Why am I here…

  A warrior of Dawn in decorative armour approached the sharp, radiant figure seated atop a sleek Aurestral, its powerful flanks shifting with restrained power beneath polished armour.

  “Radiant Knight Thalora. The Mayor’s castle is in the Council District. Shall we conduct the meeting now?”

  Thalora, the twelfth Radiant Knight, gave off a sharp, clean Aura. She stood tall and imposing even when mounted, her blonde spiky hair swept to one side.

  An Unbound—hunter of monster and beast alike—her armour was on the lighter side compared to the rest of her rank, fitted for the fluid demands of archery and relentless mobility. Even at rest atop her mount she carried the coiled presence of a drawn bow.

  “Yes,” she said flatly, the word clipped and final. “Let’s go. I want this over with as quickly as possible.”

  The warrior bowed sharply, gauntlet flashing. “As you command.”

  Orders barked out across the company in crisp succession. The Dawnish formation shifted with disciplined precision, ranks closing and flanking in a ripple of gleaming plate and snapping banners, boots striking stone in perfect unison as the column moved forward.

  …

  Thalora soon arrived at the castle entrance.

  Yet there was no one.

  No greeting party waiting.

  No attendants.

  Not even a single nervous servant pretending to be useful.

  Her brows twitched, a minute fracture in her otherwise flawless mask of superiority.

  “What a useless fool of a Mayor,” she muttered under her breath, voice low and edged. “Who doesn’t send someone to greet a Radiant Knight?! Let alone me.”

  She slid off the Aurestral with the effortless grace of someone who could kick a man through a wall, boots striking the flagstones with a crisp ring that echoed off the high walls.

  “Wait here,” she ordered her guard, the command carrying the weight of absolute expectation. “I’ll handle this… personally.”

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  Her boots rang against the polished stone, each step a deliberate toll that warned the castle itself she had arrived.

  Why did it have to be me that has to deal with this headache? I might be the newest Radiant, but why did Auriel have to specifically ask me to handle this matter?

  Thalora held in her frustration as she passed fragile decorations—delicate crystal vases and ancient tapestries that whispered of old wealth—her fingers twitching with the barely restrained urge to “accidentally” brush one from its pedestal and watch it shatter.

  The Opening I get, but checking in on her little… boy toy. Why can’t she just fly over herself?

  She groaned inwardly, the sound almost escaping as a low rumble in her throat.

  She arrived at the corridor that led to the chamber, the double doors looming ahead flanked by two rigid guards whose postures stiffened at her approach.

  “I suggest you boys open those doors immediately,” she said, voice sweet as a blade’s edge, each syllable dripping with velvet threat, “or I will be smashing them open.”

  Her Aura pressed outward in a sudden wave—predatory, thickening the air until it pressed against them, like the feeling of an arrow threatening to puncture their lungs.

  The guards snapped the doors open so fast they nearly tripped over their own feet in their haste, polished wood groaning on hinges.

  They also yelled her title in raw panic—“Radiant Knight Thalora!”—more out of pure survival instinct than any sense of protocol, voices cracking like breaking glass.

  “Who dares—!” Crowle’s voice died in his throat at the sight of her.

  His face drained of all colour the moment she strode in like she owned the castle, sunlight from the high windows catching on her golden feathered armour.

  He scrambled upright from his seat, chair legs scraping harshly.

  “R-Radiant Knight Thalora, I—I take it… we were not expecting you so quickly—”

  “You useless sack of shit!”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Crowle froze mid-motion, mouth still forming excuses.

  “You’re the one who begged the capital for aid,” she said, closing the distance like an oncoming storm, boots clicking louder with every purposeful step. “Yet when I arrived, no soul was present to greet me. Not even a half-competent servant.”

  Crowle stumbled back, collapsing into his chair with a dull thud that echoed his sudden loss of composure.

  Thalora placed one boot squarely on the seat between his legs, the wood cracking dangerously beneath the pressure, faint splinters rising at the edges.

  “So, when you request a Radiant Knight, you make sure that they are greeted with respect when they arrive—late or early.”

  She leaned down, arms crossed over her chest, meeting his eyes with the calm of a predator that had already decided the outcome.

  “Do we have an understanding, Mayor?”

  His voice quivered like a rabbit in a lion's maw. “Y-yes, Radiant Knight Thalora. I apologise for my incompetence.”

  She stepped back, dusting her boot with deliberate slowness as if ridding it of something far more distasteful than mere dirt.

  “Good. You can at least heel like a well-trained mutt.”

  Her gaze sharpened again, cutting straight through the heavy air of the chamber.

  “The reason I’m here is not your plea. I’m here because of a duty assigned by my Princess.” She said as her curiosity led her around the council chamber’s assortment of books, her fingers kissing their spines.

  Crowle blinked, confusion flickering across his features. “Forgive me, but I thought you came to assist Brisden? We—”

  “Do not talk until I finish.” Thalora said, turning back with a glare that could kill.

  Crowle stiffened instantly, the command landing like a physical blow.

  She blinked, then continued her stroll.

  “The Princess reported an Opening near Brisden during her own mission. Containing it is my top priority.”

  She walked to the tall chamber window, hands clasped behind her back, staring out toward the distant treeline where the forest met the city's outer border like a living wall.

  “My warriors will deliver a list of supplies. You will provide everything asked. Understood?”

  Crowle’s fist twitched beneath the desk, barely noticeable yet tight with barely leashed resentment.

  Thalora turned, the motion fluid and unhurried.

  “Yes, Radiant Knight Thalora.”

  “Good.”

  She paused, then added with a faint curl of distaste, “I’m also tasked with overseeing a certain individual who caught my Princess’s attention. He lives deep in the forest, near the Opening. A tree cabin, apparently.”

  Crowle’s eyes widened, his mind visibly connecting scattered threads of recent reports.

  “That trouble maker!—” Crowle raised his voice in fury, then stopped himself when Thalora glared back at him with distaste. He continued on with a controlled tone, “h-he has caused disturbances throughout Brisden. I have ordered my Captain to locate and detain him, Radiant Knight Thalora.”

  Thalora whipped around, silver-blue eyes flashing.

  “What?!”

  She groaned again, louder this time, the sound raw with mounting exasperation.

  “This is already a mess.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, fingers pressing hard enough to whiten the skin.

  “The Princess wants him alive, obviously. She can’t exactly play with a broken pet.”

  Crowle blinked, processing the slip with dawning unease. “Ah—do not worry, I specified detainment. For questioning. Wait—pet?”

  Oops…

  Thalora waved off the slip with the elegant dismissal of someone who absolutely had not just revealed her Princess’s unhinged whims to a provincial mayor.

  “Ahem. Forget that.”

  She regained her posture with a controlled exhale.

  “Well, since the order’s already issued, it's too late to undo it now.”

  And it saves me a ridiculous amount of effort. Thank the stars.

  “The questioning will be handled by my specialist. The man was found by an Opening. We must confirm he poses no threat, even with…” Thalora’s face scrunched with irritation, “‘special treatment’.”

  “As you wish, Radiant Knight Thalora.”

  Thalora approached the doors, her Aura still humming faintly in the air like the aftershock of a bowstring.

  “Your Captain should be careful, Mayor.” She said, pausing at the threshold.

  “Lysara is a Blademaster, a powerful one at that, there is nothing to be worried about. She will have the situation under control.”

  She reached the double doors, grip tightening on the handles. “He may only be a Swordsworn with Magei aptitude, but he appears to be an Extraordinaire. Don’t underestimate him.”

  Crowle paled, the colour draining further from his already ashen face.

  “An… Extraordinaire!?” He blurted out. “That… changes things.”

  “Mm. Bare minimum for someone who catches my Princess’s interest.”

  She threw the doors wide with a single powerful motion, the heavy wood slamming against the walls.

  “I’m going. And Mayor—”

  She glared over her shoulder, eyes promising consequences far worse than mere words.

  “Do not forget what I demanded.”

  Then she strode out without waiting for acknowledgement, her footsteps echoing down the corridor like departing thunder.

  —— ? —— —— ? —— —— ? ——

  The room slowly regained its natural pressure the moment the predator left, the invisible weight lifting from chests and shoulders.

  The shard-light overhead steadied, its gentle pulse no longer flickering at the edges.

  The shadows thickened again—reclaiming the corners she had forced them from, sliding back into familiar hollows with quiet hunger.

  “She seems like a character…” the shadow murmured, voice drifting smooth and unhurried.

  Crowle’s jaw tightened until the muscles stood out in sharp relief. His teeth ground against each other with an audible rasp. His fists dug into the leather of his gloves, knuckles straining white.

  Then, the anger drained.

  Not through emotion.

  Through heat and static.

  “Arrogant whore…”

  The goblet in his hand hit the stone floor with a sharp, satisfying crack. Its elegant stem twisted into a molten spiral, rim blackened and fused where lightning had struck. Delicate stag engravings melted into nightmarish smears.

  The shadow shifted, just enough to be seen without ever becoming fully visible, a vague silhouette that teased at the edge of perception.

  “She is the Twelfth Radiant Knight,” the figure said calmly, the words carrying neither judgement nor haste. “We cannot do much against someone like that. They are… risky, and expensive. But—”

  A faint tilt of the head, the motion almost predatory in its restraint.

  Predator acknowledging predator.

  “I do know ways to weaken such an opponent.”

  Thoughts of revenge flooded Crowle’s mind, painting vivid scenes that brought a brief, vicious grin to his lips. He could only dream of such a chance, of watching that unyielding spirit crack and bleed.

  “No. As much as I would love to watch that arrogant spirit break beneath my hands… a Radiant Knight is too valuable to the Dynasty.”

  “Mm. A shame,” the shadow replied, a soft chuckle leaking out. “She would fetch so much gold…”

  Crowle exhaled sharply, dismissive, waving away the tempting vision with a curt gesture.

  “I have more important matters now.”

  His tone dropped back into irritated authority, the mask of control sliding back into place.

  “How long until Lysara arrives?”

  “A few hours. Perhaps less. She will find this ‘Extraordinaire’ soon.”

  Crowle stepped toward the window, hands clasped behind his back in a pose of control he desperately wanted to feel, spine straight despite the lingering burn of humiliation.

  He stared toward the forest—the same direction all his troubles seemed to crawl from, dark and endless.

  You better not fail your duty, Lysara…

  His eyes drifted downward to the castle gardens below, where Seyun walked among the flowers, her small figure enjoying her quiet morning like nothing in the world could harm her, sunlight catching on her hair as she bent to touch a bloom.

  Crowle’s knuckles whitened further, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain.

  Or else.

  The shadow said nothing.

  But the air around it seemed to grow sinister.