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"Senior Brother."
"Long time no see."
A voice unheard for so long drifted through the air.
A gaze untouched for years met his through the flow of perception.
Allen stared in surprise at Isolte's face peeking over Philip's shoulder.
The stream of information from his Flow Sense swept through his mind, carrying both the unchanged and the changed into his awareness.
In an instant, her presence became real:
—Her habitual head tilt, 15 degrees to the left, just like when she watched sword forms at the Water God's dojo.
—Her height had changed. Over three years, she'd grown roughly twelve centimeters. Once 155 cm, now around 167 cm.
—The faint traces of childish roundness on her face had vanished. At twelve, her sharp, striking features—tall nose bridge, piercing eyes—gave her an almost aggressive aura when her eyes were open.
—Yet when she smiled, squinting her eyes, the familiar drooping corners erased any unfamiliarity.
—Her sleek, straight black hair, once ending at her shoulders, now cascaded past her waist, its dark strands tinged with faint blue at the tips. The length had changed, but the princess-cut style remained.
—Her voice had shed its childish sweetness, now slightly husky but still soft and melodic.
She—Isolte.
Allen's childhood companion, the girl he'd spent four years with at the Water God's dojo.
His surprise faded.
Fragments of memory, rewound like film reels, flashed through his mind.
—Reida's teasing invitation: "Tonight's no good, but tomorrow's open~"
—Her insinuation that Allen's tastes weren't limited to lolis.
—Her long, straight hair, her posture—mimicking Isolte's grace.
—Her sudden stop to flirt with him.
—Her hurried demeanor, as if rushing to report something to Sauros.
—The sound of carriage wheels fading into the distance at the Boreas estate gates.
—The twilight's dying glow, the dark-blue canvas of approaching night.
He should've realized.
His Flow Sense had already whispered "evening visitor" when the carriage departed.
But his thoughts had been consumed by Sauros' words, leaving the clue buried in his subconscious.
All he'd done was glance at the dimming sky.
Why?
Because the hues of dusk matched the hair of the "Squire" in his thoughts.
Close his eyes—the image vanished.
Open them—Isolte stood before him.
He wanted to glare at Philip, to scorn the man's underhanded maneuvering.
But in the end, Allen couldn't be bothered.
Instead, he smiled at the girl with crescent-moon eyes.
"Yeah."
"Long time no see."
Sauros arrived soon after, uncharacteristically flustered.
Isolte greeted him with impeccable etiquette.
The usually boisterous lord, ever the imposing figure, spoke to her with unusual gentleness—whether out of respect for her noble status or fear of her grandmother's influence, it was hard to say.
Still, his occasional glances at Philip dripped with displeasure.
But he didn't voice it.
After all, Isolte's arrival aligned with the "agreement" he and Allen had reached atop the tower:
—Establish a foothold in the Knight Orders. Gather strength. Wait for the succession struggle to end. Secure the future.*
As for Philip's schemes? Sauros didn't care enough to expose them.
And Philip, ever the strategist, simply watched his father with half-lidded eyes, equally indifferent.
His letter summoning Isolte had been sent last October—back when his goal was giving Allen a reason to leave Boreas and free Hilda from her anguish.
That motive was now obsolete.
But Philip always planned ten steps ahead. Even with Hilda and Allen reunited, events still followed his design.
He didn't need to explain anything to Allen.
Just lure him to the capital.
Given Allen's handling of the assassination incident, conflict with James was inevitable.
A politically savvy mind like Allen's would recognize Ariel as the key to breaking the deadlock.
That was Philip's expectation.
—Use political maneuvering to crush James and the First Prince in the succession battle. Seize the family headship. Win the present.*
Father and son, each confident in their chosen heir.
Each certain Allen would walk their path.
How amusing.
Sauros, Philip, and Hilda soon left.
With a guest arriving from afar, etiquette lessons were canceled for the day.
Now, the younger generation had time to acquaint themselves.
Ghyslaine, Rudeus, Eris, and Sylphiette stared at the "sudden childhood friend" standing primly before them, expressions varied.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Isolte Quatre—Senior Brother Allen's junior at the Water God's main dojo. A pleasure to meet you."
Clad in Water God-style robes, her voice calm as still water, she surveyed the four with an unchanging smile.
She stepped forward, stopping first before Ghyslaine.
Her eyes briefly flicked to the sword at the Sword King's waist before she bowed gracefully.
"You must be Ghyslaine Dedoldia, the Sword King? The only King-tier in the Sword God style. Truly, your sharp aura lives up to your reputation."
Ghyslaine stiffened, unused to such formal courtesy. She managed a gruff "Mm," returning the greeting with a Boreas-style bow, her tone unintentionally adopting noble affectation.
"First time meeting. Is Lady Reida in good health?"
"Grandmother is well. Thank you for your concern."
Ghyslaine opened her mouth, struggling to continue the conversation, but Isolte simply smiled and nodded—a clear signal the exchange was over—before turning away.
The Sword King exhaled slightly, her tail drooping.
Now, Isolte faced Eris.
The crimson-haired girl scowled, arms crossed, her posture that of a lioness guarding her territory. Her eyes kept darting to Allen, who leaned against the doorframe, watching.
Isolte blinked. At Eris' familiar raised brows, she smiled.
"Lady Eris is even more striking than rumors suggest. The Sword God style? Trained by Lady Ghyslaine? Hmm—no, your observational stance has traces of the Water God style. Did Senior Brother teach you that?"
Eris' frown deepened. She glared but didn't answer.
Unfazed, Isolte continued, "You've reached Advanced-rank, haven't you? That surpasses most your age in the capital."
Eris hesitated, then grunted, "…Yeah."
"Talented, just like Senior Brother. That sharpness—I'm sure you'll catch up to him soon."
Eris' lips twitched upward. She shot Allen a fleeting glance before nodding firmly.
"I, too, received Senior Brother's guidance in swordsmanship. I'll be counting on your advice in the future."
Eris studied Isolte head to toe, then relaxed, as if satisfied with the stranger's attitude.
"Sure!"
Isolte nodded, moving on.
Next: Rudeus, his curiosity tinged with awkwardness around girls. His eyes kept shifting between Allen, Isolte, and Sylphiette.
He straightened, offering a Boreas-style bow first.
"Ah, hello! Miss Isolte. I'm Rudeus Greyrat—a friend of Allen's. I'm currently employed at Boreas as a—"
"Magic instructor?"
Rudeus blinked. Isolte pointed at her near-closed eyes.
"I can faintly see the mana flow around you."
"Flow Sense? Like Allen?"
She nodded. "Yes, the Flow Sense secret technique."
Rudeus' eyes sparkled. "Do all Water God stylists know this?"
"Not at all. I've only grasped the basics—nowhere near Senior Brother's level." She smiled. "He rarely makes friends, much less with mages. You must be quite close."
Rudeus grinned, glancing at Allen, who raised a brow in acknowledgment. Puffing up, he scratched his head. "W-Well, I guess we get along."
"Then I'll rely on you too. This is my first time befriending a mage."
"Likewise, Miss Isolte."
She tilted her head slightly, then turned.
Finally—Sylphiette.
As she moved, Rudeus' expression froze. He shot Sylphiette a worried sidelong glance.
The two girls locked eyes.
Silence.
Isolte tilted her head, smiling as her dark eyes studied Sylphiette's face.
Sylphiette met her gaze at first, but soon, her red-brown eyes wavered. Insecurity crept in. Her gaze dropped—pausing briefly at Isolte's chest—before settling on the hem of her Water God-style skirt.
The parted, three-paneled skirt bore embroidered patterns on each side.
Flowing lines, interwoven like orderly rivers, nested within curved banks.
A design embodying the Water God style's "caution" and "discipline."
Sylphie had seen it before.
When Allen pulled her from the river in Buena Village, his clothes bore the same pattern.
Identical.
Before they'd even met, at five years old—
It had already been stitched into his swordsman's attire.
"It's beautiful."
Sylphie jolted, realizing she'd spaced out. Flustered, she stammered,
"Y-Yes, the pattern is lovely. Is it the Water God dojo's emblem—?"
She trailed off.
Her head lifted.
Her pupils dilated.
In her line of sight—
Isolte wasn't looking at her skirt.
Still, she gazed at Sylphie's face.
Eyes curved like moons, she repeated:
"You're beautiful."
Not the emblem.
Her.
The words seemed to lay bare Sylphie's hidden thoughts, throwing her into panic. Tongue-tied, she finally managed:
"…Th-Thank you. You're… also beautiful. I'm… Sylphiette."
Isolte studied her a moment, then nodded.
"A lovely name. Fitting for an elf."
Sylphie froze.
Then Isolte's gaze lowered—to her neck.
Following it, Sylphie saw her own pendant, its gray-black surface streaked with mana veins, glimmering under the chandelier.
A soft voice carried on the wind:
"The pendant is beautiful too."
Sylphie's breath hitched.
Suddenly, she turned to the doorframe.
Allen still leaned there, watching.
Around his neck—a matching pendant, glowing faintly.
She whipped back to Isolte, who met her stare calmly.
"Miss Sylphiette, I look forward to getting to know you."
"…Likewise, Miss Isolte."
With that, Isolte stepped back and bowed deeply.
"On behalf of my grandmother, thank you all for looking after Senior Brother these three years. He may seem reliable, but he often does… unexpected things. I'm sure he's caused you trouble."
Sylphie and Rudeus exchanged bewildered glances, as if suddenly made guests in their own home. But the words were flawless—they could only murmur assent.
By the door, Allen's eye twitched, as if recalling something.
Isolte straightened, raising a finger.
"Now, I have a small request…"
She smiled.
"Grandmother entrusted me with a private message for him—something related to the dojo. So… might I borrow Senior Brother for a while?"
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