal of her gauntlets groaning under pressure.

“But, Your Grace! My brother’s actions have endangered your only heir!” She placed a fist on her chest, her voice tinged with fury. “As your student, what he did was… unforgivable.”

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Her eyes remained fixed on the floor. Kyrat could see the shame and guilt in her posture.

He stepped forward and placed a steady hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly.

“Like I said, Reysha. This isn’t the time.” His tone softened. “What I need from you now is something else.”

At last, she looked up, meeting his eyes. She blinked, uncertain. But then, her eyes narrowed.

“What do you require of me, Your Grace?”

Kyrat turned his gaze back to the boy in the cell, who had slumped slightly. “I want you to talk with your brother. Find out his reasons for doing what he did.”

“Talk with… Raymond?”

He nodded. “He’s refused to speak to anyone else. And I would prefer not to bring in… professionals, if it can be avoided.”

He turned to face Reysha once more, his voice firmer. “Of course, I’ve already informed the officials. They’ve agreed to hold off on proceedings—on the condition that we resolve what we can internally first.”

Reysha gave a solemn nod, shoulders straightening like a knight accepting an order. “Understood, Your Grace.”

Kyrat stood for a moment longer, his gaze locked on the boy behind the bars. He still couldn’t fathom how such a young, promising candidate for a knight… ended up here.

But he said nothing.

He stepped away, the sound of his boots echoed faintly down the confined hall.

—

His office had never felt quieter.

Even the scratching of his pen couldn’t pierce the fog of thought clouding his mind. Eventually, he stopped writing altogether. He set the pen back to its holder, reluctantly, as he realized his mind wouldn’t be clear enough to properly do any of the papers.

Firm knocks came from his door, breaking his silence.

“Who is it?” he asked, not lifting his head.

“It is Reysha Aldreid, Your Grace. I have returned.”

Kyrat let out a sigh. He had been both dreading and anticipating this.

Depending on her answers, this whole ordeal could be resolved then and there…

Or it could spiral into something far worse.

He adjusted his posture, straightening his back, and interlaced his fingers over the scattered clutter of paper on his desk.

“Come in.”

The polished wooden doors opened with a soft click. A knight entered with soft steps, as if she were minding her presence in front of him.

“I have returned, Your Grace.” Reysha knelt, her head hung low.

“Raise your head, Reysha.”

She straightened, standing at attention. Her eyes were as solemn as it was before. But it contained a hint of… empuzzlement.

Kyrat dreaded asking this question, but…

“What have you learned?”

Reysha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After letting it out gently, she glared at Kyrat’s direction. More so to his desk than his eyes.

“Raymond claims he was manipulated.”

A twitch passed through Kyrat’s fingers, still laced together.

“Manipulated?” He paused, voice low. “By whom?”

“A nobleman,” she answered. “He said the man was tall and kept his face hidden. But… he carried himself like someone of status. Raymond was certain of it.”

She hesitated, drawing a breath before continuing. “The man approached him at the host family’s estate. That was where everything began. He’s the one who convinced Raymond to do what he did.”

“A nobleman…” Kyrat’s brows pressed down, his eyes glaring into nothing. “And he listened?”

“Yes,” Reysha said softly. “That’s what unsettles him. He doesn’t understand why he… believed that man.”

Kyrat was silent, but his mind was anything but.

Then, Reysha took a half step forward, a hand gently placed on her chest.

“Your Grace… May I speak freely?”

Kyrat’s gaze flicked to her, then, after a bit of silence, gave her a slight nod.

“I personally find it… hard to believe,” she admitted. “It sounded like an absurd excuse cobbled together to frame a random person. But…”

Her words trailed off, the conflict in her voice clear as day.

“I had known Raymond all my life. He… My brother wouldn’t dare do anything such as this. I don’t know if he’s truly lying or not, but… a part of me believes he’s telling the truth.”

Kyrat didn’t respond, but he took her thoughts to mind.

Then, he went deep into his own, piecing together what he could.

A tall man.

A hidden face.

Noble bearing.

And a boy who couldn’t explain his own past actions.

He pressed his palms together, fingers steepled against one another as he leaned forward.

Small beads of sweat began to drop down the sides of his temple.

This was familiar…

Too familiar…

He’d seen something before. Relatively recently as well.

But then—

His doors crashed open.

A knight bearing his family’s crest rushed in, his voice and pace both frantic.

Kyrat was already rising, his chair screeching on the polished floor. Reysha turned heel and snapped to attention in front of his desk.

“Your Grace!” He said, catching his breath. “L-Lady Carine! She was attacked by one of our knights!”

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