Clop clop clop…
A rapid volley of hoofbeats thundered in from the south, drawing closer and closer before fading away to the north.
A gentle breeze brushed across the face, cool and soothing, enough to make one narrow their eyes in quiet comfort.
As vision gradually sharpened, Caria Manor emerged ahead, slowly growing larger with every step.
Once past the northern gate of the territory and climbing toward higher ground, a grand and imposing city revealed itself.
Built in a classic Western style, three layers of walls followed the natural slope of the mountains, rising in staggered tiers.
Towering spires, massive gates, squads of powerful knights, and enormous crawling hands together proclaimed the city's solidity and authority.
This was a fortress as unassailable as a steel vault, even harder to conquer than the royal domains.
According to Raziel, they still kept a small room for themselves here.
The distance wasn't far, and for the time being, no magical arrows rained down from the sky to turn anyone into a pincushion.
The two fine steeds galloped up to the gate, hooves kicking high before coming to a steady stop.
After pulling the reins taut, Raziel turned to the knight beside him and asked,
"It's been a long time since you last came back, hasn't it? How does it feel?"
Nolan didn't answer right away. He simply gazed in silence at the fortress before him, as well as the giant hand slowly crawling within the gate.
After a moment, he gently shook his head and let out a quiet sigh.
"Still the same. If it weren't for the Fingercreepers, it might feel a bit better."
"Haha, I knew it. Honestly, I don't like them either, but there's nothing to be done. They're an important part of the manor's defenses. You get used to them after a while."
"You came all the way from the Haligtree, though. Passing through the Consecrated Snowfield, you must've seen their ancestors. Those big ones are a lot more dangerous, right?"
"Back then, when the ancient Stargazers brought these little mobs down from the Consecrated Snowfield, the royal family put in a great deal of effort before they finally managed to tame them."
Raziel burst into hearty laughter, his voice ringing out across the open grounds as though it could pierce the clouds.
With just a few words, he cut straight to the heart of Caria's unspoken dilemma, like a sharp dagger finding its mark.
The eyes of the powerful Carian Knights gleamed with confidence, utterly dismissive of those small Cuckoos.
They took pride in their unmatched strength and honor, yet they carried a fatal weakness: a severe lack of manpower.
Because of this, even such repulsive creatures had to be taken seriously, becoming indispensable forces on the battlefield.
"My teacher and I don't really think there's a problem. We just can't bring ourselves to like them."
Nolan nodded lightly. At times, he even found those creatures vaguely cute, almost like puppies, but liking them was another matter entirely.
The two dismounted briskly. Nolan gently stroked Torrent's mane, a trace of tenderness in his gaze.
As if reassuring an old companion, he returned Torrent to the Spectral Steed Whistle.
Raziel, meanwhile, strode toward the gate and handed his warhorse over to the guards.
The guards themselves looked truly bizarre. Some were so thin they seemed like a gust of wind could knock them over, their long necks oddly disproportionate.
Others were round through both body and head, looking exactly like plump frogs.
They were the Albinauric Sons Loretta had long yearned for: the former were first-generation, the latter second-generation.
Raziel looked completely unconcerned. He casually lifted a hand and slapped the old man on the shoulder.
"Dhurke, how are your legs these days? Any better?"
"Easy, will you? You're about to knock this old body apart!"
Leaning on his staff, the elderly man knelt halfway to the ground, rubbing his aching shoulder as he spoke with a helpless sigh.
"If my legs were still in good shape, do you think I'd let you run wild here?"
His tone was blunt, yet the knight showed no sign of anger. It was obvious the two were close. Raziel glanced at the old man's legs with concern, but there was nothing he could do.
"Alright, alright. You're old now, yet you still think you're young. I'm not afraid of you anymore. Hurry back to the village and enjoy your retirement."
After tossing out the teasing remark, Raziel turned toward the city, dragging along Nolan, who had been quietly eavesdropping nearby.
The two stepped onto the lift and slowly ascended.
They passed solid city walls, a vast and imposing gate hall, meticulously arranged gardens filled with a quiet sense of poetry, and a broad stone staircase stretching on for hundreds of steps.
When they finally reached the highest stone tier, Nolan stopped and looked back.
Most of Liurnia of the Lakes spread out beneath them, a magnificent panorama unfolding like a richly colored painting before his eyes.
Two burly troll knights, each carrying a Greatsword on their backs, stood guard before the gate like two immovable hills.
Raziel gave them a slight nod in greeting and remained outside. Nolan, meanwhile, took a moment to straighten his slightly rumpled armor with care.
Beyond the gate lay a shallow pool, still as a mirror. A neat circle of high-backed chairs surrounded it, as though quietly standing watch over this pocket of serenity.
Moonlight poured down like a veil of gauze, spilling into the water and reflecting a bright, flawless moon, as if the entire world had been wrapped in that gentle glow.
At the very center sat an exceptionally petite figure.
Her skin was a deep, dusky blue, like the most mysterious gem in the night sky. Her features were exquisitely refined, every line and contour so perfect they seemed almost unreal.
Her right eye, marked with arcane runes, was shut tight. Her blue left eye, however, resembled a vast, star-filled sky, gazing quietly at the motionless water.
"Blaidd, why did you want me to meet that Golden Needle Knight?"
Her voice was clear and flowing, like spring water winding through the mountains.
If not for the gentle swing of her legs beneath the long skirt, and the occasional spark of liveliness that slipped through, one might truly feel the dignity of a queen radiating from her.
The werewolf warrior stood silently at her side, sharp eyes sweeping over every corner of the area.
It was as if danger lurked everywhere, demanding vigilance against even the slightest disturbance. That keen, predatory presence alone was enough to keep others at a distance.
At her words, Blaidd's sharp-toothed mouth twitched faintly. He thought to himself that this was plainly her own curiosity at work.
Raziel went on to recount the battle, merely describing the other man's behavior at their first meeting and making a simple comparison.
Having grown up alongside Ranni, Blaidd knew her peculiar temperament all too well.
The werewolf cleared his throat, his expression turning more solemn as he answered slowly,
"That meeting at the academy back then… compared to how he is now, it's like night and day."