Whispers spread that this knight might ascend to become Caria's king.
"Why hasn't he returned yet?"
"I don't know. By all accounts, he should've arrived long ago. Where's that kid Throne gone off to?"
"Allen, don't ask questions you shouldn't. Her Highness has it handled."
Throne had slipped away quietly, but his return with such fanfare would set the spies in the nearby town buzzing. Some things couldn't stay hidden forever. Blaidd's discovery by Black Blade wasn't something you could brush off as a coincidence.
Trying to cover it up would only make things worse. Better to lay it out plainly:
"I went out to handle some business. Whether Caelid's troubles tie back to Caria—feel free to speculate. Radahn's tied to Caria too, and the dragons were once our allies."
With war brewing, it was crucial to divert some forces toward Caelid. Ranni had said the struggle had entered a new phase. The enemy wasn't foolish; the old tactics of skulking in the shadows wouldn't work anymore. Blaming Blaidd was pointless—without him, things would've been far worse.
If Maliketh and Throne clashed head-on, the fallout would be catastrophic. No one had time to wonder why Black Blade had suddenly appeared. They'd just have to take it one step at a time.
Most Carian Knights remained unaware of the looming war. Allen raised his hand, pointing skyward.
"He's here!"
A black speck appeared in the air, circling before descending. Throne looked down, the blare of horns filling his ears. He squinted. Quite the spectacle. Ranni's already planning the next move. If the old strategy was to hide and hope to vanish, the new one was to stall.
Diverting disaster, strategic intimidation—every day they delayed, Caria grew stronger.
"Luckily, I laid a solid foundation. Caria controls all of Liurnia now—strong, well-equipped."
Hunkering down in the royal camp would've been suicide. The Two Fingers would've wiped them out, evidence or not. Throne laughed. Eliminating a weakling wouldn't cause a ripple, but attacking a strong force would trigger a chain reaction. At Caria's current size, the Second Shattering was inevitable.
"Then I'll lend a hand."
Throne donned the illusion mask, transforming into the Caelid Flowing Swordsman. Many had seen this face—the savior of Sellia—but there was no link to his aliases, 'Headless' or 'Isshin Ashina.' "What happens in Limgrave isn't my concern, but I can destroy the Kindred of Rot and slay the Mother of Dragons. Radahn's my brother, and the Ancient Dragons are my allies. Want to hold me accountable? Come and try."
His logic was simple: steer clear of devouring the Great Rune or meddling with death, and the Erdtree wouldn't dare start a war. The Two Fingers would remain patient.
Even if Ranni abandoned her ideals, switching to a different god and lord, it wouldn't matter. Follow the Golden Order, and strength alone determines who becomes king or god. Honor, alliances with the Erdtree's enemies—none of it mattered.
Woo-woo-woo—
The horns blared, their echoes rolling across the sky. Banners snapped in the wind as the massive Glintstone Dragon descended with deliberate grace.
"Millicent, stay hidden."
Throne's voice cut through the air, calm and commanding. He stood tall on the dragon's back, clad in battle-scarred armor and a cloak frayed from countless clashes. His presence spoke of a warrior who had emerged from the crucible of war.
Throne leaned casually on his greatsword, his posture exuding the cool detachment of a seasoned veteran. His eyes flicked toward the town, taking in the scene. Crowds gathered on rooftops, their gazes fixed on the spectacle. Some clutched paper and pens, sketching furiously. The setting sun cast long shadows as the dragon descended onto the majestic walls of Raya Lucaria. Spears stood like a forest, banners fluttering in the evening breeze.
It was a sight worthy of legend, though how many were captivated by Throne's face alone remained unclear. Adula's massive wings blotted out the sun as she landed, her claws striking the wall with a resonant thud. Her ferocious visage radiated the menace of a dragon steeped in myth. A contingent of heavily armored knights approached, their footsteps echoing in unison. Without hesitation, Throne stepped off the dragon's head, a drop of over ten meters.
He landed in a crouch, the impact absorbed by his powerful frame, then rose slowly, deliberately. His battered armor and the weight of his greatsword drew every eye. No one could fathom the strength coiled within him, nor the nature of the battle that had left its marks on the man who had single-handedly conquered the academy. Whatever foe he had faced, it was no ordinary adversary.
"I have returned, everyone."
Perhaps it was the unfamiliar face he wore, or the lingering aura of death that clung to him, but the Carian Knights hesitated. Familiar yet distant, they stood in silence for several heartbeats before nodding in unison.
"Hmm, it's good that you're back. It's good that you're back."
It wasn't estrangement that held them back but a palpable pressure—an aura they had only ever felt from demigods. Throne greeted them one by one, noting the expansion of their ranks. Alongside Moongrum, Allen, War Counselor Iji, and Bolls, there was now Latenna, the wolf-riding Albinauric. Her strength bordered on hero-level, just enough to qualify.
"Congratulations, Latenna." Throne offered a knight's salute to the Albinauric he had met once before.
"I still have much to learn," she replied, returning the gesture hastily. Throne noticed she wasn't mounted on her wolf.
"The Nox helped me," she explained, catching his puzzled look.
"They repaired a defect for me."
Ah. The alliance with Nokstella had borne fruit.
"Then learn more," Throne said with a faint smile. "Her Highness should have skill books left behind by Loretta."
Caria's reach had grown vast, and they were stretched thin. For roles like the Carian Knights, loyalty mattered above all else. He and Latenna weren't close, but that didn't matter.
The Albinauric nodded in understanding. Moongrum stepped forward, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"You... have you reached the level of a demigod?"
Throne hadn't concealed his aura, and the pressure he exuded was unmistakable. Only a demigod could unsettle a top-tier hero like Moongrum.
"Close enough," Throne replied after a moment's thought. Quantitative change leads to qualitative change.
This demigod wasn't some weakling like Godrick but a true force of nature. The group's excitement was palpable. With two demigod-level combatants, Caria would be unstoppable. Their thoughts turned to the future—Throne and Her Highness the Princess. What lay ahead for them?
The man had strength, seniority, and battle honors—the perfect candidate. If Her Highness hesitated any longer, it would only cause problems. The knights exchanged glances, silently urging someone to intervene. Throne watched their silent communication with growing bewilderment.
"What's with the meaningful looks? If you've got nothing better to do, I'm going to see Her Highness."
As Throne turned, he suddenly smacked his forehead and shouted upward, "Millicent! Get down here!"
A head popped into view atop the Glintstone Dragon—bright-eyed, with a crimson ponytail whipping in the wind. Unlike Throne's dramatic dismount, she navigated the dragon's ridges with practiced ease, using its joints as stepping stones until her boots touched stone.
She nodded to the stunned Carian Knights before weaving through their ranks.
"Teacher, you told me to stay hidden up there."
"Use your head. We're inside the walls now."
"You didn't say I could come down."
"Must I spell out everything? What's between your ears, sawdust?"
"That hurts."
Their bickering faded into the distance as casually as a stroll through their own home. Soldiers dispersed. The knights shared another round of loaded glances until Allen snapped.
"I'll carve that philandering bastard into pieces for Her Highness's honor. Don't try to stop me!"
He marched forward, sword half-drawn, then glanced back at his smirking comrades who made no move to intervene. With theatrical reluctance, he sheathed the blade and sauntered back as if nothing happened.
"Ahem. As Her Majesty's most loyal knights, we should focus on solutions."
"No hurry. Did you hear the girl call him 'Teacher'?"
"That title means nothing. Her Majesty was Radagon's teacher too, and they became mortal enemies."
"Political entanglements. Entirely different circumstances."
Moongrum shook his head, the very picture of solemnity.
"Honor the knightly code. The monarch's private affairs are beyond our concern. Though... we could place wagers. Bet as you please."
The group stared. You were the first to draw steel, now you're playing virtuous? And since when does gambling uphold the code?
A grizzled knight coughed.
"Truth be told, a warrior of Throne's caliber taking multiple lovers isn't unheard of. Why, during my trials in Leyndell—"
Adula's roar cut him off as her talon slammed him into the cobblestones. The other knights seized the opportunity to pounce.
"Pound him!"
"Shut his boasting mouth!"
Throne paused on the stairway, watching the scrum of armored men wrestling in the courtyard.
"Such dedication to combat training," Millicent observed admiringly.
"Not training. Just idiots being idiots."
Throne shrugged. A title didn't strip away humanity. Moongrum and the others were flesh and blood. With so few Carian Knights and no infighting, their bonds ran deep.
"Let them blow off steam. Stiff, rule-bound types would've driven me off long ago. Come, Ranni awaits."
"I am already here."
The voice came from above. The Lunar Princess stood on the high steps, her gaze flickering between Millicent and Throne with glacial precision before settling on his face.
"Throne. When. Will. You. Learn. To. Come. Alone?!"
Her glare carried layered meanings—fury, exasperation, regal command—all coalescing into one crystalline message:
Must you humiliate me before strangers?!
"So it's fine in front of insiders? Watching Ranni keep retreating is downright entertaining."
Throne smirked, catching the reason for Ranni's wariness.
Melina had already pierced through the disguise. A few more witnesses, and where would the Lunar Princess hide her dignity?
"Your Highness, this is Millicent." Throne offered a knight's salute first, then made the introduction.
"Hello."
Millicent returned a swordsman's gesture, her tone even, neither deferential nor bold.
Ranni gave a slight nod, her composure unshaken, but her gaze sharpened as it lingered. That presence—too familiar. A clone of Malenia, unmistakably.
"You've lost your memories?"
"Yes. I travel with my teacher to reclaim them."
Millicent's reply carried weight. Another nod, softer.
"I appreciate the kindness, but I won't idle in this castle."
Throne had already broached the subject on the road—stay in Caria, recover. Millicent refused. Even without him, she'd set out alone. Her resolve was iron, almost reckless.
Ranni's slender brows arched. She turned to Throne, her eyes slicing through the air between them. Is she an idiot? Roaming with that much rot festering in her—does she want some zealot purging her on sight?
Throne spread his hands. He'd tried. Millicent out-stubborned even him.
Just like you. A death wish.
Bullshit. I gamble, but I count my chips first. Never blind.
Their silent exchange volleyed back and forth. Millicent watched, then exhaled softly. So this was Ranni, the Lunar Princess. Regal, imposing, perfectly in sync with her teacher. But then—Melina matched that synchronicity too.
In her heart, Millicent cheered for Melina.
Throne and Ranni broke eye contact, consensus reached without a word.
"I'll find a way to suppress the rot. The effect won't last. Start your journey in Liurnia—plenty of hidden caves to train in."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Millicent accepted, which eased Throne's burden slightly. With the big players running amok across the Lands Between, who had time to scour caves? Better to hunt bandits in the hills.
Throne exhaled. At least she wasn't entirely obstinate.
With that settled, the rest was simple.
"Wait. I'll fetch someone to show you around."
No choice—he'd have to summon her.
Particles shimmered. Melina materialized.
The kindling maiden's first instinct was to look at Ranni.
One second of locked stares. Then, in unison, they turned away.
One couldn't be bothered with greetings. The other refused to dignify the encounter.
Why do you two turn into knives every time you meet?
Throne stood between them, done playing mediator. Experience taught him it was futile.
"Melina, take Millicent around the academy. Or the town outside. It's safe here."
Normally, she'd refuse. But with Ranni present, she spared the argument. A curt nod, and she strode off, tugging Millicent along.
Muttering under her breath.
Ten paces out, she froze.
Wait. With the Lunar Princess here, I should be the one putting on airs. How did Throne just order me around—again?
Turning back now would look pathetic.
The girl's boot scuffed the ground, irritation tightening her shoulders as she hauled Millicent toward the academy gates. Throne exhaled through his teeth. Melina's fists always moved faster than her thoughts.
"Thank the gods she's slow today."
"Celebrating her stupidity now?"
Ranni's lips curved without warmth.
Throne rubbed his neck. Melina deserved that much.
"She's not stupid. Just dense. Traveling with me sharpened her wits."
His fingers twitched toward the sword hilt at his hip.
"Sometimes I envy that about her. The freedom. And I'm glad she had your back in Caria."
Ranni's laugh was a blade turned inward. Throne blinked—since when did she praise Melina? He opened his mouth.
"Breathe a word of this to her and I'll skin you alive."
Something was off. Ranni's usual precision had cracked, like a shattered vase hastily glued together.
After being shamed too many times, it seemed it didn't matter anymore. Throne snapped to attention, bark rattling the rafters.
"Understood!"