I tensed at her words.
Was this hostility?
I couldn't tell—but I didn't like it.
She tilted her head slightly, studying me. Then she spoke again.
"If I contact General Izekel," she said calmly, "and state that I no longer wish for you to escort me… what will you do?"
The question landed heavy.
I met her gaze.
"Until then," I said, steady, "we will not abandon the task given to us by our general."
For a brief second, her lips curved.
Not mocking.
Not warm.
Just… measured.
"So be it," she said.
She turned and walked back into the throne room.
The doors slammed shut in our faces.
I gritted my teeth.
This was for Lionhearth, I told myself.
We endure.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Time blurred.
We stayed on guard, exhaustion creeping in, but none of us moved. To keep ourselves from rotting in silence, we talked quietly—about summer, about training, about returning to the academy once all this was over.
Normal things.
Anything to keep our minds steady.
Then the doors opened again.
Newoagan knights stepped out.
At their front was the captain.
He looked amused.
"Oh?" he said mockingly. "You're still here, brats of Lionhearth?"
My fists clenched.
I didn't respond.
He stepped closer, stopping directly in front of me.
"So," he said, smirking. "You're the leader, huh?"
I looked up at him.
And nodded.
"So what?" he continued, openly mocking me now.
The nobles inside the hall leaned forward, watching through the open doors. A spectacle.
I ignored him.
I wouldn't make things worse for Lionhearth. For my home.
Five seconds later, he crossed the line.
"The royal family of Lionhearth," he said loudly, "is a joke."
I moved.
I flipped him onto his back.
The impact echoed.
The Newoagan knights surged forward instantly.
"What do you think you're doing?!" one shouted.
I stared coldly.
"You dare mock Lionhearth?"
The ground beneath us trembled.
No—
not the ground.
The ocean.
It resonated with me. With my anger. Answering it.
I drew my blade and pointed it at the captain's neck.
"Do not speak of the royal family again," I said, voice low, controlled, "unless it is an apology."
"You can say whatever you want about me," I continued. "I am nothing more than a blade for the king."
I sheathed my sword.
"Leave," I said flatly. "Go back into the throne room and enjoy your party."
My gaze shifted—just slightly.
Toward the king on his throne.
Class 1-S broke the tension instantly.
"Woaaaah."
Liam laughed and clapped a hand on my back. "Good looking out, Sir Rain."
Kazen and Varein nodded together.
"I just did what was necessary," I said. "Let's not lose sight of our task."
Sir Aldred nodded. "Smart words."
We waited.
Minutes turned into hours.
Then the Saintess appeared again.
"Good show," she said lightly. "Apprentice knight."
I nodded. "Thank you."
"I'll be heading to my room," she added. "Where will you be sleeping?"
"Outside your door," I replied.
Everyone looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
For the first time—
She smiled.
A real one.
She chuckled softly. "Do as you wish. The holy knights will be down the hall."
I nodded. "We will fulfill our duty."
She entered her room.
Varein leaned in close. "Yo… Rain… do you, uh… like the saintess?"
Seraphyne huffed and looked away.
What was her deal?
I glanced at Varein. "No?"
It came out flat. Too flat, maybe. Because nobody bought it.
Seraphyne clicked her tongue and crossed her arms, looking away. Aelira raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Liam squinted at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't like the answer to. Kai stared at the floor. Kazen pretended not to be listening—which meant he absolutely was.
"Then why're you being all respectful and formal with her?" Varein pressed. "You don't even talk that nicely to us."
"Because," I said, "she's a diplomatic landmine wrapped in sunlight."
Silence.
Then Theon snorted.
"That… actually makes sense."
Seraphyne huffed again. Louder this time.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said quickly. Too quickly. "Just saying. You're usually more… you."
"Annoying?" I offered.
She shot me a glare. "Careful."
I shrugged and leaned back against the stone wall outside the saintess's chamber. The hallway was wide, polished marble veined with gold, torches burning with steady, enchanted light. Too clean. Too controlled. The kind of place where everything smiled while knives stayed hidden.
"We're here to guard," I said. "Not to make friends. Not to make impressions. Just to not screw this up."
Sir Aldred nodded. He looked exhausted. Sweat still clung to his collar despite the cool air.
"Rain's right," he said quietly. "Whatever game is being played here… we are not players. We are pieces. Act accordingly."
That shut everyone up.
We took positions.
Liam and Kai near the door.
Varein and Kazen farther down the hall, watching angles.
Theon and Arion rotating patrol near the stairwell.
Seraphyne leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, eyes half-lidded but sharp.
Aelira stood near me, silent, composed.
I stayed where I was—outside the saintess's door.
Time crawled.
The castle didn't sleep the way academy did. There were no loud students, no clanking armor echoing with careless confidence. Just distant footsteps. Murmured voices behind thick walls. The occasional flicker of aura as knights passed through corridors we weren't allowed in.
Every time I sensed movement, my hand drifted closer to my sword.
Nothing happened.
Which somehow made it worse.
Hours passed like that.
At some point, Arion muttered, "My legs are going to fossilize."
"Quiet," Kai said instantly.
"I whispered."
"Still."
I exhaled slowly.
The door behind me opened.
Not fully. Just enough.
I turned immediately, hand on my hilt.
Saintess Lumiel stood there, light spilling from the room behind her. She wore a simple white robe now, gold trim faint but unmistakable. No crown. No ceremonial layers. Just… presence.
Her gaze flicked to my hand.
"You're tense," she said.
"Yes," I replied.
She tilted her head. "Because of me?"
"Because of everyone else," I said honestly.
That earned a small smile.
"Still guarding the door?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You truly intend to sleep here?"
"Yes."
She studied me for a long moment. Not like earlier. Not assessing. Not distant.
Curious.
"You are very young," she said finally.
"So are you," I replied before thinking.
A beat passed.
Then—to my shock—she laughed. Soft. Genuine.
"That may be the first honest thing anyone's said to me today," she said.
I didn't respond.
She glanced past me, down the hall at the others.
"They are loyal," she said. "And nervous."
"They should be," I said. "This place doesn't feel right."
Her smile faded.
"So you feel it too."
I met her eyes.
"Yes."
She nodded once, then stepped back.
"Very well, apprentice knight. Continue your watch."
The door closed.
Softly this time.
Behind me, Seraphyne stared.
"…Did the saintess just laugh?" she whispered.
"I think so," Theon said.
Kai blinked.
"Are we… allowed to acknowledge that?"
Varein leaned closer to me again.
"Rain," he said quietly. "I'm revising my question."
I sighed.
"Don't."
Night deepened.
No attacks came. No assassins. No political explosions.
Just tension. Thick. Heavy.
Like the air was waiting for something to go wrong.
At some point, Kazen returned from the far end of the hall.
"Movement outside the castle," he murmured. "Nothing hostile. But… a lot of knights repositioning."
"Holy or Newoagan?" I asked.
"Both."
That settled badly in my gut.
Sir Aldred straightened.
"Everyone stay alert," he said. "No provoking. No reacting unless absolutely necessary."
I nodded.
Minutes later, faint footsteps approached.
A group of holy knights passed through the corridor, Apostle Zaleza among them. He paused when he saw us.
"Still here," he said, not unkindly.
"Yes," I replied.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded.
"You have discipline," he said. "That is rare at your age."
"Thank you."
He hesitated.
"Be careful," he added quietly. "Not all dangers wear hostility openly."
Then he left.
The corridor fell silent again.
Varein let out a breath.
"Okay," he said. "I officially hate diplomacy."
"Same," Arion muttered.
I leaned back against the wall once more, eyes forward.
This wasn't a battle.
There was no enemy to strike.
No monster to kill.
Just pressure.
And the quiet understanding that someone—somewhere—didn't want us here.
Which meant one thing.
We were exactly doing what we were supposed to be.