From a concealed vantage point far from sight, Eric and Arthur watched two guards standing before the colony's main gate. A thought seemed to take shape on Eric's face.
"I have an idea."
"…? Tell me—have you ever seen thieves enter a house through its front door?"
"That's not exactly the idea."
Arthur turned his head toward Eric, waiting to hear what was forming in his mind.
"We take those two down first."
The guards stood before the gate, fatigue already weighing on them from the long shift. Suddenly, hands emerged from behind, tightening silently around their necks. Within moments, both lost consciousness and collapsed without a sound.
"And now what?"
"You'll wear one of their armors, Arthur."
Arthur tilted his head in surprise, yet realized he had little choice. He began doing exactly as Eric said.
"There's a door at the back. We'll enter from there. Try to walk quietly in that heavy armor."
"May I at least know what you intend to do?"
Eric leaned close and whispered into Arthur's ear.
"Immediately after the door there's a large hall. Several people may be inside. Above the hall hangs a sconce— a large fixture holding several torches — the main source of light. Your role is to slip in wearing the armor and cut the rope that holds it. When it falls and darkness spreads… my work begins."
…
Eric opened the intended door with extreme care, making sure not to produce the slightest sound that might draw attention.
After confirming no one was ahead, he slipped inside first, Arthur following behind in the heavy knight's armor.
Inside, a narrow dark corridor stretched before them, pierced only by faint threads of light leaking from the main hall at its end.
With the light came sound:
clinking cups, loud laughter, overlapping voices of drunken knights oblivious to their surroundings.
Eric advanced with measured steps and peered from a shadowed corner into the hall.
Round tables filled the room, surrounded by swaying soldiers. Cups overflowed onto the wood; some could barely sit upright.
But most important—
At the far end of the hall, above a raised platform of three stone steps, a taut rope held a massive torch chandelier: the primary source of light for the entire chamber.
Eric looked back at Arthur.
He said nothing, but Arthur understood exactly what awaited him.
Arthur whispered:
"Are you sure about—"
"...Did you hear something?"
"...No."
They froze for heavy seconds before the laughter resumed, louder than before, as if the hall itself mocked their caution.
Quietly, Eric took the knight's helmet and sealed it over Arthur's face, then gestured for him to move.
Arthur stepped out of the shadows into the hall, trying to walk naturally despite the weight of the armor.
He passed a table where one soldier had surrendered to sleep, his head resting on folded arms.
"Hey… guard!"
Arthur stopped and turned his head toward the soldier.
"Bring me a bottle when you return."
The man fell back into sleep without waiting for an answer. Arthur continued, shaken by the strange exchange.
He moved between tables one by one without drawing attention, until his foot touched the first step of the platform.
Suddenly, a heavy arm dropped across his shoulder, pulling him backward.
"What are you doing there?!"
A drunken soldier leaned against Arthur, forcing him to sit beside him. The smell of alcohol pouring from his mouth nearly suffocated Arthur inside the helmet.
The soldier grabbed a bottle, filled a cup until it overflowed, and handed it to him.
"Drink."
Arthur's uneasy gaze shifted between the cup and the drunk soldier.
What could save him from this predicament now?
He lifted his visor just enough to expose his mouth and drained the cup in one gulp.
"Hm?… Impressive. You have strong tolerance."
The soldier said nothing more.
Arthur seized the bottle, poured another cup carefully, and offered it back.
"Huh? What's this?"
Arthur gestured for him to drink.
The soldier laughed loudly.
"Are you challenging me to a drinking contest?"
He kept drinking cup after cup while Arthur refilled each time—until he finally collapsed across the table, unconscious.
Arthur rose slowly and headed straight for the platform.
He climbed the three steps. When only a single stride remained between him and the rope, he lunged forward and cut it with one clean stroke.
The rope snapped. The pulley spun wildly, emitting a harsh metallic shriek. The torch chandelier plummeted toward the floor exactly as planned—
—but not as Arthur expected.
Just feet before impact, the pulley jammed. The chandelier froze mid-fall, swaying violently from side to side.
Naturally, this was enough to seize everyone's attention.
"Huh…?"
"What's happening?!"
Arthur thought he had failed.
Then something rushed toward the rope still holding the fixture.
In the next instant, the chandelier crashed to the ground.
Darkness swallowed the hall.
Shouts erupted. Arthur pressed himself into a corner, waiting.
Soon he heard blows striking flesh… and the groans of collapsing guards.
Moments later, light returned.
"Are you alright?"
Eric stood before him holding a torch. Behind him lay the bodies of fallen soldiers.
Arthur rose, removing the heavy armor. Eric handed him another torch.
"The path leads to a second level underground, sealed by an iron door. Let's search the bodies. Perhaps we'll find a key."
They began searching.
As he moved, Arthur noticed marks he had missed earlier: sword cuts carved into the wooden floor and slashes scoring the walls.
Across the hall, Eric waved his torch, studying every corner. He approached an iron pillar, tracing deep cut marks upon it.
"Zarkuan… A decade ago, this place witnessed a great massacre. Soldiers of Lumière were slaughtered without a single survivor. Later, during the early years of the Valgar Knights, a three-member unit was sent to investigate. It turned out to be a trap set by the killer. Fortunately, they survived and severely wounded him before he fled, according to their testimony.
Two returned. The third vanished without a trace — perhaps killed. The culprit was never found. It is said he died from his wounds in the forests of Lumière and was devoured by wolves.
You are standing on a battlefield."
"You speak as if you were there."
"Heh… In any case, the place remained abandoned for a long time before the government used it as a storage site. As you see, many soldiers come here to avoid duty and pass their time in leisure. And it has never been properly restored."
They searched for some time.
"Find anything?"
"…No."
Arthur glanced at Eric.
"Why don't we try—"
A sharp metallic clatter interrupted them.
Eric's expression changed.
"Wait… what is that?"
He sprinted toward the iron door, Arthur following.
Arthur arrived to find Eric standing before it, the door slightly open.
"I thought you said it was locked."
"I swear I saw it closed."
Eric approached cautiously, hand resting on his sword hilt.
He pushed the door.
Beyond it lay only a staircase descending into darkness.
"In any case, this is the path to the lower level. Let's go."
…
Eric extended his torch forward.
A narrow staircase spiraled downward.
"Can we proceed?"
"Not yet. I need to know where it leads — it's too tight."
Eric tossed the torch downward. For a brief moment they saw the spiral descending deep into darkness before the flame died.
"I don't remember it being this deep."
He turned.
"Stay behind me, Arthur. I have the advantage in the dark."
He lit another torch, and they descended slowly.
Step by step, the staircase carried them deeper.
At one step, Eric's foot struck a decayed stair. He slipped — Arthur caught him at the last instant. The torch fell into the depths.
"Arthur… there's a spare torch in my pack. Can you take it out slowly?"
"…I suppose I can."
Arthur searched through the bag. As he did, he heard something strange.
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
He handed Eric the torch. Eric lit it — and suddenly felt something wrong beneath his foot.
When he lowered the light, the stair beneath them began cracking rapidly, a sharp splintering echoing through the shaft.
Eric turned to Arthur, pale.
"Oh man…"
The steps collapsed.
They fell from a considerable height, their shouts swallowed by darkness before they slammed into the ground. Dust exploded into the air.
Silence.
Eric rose, shaken but largely unharmed.
"Arthur! … ARTHUR!!!"
"…I'm here, you idiot!"
Arthur lay beneath him like a dead squirrel; Eric had landed directly on top of him.
"Heh… are you alright, my friend?"
"Could you get off me?!"
The darkness around them was absolute.
Arthur could hear only Eric rummaging nearby — then sparks.
"…Damn."
"What? What is it?"
Eric looked at him with weary eyes.
"We're trapped at the bottom of the stairwell. The door to the lower level is above us, and there's no way back. That's what."
Waiting was not an option.
Eric pulled a small kit from his side containing medical supplies and a small bottle of fermented solution. He tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and picked up a wooden stick.
Relying purely on instinct, he crafted a source of light.
Arthur sat listening to scraping sounds and crackling sparks—
Then bright light flooded his face.
Eric held a torch.
Arthur looked upward. The torchlight reached an opening far above them — like a doorway.
"How do we get up there?"
"Follow me… I have a plan."