"Alas, dear Miss Morgan. Her delicate heart may soon find itself shattered."
In a hush, her words hung in the air, unnerving even Yvain who was unable to deny the possibility. But then, with an eye-roll as dramatic as a knight's valor, Galahad interjected, “And yet, you swore eternal allegiance to him.”
At the Holy Grail ceremony, Landevale swiftly poured her Force essence into the cup—
“This and that are entirely different matters!” she blurted, caught off guard, then awkwardly coughed. “I did it because it's the best option for our world.”
Galahad, undeterred, prodded, “Remember when you blacked out drunk, sobbed uncontrollably after glimpsing His Majesty being charmed by noblewomen at gatherings?”
“N-no, that had nothing to do with it! I definitely wasn't crying because of that!” Landevale vehemently protested.
“And you broke off your engagement with His Majesty a decade past just to pursue knighthood, only to secretly regret it, correct?” Galahad’s patience wore thin.
“NO, I DIDN'T!” Landevale yelled in exasperation.
With a furious flush of embarrassment, the woman stormed away.
Yvain turned at Galahad, blinking in confusion. “Woah, poor Dame Landevale…”
Galahad chuckled—”Cough, why, Your Majesty?”
“Being engaged to someone like His Majesty? Breaking off the engagement seems wise..." Yvain sighed, shaking his head.
“Your Majesty, your Master is also…”
“Master is different. She’s crazy, so it’s fine!” Yvain boasted, proudly puffing out his chest. "His Majesty gave the nod to cut ties, and Dame Landevale must've pondered over it thoroughly, so what's there to fuss about, right?"
“You’re so mature, Your Majesty,” Galahad smiled.
A common spectacle in noble circles involved puppeteered engagements arranged when the participants were too nescient to tie their own shoelaces. It was more of an agreement between families than individuals.
Burn, previously showing as much interest in romantic entanglements as a rock, likely had his own agenda, possibly involving ambitions and circumstances. The abrupt pursuit of Morgan by a character like him was as out of place as a cow in a chicken coop.
"As for Dame Landevale, she may have hit the nail on the head this time. But my Master can handle heartbreak for once," Yvain intoned with a hint of bitter acceptance, ready to face the music.
The boy sighed helplessly. "She's left a trail of shattered hearts in her wake. It’s karma. This may just be the universe balancing its books over a morning cup of coffee."
***
Ah, the grand theatrical production of Soulnaught Empire's march towards the Inkia Kingdom, a journey filled with adventure, and a touch of impending doom.
With banners billowing in the wind and armor clanking like a never-ending percussion ensemble, they knew they were in for a treat—the treat being five days of grueling trekking.
The army found themselves thrust into the wild embrace of nature. The western part of the continent they ruled was not called the "Land of Smooth Roads and Pleasant Weather" but rather the "Realm of Stubborn Mountains and Unforgiving Terrain." How delightful.
Through forests they trudged, swatting away pesky branches and keeping a wary eye out for any woodland critters plotting an ambush. And let's not forget the joy of navigating those charming mountain passes—a delightful mix of heart-stopping cliffs and paths so narrow that even a squirrel would consider them tight.
And oh, the supply wagons! Those poor, overburdened contraptions creaked along like they had a personal grudge against their drivers, sometimes requiring the assistance of sturdy machination just to make it up a slight incline.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Yet, through it all, Burn's army persevered with the kind of determination only found in those facing certain doom. Each night brought a new adventure in makeshift camp-building, whether it be a cozy rocky outcropping or a spacious forest clearing (if they were lucky).
And on the fifth day, as the sun lazily peeked over the horizon, the valiant army finally arrived at the border of the Inkia Kingdom, their destination gloriously in sight.
The real fun, of course, was yet to come as they prepared to face their foe on the battlefield.
"Do you think it will still be the same?” Morgan asked.
"The battle?” Burn asked back. “The battle won’t change. I will still win."
If it was the Battle of Inkia from every other loop, assassination attempts were like a game of poison-drenched darts aimed at Burn. He had "dodge assassination" on his daily to-do list. So, Burn, feeling like a walking target, strutted over to Inkia faster than you could say "dastardly deeds."
But in this loop, strangely, it seemed like the would-be assassins hit a roadblock in their diabolical plans. Burn couldn't help but notice a decrease in assassination attempts. Maybe the Round Table's vigilance paid off after that disastrous welcome party episode—nothing like a wake-up call to tighten security, right?
With Morgan as his shadow, entering Burn's bedroom became a near-impossible feat for any budding assassin. And let's not forget Yvain, the young King who stepped up his game alongside the rest of Burn's diligent subordinates.
Thanks to that, this time, Burn didn’t have that much of an issue before his march.
Speaking of, preparing the march itself with the Round Table crew went without a hitch. Percival alone was enough for Soulnaught, and the rest…
Picturing Bedivere and Gawain chilling in Edensor with Yvain’s subordinates, probably arguing over battle strategies while Sagramore, Erec, and Howl held down the fort in the deserted Elysian, empty but not for long. Talk about a real estate upgrade.
Of course, the VIP squad—Galahad, Landevale, Morien, Yvolt, and Tristan—stuck to Burn like a particularly loyal group of medieval paparazzi. Can't go wrong with that kind of backup crew, right?
Then, if we were talking about references from other loops, after this, Inkia decided to play puppet master with their connections, stirring up chaos like it was their favorite pastime.
Wintersin would come for Soulnaught’s northern region, and Burn? Well, after the first battle here on the border of Inkia, he'd be off to show them how it's done, one battle at a time.
Troubles were far from over—seems like the assassins just couldn't resist spreading the love to other targets. Galahad found himself in the spotlight, racking up assassination attempts like badges of honor, holding the record for most attempts when they realized Burn was untouchable.
Down the rank, Percival, Gawain, Bedivere, and even Landevale. Everyone got a taste of the unwanted attention.
The pressure cooker of danger must've been at boiling point when Burn decided to spread his wings and join battles far and wide, helping his knights to win them.
Just when one thought a break was in sight, Inkia decided to go full throttle. Like a puppeteer expertly manipulating strings with the resources of Saint Lucia Academy, they artfully stirred up conflict between Burn and the various mythical communities.
Now, involving the pacifist communities of mythical ranks was too much. Burn wasn't exactly thrilled about the prospect of dealing with the Southern Elven tribe or the Northern Dwarf community.
And let's not forget Inkia’s delightful ingenuity of herding Orc and Goblin tribes to send them towards Soulnaughts outskirt villages, spreading Burn's manpower ever so thin.
So, it was no surprise that the grand spectacle of subduing Inkia ended up being a marathon lasting a substantial two years. One could only imagine the sheer joy of all involved in such a prolonged and riveting affair.
In hindsight, perhaps Inkia had a penchant for turning what could have been a short-lived skirmish into a drawn-out saga for the ages. How thoughtful of them to gift Burn with such diverse challenges and opportunities for personal growth.
In the end, one must commend the sheer dedication and creativity displayed by Inkia in making this conflict a truly unforgettable experience for all parties involved. Bravo, indeed.
While it was clear that Burn knew everything that would happen, the strings of events were tricky to solve.
He was definitely all-knowing, but also a conveniently laid-back manipulator of events. In the previous loops, instead of dealing with them before they happened, he risked letting them happen anyway to lessen the butterfly effect and make sure everything remained predictable.
After all, why not dance on the fine line between meddling and maintaining predictability? How cunning of him to sit back and watch the chaos unfold before stepping in, all for the sake of keeping things on track. Of course, with minor adjustments.
He didn’t lose much, and it was better in the long run, and in the end, Inkia’s struggle would be futile anyway. Inkia’s efforts were as effective as shouting at a brick wall in a hurricane.
Since they were the second VIP customer of the outsider, second only to Velaryon, their last attempt was to ask these out-world invaders to avenge them before throwing in the white towel of surrender.
The outsiders would come, eventually, with the White Dwarf.
But this time, the last boss had been defeated, and the effect was butterflying. The knowledge from the past loops had become utterly useless.