A cold wind howled, knifing through the night like a pack of wolves.
The crisp clatter of hooves on cobbles rang like hail, drawing close to Maple Manor’s gate, encircled by a ring of spiked barriers.
From a makeshift watchtower leaning against the wall, a palace soldier cracked his voice like a whip. “Who goes there?!”
Inside the carriage, the prince shared a glance with a guard, then lifted the curtain like a veil and leaned out.
“It’s me,” the prince said, his words short as a blade.
“Your Highness?!”
Noise stirred in Maple Manor’s courtyard like reeds shivering in wind.
The reinforced gates opened slow as an iron maw. Soldiers lined up before them like a spear wall, and servants lugged the spiked barriers aside, teeth parting to clear a road for the carriage.
The prince offered a warm greeting like a hand near a brazier. “Thank you for holding the line.”
“No, it’s our duty!”
Beside him, Lance let a quip fly like a pebble across a pond. “Not going to put on some airs?”
“Airs?”
“Yeah. If you don’t stand taller, the doubtful will circle like crows and start pecking.”
“And if they throw stones and call me arrogant, Lance Morrison, how do you answer then?”
Lance—Fulin behind the mask, voice bright as a banner—spoke as always. “Pluck the fruit of victory, and stones turn to garlands.”
The prince wore a thoughtful look, then smiled like winter sun breaking thin cloud. “As expected of the Blazing Fire Knight.”
The Feng Wolf Marquis hurried up, nerves fluttering like torn flags. “We have awaited you, Your Highness!”
But Lance hit the ground first, stepping down like a man onto a stage. “Yo~!”
The Feng Wolf Marquis stared as if he’d seen a ghost. “Mr. Lance?!”
Shock melted to joy, washing the weariness from his face like rain. “Thank heavens you’re safe!”
Word of Lance’s return sent his companions pouring out like a stirred hive.
“Boss?!” Jeremy bounced like a monkey, delight bright as lantern light.
“Yo, Blazing Fire Knight. Those inquisitors really had the nerve to let you walk?” The Mountain Wind Knight sounded curious, but his calm sat like a stone.
“Welcome back, Master.” Yuna curtsied, skirts like ripples; her eyes were lake-clear, casting a soft light that eased the room.
“What’s with you two?” Jeremy blinked, confusion buzzing like a trapped bee. “Did you already know the Boss would be fine?”
The Mountain Wind Knight patted his shoulder, easy as brushing dust. “Told you, didn’t I? We’re the Blazing Fire Knight’s mercs.”
Jeremy scratched his head, fingers raking like comb teeth. “But the ones who took him weren’t just anyone. They were Imperial inquisitors!”
“Exactly, exactly!” the Feng Wolf Marquis chimed in, voice hopping like a pebble.
Inquisitors bore the Empire’s weight like an iron seal. They had their reasons to seize Lance, but the sharpest point was simple—
To arrest the famed Blazing Fire Knight was to trumpet Imperial authority like a drum.
And with the Doran Kingdom in a season of trouble, nothing fit the Empire better than a show of force that drew blood from no vein.
So the Feng Wolf Marquis guessed aloud, hope flickering like a candle. “Did His Highness intervene?”
After all, seeing the Blazing Fire Knight return with the Second Prince made that thought bloom like frost.
“Not me,” Gio Robel said, shaking his head like a quiet bell.
Tension drew tight across the yard like a strung bow.
Given Lance’s flamboyant habits, the Feng Wolf Marquis felt the ground tilt. “Then who?”
The prince’s smile warmed like spring wind, the kind only a handsome man could wear. “Don’t worry, Marquis. A Celestial Spirit vouched for the Blazing Fire Knight.”
“A Celestial Spirit’s guarantee?!” The Marquis reeled as if the stone underfoot had shifted.
Others went taut as wire. Jeremy’s face sank like a falling sky. “Boss, what is going on, are we about to—”
“What are you imagining?” Lance’s tone was light, like tossing a cloak over a chill. He hopped onto a stone dais and struck a pose like a costumed hero. “The name of the Blazing Fire Knight— even Celestial Spirits bow!”
Silence fell, crisp and awkward as frost on glass.
Before the cold could spread, Yuna stepped forward like a lamp relit.
“As expected of Master.” She clapped, brisk and professional as a ledger stamp.
Then the Mountain Wind Knight added, voice bright as steel. “As expected of the Blazing Fire Knight. Blazing.”
“Hahaha! That’s right!” Lance’s laughter crackled like fire taking to dry wood.
He could have explained, plain as a map. Instead, he chose improvisation, a bright flare against the dark.
Awkward, yes—yet the act scattered worry like crows at dawn, leaving warm embers in their chests on this freezing night.
Watching their softened faces, Lance felt Fulin’s heart inside him brim like a filled cup.
Yes, this is right, Fulin told herself, the thought steady as a pulse.
She made a quiet vow, a seed under snow: if peace ever comes, the people beside her will wear these smiles, greeting each day like sunrise.
But not yet.
After the joyful reunion, in Maple Manor’s small chapel, Lance gathered everyone beneath pooling candlelight.
While he’d been at the Academy, his companions had moved like roots working under the soil.
“The Knight Festival draws near. Time to report your results.” At the head of the long table, Lance wore a crimson knight’s mantle, and the faces around him set like shields.
A minute passed like a held breath. Jeremy—his first retainer, once a mercenary—began, voice steady as a drum.
“Boss, here’s the overview for the Knight Festival. At least five hundred knights will enter. They’re from the Doran Kingdom’s five ducal lands. Red Mountain and Sand Bay send the most, about half.”
The prince nodded, thoughts drifting like smoke. “Same as past years.”
“Ten years ago too? Red Mountain and Sand Bay?” Lance asked, words clipped like cuts.
“Yeah.” The prince crossed his arms, then waved it off like a passing cloud. “Those two duchies are vast.”
Jeremy had more, a bundle of threads laid out like netting.
Movements of Maple City’s nobles, and odd whispers from the alleys, fluttering like moths.
It was mostly hearsay, but one barb snagged Lance’s sleeve like a thorn.
“Half a month ago, a vampire showed up in the southern quarter of Flower Street,” Jeremy said, his eyes gone strange as moonlight on water.
