“Sadly, that’s the Midway Port’s reality,” Malte said, his words dropping like wet netting.

Lance listened in silence, his gaze drifting to the window like a lone gull.

The harbor lay flat as a held breath, freighters gliding in and out with clockwork grace.

He couldn’t picture it, this still water about to boil, this calm pier turning into a field of fire.

“Is that so…” The mood sank, yet a small warmth flickered; his eyes came back, then fell to the floor like rain.

Seeing his gloom linger, Malte softened. “Don’t worry. I’ve sent for the Imperial legions on the mountain line. The city’s full of safe hideouts. When it starts, you and those Celestial Spirits just stay underground.”

Lance stared at him, surprise like a spark. Then confusion. “You don’t want me on the battlefield?”

“I don’t want you dragged into this war,” Malte said, turning to the window, watching waves that seemed ready to break.

“Why?” Lance asked, baffled, even though not fighting should be a blessing.

“Though I’m the Iron Duke’s Steelheart Knight, commander of the Golden Eagle Legion, a key hand in the United Legion…” His voice rang like old iron, then softened. “I’m also your father.”

“Is that so…”

“I’m sorry about your mother. Sorry about your brother. There were things I should’ve faced myself, but I delayed, I hid behind armor.”

Lance didn’t know what to say, and he couldn’t follow every word. Even so, he listened, to a middle-aged man confessing to his son like incense curling in a quiet shrine.

“But I’m grateful too.” The tired glaze in Malte’s eyes cleared, a spark catching. “You didn’t die young or fall astray. You weathered blows and grew, you were tempered and you endured—”

“Now you’ve become the Blazing Fire Knight, a name you can shout to the sky in any crowd. More important—”

“You’ve lived to now in health!” Joy rang from him like sunlight on water, bright and simple.

“Is that so…” The love was so deep it ached; Lance bowed his head, guilt gathering like shadow.

“Head up. You’re my child, blood of a Steelheart Knight. I’m proud of you. You should feel the blessing too.”

Lance raised his head, slow and heavy, and looked at Malte.

He saw light in the man’s eyes, hope like a lit lantern, joy brightening his face.

“Of course. I’m the Blazing Fire Knight!” He slipped, as always, into the hero’s act, cloak of bravado snapping in a wind only he felt. The gloom blew clean, even if it was only performance.

“Hahaha! That’s it—that’s exactly it!” Malte’s laughter rolled like a warm drum.

“Right,” Malte said mid-laugh, remembering something. He opened a drawer, took out a pocket watch, and brought it to Lance.

He flipped it open and tapped the inside lid, where a tiny portrait of an unfamiliar woman rested like a faded blossom.

Though the painting was blurred, Malte lit up, pointing with the eagerness of a much younger man, eyebrows flying like swallows.

“This is your mother. Look how gentle, how beautiful. Ah! I chased her so hard back then… If the Duke hadn’t sealed the marriage himself, I might never have won her.”

Halfway through, his face sagged, age and remorse settling like dusk.

“So I regret it… I married her, yet I didn’t give her happiness. She suffered. I didn’t bring her smiles. But you’re different, Lance.”

“Me?”

“She was gone by the time you could truly remember, but while she lived, she’d watch you, and then that radiant smile would bloom. I’ll never forget it—so beautiful, so full of peace.”

“Is that so…”

“I didn’t understand then. I didn’t get it. I was even jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. I was the husband; you were just my child. Why wouldn’t she show me that smile? I burned with it, but I didn’t dare complain.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize—because I understand now.”

Malte set his hand on Lance’s shoulder, a steady weight like a shield.

Then, solemnly, he placed the pocket watch in Lance’s palm.

“Lance, live in health. It was your mother’s last wish. It’s my wish now.”

“That’s all you ask?” Lance said, puzzled, like mist on still water.

Malte glanced at the window, worry clouding him, and sighed. “Nordland won’t know peace. So even if you must be a base, cowardly knight, whatever it takes—”

“As long as you can live safe and quiet, as long as you live in health, my wish is complete.”

Lance lifted his eyes from the portrait to Malte.

He held that gaze for a long breath, like watching the horizon.

“I will,” he said, and the promise settled like a seal.

The sea off Valtan lay very calm. After they finished, Lance left the manor and walked alone along streets built to watch the still water.

“Master.” Worried by how long he’d been summoned, Yuna hadn’t waited as agreed. She came to find him, a small flame in the breeze.

“Yuna, didn’t I tell you not to come out?” His words struck like a stern tap.

“Forgive me.” Yuna bowed her apology, voice quiet as silk.

He frowned, the ripple brief, then let it pass. Eyes still on the calm sea, he walked and shifted the talk.

“With no one leading you, how’d you find me?”

“I’ve been to this city before,” Yuna said, closing her eyes to sift memories like shells.

“You have?”

She didn’t answer at once. A soft wind rose from the flat sea and lifted the tips of her hair.

“I told you my father was a diplomat, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“He served as a diplomat here.”

“Here in Valtan, the Midway Port?”

“Mm. There are direct routes to the Kingdom. The Republic’s capital is close. The United Legion keeps order, so it’s safe, but…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Lance said gently, placing a palm over the bruise of memory.

Yuna shook her head, then with slender fingers wiped the shine from the corner of her eye like dew.

“But to me, this place still holds a chest of bright memories.” As they walked, she named little joys from childhood, pebbles shining in the sun. “That ballad too—I learned it here~”

“The one that brings peace to the world if everyone sings it?”

“Mm…” She dipped her head, shy over a thought so naive and clean.

“Yuna, don’t be ashamed. It’s a beautiful thought.” Lance spoke as he opened the pocket watch, eyes resting on the blurred portrait inside the lid like a prayer.

“You think so too, Master?” Yuna blinked, surprised. He’d been cold-blooded of late, and surprise fluttered like a sparrow.

Lance didn’t answer. He closed the lid with a soft click, looked at the calm sea, then at the sky washed gray-yellow.

“Come on. Back to the inn. Plans changed. I need to talk to everyone.”

“Understood.”

They hurried back, footsteps quick as rain. The times were tense; the inn was almost empty, hollow as a shell.

The Golden Eagle Legion, managing the city for now, had generously given the entire place to Lance’s group.

When they heard he’d returned, everyone gathered like birds to a branch.

Facing their worry, Lance spoke plain. “The Shadowspirit Legion will hit here soon.”

“What?!” Panic burst like a flock taking off.

It wasn’t public yet, so their shock didn’t surprise him.

He soothed them, especially the Celestial Spirits. “Don’t worry. When it breaks, you just hide. The Imperial Knights are on the way. When it’s over, you can hitch a ride—take the Imperial airship back home.”

The Celestial Spirits clapped, relief spreading like warm tea.

Among them, Veilrit asked, uneasy as a small deer, “And you, Blazing Fire Knight? What will you do?”

Crick chuckled. “What do you think, kid? To protect you, the Blazing Fire Knight will hide with everyone, of course.”

Veilrit heard him, thought it through, and calmed, like ripples settling.

But Lance’s next words drove her heart to her throat.

“I’m joining the fight. I’m going to guard this city,” he said, resolve ringing like drawn steel.

“Why?!” Veilrit’s voice wavered, nearly breaking into a sob.

“Because…” He faltered. Then the clouds parted in his face. He hopped onto a table, flicked his cloak, and slipped into the hero he wore like armor. “Because I’m the Blazing Fire Knight!”