Declaration and Verdic
The war with the Eclipse had finally ended.
For the people of Roake, it felt less like a victory parade and more like waking up from a long, feverish nightmare. The scent of of sawdust, wet stone, and the hopeful scent of baking bread replaced the smell of blood. The massive obsidian-clad Thralls were gone, their bodies dissolved into dust or burned in pyres far from the city. The cultists who had surrendered, those who were more victims than villains, had traded their indigo robes for builder's tunics. They worked alongside the miners they had once oppressed, clearing rubble and repairing the damage they had wrought, their eyes downcast but their hands steady.
Adeline stood in the center of the West District square, directing the distribution of winter supplies. She looked tired, her boots scuffed and her coat patched, but she moved with a quiet authority that commanded respect from hardened mercenaries and frightened refugees alike.
"Stack the grain sacks in the warehouse!" She called out, pointing to a newly repaired building. "And make sure the south barracks have enough firewood! The temperature is dropping!"
"Okay!" A former cultist shouted back, hauling a crate with surprising enthusiasm. He paused, looking at her nervously. "Uh... Miss Adeline? We found some... old Eclipse banners in the cellar. Should we burn them?"
Adeline looked at him, her expression softening. "Burn them. Use the heat to boil water for the infirmary. Let something good come from them."
The man nodded, grateful for the practical order that offered redemption without judgment. He hurried off, leaving Adeline alone for a moment. She sighed, rubbing her temples, the weight of a city pressing down on her shoulders.
_____
Meanwhile, miles away in Loriana, the atmosphere was decidedly less industrious and more... hazy.
The Water Lilies' Embrace was packed, the tavern roaring with the sound of victorious soldiers spending their coin. In a corner booth, Asep, Stark, and Karl were nursing their drinks, surrounded by empty plates and a cloud of tobacco smoke.
"I'm telling you, man," Karl slurred, slamming his tankard down with a bit too much force. "You gotta do it! The war is over! The bad guys are dead! The princess is safe! This is the part where the hero gets the girl!"
Stark took a measured sip of his Lotus wine. "Karl's drunk, but he's not entirely wrong. You've been moping around like a kicked puppy since we got back."
Asep groaned, sinking lower in his seat. He twirled a cigarette between his fingers, staring at the glowing ember. "I'm not moping. I'm... contemplating. Strategizing. There's a difference."
"Strategizing?" Karl snorted. "You punched an ex-Cardinal in the face! You rode a mechanical beast through an army of fanatic heretics! Stratagy is not your problem. Your problem is you're scared of a girl who's barely five feet tall!"
"She's five-four, thank you very much," Asep muttered defensively.
"See! You know her height! That's basically marriage material!" Karl crowed, attracting several amused glances from nearby tables. "Look, Asep. You like her. She clearly tolerates your existence. What's the hold-up? A meteor hitting the planet? Because with your luck, that might actually happen if you wait too long."
Asep sighed, taking a long drag. The smoke burned his throat in a way that felt grounding. He thought back to the moments with her. Her fierce determination in the mines. Her gentle smile when she fed the children. Her head on his shoulder in that house.
"It's complicated," he said finally. "She's... busy. She's got a whole city to fix. I'm just a mercenary who fixes engines and breaks faces. What do I even offer her? A discount on shrapnel grenades?"
"You offer her someone who isn't trying to sacrifice her to a dark god," Stark pointed out dryly. "That's a pretty high bar in Roake right now."
"And you make her laugh," Karl added. "I saw you two. When she's with you, she doesn't look like she's carrying the weight of the world. She just looks... happy."
Asep stared at his friends. Stark, the stoic family man who fought for his wives. Karl, the loudmouth who would die for his brothers. They were right. Damn them, they were right.
He stubbed out his cigarette, the decision hardening in his chest.
"Fine, I'll go" Asep grunted and standing up.
"That's the spirit!" Karl cheered, raising his glass. "Go get her, tiger!"
"But if she shoots me down," Asep warned, pointing a finger at Karl, "I'm telling everyone about the time you tried to drank a slime excretion."
"It was a misunderstanding!" Karl shouted as Asep grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, leaving the warmth of the tavern behind.
_____
The ride to Roake was cold, the biting wind whipping against his face as he pushed the trike to its limit as it roared down the empty roads.
By the time he reached the city, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and fiery orange. He parked the trike near the West District gate, ignoring the curious stares of the guards, and walked the rest of the way.
He found her in the square where she was overlooking the supplies, just finishing up her orders. She stood alone for a moment, head bowed, clearly exhausted.
Asep took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Hey."
Adeline jumped slightly and turning around. When she saw him, her tired face broke into a warm smile reminiscent of the sunset behind her. "Asep?"
"Thought I'd finally cash in that favor you owe me," he said, walking towards her, his hands jammed deep in his pockets. "For carrying you."
Adeline's smile faded slightly, replaced by a mixture of exhaustion and that longing he'd tried so hard to ignore. She sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I... I can't pay you right now. The supplies are stretched thin, and with the rebuilding..."
"Coin," Asep interrupted softly, "is not what I'm here for."
Adeline blinked, looking at him with wide, confused eyes. "Then... what?"
"You," Asep said, his voice surprisingly steady. "I'm asking if you'd walk with me. Just... walk. To a nearby hill."
Adeline stared at him for a long moment, the wind whipping a stray lock of hair across her face. "Walk?"
"Yeah. Walk," Asep shrugged, feeling the back of his neck heat up. "Or ride. I brought the trike."
Adeline's confused expression melted into something softer, something almost hopeful. "Alright. But... just for a little while."
_____
They rode the trike up the winding path—slowly this time, to the hill that overlooked the ruins of Roake. The view from the top was breathtaking, despite the scars of war etched across the city. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of indigo and gold.
For a long time, they walked in silence, the only sound were the crunch of gravel under their boots.
Finally, Adeline broke the stillness. "It's... quiet," she murmured, hugging her arms around herself against the chill. "So... quiet."
"Yeah," Asep agreed, glancing sideways at her. "No monsters screaming. No crystal zombies exploding. Just... peace."
"It's strange," she admitted, looking down at the flickering lights of the city. "I'm still waiting for the next attack. The next disaster."
"That's just the trauma talking," Asep said, stopping to stand beside her. "It'll pass. Eventually."
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He'd fought monsters twice his size. But this... this was harder.
"Adeline," he started, his voice sounded a little hoarse. "I... I wanted to say something."
She turned to face him, the fading light catching the unshed tears in her eyes. "Yeah?"
"I know I joke around a lot. And I'm not... exactly knight material. I'm a mess. I fight for money. And tobacco. But..." He stumbled, searching for the right words. "When I see you... fighting for these people... being so damn stubborn... it makes me want to be... less of a mess."
His heart was pounding in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. He never done this before, back then, it's just a coincidence that Fatimah accept him. But now? He can't thinking the same result.
Come on, man! Do it!
He could almost heard Karl 's voice inside his head.
"So, what I'm trying to say is..." Asep hesitated, his eyes meeting hers—so warm, so full of unspoken things. "Would you... maybe... want to be... with me?"
Adeline's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and something else crossing her face. For a long, heart-stopping moment, she said nothing.
Her eyes, however, spoke volumes. They were filled with a profound yearning, a raw longing that mirrored his own. But then, as he watched, that longing slowly, painfully, dulled into resignation. A small, sad smile tugged at her lips.
"Asep..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. "I..."
She looked down at the city, at the flickering lanterns in the West District, at the distant smoke rising from the mines. It was a battlefield still, a wound slowly healing, but one that demanded every drop of her strength.
"I can't," she finished quietly. "Not... right now."
Asep felt a sharp pang in his chest, a hollow thud of disappointment he'd been bracing for. But instead of the crushing defeat he'd feared, it felt somewhat relieved.
"There's so much to do," Adeline continued, gesturing vaguely at the city below, her voice thick with emotion. "The refugees... the rebuilding... the children who still wake up screaming. They need me, Asep. They need a leader."
She looked back at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I want to. believe me, I do. More than anything. But I can't be selfish. Not now. Not when so many people are depending on me."
Asep stared at her, the rejection stinging less than the admiration that swelled in his chest. Selfless to a fault. Just like her.
He let out a stuttering breath slowly, forcing a grin onto his face. It was crooked, a little sad, but genuine.
"Yeah. I figured," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's... that's why you're you, isn't it?"
Adeline nodded, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Asep. I wish... I wish things were simpler."
"Hey, don't be sad. I know... It's complicated. Like I said before," Asep interrupted softly with a teasing lilt in his voice. "I'm a patient man. I waited out a two-year prison sentence. A few months of reconstruction? That's a walk in the park."
He stepped closer, offering her a handkerchief he'd found in his pocket—luckily, it was clean.
"You take your time, Adeline," he said, gently pressing it into her hand. "Roake needs you. Hell, I need you to fix this place so I can finally get a decent meal that doesn't taste like rocks."
Adeline looked at the handkerchief, then up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a deep, overwhelming gratitude. A sob choked in her throat, a fragile sound that broke the dam.
"Thank you, Asep," she whispered, clutching the cloth to her chest. "Thank you for waiting."
"Don't mention it," Asep smirked, though his voice was thick with unspoken relief. "Besides, if you'd said yes right now, I might have actually had a heart attack. Karl would never let me live it down."
Adeline let out a shaky laugh, wiping her eyes. "Karl... is he...?"
"Drunk. And loud," Asep confirmed dryly.
They both chuckled, the tension melting away into a comfortable understanding. The city lights flickered below, a sea of small victories against the encroaching dark.
As the last rays of the sun dipped below the mountains, a tiny cold flake landed on Asep's nose. He blinked, looking up.
Another fell. And another. Soon, the air was filled with soft white specks drifting down like silent promises.
"Snow," Adeline murmured, holding out her hand to catch a flake.
"Yeah. First snow of the season. Winter's here," Asep agreed, watching the white dusting settle on her hair, making her look almost ethereal in the fading light.
He glanced at her, standing there amidst the falling snow, strong and fragile all at once. She wasn't his—not yet. But she wasn't gone, either. She was right here, fighting her own war, just like he was. And knowing that he could stand beside her, even if just as a friend a while longer, felt like enough.
"Come on," Asep said, nodding towards the trike. "Let's get you back before you freeze. Don't want the great leader catching a cold on my watch."
Adeline smiled, a bright smile that reached her eyes. "Yeah. Let's go home."
They walked back to the trike together, their footsteps leaving dual tracks in the fresh dusting of snow, a silent promise etched into the winter earth that while the road ahead was long and unsure, they wouldn't be walking it alone.
_______
The main square of Merlesia was a tapestry of tension woven from silk and steel. Banners snapped in the bitter winter wind—the golden Lion of Albion, the silver Cross of the Holy Empire, the black crescent of the Undying Empire, and defiance itself: the blue Water Lily of Castalia and the crimson Falcon of House Ardenia.
It was a stage set for peace, yet every stiffness in the soldiers' postures screamed of war.
On the western dais stood Crown Prince Finlay. He looked every bit the ruler forced into a corner, his face was a mask of cold resolve. His hand rested permanently on the pommel of his rapier, Dawnlight's twin, Dusk. Flanking him, two Royal Guards stood like statues, their eyes scanning the crowd with paranoid intensity. Beside the dais, Adreana and Zachary stood together. Stark and Karl were behind them; Stark polished and stoic, Karl, however, stood stiff.
Across the dais to the east, the weight of the continent pressed down.
Bishop Ingrid of Gallia was a striking figure, draped in robes of crimson and gold that seemed to trap the sunlight. She was young for her rank. Her retinue of Templars stood behind her, a wall of polished white steel. Next to them, wearing white turban and robes, was the delegation from the Emirate of Qurtuba.
Stood at the right side of the center, Orwella stood, behind her, Alistair and her knights, their faces grim, waiting for Gawain to came.
"Look, even the Prince is here..."
Murmur a civilian.
"Does this truly end now?" An off-duty Royal Army soldier whispered to his comrade.
"Who knows? One wrong word and we're back to killing each other."
"William fooled us all. Thank goodness Lady Orwella stepped in..."
A tired knight said.
"Will the Albion withdraw after this?"
"If peace comes, I can finally see my family."
"I don't care how, I just want it over..."
That was the sentiment that hung heavy in the air. Exhaustion. A desperate plea for normalcy and stability.
Suddenly, a horn blast cut through the murmur. Clear, resonant, and imposing.
"The Arbiter has arrived!"
From the southern thoroughfare, a mounted procession emerged. Leading them was Nadia, the 'Raven of the West', her silver hair blowing in the wind. Beside her, a man of Albion Royal Navy, Admiral John Blake, with Lumite gun hung at his waist.
And behind him, riding a massive black charger armored in gold, was Gawain.
The silence that descended upon Merlesia's main square was absolute. It was not the quiet of peace, but the collective breath-holding of thousands.
Gawain dismounted.
His armored boots connected with the cobblestones with a heavy thud that vibrated through the soles of everyone nearby. Clad in full plate armor of burnished gold that seemed to hoard the weak winter sunlight, he looked less like a mortal king and more like a myth given terrifying form. A magnificent crimson cape, lined with thick white fur, flowed from his massive shoulders, snapping in the biting wind.
But it was his face that commanded the silence. Framed by a mane of fiery red hair that spilled over his pauldrons, his features were sharp, regal, and utterly unyielding. He wore a simple golden crown, spiked like the rays of the sun, but his eyes were the true mark of his authority. They swept across the dais, assessing weight that made veteran knights straighten their backs and grip their halberds tighter.
He walked up the steps, the golden claws of his gauntleted hand flexing slightly. He carried no scepter, no orb. Just the massive broadsword strapped to his back, a weapon that looked too heavy for three men to lift, yet sat upon him as lightly as a feather.
Orwella stepped forward. She was a Paladin of renowned strength, a woman who had faced down crystal abominations and dark sorceresses without flinching. But as she stood before Gawain, she looked small.
"Orwella Arthur Victoria, Acting Commander of Avalon Knight Order, now return command." She declared.
"Orwella, you thwarted William..." Gawain's voice was deep, a resonant baritone that carried without shouting. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, but a faint smile etched into his lips. "And the plots from certain Council members. Well done."
"Yet we made too many mistakes." Orwella bowed her head. "We lost our honor. We let innocent blood spill." She straighten up. "King of Judgement Gawain, I pledge my utmost to restore peace to Ardenia."
"Hmm... no more schemes and games..." Gawain turned to face the assembly, his gaze landing on Crown Prince Finlay on the opposite platform, to Zachary and Adreana, to The Bishop, and to the Qurtuban delegations until finally settled back to Orwella.
"I, Camelot Palla Leonhart, now declare the final verdic of the Council of Knights..." He raised his hands slightly. "The Albion Empire now... declares war on the Kingdom of Ardenia."
The winter wind seemed to freeze solid in the silence that followed. It wasn't the silence of anticipation this time; it was the silence of minds shattering.
Orwella blinked. Once. Twice. The words didn't compute. Restoration of peace? Justice? Had she misheard?
The murmurs started as a low ripple, then exploded into a roar of confusion and panic.
"War?!"
"But William is dead! The plot was exposed!"
"Did he just say... war?!"
On the western dais, Crown Prince Finlay's hand tightened in a fist. His face hard as obsidian before shaking his head. "These 'negotiations'... exactly as expected." He said, his brows furrowed deeply. "Ardenia always makes invaders pay, no matter how many times they try."
With that, he and his Royal Guards walking down the dais, leaving the negotiation table.
"The Albion Empire breaks the Treaty of Telmar without shame. How disgraceful..." Bishop Ingrid said before leaving.
"Such a disappointing turn of events." The Qurtuban delegation sighed, following the suit.
"Lord Gawain, you're launching an invasion!" Orwella stepping forward, disappointment and anger mixed with her voice.
"I said, no more games." Gawain said simply. "The Avalon Knight Order will now disbanded. Paladin Orwella, leave with your people. Ardenia now falls under my control. This war doesn't involve you!"
Orwella was silent for a moment, still processing what happened. But finally, her resolve hardened.
"No." She said firmly, looking straight into Gawain's eyes. "I came here for justice and peace..."
"Orwella, we trust your choice." Adreana said behind her, trying to reassure her.
Orwella turn back to see Zachary, Adreana, Karl, Stark, and all her friends standing in resolve. She might have lost her faith in Albion, but she gained something else today.
"I am a knight. An Avalon Knight who protects the weak. No one honor and justice can ignore this war!" Orwella turned back to Gawain. "Even if I stand alone, my oath remains unbroken!"
Sensing the tension and potential desertion of Paladin Orwella, Admiral John stepped forward, leveling his Lumite gun towards her.
"It matters not." Gawain said, stopping John. He's well aware of the situation. Orwella has been a role model of ideal Knight, of course some people will follow her.
"Make your choice." His voice deep and final.
Several Knights looked each other, and then, they started walking to Orwella's. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred Knights of Avalon walked behind Orwella, forming a wall of white steel.
"Paladin Orwella, we stand beside you!" shout a knight
"We've made our choice." Adreana said.
"The Castalia Mercenary Company will fight on for peace." Zachary added.
"Hmm.. Your courage deserve respect. Worthy opponent indeed." Gawain said. "Gather what forces you can to face me on the battlefield!"
"My armies shall march across this land with fire and death. My warrior's strength will prove it. Your flames of hope are mere illusions!"
"I will conquer Ardenia, establish my rule, and bring true peace to this land!"
That was the end of the negotiations.
Orwella sighed, turning back to see Adreana and Zachary.
"I won't let such a tyrant destroy my homeland." Adreana declared.
"We will defend Ardenia." Zachary added, his hands on the hilt of his sword.
Gawain turned his back on them all. He didn't offer a final scathing remark, he didn't laugh. He simply walked away, the golden armor turning his retreating figure into a setting sun.
"Hmpf! Foolish!"
"Just you wait! We'll show you the spirit of Ardenia!"
"We'll defend our home until the end!"
From the crowds, people began to shout in anger. In defiance.
If Gawain expected them to cower in fear, he was sorely mistaken.
The Ardenian people had endured wars, famine, heretical cults, and monsters over and over again, and what they learned from it is only one thing: If you push them too far, they bite back.
_____
Meanwhlle, in the same alleyway where he first hiding and watching the Merlesia Incident unfold, Asep can do nothing but sighed.
"Here goes my tobacco..."
[Roake Arc: Finished]