The door slammed open with a bang, ricocheting off the wall as a young woman shot out of the room like an arrow. Her short, dark hair bounced with every hurried step, her lean frame cutting a swift path through the narrow hallway. She barely registered the faded paint peeling from the walls or the squeak of her boots against the floor. Her mind was singularly focused, she had to make it to the stairs.
She was late. She didn’t know by how much, but she knew it was bad. Her pulse hammered in her throat, a harsh reminder of her mistake. A nap. What had she been thinking? She had woken before anyone else, her nerves humming with excitement for the announced meeting everyone had been expecting, only to feel her energy bleed dry when she found out it wasn’t happening for hours. She had reasoned a short nap would help her stay sharp. Now, that nap felt more like a curse, ensnaring her in a fog of groggy confusion until it was too late.
She flew down the stairs, skipping entire steps. Her feet barely touched the ground as she continued past the common room. The instinct to barrel through the front door was strong, but she forced herself to slow down just enough to open it as any sane person would, by turning the handle.
What are they going to think of me? The question drummed in her head, louder than her boots against the cobbled footpath. Arriving late to such an important meeting? They’ll all be staring at her when she walks in, every eye silently judging her. She’s the one who couldn’t even show up on time, they would think. The thought of it sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.
The faded orange walls of the building she had just exited blurred into a haze as she approached a corner. Just one more turn, and it would be a straight shot to the meeting hall.
She rounded the corner sharply, preparing to run even faster, when the sudden appearance of a man, an entire head taller than her, made her heart jump into her throat. She slammed her boots against the ground in a frantic attempt to stop, but momentum carried her forward.
“Ow!” she exclaimed as her head collided against the man's chest, the force of the impact resulting in a dull thud. Despite the collision, the man remained completely unmoved. For a brief, humiliating second, everything went still.
"Anna?" His voice carried a mix of concern and amusement. "What are you doing, running around like this? You need to be more careful."
Anna stiffened greatly, still seething in humiliation, only made worse by the now familiar voice. When she finally looked up, her hand instinctively went to her forehead, rubbing the spot where it ached. "Raid?" she murmured, her voice soft and disoriented.
"Yes? What is it?"
She blinked a few times, processing his presence. "Wh-what are you doing here? Wait… are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"No, I'm fine. I was actually coming back to get you."
"You… didn’t have to—" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Oh no! That doesn’t matter right now! The meeting! We're both late!"
Raid raised a hand to calm her down. "Relax. The meeting’s been delayed. You were asleep when we were informed, so we didn't want to wake you. Are you alright?"
Anna let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Delayed? Really?" Her voice was soft, almost to herself. "I thought I was going to be late."
"It’ll be starting soon though. That’s why I came back to find you. Come, walk with me."
Anna shot him a half-hearted glare, though the corners of her mouth tugged into a smile. "You could’ve woken me earlier."
Raid smirked. "We didn’t expect you to sleep in. You’re usually the first one up and about."
"I was…" Anna muttered, her brow furrowing as she jogged a few steps to catch up with his longer and faster strides. Her eyes swiped downward, watching his boots strike against the cobblestones. Her flicker of a smile quickly turned into a frown that only deepened as time wore on.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, noticing her mood sinking.
“Nothing…” she muttered, a hint of displeasure in her tone.
“Don’t lie to me. Out with it,” Raid pressed. “You’re bothered by something. What is it?”
She glared at him again, this time with genuine intent, her lips tightening before the words slipped out. “You!”
Raid blinked in confusion, “What the hell did I do?”
“You don't treat Lady Fable like this.”
“Like what?”
“Your walking.”
“And?”
“You slow down for her.”
“I do that?” he asked, more to himself than to her.
“You do. She walks slower than I do, but you match her step. Why don’t you slow down for me? Why don’t I get the same treatment?”
“Well, well, look at you, actually speaking up. I could barely get a word out of you three days ago.”
“Don’t dodge the question…” she sulked. “This is discrimination.”
“Discrimination? And here I thought that was the entire point of status. To differentiate who deserves better treatment. Besides, I didn’t even realize I did that, slowing down and all.”
“How do you not know?” Skipping another few steps forward to keep pace. “Can you at least slow down when I’m trying to talk to you about the issue? You walk quite fast.”
“You pay attention to this kind of thing?" He glanced at her, slowing his pace. "Do I have to mind how I sit too?”
“It’s kind of my job. I’m a scout—or was. I like to pay attention to things, it’s a core habit.”
“You could use a few more habits. Maybe one that helps you act your age. Everyone thinks you grew up in a named household, given every gift at birth.”
“You!”
“See, you can’t even swear,” he teased. “I can teach you a few insults. Make you sound more like a knight, less like a juvenile. Even Nova, a lady born well and true, knows some very obscene words that could even turn an almir to stone. If those monsters have the intelligence to understand them that is."
“It’s not like I wanted to be a knight to begin with,” she murmured.
Raid raised an eyebrow. “You were conscripted?”
“Yes,” she admitted. Her head bobbed slightly with each slow step. Then, suddenly and without warning, Anna mustered all her strength, short of using her aura, and kicked Raid in the shin.
“Fu—!!!” Raid nearly shouted, biting his lip to suppress his reaction. “Did you just fucking kick me?” he demanded, his voice edged with disbelief.
“You will not tell anyone about this, do you hear me? I di-didn’t mean to let it slip,” Anna threatened, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.
“What’s the big deal? Conscription into knighthood is normal. Everyone knows that if you have the talent, the military will drag you into service,” Raid replied, baffled.
Anna looked down, her head hanging as she spoke in a low voice. “I was bullied by my previous unit for being too passive, and it only got worse once they found out I was conscripted. So… if others know less, maybe I’ll get bullied less?” Her words were spoken with a complete lack of confidence.
"Yeah? Why do you sound so unsure? And how's that tactic working out for you? You kind of... revealed that little hidden fact yourself." Raid stared at her silently for a moment, his expression serious, before he started laughing. "You're so fucking weak. It's so pathetic it's funny.”
Anna’s face turned bright red as her emotions erupted. “Don’t make fun of me! I’ll—I'll kill you!” she stammered, hammering his shoulder in what felt like the weakest punches he had ever experienced in his life.
“I’m crying, I’m actually crying,” Raid said between fits of laughter.
A stone flew through the air, striking Raid square on the forehead with such force that his aura actually reacted.
“Aye, what the fuck! That could have killed me!”
“And I wish it had,” Nova retorted. “That’s what you get for bullying Anna. I was wondering what you were doing, taking so damn long. I expected better from you.”
“I wasn't bullying her. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”
“Yeah, sure. Just look at her face, it’s bright red,” Nova said, appalled. She walked closer and gently but firmly pulled Anna away from Raid. “Anna, stick with me. I’ve told you before, he’s a bad influence on you.”
“Oh, okay…” Anna muttered.
“You know, a small hello, or even a how are you wouldn't hurt. Not a fucking rock straight to my face would be a good start.”
“You’re beneath that. Treating you with any decency would only inflate your rampant ego. Come on, let’s get inside. The meeting is about to start and I don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”
The meeting took place in a large hall, its tall windows lined one side, their stained and von glass panes casting muted shafts of sunlight that cut through the gloom, illuminating motes of dust hanging in the still air. A sign that this hall hasn't been in use for quite some time. The space was almost entirely bare, save for a cluster of chairs huddled together at one end of the hall, while the other half remained a yawning void of emptiness.
In those chairs sat twenty-one figures, some scarred, others weathered. Most looked like veteran soldiers, dressed in various mismatched styles of leather armor. Men and women who had faced death countless times, and yet now, unarmed, they sat in a kind of restrained stillness. Every gaze was locked on a lone man who strode back and forth on the vacant side of the hall.
This man, the one who held their attention so completely, was a stark contrast to the hardened warriors before him. He was thin, almost gaunt, but his presence filled the room with an unspoken authority. His features were sharp, his eyes a piercing brown that bore into others like a hawk surveying prey. A long, thick beard framed his face, its dark color betraying streaks of silver that hinted at age. His mustache was meticulously trimmed, his hair cropped short and beginning to gray. He wore his years with a certain rigid dignity.
Yet it was his attire that drew the most attention, an almost obscene display of wealth and power. His gown was a deep velvet, so richly embroidered with silver thread that it seemed to shimmer in the faint light, the patterns swirling in intricate designs of interlocking flowers, rivers, and mountains. A cape lined with some exotic fur hung from his shoulders, while a feathered hat perched atop his head, added an air of pomp to his otherwise severe appearance. Rings adorned every finger on his left, while his right remained bare. A necklace and brooch gleamed against his chest, and even the belt at his waist was lavishly decorated with engraved buckles. In his hand, he carried a gem-studded cane that looked more ornamental than practical, yet it added to the aura of untouchable privilege that surrounded him. He was a man who belonged to another world, one of indulgence and decadence, yet here he stood, among killers and survivors.
The room seemed to hold its breath as the nobleman continued to pace, his footsteps tapping softly against the wood floor. Minutes dragged on, stretching the silence until it became almost unbearable. The soldiers didn’t fidget or whisper, they merely watched, their faces carved from stone, though there was a flicker of something deeper in their eyes. Annoyance? Or maybe irritation? For such a long stretch of pointless silence.
Finally, the nobleman halted his pacing and turned to face them. His eyes swept over the group, and in that gaze, there was the unmistakable arrogance of a man who believed himself superior in every way, save for flesh. His lip curled ever so slightly, betraying his disdain for the rough company he kept, though his expression softened briefly when his eyes fell upon one particular figure in the group.
“Is everyone present?” His voice was cold, clipped, and demanding.
Silence, as no one even bothered to answer.
The nobleman’s brow furrowed, his patience thinning. He squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and repeated the question with a voice that brooked no further delay.
“Is everyone present?” he asked again, this time each word were harsher, his lack of patience more obvious.
All eyes turned to Nova, who sat near the front of the group of farriders. Her calm demeanor belied some of the tension in the air, unbothered by expectation. “Yes,” she answered, speaking for the entire group.
The nobleman nodded gently, satisfied with the response. “Good,” he said with a smile. Everyone collectively and internally breathed a sigh of relief. Those in the meeting had been warned about this particular nobleman. It had already been agreed that, when possible, Nova should be the primary responder to any questions that might arise. Having a noble answer a noble's question was deemed the most sound choice.
“Some of you might already know me, but for those who don’t, I am Paul Rose Kenneth,” he began, his tone dripping with condescension. “I’ve been appointed by the Ministry of Internal Affairs to oversee this operation, of which I am, blissfully, a member.” His speech was delivered with a self-important air, his gaze cold and unyielding as he faced the knights, men reputed to be monsters in human form, demonstrated his belief in his own superiority.
Kenneth, a true noble who saw few as his equal. Who only bowed to those wielding greater power, not out of respect but due to the influence they commanded, waiting like cannibalistic snakes, until he too could devour those greater than him. Known for his open disdain and cruelty toward the low-born, Lord Kenneth's reputation was marked by more than a few unjustified murders, driven by motives that could only be described as petty.
Many of the farriers did well to conceal their hostility and contempt for him. Given that such an openly criminal man stood before them. At least other nobles who engaged in similar behavior concealed their actions and feigned ignorance. A knight’s code of honor, their ethics, and the guiding principles they swore to uphold at their coronation fundamentally conflicted with such an undignified man.
Everything about him also seemed to align with Raid's view of the bureaucrats in Internal Affairs, arrogant, difficult to work with, greedy, and selfish, yet easy to manage if one merely complied and did nothing else. It was already known that the Ministry of Internal Affairs was a cesspit of greed, even among the common-born. The fact that the place even gained such a reputation, despite the way nobles operated and are treated by the masses, signaled how insufferable that environment might be to anyone of decent standing, or low status.
"Listen carefully. I will state this once, and only once. This operation is named Snowset Shard. Its objective is the suppression of an oathbreaker known as Annette Henrietta, who has recently infiltrated Rose territory."
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The room immediately tensed once again, this time in open hostility, with most of them unable to hide their grim expressions as they reacted to Lord Kenneth’s announcement.
Oathbreaker. In the Sundahelm, there are few crimes so universally despised and condemned as those that breach the sacred oaths. Even violations of basic ethical codes may be overlooked or met with lighter punishment, depending on their severity, the reasons behind them, and the influence protecting the offender. For instance, a state might shield a valuable individual for its own gain. In addition, if protection is absent, one might find a chance at redemption by fleeing to a distant clan. The Sundahelm is a land of many clans, each with its unique customs and rules. Yet, they all share a common culture, with its laws being absolute and unbreakable wherever one may travel.
One of the most revered traditions is the oath system, where swearing an oath binds an individual’s life to a set of prime principles upheld by the Kin’s people. Each oath embodies a specific value or a collection of them. An Oath Sworn becomes the living symbol of their culture, having willingly shackled part of themselves to honor their commitment, demonstrating that the oath is valued above their own life. It signifies that principle eclipses personal desire.
To break such an oath is to commit a crime of the highest order, considered nothing short of pure heresy, even in an era where belief in the Old Gods has faded. This belief, in the Oath Sworn, also a product from that era, did not. Kin’s people are raised to identify intensely with their clan, reflected in their shared clan names. They are also taught to embrace their culture with even greater fervor, a bond that has preserved their collective identity despite the clan divisions within the Sundahelm. This deep connection is why Kin’s people are rarely found outside the Sundahelm. To them, the Sundahelm, where all clans reside, is their entire world, even though they are aware of a broader world beyond their borders.
Being Oath Sworn is a mark of profound respect and authority. It bestows upon an individual a potent blend of social power and inspiration, elevating them in the eyes of all who witness their presence. But the opposite is equally true. To be an Oathbreaker, from the perspective of Kin's people, is to be cast out, loathed, and forsaken. The quality of the person, whether noble or otherwise, matters little by that stage. The reasons behind their broken oath, whether born from dire necessity, misguided choice, or even to save the lives of thousands, are irrelevant. What matters is the breach of principle. An Oathbreaker is to be scorned without exception. They must be loathed.
Such individuals become outcasts, condemned to a life of ceaseless wandering. They are viewed as blights upon existence, a waste of breath and a direct affront to the sacred identity of their community. In some clans, their mere presence is considered so tainted that they are avoided rather than killed, to prevent their blood from tainting weapons with a stain that cannot be removed. In others, the sight of an Oathbreaker is met with immediate violence; they are hunted and their bodies displayed as a grim testament to the sin of their very existence.
But oaths are hard to swear, and not always voluntary. It requires the presence of authoritative witnesses, state approval, and formal documentation. Depending on the origins of the oath, some may require extensive preparation, while others can be sworn immediately. It is an old tradition, and many oaths have emerged throughout history, each with its own procedure. Despite the potential for enhanced prestige and influence, the inherent risks and surrender of personal freedom often deter many from participating. Thus, the ranks of the Oath Sworn remain thin, and Oathbreakers only more so. Few Oathbreakers have ever existed, but all have been recorded in some form. When one does appear in the world, the full hatred of an entire culture bears down on them like a raging blizzard.
Raid’s lips curled into a faint smile, amusement mingled with a touch of sadness. Anyone familiar with that name could easily discern its intent. Who had given her that alias? All Oathbreakers lose the right to their birth name and are assigned an alias by their clan of origin. This name seemed a bit extreme, even for an Oathbreaker. Annette Henrietta, was clearly a bastardized variant of Annet Hendania, an old god. The Kin's people's reverence for the Old Gods had waned to the point where the names and histories of many had been completely forgotten.
Yet, one name still lingers in the minds of many today. Annet Hendania, with Hendrania and Hendadraga used elsewhere in the Sundahelm respectively, used to represent something else entirely, but is now recognized as the symbol of sin. Her memory is not preserved out of respect but out of spite. Parts of her records were lost, but the final fragmented annals of her journey led to the creation of the Almir, considered by the Kin's people to be the worst abomination ever to exist.
The entry of the Almirs into the world was caused by Hendania's choice to die on top of the world, the furthest north one can possibly go. Where the environment complemented her frozen heart, whether this was true or not did not matter. And the story behind her cause of death was either never recorded or kept hidden. From that point on, Hendania earned the undying hatred of everyone in the Sundahelm, regardless of whether she ever truly existed. Her followers were forced into hiding during the era when the Old Gods still held influence and were sometimes exterminated in some areas.
In the old folk tales of villages that still cling to ancient traditions, it is said that the Fair Maid, the current symbol of death, was born from the accumulation of Hendania's sins. Raid wasn’t sure what was worse, becoming an Oathbreaker or being named after the symbol of sin, a god so reviled that even after religion had died out within a culture, their name endures. The fact that she had both made even Raid, who supported her extermination, pity her existence, an existence he usually felt no remorse for.
Raid held a deep respect for the humanity inherent in all individuals, even the countless nameless enemies he had faced. Yet he too, had adopted a harsh ideology often termed culture, considered Oathbreakers less than human, a bias developed over many years of assimilation.
Lord Kenneth allowed a brief silence to settle over the room. It seemed he had finally captured their full, focused, and undivided attention on the topic at hand. “This oathbreaker,” he began, his voice cold and precise, “is a female from the clan of Midfrost. Its exact age is unknown, though it is speculated to be in its mid to late twenties. We do know the oath that it swore and shattered, the Second Oath, the Final. The Midfrost claim this heresy was born from criminality, and thus, they imposed the Final Oath as punishment. Yet, it broke the sacred bond soon after. It seems that this thing did not deserve kindness through redemption, for it not only committed crimes so great that the Final was deemed sufficient, but it went even further into heresy and became an oathbreaker. There’s no need to delve further into its past. Its birth name, its family, or if it ever had one to begin with, none of that is of consequence. What matters now is how we kill it.”
Thomas, a farrider and the leader of Team One, leaned subtly toward Nova, whispering something meant only for her ears. Nova, nodded in understanding and raised her hand, a motion that caught Kenneth’s eye. With a simple gesture, he granted her the hall.
“What is the oathbreaker doing here, so far south?” Nova asked, her voice steady and clear. "Midfrost lies in the far northeast, bordering the sea and the Almir territories. It shouldn’t be anywhere near here without cause.”
Kenneth’s gaze shifted, shadows flickering in his eyes as he pondered the question. “I wish I had an answer for you, Lady Fable. But we simply don’t know. Records on it are scarce, and the Midfrost guard their shame closely. Its existence is a blight they’d rather erase than discuss.”
“Then what of its abilities? How is it still alive?” Nova continued, this time asking her own question. "Surely other clans would have tried to end it as it journeyed south. It can’t have simply slipped through their territories unnoticed.”
Kenneth surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping over the gathered faces, met only by a sea of inhuman eyes, their stare cold and unblinking. "Has anyone heard of this oathbreaker?" he asked, deciding to answer Nova's question in a more aroundabout way.
He sighed, realizing that his question was met with the silence of ignorance. “I suppose it’s not surprising,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of grim understanding. “Henrietta has spent most of its existence up north, roaming the region. This is the first time it has ventured south. Now I wonder if you're aware of this fact, that the northern clans tend to resolve issues more violently. Given their close dealings with the almirs, it’s understandable they’ve developed such a habit."
Kenneth stepped closer to the group, his presence demanding even greater attention, determined to ensure the farriders understood his next words clearly. Raising his voice slightly, Kenneth spoke with the authority of someone who, while not a politician, had mastered the art of persuasion through years of bureaucratic maneuvering and noble diplomacy. He spoke with an urgency that left no room for misinterpretation. Failure was not an option. With the exception of one, It did not matter if the rest had to die just to claim this oathbreaker. The repercussions of a botched mission would ripple through his career and tarnish the reputation he had meticulously built. He would not allow that. There was too much to gain from this.
“As you’ve likely guessed, considering your presence here, this oathbreaker is an aura user, a farrider, and incredibly lethal, capable of taking on multiple knights alone. Northern clans have made numerous attempts to deal with it, starting with regulars who were unaware of its status as a farrider, followed by knights. It has survived them all, accumulating a significant kill count over the years. In fact, it crippled the Cala’s western knight force on its way down here. However, it’s worth noting that the Cala’s knights are embarrassingly subpar for a clan of their stature. Fear not, the oathbreaker’s abilities are not beyond our capacity. We’re not the Cala, but the Rose,” clenching his fist as he spoke, “one of the finest knight forces in the Sundahelm.”
Kenneth’s voice took on a more somber tone as he shifted to the crucial details. “Henrietta is of the mystic class,” he said, as the crowd's faces grew more tense. “Unfortunately, we have scant information on its mystic abilities due to the few survivors who’ve encountered it. What we do know is contradictory.” He paused, carefully choosing his next words. “Reports vary. Some describe its mystic power as white spears poised high in the sky, descending with devastating force upon command. Others insist it has no ranged or mystic abilities at all, relying solely on its sheer strength and prowess in close combat, primarily with its fists.”
The crowd’s murmurs grew as confusion spread. While artforms did not always follow knight classifications, many of them did not stray far from it. Mystics were exclusively a ranged class, much like a slingshot. While they were perfectly capable of fighting in close quarters, it was not their primary strength, often only used for self-defense. If this oathbreaker demonstrated such exceptional skill in the melee, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to classify it as a striker rather than a mystic? Or perhaps the artform the oathbreaker possesses does not match any of the classifications? Something like a class-hybrid? Thomas leaned toward Nova once more, whispering his confusion, just as Kenneth, evidently prepared for such a question, began to speak.
“The classification of this oathbreaker as a mystic is due to its undeniable ranged capabilities. Numerous clans have weighed in on this matter, and many have attempted to hunt it. The consistent reports of these white spears are too numerous to dismiss as mere myth. A mystic can be formidable in close combat, but a striker would never be proficient with a bow. This classification serves as a precaution. Despite its abhorrent nature, such things should not be given high titles, but what can we do? Its existence, while not worth our attention, demands it. We must not underestimate it due to its lowly status. Our only recourse is to verify its nature with our own eyes when we encounter it.”
Understanding dawned on a few faces in the crowd, while others remained impassive. A hand suddenly raised itself, and contrary to everyone’s expectations, it was not Nova but Oscar, the leader of Team Two, who had also purposely been seated next to Nova in case questions arose. A precaution, it seemed, that Oscar chose not to adhere to. Everyone except the two nobles present shot him icy death stares, but the stubborn fool persisted with his hand raised. Kenneth, in a lenient mood, motioned for Oscar to speak.
"What about her journey south?" Oscar asked, his voice sharp and grating. "From what you've mentioned about the Cala, it seems that clans have attempted to stop her along the way. Yet she has entered our lands. Why is she here? What is her purpose?"
Kenneth’s face darkened, clearly irritated by Oscar’s casual tone and his referring to the oathbreaker as a she rather than it. “Its purpose,” Kenneth said with deliberate emphasis, “as I have answered, remains unclear. And to clarify, its journey south has encountered relatively few obstacles. It has built quite a reputation in the north, with various reports from the northern clans documenting their failures. Apart from the Cala and Pelgid, the clans it passed either avoided confrontation or chose not to act. The thing has also been careful to avoid heavily populated areas, favoring dense forests and rugged mountains whenever possible. Some independent groups have tried to confront it, but as it’s still alive, they clearly failed. Nonetheless, its movements have been closely monitored.
"If the wretched thing had chosen to forgo such caution and marched through every city, then we might have heard tales of an oathbreaker fighting its way south, razing city after city. The last known sighting of it was on the southern border of the Indis, entering the Snowset Mountains, heading toward the Rose, our heartland. Unlike the others, we will stop it. it will die at our border. Currently, Henrietta is assumed to still be somewhere within the mountain range but on our side of the border. Eventually, it will have to enter the vast Oxvein Forest at the base of the mountains before it can reach Rose proper. That forest will be where it stays. We will be the ones to end its existence. Such an achievement is not to be taken lightly. We can claim to have eradicated this blight where so many other clans have failed.”
Nova observed with growing suspicion, her gaze fixated on Lord Kenneth's mannerisms and exaggerated gestures. His actions seemed increasingly suspect. The Ministry of Internal Affairs was involved, Kenneth had assumed a prominent leadership role rather than the usual low-level bureaucrat in case of failure, and the Knights Headquarters of Northern Operations was being utilized, even though the matter lay within Rose borders. The allocation of military personnel, their forced transfer, and the layers of secrecy involved were alarming. The absence of military observers and jurisdiction hinted at hidden motives. It felt like they were treating this as a public service rather than a military operation. Ambition was written all over this charade.
In the midst of the ongoing war with the Imperials, Nova questioned whether it was prudent to divert precious military resources to deal with an oathbreaker. Such an action might have been justifiable in peacetime, but the Rose was in no position to spare its knights. Who wielded enough power to authorize such a wasteful and perplexing operation? And why?
What could the Ministry hope to gain from killing an oathbreaker? They rarely overreach their authority without a clear benefit. Popularity? No, that's not important to them, they should have the power to crush any dissent. Reputation? Possible. Unless… it’s a play for power? Perhaps the Ministry had chosen a side, or someone had given them direct orders. It made sense to Nova, but certainty eluded her. Did Lord Kenneth know the true reason behind this operation?
Eliminating an oathbreaker of such stature would undeniably confer significant influence and prestige upon whoever orchestrated it. But was that sufficient justification? And if they failed, as others had before, the consequences could be catastrophic. It would explain the secrecy, announcing victory only when the task is accomplished and hiding the failure if it occurs.
Nova’s face scrunched up, lost in thought. The only entities she could conclude had the clout to command such an operation at this juncture would be the grand family. They were the most likely culprits, certainly the easiest to accuse. The War of Ascension continued to smolder among the ruling family members, even if it had been formally suspended due to the war.
The candidates for the highelder position within the Esmen family all possessed notable qualities and robust support. Eliminating an oathbreaker would be one of the few notable achievements available to only one of them. She had heard rumors about how intense the competition was. Unless the previous heir miraculously returned from the dead, the current candidates were evenly matched.
In such a high-stakes contest, it was plausible that candidates would seek any advantage, even if it meant reaching out by unconventional means. The government, after all, is run by nobles, and their internal politics and motives inevitably seeped into broader society. But was she right? Or was this just Nova’s desperate attempt to find meaning in an action that might have none? Perhaps her deductions were flawed. But all this wouldn’t make sense otherwise. Given the approach, only the military typically handled this kind of issue, and in the current circumstances, the oathbreaker’s appearance would be overlooked due to the larger concern that is the war.
Historically, the Rose Clan did not go out of its way to eliminate every cultural criminal, especially someone as troublesome as this one. Unless the oathbreaker was actively causing trouble, which seemed unlikely if it was avoiding populated areas. The Rose was known for its leniency towards sinners, typically opting for outcasting or exile unless killing them was relatively easy. Eliminating her required too many resources, knights were not cheap and, at this moment, irreplaceable. This meeting had only left her with more questions than answers so far.
"The descriptions of Henrietta’s appearance,” Kenneth continued, “are rather plain, not much to note. It’s short, somewhere between 150 to 160 centimeters tall, with very light brown hair and pale blue eyes. Skinny, almost to the point of frailty. Some even describe it as painfully thin. But what truly stands out is the constant presence of bandages wrapped around any exposed parts of its body, save for the face. The reason for this? We don’t know. But it certainly makes it easier for us to identify the oathbreaker, and in the end, that’s all that matters."
He paused, letting his words settle in the air like dust. "And that’s all I have to say about this oathbreaker. Are there any further questions before I deliver the final conclusion of this meeting?"
No one answered, nor moved. They all just stared blankly at him, sending the undeniable message that all curiosities had indeed been satisfied. Kenneth gave Nova some particular attention for a short moment, in case the lady had anything to add. But she remained silent, offering nothing.
With a sharp tap of his cane against the wooden floor, Kenneth broke the silence. “All teams will return to your quarters and commence preparations. We depart at 17:00 sharp this afternoon. Ensure nothing is left behind. There will be another briefing in approximately two hours, led by my aide, Mueller Rose Kenneth, who will take command of the operation from there. I will stay here in Astra, awaiting the news of your success with great anticipation. Mueller will provide further details regarding logistics and destination. That is all. May fate guide you all.”
Kenneth turned, his body shifting toward the grand doors at the end of the hall. As he made his way to the exit, the weight of his authority hung in the air, pressing down on those left behind. Only when the heavy doors closed behind him did the tension break. The room erupted into a flurry of whispers and hurried conversations, like a flock of birds suddenly freed from the shadow of a hawk. The topic on everyone’s lips was the same, the oathbreaker and the upcoming mission, each team eager to dissect the details and speculate on what lay ahead.
Oscar, the fool who spoke out of turn, was already under verbal assault from his team. With Nova remaining seated nearby the rowdy group, deep in thought, recalling the details of the oathbreaker. She wondered if this Henrietta was truly as dangerous as they claimed. A light touch on her left shoulder jolted Nova out of her trance. She glanced up to find Claire standing over her.
“Care to join us?” Claire asked, her tone light as she gestured behind her.
Nova followed the motion, her gaze landing on their team gathered at the far end of the hall, engaged in a heated discussion of some sort. Anna and Charlie were watching silently, while Raid laughed uncontrollably. Owen looked annoyed, clearly trying to speak, but Michael was talking over him.
“So, this is what all the secrecy was about? An oathbreaker?” Claire remarked with a faint smile. “I still don’t see the reason for all the caution. Why are they trying to hide this? If we announce we’re hunting an oathbreaker, wouldn’t that be seen as a good thing?”
“Perhaps it’s better to announce it once the hunt is over, with good game,” Nova replied.
“Why is that?”
“Well, for one, we’re in the middle of a losing war. I don’t think many would appreciate what might seem like a frivolous use of knights, or farriders I am meant to say. And second, if the words are true, many others have failed. It would be embarrassing.”
“Sounds plausible, but... I don’t know. This just doesn’t feel right.”
“I’m just speculating. Now, shall we join our little team and see what they’re talking about? Look, Raid is laughing so hard he’s practically rolling on the floor.”
“Lead the way, Lady Fable,” Claire nodded. “But help me keep Michael in check if he gets out of hand. I’d rather not start cussing in front of this crowd.”