It had not been long since Xierra and Inari arrived at the Crimson Lion King headquarters.
Only a handful of days had passed since the Magic Knights' entrance exam—days that still clung to her body like lingering soreness. The trial had been unforgiving, a crucible of endurance and will, but she carried it close to her heart nonetheless. It marked her first deliberate step toward something she had chosen for herself, and that alone made every ache worth bearing.
What puzzled her was the stillness that followed.
She had half-expected to be thrown into a mission the moment she crossed the threshold of the headquarters, orders barked and duties assigned without pause. Instead, the days unfurled quietly, unclaimed by official summons or sealed letters.
Yet, her time had hardly gone to waste.
Inari made certain of that.
A demon in every possible aspect.
True to his word, he trained her relentlessly. Dawn bled into dusk beneath the sun-scorched training grounds, her muscles protesting with every movement, her breath often torn from her chest. But within the strain was structure—guidance precise and unyielding. His corrections sharpened her footing, steadied her grip, and carved intention into every sword swing. Slowly, very painfully, she felt herself change.
Leopold, too, had played his part, all booming encouragement and blazing enthusiasm. He secured permission for her to use the training grounds as a recruit and joined her whenever his schedule allowed, turning practice into something fierce and strangely fun.
At least now, Asta wasn't the only one screaming all day.
The thought made Xierra huff a quiet laugh as she stood before the mirror, smoothing the fabric of her robe. The dim morning light brushed her reflection in pale silver, revealing the contrast between the crimson outer layer and the simple white shirt beneath. She had opted for black shorts—practical, easy to move in—pulled from the limited selection her wardrobe offered. There were far more skirts than trousers, a fact she had discovered with mild dismay.
After days of leaving it untouched, today was the first time she truly wore the robe.
She turned slightly, watching how the fabric shifted with her movement. The other recruits had delayed donning theirs, and she did too, but with Inari declaring a rare day of rest from training, she decided it was time. Walking these halls without it felt oddly incomplete, like she was borrowing space she had yet to claim.
"Inari," she called softly, adjusting the collar, "how do I look?"
"Very much befitting an official Crimson Lion King member, Master," he replied with a grin, tail swaying lazily as he lounged atop the bed.
Satisfied, Xierra reached for the lamp and plunged the room into darkness. Inari hopped down and padded after her as she closed the door, the faint click echoing down the corridor.
The headquarters greeted them with the hush of early morning—stone corridors washed in amber light, banners hanging motionless, the air carrying the faint scent of polished metal and lingering incense. Their footsteps were soft as they made their way toward the dining hall, guided by the promise of breakfast. Three meals a day, prepared without fail—it was a luxury she still found herself quietly marveling at.
"Ah—Xierra!"
Leopold's voice rang out, bright and unmistakable.
She turned to see him jogging toward her, eyes alight as though the morning itself had conspired to improve his mood. Any remnants of drowsiness vanished at the sight of her.
"I'm glad you're awake early!" he said, stopping just short of her.
She noticed—amused—that he used her name plainly. The nicknames he once tried had all but vanished after Inari's persistent, sharp-tongued reprimands. Occasionally, one slipped out, only to be swiftly corrected. Watching that dynamic had become a quiet source of entertainment.
"Good morning, Leopold," she greeted her senior warmly, clasping her hands behind her back. "Did you need something? You seem exceptionally cheerful today. Excited even."
"Of course I am!" he laughed, the sound carrying easily through the hall. He planted his hands on his hips and leaned forward slightly, grin stretching from ear to ear. "But before anything else—did you sleep well? The rooms here are designed for optimal rest, you know. They were all cleaned yesterday before dinner, so I want your honest opinion!"
Xierra thought of the servants she had glimpsed between training sessions—how they moved in practiced unison, replacing linens, refreshing flowers, restocking paper and ink. Entire rooms renewed without a trace of disruption. Perhaps it had taken Leopold a week to ask because everyone had been too busy to notice.
"My sleep was immaculate," she said brightly. "The bed is comfortable, and the room feels so open. And the flowers—they changed them, didn't they? The fragrance is lovely."
Leopold straightened immediately, chest puffing out with unmistakable pride. Then his gaze flicked down, catching the familiar shade of red draped over her shoulders.
"Oh! And you finally wore the squad's robe!" His excitement doubled. "You look great in it, Xierra!"
She followed his glance, brushing her hand over the crimson fabric as if seeing it anew. "Inari said the same," she replied, smiling as the fox climbed effortlessly onto her shoulders. "Thank you."
"You are most welcome!" He beamed, sharp canines flashing before he continued, barely containing himself. "Actually, today's very special. You've got your first mission."
Her breath stilled, just for a heartbeat.
Leopold nodded enthusiastically. "Brother and the others have been buried in reports these past few days, so the recruits didn't get assigned anything. Same story across all the other squads, I heard."
Inari let out a low chuckle, ears twitching as he tilted his head, curiosity glinting faintly in his eyes. "What kind of mission is it?"
"You'll be patrolling Saussy Village with another batch of newbies," Leopold announced easily. He pivoted on his heel and started down the corridor that led deeper into the headquarters, toward Fuegoleon's office. "Come on. We're going to meet your patrol partner."
Xierra followed, her steps echoing softly against the polished stone. This wing of the building felt different—broader, quieter, imbued with a gravity that the training grounds lacked. High arches stretched overhead like watchful ribs, banners bearing the Crimson Lion King insignia cascading from the walls in rich, disciplined folds. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, fractured into warm slashes across the floor, as though even the light itself had been tempered by the order of this place.
They rarely passed through here. The past week had been spent tracing familiar paths—dormitories to training grounds, training grounds to mess halls—routes etched into muscle memory through repetition. This corridor felt new, almost solemn, as if it demanded a straighter spine and quieter breath.
"Patrolling might not look like much," Leopold began, breaking the hush with his buoyant voice, "but it's still an important duty for us Magic Knights." He glanced back at her, catching the thoughtful tilt of her head.
"Don't let it fool you—it might sound boring, but it's all for Clover!" His grin sharpened, bright with barely restrained eagerness. "Though I still prefer battles!"
His laughter bounced off the stone, warm and unapologetic.
Inari snickered, tail flicking once. "Dull as it may seem, a routine patrol will sharpen your awareness, Master. Observation is a muscle like any other." His gaze swept briefly over the hall, keen and measuring. "And you'll need to familiarize yourself with the land. Clover is vast."
Xierra let out a small, nervous laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing under their words. She listened—truly listened—letting both encouragement and caution settle into her chest. After a moment, a question surfaced, unbidden but earnest.
"Leopold," she asked, fingers curling lightly at her side, "are you coming with us?"
He slowed, then stopped altogether, turning to face her. "Ah... unfortunately, no." There was no disappointment in his tone, only acceptance. "I've got another assignment to wrap up. But I think I'll be able to join you next time. We won't always be paired together, after all."
The normalcy of the statement caught Inari off guard. He blinked, momentarily disarmed by the lack of theatrics. Coming from Leopold—so often loud and blazing with emotion—the calm felt almost foreign.
Then Leopold's grin returned in full force as they reached a set of heavy doors. He gestured ahead, eyes gleaming.
"And your partner," he said, voice laced with certainty, "I've got a feeling you three will get along just fine."
.
.
.
Arriving at a neatly arranged office, Xierra followed Leopold inside after offering a polite greeting to the captain. She closed the door behind her with careful restraint, as though even the sound of it latching shut ought to respect the room's composure.
Morning had barely settled into the capital. The sun lingered low, its warmth still tentative, spilling through tall windows in pale gold ribbons. Even so, the headquarters thrummed quietly with activity. Magic Knights moved with purpose beyond the walls, voices hushed but steady—discipline woven into their routines as naturally as breath. It didn't surprise her. Under Captain Fuegoleon, the idea of wasted time simply did not exist.
Strangely enough, she liked it.
The structure—the predictability of it—tugged at something familiar in her chest. It reminded her of the mornings in Hage, when the church bell rang before dawn, and everyone rose half-awake but obedient, guided by habit and faith rather than command. Different places, different rules, yet the rhythm felt the same.
She stepped closer to Leopold, her gaze roaming freely now that she had the chance to take everything in.
The office was immaculate without feeling sterile. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each filled with books sorted with near-militant precision—reports bound in leather, notes archived carefully, scrolls stacked and labeled. Sunlight poured generously through the windows, illuminating floating dust motes that drifted lazily in the air, softening the sharpness of the room. Despite its purpose, the space felt lived-in.
It was quite spacious—a bit larger than the bedrooms assigned to the recruits, perhaps larger than several combined—yet nothing felt excessive. Every object had a reason for being where it was.
Her eyes flicked toward a brunet leaning casually against the wall, speaking with Fuegoleon as though familiarity came naturally to him. His posture was relaxed, shoulders loose, expression open. Xierra blinked, curiosity stirring.
Before she could linger too long on the thought, the brunet caught sight of her reaction and chuckled, pushing himself away from the wall. He strode over with easy confidence, stopping just short of her personal space. Without hesitation, he extended a hand.
"Nice to meet you," he said warmly. "Rhein Vermillion." His grin was bright—uncannily reminiscent of Leopold's. "I only joined a couple of days ago, but I'm looking forward to working together."
"A couple of days?" Xierra hummed, returning the handshake. His grip was firm but friendly, grounding. She released him a moment later, brows knitting slightly in surprise.
Fuegoleon's voice cut in gently from behind his desk, enjoying the interaction of both recruits. "Rhein was scouted. He'd been away from the capital and only returned recently."
"So recruitment isn't limited to the entrance exam," Inari murmured, ears flicking as he committed the information to memory. "Good to know."
Xierra's attention, however, lingered on the surname.
Vermillion.
The name settled strangely in her chest, stirring a faint sense of déjà vu she couldn't quite place. She blinked once, then again, grounding herself.
Rhein noticed her brief hesitation and laughed, reaching up to rub the back of his head in a gesture that was far too casual for someone bearing a royal surname.
"Yeah, yeah—I get that look a lot," he said easily. "I'm a distant relative of the captain and Leo here, but I promise I'm not as intimidating as the name sounds." His shoulders lifted in a loose shrug, posture relaxed, unguarded. Then he tilted his head, grin widening into something bright and boyish. "Don't let it stop you from hanging out with me."
There was nothing rigid about him—none of the sharp-edged authority Fuegoleon carried as naturally as his flame, nor the constant, restless intensity that burned in Leopold. Rhein moved somewhere in between: easy-going, unassuming, almost deceptively so. Royal blood sat lightly on him, worn like an afterthought rather than a crown. If Leopold was fire set loose and Fuegoleon was fire mastered, then Rhein was the warmth left behind—steady, approachable, and difficult to dislike.
Chestnut and vermillion seemed to meld together in him, bound by his crimson eyes. His coloring didn't mirror either brother perfectly—no precise palette to match Fuegoleon's deep, commanding hues or Leopold's blazing vibrance—but the resemblance was undeniable. In the curve of his smile, in the sharpness of his gaze softened by humor, Xierra could see the family ties clearly enough.
"I see," Xierra replied, letting out a small, nervous chuckle. She straightened without thinking, fingers briefly fidgeting at her sides before she clasped them together. "My name's Xierra."
As if catching herself, she reached up to the fox, settled comfortably on her shoulders, scratching gently beneath his chin. "And this is Inari. He's my travel companion."
Rhein's eyes lit up almost immediately.
"Oh?" He leaned closer—not intrusively, just enough to show his interest—his gaze tracing the sleek black fur, the violet markings that curled like living sigils along Inari's body, the gold eyes that shone with an intelligence far too sharp for any ordinary beast. "That's... an interesting-looking fox."
Then, as if recalling something mid-thought, his grin shifted. "Actually, now that I think about it, I've heard of you."
Xierra blinked.
"You're that one girl from this year's entrance exam, right?" Rhein continued, straightening slightly. "The one who got all the captains to raise their hands."
He let out a low whistle. "That doesn't happen often. There was another kid too—the one with amazing wind magic aptitude—but even then, two candidates in the same year?" He shook his head, impressed. "That's rare."
Leopold, who had been hovering nearby, puffed out his chest immediately. "Rare? It was amazing!" he cut in, grin stretching from ear to ear. "She didn't hesitate for a second! When she chose us, I thought my heart was gonna explode in excitement!"
Fuegoleon glanced up from behind his desk, expression calm but eyes sharp with quiet pride. "You made a wise decision," he said evenly, voice carrying the weight of certainty rather than force. "The Crimson Lion Kings will not squander your resolve. You will not regret choosing this squad."
The words settled heavily, but reassuringly, in the air.
"Okay, excuse me for a moment for interrupting your chat—but 'it'?!" Inari snapped, bristling as he twisted sharply to face Rhein, returning the topic to its previous post. "I am a he, I'll have you know!"
Before the moment could tip any further, Xierra gently but firmly placed a hand over Inari's snout. She sighed, the sound soft and familiar, like someone long used to this exact situation. "That's enough, Inari. What's gotten into you today?"
She guided him back toward her shoulder with quiet assurance, fingers steady, presence grounding. Inari huffed, ears flattening in irritation, but he didn't pull away—allowing himself to settle once more against her, even if begrudgingly.
Rhein burst into laughter.
He bent slightly at the waist, one hand clutching his stomach as the sound rang bright and unrestrained through the office. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye as he slapped his knee, laughter finally tapering off.
"Sorry—sorry. Guess I offended him." He straightened, still smiling. "He's got character, though. Can't say I dislike him."
"Shouldn't I be the one saying that about you?" Inari muttered flatly, clicking his tongue.
"Ignore him," Xierra said, turning Inari's head away with practiced ease. Her smile was apologetic but fond. "He's a very finicky fox."
Inari huffed, clearly displeased, but he didn't argue. Instead, he settled back down, curling around her shoulders like a living mantle, tail flicking once before going still.
Xierra exhaled softly, one hand resting against his fur.
"I said I'm sorry," Rhein mock-whined, bending forward just enough to meet Inari eye to eye. His crimson gaze didn't waver even when met with the fox's unimpressed, half-lidded stare. "Can't you find it in your deepest, most gracious heart to forgive me, O' great Inari?" he added, voice glazed with exaggerated reverence and a teasing lilt.
Inari's tail flicked once. Then twice.
"Oh, I could forgive you," he replied coolly, chin lifting as if addressing a congregation rather than a single Magic Knight. "But forgiveness is not something bestowed lightly upon those who fail to recognize divinity at first glance."
Rhein blinked—then snorted.
Before either of them could continue, Xierra cut in without missing a beat, her tone flat enough to slice clean through all the theatrics. "Rhein," she said calmly, "don't let him get used to your flattery."
The entire room looked at her.
"If his ego inflates any more," she continued, entirely serious, "he'll sprout wings and try to fly."
Inari sputtered. "E-Excuse me—?!"
Rhein burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained, though lighter than Leopold's booming cackle—less firestorm, more spark in dry air. He turned away slightly, lifting a hand to his face as he tried to steady himself, his shoulders shaking.
"All right, all right—fair point," he said between breaths.
As his laughter ebbed, his gaze drifted toward the wide window beside Fuegoleon's desk. Morning light spilled in through the glass, pale gold and soft-edged, washing the room in warmth as the sun slowly climbed higher. For a moment, Rhein simply watched it, a faint, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.
"Man," he murmured, almost to himself, "I kind of wish I'd taken this year's entrance exam."
Xierra glanced at him. "Just to suffer through it?"
"No," Rhein replied lightly. "Just to see that moment." He looked back at her, eyes bright. "All the captains raising their hands at once."
Leopold perked up immediately, his earlier grin widening as if someone had just tossed fresh kindling onto a flame.
"Yeah!" he chimed in, nodding so hard his braids nearly bounced loose. "That hasn't happened in years—like, years years. And definitely not for two people at the same time!"
Inari huffed, chin lifting on instinct. Satisfaction gleamed through the thin veil of restraint he pretended to wear. "Well, obviously," he said smugly. "My master is simply that extraordinary."
Xierra let out a slow breath through her nose. "Inari."
"What?" he shot back, bristling. "Am I wrong?"
She didn't answer him with words. She didn't need to.
The look she gave him was level, unimpressed, and sharp enough to slice clean through his ego.
Inari stiffened. He cleared his throat, eyes flicking away toward the far wall as though the stone suddenly demanded his full attention.
Fuegoleon observed the exchange with the calm patience of someone long accustomed to strong personalities colliding in close quarters. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the steady weight of authority—but there was warmth beneath it, unmistakable and deliberate.
"Confidence is a fine thing," he said, gaze resting briefly on Inari before shifting to Xierra. "But it must be tempered. Power shines brightest when it is paired with humility."
A pause followed, softer now. "That said... your pride in your master is not misplaced. She has earned it."
Xierra blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Inari's posture straightened again, though this time, he held his tongue.
Leopold, who had watched the entire exchange with open amusement, burst into laughter. The sound rang bright and unrestrained, filling the room with a sense of ease. The easy back-and-forth, the sparks of familiarity forming so quickly—it reminded him of their first meeting back in Castle Town Kikka, when everything had felt loud and uncertain and alive.
Without warning, he slapped Rhein on the back hard enough to send him stumbling a step forward, then flashed him a thumbs-up and a sharp grin.
"Take care of her out there," Leopold said cheerfully.
Then his expression shifted.
The grin sharpened into something feral, shadows cutting across his eyes as he leaned in just enough to loom.
"Or else."
Rhein stiffened, instinctively stepping back half a pace. The sudden change sent a ripple of unease down his spine.
He straightened quickly, rubbing at his shoulder as if to smooth away both the sting and the tension. A crooked grin tugged at his mouth as he lifted his hand in a half-hearted salute.
"I'll do my best, sir."
Xierra noticed it immediately—the lazy angle of his hand, the casualness of it. Her brow twitched. Leopold wasn't just a senior. He was older, too.
Her glance flicked briefly between them, unimpressed.
Rhein's eyes slid, just for a moment, toward Inari—calculating. The patrol would either pass without incident... or his ears would indeed be chewed off.
Fuegoleon cleared his throat.
The sound was gentle, but it carried—effortlessly drawing the room back into order. He had been watching for a while now, offering the occasional quiet remark, an amused hum here and there, content to let the dynamic unfold as long as it remained harmless. There was a faint curve to his lips, barely there, as though he found some comfort in the liveliness of it all.
Since Xierra and Inari's arrival, scenes like this had become almost routine. There was scarcely a day without Inari and Leopold clashing over something utterly inconsequential, sparks flying with no real heat behind them.
At first, Fuegoleon had wondered if it was simply a matter of mismatched temperaments. Leopold's impulsive, fire-forward nature against Inari's sharp tongue and deliberate provocation—it seemed like an inevitable recipe for friction. There had even been a fleeting sense of guilt on his part, watching Xierra step in time and again to smooth things over, positioning herself neatly between his brash younger brother and the fox she claimed as her companion.
Companion, Inari insisted, was an understatement. Teacher, he had corrected—self-appointed, unapologetic, and loud about it.
Yet the longer Fuegoleon observed them, the clearer it became that something else was at play.
Neither Leopold nor Inari carried malice in their barbs. Leopold, for all his volume and fire, seemed genuinely oblivious to most of Inari's attempts at provocation. Words that were meant to needle simply bounced off him, unacknowledged, unanswered—leaving Inari fuming in their wake. More often than not, it was the fox who ended up thoroughly worked up, undone by Leopold's sheer density rather than any real retaliation.
Fuegoleon found that oddly reassuring.
And now, watching Rhein stand there—half-grinning, half-guarded—Fuegoleon had the distinct impression that the pattern was simply shifting to another person.
If fate were feeling playful, then Rhein would be Inari's next chosen target of debate.
"I'm glad you all get along," Fuegoleon said calmly. "I believe it is time for you both to depart on your mission."
"Right! Prepare yourselves!" Leopold added immediately, grin returning full force. "Patrolling might not seem like much, but it'll wear you out by the end of the day. Bring enough water—stay hydrated!"
"Yes, sir!" Rhein and Xierra answered in unison, saluting.
They turned to leave. Rhein paused just long enough to grab his crimson robe from the armchair, swinging it over his shoulder with an easy smile before falling into step beside Xierra. The door opened slowly behind them, giving Fuegoleon just enough time to speak once more.
"Forgive me for not assigning a senior Magic Knight to accompany you," he said, voice steady. "Rhein knows his way around Clover well. He'll guide you throughout this mission—and possibly future ones. Work together. Be careful."
The warmth in the captain's gaze lingered as they listened, reassurance settling quietly in their chests. Their first mission had been chosen with care; they knew—an introduction rather than a trial by fire. Experience would come in time.
They returned his smile and saluted once more. "Affirmative!"
Xierra reached for the door, pushing it closed partway before glancing back. "We'll be leaving now, Captain!"
"We'll be back soon, Captain—Leo!" Rhein added with a wave.
Fuegoleon nodded, and Leopold followed suit enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Best of luck, you two!"
.
.
.
The newly formed partners lifted from the ground in tandem, brooms slicing cleanly through the morning air as they left the Crimson Lion Kings' base behind. Beneath them, the land unfurled in vast swathes of emerald and gold—dense forests stitched together by winding paths, open plains kissed by dew, and distant rooftops catching the newborn light.
From above, the Clover Kingdom looked nothing like the half-remembered silhouette Xierra had carried in her mind.
It was better.
Sunlight lingered just past the horizon, pale and tender, spilling across the world as if hesitant to fully wake it. Towns emerged one by one beneath drifting veils of mist—clusters of colorful roofs, stone towers rising like watchful sentinels, narrow roads traced delicately between them. Even the smallest details revealed themselves from this height: flowerbeds lining the streets in careful rows, white clouds curling lazily around spires and chimneys, villages tucked deep within the woods like secrets the forest had agreed to keep.
Xierra leaned forward on her broom without realizing it, breath catching softly in her chest.
She held back a chuckle when a stray tuft of cloud brushed against her, the sensation light and fleeting, almost ticklish. The vapor dissolved the moment she passed through, leaving only cool air in its wake and a quiet, unguarded joy on her face.
Rhein noticed.
He glanced back just long enough to catch the expression she wore—eyes wide, unburdened, reflecting the sky itself. For a moment, he followed her gaze downward, searching for whatever it was that had moved her so deeply.
"You like the scenery below?" he asked, voice easy as he adjusted his grip on the broom. His attention flicked between the horizon and her position behind him, a habit more instinct than concern. With Inari perched comfortably in front of her, he doubted she'd drift far.
"I'm surprised you've never seen this kind of view."
Xierra shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "I've lived most of my life in Hage," she said. "I grew up there. Something like this is a very rare treat."
Rhein's brow lifted, curiosity sparking. "Oh? Really, now?" He hummed thoughtfully. "Still, I can't deny the countryside has its charm. Open fields, quiet roads—air that doesn't feel trapped between stone walls. It's easier to breathe out here than in the capital."
"See?" Xierra laughed, brightening immediately at his agreement. "You get it."
"Yeah." He nodded once, decisive. "The common realm and noble realm are mostly buildings stacked on buildings. They have their moments, sure—but I'd take the sticks in the middle of nowhere any day."
It was a strange thing for a royal-born Magic Knight to say—stranger still how naturally it left him. There was no bitterness in his tone, no performative rebellion. Just a preference, plain and honest.
Xierra noticed it. So did Inari.
Neither of them commented.
Some truths, she sensed, were offered best when the speaker chose the moment. And Rhein looked like the sort who would speak when he meant it.
Inari, meanwhile, let out a low, pleased cackle, tail swaying as he balanced himself on the broom before Xierra. "It is quite refreshing," he agreed. "The towns around here are far too busy for my liking."
Rhein glanced over, squinting slightly as if committing the fox's name to memory. "You don't like crowded places, Inari?" he asked. "You don't really seem like you hate them."
"I don't," Inari replied coolly. "But I despise loud places. Bustling or empty, it matters little—as long as it isn't too noisy, I'm satisfied."
"Ah," Rhein chuckled. "Noted."
He slowed his broom midair, posture shifting as he leaned forward to peer at something below. The wind carried distant sounds upward now—raised voices, sharp and unmistakably energetic.
"Speaking of loud places," he murmured, "what's all that ruckus down there?"
Inari's ears twitched. He sprang lightly from Xierra's broom to Rhein's, claws finding purchase on the wood with practiced ease. "Now that you mention it, I hear it too," he said. "We're nearing the place, aren't we? What was it called again—Sausage Village? A baffling name."
"It's Saussy Village," Rhein corrected, laughing.
They descended gradually, the noise growing clearer with every passing second—shouted words cutting through the morning air, familiar in both pitch and persistence.
Rhein's lips parted. "That's—"
"...Asta...?" Xierra finished, disbelief creeping in.
Inari groaned. "The noisy brat's here as well?" he muttered. Just as he had begun thinking Leopold's volume bordered on the unbearable, fate decided to remind him what true loudness sounded like.
The devil himself, it seemed, had arrived.
Xierra and Rhein descended into the woods, boots brushing damp earth as they landed in a clearing wide enough to breathe. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in fractured ribbons, catching on drifting motes of pollen and dust. The forest here felt alive in a restless way—branches creaked, leaves whispered, and the ground hummed faintly beneath hurried footsteps not their own.
They advanced carefully, brooms held low at their sides, guided by the unmistakable sound of Asta's shouting. His voice cut through the trees like a blade, loud and relentless, growing sharper with every step they took. Soon, it was joined by other noises—panicked breaths, heavy footfalls, and something far more ominous: the thunderous crash of hooves against soil.
Rhein slowed first.
He lifted an arm in front of Xierra without looking back, a silent command for her to stop. She obeyed instinctively, peering past his shoulder as he eased his broom against the trunk of a broad oak.
Ahead, chaos unfolded.
Asta burst through the brush alongside another young man, both of them sprinting with reckless urgency. Behind them barreled a herd of fiery boars—massive, malformed creatures wreathed in embers, tusks glowing like heated iron. They were far larger than the forest boars Xierra had seen before, their weight shaking the ground with every charge, scorched earth cracking beneath their hooves.
Off to the side, half-hidden behind a cluster of trees, stood a girl with silver hair. She wore the same robe as Asta did, though it looked a bit large on her slight frame. She hadn't joined the chase nor fled from it—only watched, eyes wide, hands clenched tightly at her chest as if frozen between fear and indecision.
"Should we help them?" Inari asked lightly, tail swaying as he perched between the two Magic Knights. There was an unmistakable note of amusement in his voice, sharp and unrepentant.
Rhein hummed, folding his arms as he assessed the scene. "Should we?" he faked a thought, one brow lifting. "They're the Black Bulls."
"And?" Inari prompted.
Rhein scoffed. "They're full of failures. Why should we help them?"
Xierra exhaled slowly. The response didn't surprise her—not from someone born into House Vermillion's blood.
Still, something tightened in her chest.
She stepped forward, just enough that Rhein had to turn his head to look at her. "Why not?" she said quietly. "We're all the same. Humans. The only difference is status."
Her gaze didn't waver from the chaos ahead. "We breathe the same air. Walk the same land. If we can help, then why shouldn't we?"
The words settled more heavily than she intended.
Rhein stared at her, crimson eyes widening slightly. For a heartbeat, the forest noise seemed to dim. Then he laughed—soft, genuine—and shook his head.
"Well," he said, rolling his shoulders as he followed her lead, "it doesn't hurt to hear her out."
Xierra didn't look back.
She reached for her grimoire, fingers trembling faintly as the leather-bound cover warmed beneath her touch. Sweat gathered at her temple—not from fear, but from the rapid calculations racing through her mind. The boars were fast. Durable. Too many to handle head-on.
She inhaled once.
"Astral Summoning Magic," she murmured. "Wisps of the Hollow."
The grimoire responded instantly.
Runes trembled, then tore themselves free from the page, igniting midair with pale, ghostly blue flame. The symbols twisted and condensed, shaping themselves into small, flickering creatures—wisps with ember-bright eyes and curling tails of light. They growled with their rotund bodies, eager and alive.
Xierra smiled despite herself.
She lifted her hand and pointed.
The wisps scattered, streaking through the trees like falling stars. Like hounds chasing their prey. They darted past Asta and his companion, herding the boars away with sharp flashes of flame. One by one, they latched onto their targets, fire blooming outward as the creatures roared in fury and pain.
The chase ended swiftly.
Shrieks echoed through the forest, then cut off just as abruptly. The boars collapsed where they stood, massive bodies burnt and smoked beneath the consuming flames. When the last wisp dissolved into sparks, silence rushed in to fill the space they left behind.
Only then did Asta notice them.
His eyes lit up instantly, bright as the sun breaking through clouds. "Xierra?!" he shouted, sprinting toward her with arms wide open.
She sidestepped at the last second.
Asta crashed face-first into the tree behind her, cheeks squishing against bark as he yelled something utterly incoherent. Xierra winced, then glanced down at him.
"...You're welcome," she muttered, catching glimpses of his frantic gratitude.
"Oi—who's this, Stupidsta?"
The voice came rough-edged and casual, scraping through the clearing like gravel under boots. The man who spoke wore dark shades despite the filtered sunlight, his posture loose but alert. A scar cut cleanly across his forehead, stark against his skin, and his hair—split between two colors—gave him an air that felt more intimidating than his tone suggested. He didn't look like he was itching for a fight. More like he was sizing up a curiosity.
Xierra let out a small laugh before she could stop herself. Stupidsta, she repeated silently, filing the nickname away for later amusement. She watched as Asta finally peeled himself off the tree, springing back with his usual boundless energy. He swung both arms toward her like he was presenting the grand prize at a festival, grin stretching ear to ear.
"Oh! Right!" he said brightly. "Senior Magna, Sir! This is Xierra! We're from the same village!"
Then he pointed down at the fox circling her feet, utterly casual. "And that's Inari, Xierra's p—"
"You say 'pet' one more time," Inari cut in smoothly, voice dropping into something sharp and dangerous, "and trust me—you won't be seeing tomorrow ever again."
Asta stiffened. "...P-Partner! Yeah. Partner!"
Inari lifted his chin, chest puffed out in satisfaction, and seated himself neatly beside Xierra. His tail flicked with smug elegance as he grinned. "And here I thought I'd lost all hope with you, kid."
Xierra shook her head fondly and crouched, fingers slipping into the fur at his neck. "Don't be like that, Inari."
From the corner of her eye, she caught Rhein stepping back into place beside her. His lips curved into a polite, closed-eye smile—strained, practiced. The kind that came from habit rather than comfort. Xierra noted it quietly. Change, she knew, didn't come all at once.
Asta blinked, then turned back, pointing again—this time at Rhein. "Oh! Xierra, who is this—?"
"Isn't it rude," Rhein interrupted coolly, eyes opening to reveal a sharp crimson glare, "to ask for my name when you lowly commoners should introduce yourselves first?"
The air shifted.
Inari's ears drooped, expression flattening into something tired rather than angry. Rhein's smile vanished entirely, replaced by a scowl sharp enough to cut.
This kid is difficult, Inari thought.
"Yes," Xierra muttered under her breath. "Yes, he is."
Rhein's gaze slid past them, landing on the silver-haired girl lingering behind the two Black Bulls. "And I see a Silva among you," he remarked. "How funny."
The said girl flinched, then squared her shoulders as if bracing herself. She stepped forward, arms crossing tightly. "And what of it, Vermillion?" she shot back. "From what I can tell, your squad let a bug like her in."
Rhein laughed, low and mocking. "And from what I can see, Noelle Silva," he said lightly, leaning forward with hands on his hips, "a royal like you ended up in a squad crawling with them."
His eyes gleamed victoriously as Noelle's cheeks flushed red with slight embarrassment. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"
"W-Well—!"
"If you've nothing better to say," Rhein continued smoothly, gesturing toward Xierra, "perhaps you should work on that magic control of yours. Even a 'bug' like her has better skills."
Xierra arched a brow. Inari scoffed loudly.
Rhein glanced back at her. "Sorry, partner. No offense."
There was no mockery in his tone. No careless laughter. Just a straightforward apology, given plainly, as if he expected her to weigh it honestly.
Then, a beat of silence.
"...Did he just insult us?" Inari asked.
"Then apologize?" Xierra replied faintly. They exchanged a look—equal parts disbelief and resignation—before Xierra nodded once. "None taken."
Rhein's expression softened immediately, the tension melting away. This time, his smile was real. He clasped his hands behind his head and laughed, stepping closer beside her. "Good to know!"
Inari leaned toward Xierra. "Does this kid have two personalities?"
Rhein laughed louder. "Oh, no—no, no. Both you and Xierra are part of our squad," he said easily. "If you managed to get all the captains to raise their hands, that means you're just as capable as we are. Maybe even stronger than me. Quite sure of it."
Inari's grin returned, sharp and pleased. "Hmph. You've got a nice mouth, kid. I like you. You're going on my list."
"Your—what list?"
Xierra laughed tiredly at Rhein's helpless look, memories surfacing unbidden. She remembered that list. Remembered the grueling week she and Leopold endured after earning Inari's interest.
Rhein had no idea what he'd just agreed to.
Noelle's scoff cut through the clearing first, sharp and brittle, followed almost immediately by Magna's explosive shouting. Asta answered him in kind, the two voices clashing loudly as if volume alone could settle their disagreement. Leaves trembled overhead, startled birds scattering deeper into the forest canopy.
Magna clicked his tongue, clearly fed up, and snapped his arms free from Asta's grasp. "Whatever... Hey, you, girl!"
The sudden call made Xierra flinch.
"Who—me?" She pointed at herself, blinking in disbelief when she realized Magna was, in fact, staring directly at her.
"Yes, you." He squinted, then gestured broadly around the clearing. "Do you see any other Crimson Lion girls around here?"
"...Err, no. No, I don't." She glanced aside, biting the inside of her cheek as she exhaled through her nose.
There are two girls here, though, she thought dryly, but kept it to herself.
"All right, then! As a good senior, lemme introduce myself!" Magna jabbed a thumb toward his chest, posture puffing up with pride. "The name's Magna. You can call me Senior Magna—same as Stupidsta over here."
Asta grinned shamelessly.
Magna then jerked his chin toward the silver-haired girl behind him, who had her arms crossed tight against her chest. "And this one right 'ere is Noelle—"
"That's Miss Noelle Silva to you!" Noelle cut in sharply, flipping her hair back with an indignant huff.
"Well, excuse me, Miss Noelle Silva!" Magna shot back, dripping sarcasm as he rolled his head dramatically before turning his attention elsewhere. His eyes slid to Rhein, grin sharpening. "Now that we've introduced ourselves, why don't you do the same, Mr. Royal?"
Rhein inhaled slowly.
When he smiled, it was polished to a fault—edges too smooth, courtesy worn like borrowed armor. He bowed just enough to be proper. "Rhein Vermillion of House Vermillion," he said, voice stiff with formality before it turned to an insult. "A not-so-pleasure to meet you all."
And then—before anyone could react—he reached out.
Xierra pursed her lips as Rhein grabbed her arm and, in the same breath, scooped Inari up without warning. The fox yelped in outrage, claws flaring uselessly against Rhein's back as he turned gracefully on his heel.
"Now that that's settled," Rhein muttered, his smile already gone—replaced with a sharp, unmistakable determination to get the hell out of there—"let's get back to our duties."
Xierra stared at him, wide-eyed, barely registering her own movement as she twisted enough to wave awkwardly over her shoulder. "Err—see you later, I guess...?"
Magna watched them retreat, then cupped his hands around his mouth. "H-Hey! Where're you goin'? That's the way to Saussy Village!"
"Exactly," Rhein replied without turning. "I don't need you pointing that out."
"We're going there too," Noelle snapped, already striding after them. "Since when are you such an idiot, Vermillion?"
"What...?" Rhein released Xierra's arm and set Inari down, rubbing his temples as disbelief crossed his face. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh. You're the other squad we're supposed to work together with? Great. How nice."
"I don't want to work with you either," Noelle added coolly. "Especially not on my first mission."
"Likewise, Silva."
The air between them crackled—an unspoken challenge, old royal bloodlines bristling at one another. Sparks flew, invisible but unmistakable, enough to silence the others as they exchanged wary glances. This was not camaraderie. This was an inheritance.
"Well?" Rhein broke the tension, resuming his walk. "What are you doing in Saussy Village?"
"We're turning in these boars to the chief!" Asta declared confidently, beaming as he gestured to the pile of massive carcasses behind him. "Then we're off to patrol."
Rhein stopped short.
He stared. Once. Twice. Then slowly looked back at Xierra, who looked away with a sigh. "Maybe we shouldn't have helped you kill them after all."
"What?!" Magna barked, clearly offended.
"It's your mission, not ours," Rhein continued flatly. "Why don't you ask her to help?" He flicked his gaze toward Noelle. "She didn't do a single thing back there."
Noelle bristled.
"And you're planning to carry all of those?" Rhein added, incredulous.
"Yup!" Asta chirped.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Huh," Rhein finally accepted, lips curling into a smirk as he eyed Noelle. "Then I suppose Little Miss Princess Silva probably needs her knights to do all the work."
Noelle scoffed loudly and stalked ahead, pigtails swaying with irritation.
Inari snickered, padding over to Asta. "You holding up all right there, kid? Need a hand?"
"Huh? Nope! I'm good!" Asta shouted, hoisting the boars effortlessly.
Magna and Rhein each grabbed one eventually, though Asta's raw strength left them more stunned than concerned. Xierra walked beside Inari, her steps unhurried, laughter bubbling softly as she listened to Asta and Magna bicker once more.
The forest thinned as they walked, sunlight spilling between trunks in molten ribbons.
Xierra looked at the boars one last time, impressed. She noted the boar Magna carried, seemingly larger than the rest. "We have quite the haul."
Magna laughed loudly. "Damn right it is."
"Senior Magna, you're so awesome!!" Asta gushed.
"Damn right I am," Magna guffawed, almost losing his footing to a pebble by the road before regaining his balance. He cleared his throat and glanced away, keeping his grin available as Rhein snorted at his mistake.
"Who are we bringing these to again?" Noelle slowed, glancing back.
"Old Man Seyhe!" Magna replied cheerfully. "Mayor of Saussy Village."
"Seyhe..." Noelle breathed out, testing the name.
"Yeah." Magna grinned, canine teeth flashing. "And I'm from Rayaka Village—which is just past here..."
To Be Continued...