Seven sneaked toward the training grounds.
Today was the day of his written death according to the novel. However, even he himself no longer knew who he was sneaking from, as he had not encountered a single knight on the way.
"Where the hell are they?" he muttered. "Are they still at the camp? Lazy bums. At least leave one knight to guard the gate."
Perhaps this was how the assassin had infiltrated the castle in the first place.
Seven Hart had never left the premises before. With no knight left to guard or patrol the castle, his life was practically free. But now that he had gone outside for the past three days, things no longer probably remained the same.
In that sense, the training grounds should have been the safest place.
"Well," he muttered, trying to reassure himself, "it's Sunday. Maybe they're lazing around and enjoying a rare day off."
Walking through the thickening snow, he shivered and thought, 'For some reason, it feels way too cold today.'
After walking a fair distance, he reached the training grounds. The sun had yet to rise, and no lamps were lit. The tents were enveloped by darkness.
"Huh?" he frowned. "That's strange. They were awake by this time yesterday."
The feeling of unease prickled at the back of his neck. He hurried to the nearest tent, lifting the flap and peering inside. It was empty. He checked another tent, but it was empty as well.
"No way…" He clutched his temple. "Where the hell are they? Damn it, damn it. I'm screwed. Where the hell are my saviors?!"
Indeed, he was screwed.
He had spent the past 2 days training here, though it was actually just an excuse to observe and learn something from the knights while forming a light relationship with them for the sole reason of using them against the assassin.
They were necessary for his survival.
"Shit. Shit. Shit," he cursed under his breath. "What am I supposed to do now?"
He reached for one of the training swords on the rack.
As his fingers closed around the hilt, he noticed a figure approaching from the trees. It was as if the man had just arrived. Judging by the broad frame and familiar stride, there was no doubt who it was.
"Edward!" Seven called out. "Where are the others? Why are—?"
"Is it you, Young Lord? What a coincidence," Edward said, visibly relaxing as he stepped closer. "I was surprised when I couldn't find you anywhere in the castle. Who would've thought you came here on your own?"
"I wanted to train with— wait, the castle?" Seven frowned. "For what reason were you looking for me there?"
"For what reason?" Edward pointed off toward the distance. "The village is being ravaged by the beasts. One of the torch lamps maintaining the barrier malfunctioned. The other knights are busy warding them off as we speak."
That explains the silence here, why the camp was empty, and why not a single knight guarded the castle. But this only made Edward suspicious. If the village was under attack, why was Edward so eager to find him?
"That still doesn't answer my question," Seven said.
"Haha. You're right," Edward replied. "You see, only a mage can restore the barrier's [Zi], and the only mage here is our sweet Iria. I asked for her assistance, and she asked me to find you. She said it might be dangerous for you to stay alone. Do you get it now, Young Lord?"
As he spoke, Edward began removing his chainmail.
"These things are quite heavy."
"Okay," Seven considered his words. "I'll believe you for now."
But the timing was off. It was way too perfect. Seven had grown too close to the knights over the past two days, so this could be the assassin's move; a distraction to draw them all away and leave him isolated.
'A bold move,' he thought. 'I'll give you that, Aizen. You're smart, even at your age. I almost thought you'd gone senile'
At this point, he no longer merely suspected the old man. He was certain it was him. If anyone had been close enough to watch his actions and connections with the knights, that would only be none other than him.
Yet even for someone who planned a step ahead of him, there was one thing Aizen hadn't accounted for, or so Seven thought. Edward's presence. He probably had not expected Edward to find the Young Lord amidst this chaos.
Seven smiled, though shortly.
There was still a variable. He still didn't know the old man's true strength. Lowering his guard now would be fatal.
Slowly, he raised the training sword and tightened his grip.
Edward noticed his posture, so he couldn't help but ask what's with the sudden change.
"What are you doing? Do you want to train here despite the situation in the village? Haha. Drop it. Let's go. There are more knights in the village, so it's much safer—"
"Edward," Seven interrupted. "Don't lower your guard. Protect me."
He approached Edward with a distance that could be reached by his sword. That way, if Aizeen suddenly jumped at him, Edward would be able to parry the strike.
"…What?" Edward blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Don't tell me you're afraid of those filthy beasts. It's fine, Young Lord. If anything happens, my little baby here will keep you safe. Haha."
"It's not that. An assassin. Please protect me from an assassin."
"…Assassin?" Edward's smile disappeared. "That's ridiculous. Who would dare—"
"Aizen," Seven said flatly. "He's after my life."
Seven knew it was reckless. He knew how foolish it sounded, but he said it anyway. This was the only way to make Edward understand— no, to remind him that he wasn't as ignorant as everyone assumed. That the commander they had so carefully concealed had already been discovered by him.
However, Edward only looked at him deadpan before bursting into laughter.
"AHAHAHAHA!" Edward slapped his knee. "Aizen? Lythian's grandfather?!"
He shook his head, still laughing.
"Young Lord, please stop joking. That old geezer trying to kill you? I can't—"
"Stop acting. I know he's your commander."
From the moment Seven had overheard Lythian while sneaking through the trees, he had known. This world revolved around the number seven. There was no way a platoon guarding a Hart heir named Seven Hart consisted of only six knights.
Edward's laughter faltered, and a complete silence followed. His gaze sharpened, and the mirth was drained from his face inch by inch.
Suddenly, the air shifted.
Edward's expression changed from silence to a cat caught stealing food from the table. The kind of expression that tells, 'Hey, hooman, what are you looking at? You should keep this silence or you'll incur my wrath.'
"…It seems I've underestimated you, Young Lord," Edward said. "I didn't expect you to figure out that the old geezer was this platoon's Commander. But you see, things aren't that simple."
With a soft sound, Edward unsheathed his sword.
The familiar blade Seven had held once, or Edward's little baby, caught the dim light of the rising sun as he leveled it toward Seven's forehead.
"Even though I hate that man to the bone, I can't simply overlook what you just accused him of."
Seven didn't move.
Inside, his body trembled. His instincts screamed at him to run. But his feet remained rooted, his posture unbroken.
"You said you'd protect me," he said.
"Don't misunderstand," Edward replied. "I said I'd protect you from beasts. Because you're the Young Lord, and we are your knights."
"That's—"
"But!" Edward interrupted, tilting his head. "Let's say, purely hypothetically, that your accusation has some truth to it. That the commander truly is after your life. Tell me, Young Lord. What do I gain by protecting you?"
"I-If you help me," Seven said, forcing the words out, "I'll owe you a great debt. Once I become an official Hart bearer, I'll help you rise through the ranks."
Edward chuckled.
"'Once you become an official Hart bearer,' you say? That means you'd first have to prove your worth on your upcoming ceremony."
"Yes. I plan to do that."
"Hearing such a bold dream of yours, Young Lord. I am genuinely touched. But pleasing someone to protect yourself in a situation like this already casts doubt on your worth as a future lord. I heard your siblings would rather die than ask for help."
"I am not like my siblings. Also, you are not just 'someone,' but one of my knights."
Suddenly, blue [Zi] radiated out from Edwards body. It was an act to intimidate the Young Lord, but he had not even moved an inch.
"Please, …Sir Edward. I promise to fulfill my promise on my side."
Edward only looked at him for a long moment, until he sighed.
"…Understood."
A sense of relief surged through Seven's chest.
"See? I—"
"In that case," Edward interrupted. "I will not lend you my protection against the Commander."