Ailn wanted to see the northern wall.

Once they’d returned to the castle from Ailn’s cottage, they checked out the four main gates. They hoped close investigation would shed light on how the shadow beasts managed to find their way in.

Instead, they were treated to a classic case of the right hand blaming it on the left—and if it wasn’t the left hand then it must have been one of the feet. The knights at each gate all had strong opinions on how the other gates were managed.

No one had a good opinion of anyone except themselves, and their mutual accusations of careless drinking, falling asleep on the job, or even simple cowardice left a poor taste in Kylian’s mouth.

Now, the two of them were on horseback, headed toward the nearest part of the northern wall. After failing to get anything useful out of the gatekeepers, Ailn asked to visit the stables, whereupon he made his request to visit the north wall.

“Visiting the wall now of all times seems a bit.. eccentric, Your Grace,” Kylian said.

The duration of the visit wasn’t actually an issue. They were headed toward the nearest part of the wall, just a few kilometers away from Varant and less than an hour’s ride.

It was also the section of the northern wall that was furthest away from the miasma that spawned the shadow beasts. That meant it was the safest part of the wall. But Kylian still felt uncomfortable.

They’d left the holy barrier, after all. And while Ailn was weak in holy aura before, apparently now he couldn’t manifest it at all. It felt like they were tempting fate.

“I’m just trying to get a handle on who I am, Kylian,” Ailn said. “I figured if I got a look at this wall that people think I’m a coward for not defending, I might understand myself a little better. See myself through their eyes.”

For Ailn, this was mostly a literal statement. It was an act of empathy that was part and parcel of a proper investigation.

But to Kylian, it seemed to be an expression of hurt, perhaps even self-loathing. However stoic Ailn seemed, and however much he took his negative emotions and used them to better himself, there was no doubt that seeing the cottage he’d essentially been banished to stirred something painful in him.

“So, who sent me to live in that hut in the first place? My dad?” Ailn asked.

“Saintess Celine, most likely,” Kylian said. “If she didn’t wish it, then it would never have happened. After her death, Sigurd’s influence would’ve prevented your return to the castle. Though I don’t believe you wished for it, at any rate.”

“...And no one finds this harsh?”

“Duty is important in the duchy.”

“Then what about Ennieux?”

“She lived without reproach under the auspices of your grandfather, the late Duke Aaron. Saintess Celine continued to respect that after his death, and it’s continued till now.”

“Grandfathered in, huh? Well, good for her,” Ailn said. Then, seeing the wall come into view up in the distance, he gave an impressed whistle.

The section of wall nearest Varant was sensibly made into its most elaborate watchtower. As its fortifications were reinforced over time, as well as its amenities for rest, recuperation, and strategic discussion, the watchtower became something closer to a citadel.

Ailn gently pulled on the reins of his horse. They’d arrived.

There were over a hundred knights around—probably as many as Ailn had seen his entire time at the castle. Given that this was the safest part of the wall, most were milling about, presumably resting before they took on more serious duties.

A few knights were cutting out roots on the inner part of the wall.

The largest single group of knights inspected a caravan to be sent out to one of the settlements along the wall. Besides being the center of fortifications, the citadel was the central resupply hub.

The majority of knights, however, were mounting horses and checking their personal provisions, ready to head out to the next watchtower as part of their patrol.

“There’s a constant rotation of knights that patrols from one tower to the next, till they reach the end and round back to the citadel,” Kylian said. “Ideally we’d have enough knights to have eyes on the entire length of the wall at once, but even being able to receive the divine blessing is rare.”

Ailn glanced in both directions.

Twenty high in most parts, the granite wall stretched on past the vanishing points in each direction. The citadel rose to about forty-five feet—a box with slitted observation windows all around it. Tying their horses to some picket lines, they proceeded up the steep steps of the citadel.

The inside was functional; just a passing space to the ramparts, really. The brick corridors would occasionally open up in arches, with stairs to go up or down to different levels of the citadel. Ailn guessed the lower floors housed a small barracks, and armory.

More than a few knights gave him a peculiar look as he passed by, but he paid them no mind.

The ramparts themselves lacked battlements, surprisingly—then again, it didn’t make much sense to have them if they weren’t fighting the shadow beasts with bows. Presumably orichalcum was too expensive to use in an arrow, hence the straightforward chest high barriers.

“I doubt you’ll see an actual shadow beast today.” Kylian trudged up the stairs and gestured through the observation windows, towards the mountains in the distance. “But you can see the miasma that’s taken the lands up north.”

“Almost looks like a thunderstorm,” Ailn said, peering out.

He’d expected to see something more like fog or mist, but the dark clouds that huddled around the mountains were thick. Unlike a storm, though, they descended all the way to the mountain’s base, and even stretched onto the plains approaching.

“How do shadow beasts form, anyway?” Ailn asked.

“...We don’t know, truthfully. Because it’s such a suicidal task to enter the miasma itself, no one has ever observed the birth of a shadow beast,” Kylian said. “And because they disintegrate upon death, we’ve never managed to meaningfully examine them, either.”

“No one’s ever seen one born, huh?” Ailn muttered to himself. Then he peered down the wall. “With a wall this tall, is there really that much worry of them getting through?”

“Shadow beasts come in many forms. Some can scale these walls, and a few can even leap its height,” Kylian said. “I’ve read reports of shadow beasts that smashed through the wall, and I’ve seen for myself some that slithered through its cracks.”

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“That’s… a lot of things to watch out for.”

“The Azure Knights must always be vigilant, yes.”

Ailn looked all around.

“You weren’t kidding about bringing knights to the wall young,” Ailn said. Looking back, he caught sight of the patrol that had just left, noticing a nervous teenaged knight riding in the middle of the pack.

“That’s just the way of this duchy. She’ll ease up when she’s had her first few kills,” Kylian’s face darkened. “Hopefully.”

Kylian squinted, seeing who else was riding with her. “There are good men there, like Sir Ivan. She’ll be alright.”

He had a look of guilt on his face. Perhaps he was thinking he should be out here too, fighting shadow beasts, rather than performing his relatively safer duties as a peacekeeper.

“Do you miss protecting the northern wall?” Ailn asked.

“Certainly not. No one would,” Kylian said.

“And yet you don’t look too happy watching them ride off,” Ailn gave Kylian a sideways glance. “What made you decide to become a peacekeeper?”

Kylian’s gaze met Ailn’s for a moment, before he looked back towards the mountains covered in miasma. He had the distant look of memory in his eyes.

“It was when the duchy was attacked. The same attack that killed your mother, Your Grace. Are you sure you want to hear this story from me?” Kylian asked.

“If you’re willing to tell it.”

“Seven years ago marked the twentieth year of your mother’s rule of the duchy. There was to be a commemoration event at the capital, where she was to be honored not only as Saintess Celine, but as Duchess eum-Creid.” Kylian paused. “On their way to the capital, the carriage which carried your mother and sister was ambushed. And… your mother was killed.”

Kylian still remembered the proclamation vividly: ‘The Saintess Celine is dead.’

The knights had learned of her death first, but the shocked whispers and despairing mood had traveled nearly as fast as the herald’s missive.

No one could believe it. Least of all the knights. To them, Celine was invincible. They had all seen their Saintess’s holy aura crash upon shadow beasts like thunder. They had seen their fellow knights regrow leg and arm, and knew she’d been surrounded by at least a small cadre of knights. It seemed impossible that mere bandits could have killed her.

But of course, they weren’t truly bandits.

Kylian shifted uneasily, continuing: “Whoever attacked had disguised themselves as bandits. It was clear they had intended to erase the eum-Creid lineage.”

The proclamation, however, did not end with declaring Celine’s death. The most terrible day in the duchy had still carried within it a glimmer of hope.

‘Lady Renea still lives.’

Renea had survived. And with her hope. Though their sorrow was great, the common people’s sincere belief was that even this dark day would in time reveal itself merely as a long shadow—one that was cast by the bright light ahead.

But… questions had arisen. With the knights most pointedly, but even with the laymen.

“My mother was killed, but not my sister?” Ailn asked puzzled.

“Your mother had apparently died protecting Lady Renea to her last breath. When we arrived she had—she’d just expired from blood loss,” Kylian said.

“A Saintess can’t heal themselves?” Ailn asked.

“It’s the Saintess’s one weakness,” Kylian said. “That’s why she’s meant to be shadowed perpetually by her successor. Her successor, once able to heal, is given the task of protecting the Saintess herself.”

Ailn was getting worryingly close to a topic that many in the Order had pondered themselves.

In many ways it was built into the institution of the Saintess itself. Mother would protect daughter, while the daughter learned to protect. Renea had known the battlefield from a tender age. By the time of Celine’s death, she had a prodigious command of her holy aura.

And yet, Renea had been by Celine’s side when she died.

Many citizens of the duchy had asked it. The knights had asked it. The only plausible explanation anyone could think of was this: Lady Renea had simply failed to manifest her aura in the most stressful of moments— her inexperience betraying her talent.

It was tacitly understood that in times of crisis, tragedy must oft remain unspoken. But the questions unasked were difficult ones. If the edge of one’s sword was sharpened on the whetstone of prayer, then what did that mean for the young girl who could not save her mother?

Their future Saintess’s faith must have wavered when it mattered most.

Even still, this could not douse the fire in the people’s hearts. There was no such thing as faith without trial, true grace cultivated without sorrow.

Thus, the people had faith. Just as the loss of her father and brothers to the shadows had made Celine into the most renowned Saintess in the duchy’s history, Renea’s loss of her mother would push her even closer to God, further into the realm of divinity’s will manifest.

The knights, however…

As Kylian got lost for a moment in his own memories, he noticed Ailn had been silent for a while.

“It must have been a lot of people to kill the Saintess.” Ailn broke his silence. “Especially while her successor was there right beside her.”

“They were as numerous as a small troop,” Kylian said, meeting Ailn’s eyes. “And they were strong, as they all had orichalcum in their swords. It was widely believed that the bandits were simply knights of the Blanc family in disguise.”

“Who?”

“The Blanc family was a rival to the eum-Creids, the only other family with the divine blessing.”

Now Ailn was really puzzled.

“Then that’s a whole other family with holy aura, and a clear motive for wanting to kill a eum-Creid. Couldn’t they have been the ones to try to kill me?”

“That would be impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because after the attack, the young master Sigurd led the Azure Knights to the Blanc family’s domain. We… wiped the entire family out.” Kylian’s gaze turned away.

Kylian’s tone wasn’t quite filled with shame, but it had more than a note of remorse. Clearly the incident had shaken him.

“I battled into their estate with my comrades when we defeated their knights. But the slaughter… I did not take part,” Kylian said. “I questioned if we were rash in pinning the Blanc family as the masterminds of the conspiracy. I felt the truth had been obscured. That’s when I came to my decision to become a peacekeeper.”

The unfortunate truth was, every knight in the Order had been left with darkened hearts. They could not wholeheartedly share in the common peoples’ faith that everything, even tragedy, happened for a reason.

It wasn’t as if the common people had been misled by cloying sentiments. It was simply a difference in perspective—between those who only faced strife, and those forced to perform necessary evils.

The sky was turning dark.

It was simply the transition from day into night, but standing atop the northern wall could have fooled you into thinking the miasma in the distance was spreading its sinister influence outwards.

“Makes sense,” Ailn said thoughtfully. “Sounds like it was a turning point for you.”

“...That’s the hope, at least,” Kylian said. “Perhaps it’s an indulgent form of repentance.”

“You’re a good guy, Kylian,” Ailn said. “Trust me. The world needs more good people like you.”

“Good people like myself… and yourself.”

“Not really,” Ailn said. “Lemme grab a smoke and then we’ll head back.”

Kylian winced. “Do you really intend to smoke out here in front of all the knights?”

“If someone politely asks me to stop, l’ll stop.”

“Does that include myself?”

“No.” Ailn struck a match while he gazed at the miasma in the distance. “It’s an ugly, evil looking thing. But it makes for decent smoking ambience, doesn’t it?”

“If any other knight riding by heard you, they may very well push you off this wall.”

“At least that’d be an easier murder to solve,” Ailn took a few puffs of his pipe. “I appreciate you telling me how my mom died, Kylian. I know I put you on the spot there.”

“...Certainly, Your Grace.”

“But I’ll admit I find it a bit confusing.” Ailn said. Enjoying the smoke, he let out a sigh of relief, into the cold air.

“What about it?” Kylian asked.

“My sister, Renea—she could’ve healed at that point, correct? She was a prodigy,” Ailn said.

“That’s right.”

“But my mother, Celine… she died from blood loss, right?” Ailn asked.

“...That’s correct. After protecting your sister, she expired from the wounds she sustained,” Kylian said.

“Then, what I don’t get is,” Ailn continued, “why didn’t my sister heal my mom?”