It was a bright night where not a single cloud could be seen, allowing the starlight to shine clearly.

Iron Duke Timur was staring at the campfire rising before him, using the piled white snow as a carpet.

It had been a long time since he welcomed a night somewhere other than inside walls made of steel, and facing the man smirking in front of him right now was an even rarer occurrence.

"When did you lose your front teeth? Did someone hit you?"

"I did take a hit. From a bastard called time."

Perhaps due to his missing front teeth, his smiling face looked comical, but the old man currently warming himself by the campfire in front of the Iron Duke was once a knight of Baranoff who had left behind a glorious name.

Following the passing years, he was now retired and had laid down his sword, but the reason it was impossible not to feel glad to see him was likely thanks to the memories he had shared with the old man for a long time.

"That's why I told you to cut back on the drinking."

"The old days were good. Back when I was young, I could drink a whole barrel of this booze and be perfectly fine the next day."

Reminiscing about the passing years, the old man turned his head and looked at the house covered in a thick layer of white snow.

Most of the surrounding houses were made of logs, but the house the old man was looking at now was a very meticulously built, large, and spacious brick house.

"Still, after all those years, I've obtained my own manor, so it doesn't seem like my life was entirely meaningless."

"Is that so?"

Timur looked at his former subordinate lamenting the years and brought the bottle of liquor he was holding to his lips.

The manor the old man spoke of now was directly bestowed by Timur, an honorable gift to reward the loyalty he had devoted his entire life to.

"By the way, I hear you're planning to have a bout with the bastards from the central region now?"

"I have to. If those bastards are going to crawl in, what else can I do?"

"Kuh. Hearing talk of war after such a long time makes my heart beat faster."

The old man lifted the expensive bottle of liquor Timur had directly handed him and spoke as if amused.

However, only a bitter smile hung on Timur's lips as he watched the old man becoming increasingly intoxicated with the mood.

"You must be incredibly busy. To think you didn't forget me and came to visit even in the midst of that..."

"How could I forget?"

Timur swallowed the liquor he was holding in his mouth.

Perhaps he was exhausted, as his head was drooping powerlessly, but Timur's eyes alone were shining as if he had resolved himself to something.

"Of course I won't forget you, my loyal friend."

"Pardon?"

SHING.

The flames created by the campfire reflected and flickered on the blade.

Bewildered at seeing Timur suddenly draw his sword, the old man widened his eyes, not knowing what to do.

"I brought an antidote just in case, but it was completely useless."

"Lord Timur."

"In truth, what you drank wasn't liquor, but poison."

A loyal knight who had stayed with me his entire life.

However, the person in front of my eyes right now was nothing more than a cowardly fugitive trying to escape death.

It was a poison capable of killing even a large horse, yet seeing the old man who had swallowed it down without showing any ill effects, Timur quietly raised his sword.

"... Please do not go to that place, and remain my knight until the very end."

'Perhaps this will be my final retirement gift to you.'

For his subordinate who had ended up abandoning his convictions, Timur wordlessly returned the honor he had shed.

SLASH!

Above the sadly extending Sword Path, a single face floated up roundly.

The old man's face, which had soared up into the cloudless night sky, fully reflected the moon up above before slowly beginning to fall back down toward his liege.

"... Make sure to dig the grave deep. So that no one can check it."

"Yes, Your Grace."

To prepare for a great war, one must first lay down a solid foundation on the ground they stand upon.

Timur was relieved that this preparation had not come too late, and at the same time, he was grieving.

"..."

Timur, having crossed out a single name from the paper he was holding, looked at the campfire that was gradually dying down.

Throwing an old memory into those still-burning flames, Timur ended up drinking the last remaining sip of liquor.

* * *

["Do not trust Joseph Bayezid too much."]

["There is a good reason why the Vatican targeted him."]

"..."

There was a man sitting alone with his back to the moonlight coming in through the window.

His blond hair shining in the blue moonlight looked quite becoming now, but he himself did not seem to have the leisure to enjoy it.

"What on earth does he gain by shaking me up?"

Vlad, chewing over the last words Rodrigo had left behind, was racking his brain to figure out the true underlying intent he was trying to convey.

"Is this, like, a way to keep the North in check or something?"

The senior knight of the Imperial Enforcers had tried to leave a seed of doubt in Vlad's heart, but that seed had already dried up and withered without a trace.

That was how firm the trust Vlad had for Joseph was.

Rather than doubting Joseph, who was his liege, his benefactor, and the one who made him who he was today, it would be a much more logical judgment to doubt Rodrigo instead.

TAP, TAP, TAP.

"...!"

However, perhaps because he was too deep in thought.

Vlad ended up noticing the black shadow tapping on his window far too late.

That shadow, which had approached quietly without anyone knowing, was so stealthy that even Vlad's sensitive hearing could not catch it, and it was skillful enough to deceive even the aura senses he had spread out.

"The night wind is cold. Open the window for me."

"Marcus?"

Because the window was wide, there seemed to be enough space to step on.

Seeing him in a completely unexpected place, Vlad could not hide his surprise.

"No, how did you get here..."

"I have something urgent to tell you."

Bayezid's crow casually climbed over the window and sat at the guest table in front of him.

His posture as he lifted the heated teapot and poured a cup looked so relaxed that it rather left Vlad speechless.

"By the way, you still call me Marcus."

"Has your name changed again?"

"Lately, I've been using the name Sandor."

From an intruder to a guest now.

The man, whose face was so covered in scars that his original appearance was unrecognizable, drank the poured tea and quietly took out a letter for Vlad.

"What is that?"

"It's a letter sent to you from the Northern Orthodox Church. To be exact, it was sent by Sir Gunther, Captain of the Second Knight Order of the Northern Orthodox Church."

The holy knight who had fought alongside him against the black woman in the fog-filled Moshiam.

Recalling Gunther's figure, Vlad hurriedly picked up the letter Marcus handed to him.

"This document looks very familiar, doesn't it?"

"It's an indulgence."

There were multiple sheets of paper inside the envelope.

One of them was a letter personally written by Gunther, but the papers attached behind it were merely documents filled with stiff formatting.

"As expected, since you've torn one up before, you recognize it at once."

"Why are you giving this to me?"

It was an indulgence that others were anxious to get their hands on, but to Vlad, it was merely something full of unpleasant memories.

Moreover, unlike the secularly tainted Vatican, the Northern Orthodox Church did not easily hand out indulgences, so it was only natural for Vlad to be perplexed upon receiving it.

"It has already been signed. And by the Pope himself, at that."

"So why is this..."

"The Northern Orthodox Church wants you to kill a certain someone."

An indulgence written by the knight captain of the Northern Orthodox Church, signed by the noble Pope, and delivered by Bayezid's hidden blade.

Vlad intuited that the sin to be pardoned by that indulgence would be no small matter, and ended up gulping down his saliva.

"Who are they asking me to kill?"

With an ominous premonition, Vlad stared intently at Marcus's face, but not a single hint of emotion dwelt upon the man's completely ruined face.

"Joseph Bayezid."

A clinking sound was heard from the teacup Marcus set down.

Along with the sound of Vlad's heart sinking with a thud.

"I pray that you kill the stain of the North, who has colluded with a wicked existence, with your own hands."

At the familiar resonance he heard, Vlad's hands began to tremble.

Joseph Bayezid.

The name spoken by the ominous crow was the name of the very first person in this world to recognize him, and it was also something positioned at the very foundation of what made up Vlad's world.

"Why on earth..."

CRASH!

Vlad had wanted to ask for the reason behind this utterly incomprehensible situation, but his entire body ended up staggering from the deafening roar that soon rang out.

"... It seems I was a bit late."

"-It's an attack! The enemy has invaded!"

"-The underground prison has been breached!"

The thick smoke visible from outside.

And even the rough shouts of the soldiers rising up through that smoke.

His vision was shaking from the sudden deafening roar, but Vlad quickly looked outside through the broken window.

["Raise your aura. Vlad. He is looking at you right now."]

However, outside as he looked, just like Quijano had said, there was a gaze looking back at Vlad.

The man standing atop the bell tower in the distance was entirely faded in color, but the sheer pressure he carried was heavier than that of any other knight.

"... Frausen."

THUMP!

Vlad's heart was pounding.

Along with a tumultuous vibration, the entire world that had supported him all this time was shaking, but his crying sword alone was shining sharply, declaring that he must face the one before him.

* * *

"-Stop them!"

"-You bastards!"

"You certainly made a noisy entrance."

Up until just a moment ago, it had been a prison where not a single speck of light could enter, but now it had become a space blown wide open enough for even the sky to be visible.

Jager, who was descending the half-collapsed stairs, cut down the guards blocking his path and gestured toward Joseph behind him.

"Let us go. Lord Joseph."

"... There is no need for you to go this far as well."

At Joseph's words, Jager dusted off the stone powder resting on his eyepatch and soon quietly began to shake his head.

"Please do not mind me. I would have died a long time ago if it weren't for Lady Oksana anyway."

I dedicate my sword to the one who recognized me.

The one-eyed knight who had followed Lady Oksana from the Oscar Family all the way to Bayezid knew well that it was now time to dedicate even his honor for the sake of her son.

"Please do what you want to do, and what you must do. I hope that you will do so, Lord Joseph."

"..."

He had been a stubborn knight since the first time they met.

Knowing that his vain persuasion would not move Jager, Joseph simply hurried down the stairs to accomplish what he had set out to do.

"It's nice not being out of breath. Is this how other people have been living?"

The weather was cold, the path down was treacherous, and even now deep-blue blades were flying around everywhere, but there was not a single hint of flinching in Joseph's body.

Feeling an emotion that could in some ways be called a sense of liberation, Joseph hastily sprinted down to the deepest part of the underground prison.

A racing heart had always been overwhelming for Joseph, but today of all days, it was a welcome feeling.

"-You are..."

"I have come because Lady Lamashtu sent me."

In the deepest part of Arnstein's underground prison, there was a headless knight floating in midair, suspended by chains.

They were chains with pieces of paper inscribed with sacred verses tied to every wrapped section.

CLANG!

In an instant, the thick padlock was cut away by Jager's forward strike.

Jager's world, which was clearer than ever before, seemed to show just how resolute a determination he had made.

"I will get you out now."

Talismans that were like an inescapable poison to the dead, but were mere wads of paper to the living.

A single star shone above the head of Joseph, who was reaching out for the wicked one.

"... The sky is clear today."

Even if my true self, stripped of its shell, is crude and wretched, I still wish to shine.

Even for a pebble that had been broken since birth, desiring to shine would be only natural.

That was why Joseph had decided to do this.

Even though he had been collapsed in a place where no one could see him, the flame he ignited from now on would be as radiant as the stars high above.

RIIIIP!

Everything in life depends on my choices.

He could not do so when he was born, but Joseph resolved to take his death, at least, in the form he desired.