Newfear

Talia looked at Isabel, who was trying to appear strong and calm, but every movement of hers revealed a hidden unease. Then, in a calm and deliberate tone, she spoke.

Talia: "Hmm… Lady Isabel, is that chair you're sitting on... the same one Lady Ariana Nightover used to sit on?"

It took only a moment for Isabel to turn, as though she had been struck unexpectedly. For a brief instant, her usual arrogant expression faded, replaced by a shadow of confusion. But she quickly regained her composure, though there was something in her eyes that suggested she had lost her balance for a moment.

Isabel, shrugging her shoulders with feigned indifference: "Hah? And what of it? It's just a chair... Lady Talia, are you alright now?"

A light laugh escaped from Katrina and Renalis, filled with obvious sarcasm, as if they found the situation amusing. But Talia ignored them, continuing coldly, her eyes still locked on Isabel, as if she were enjoying watching the mask crack slowly.

Talia: "Hmm... Never mind, I was just looking at this dark and ugly sky... There is a big difference between it and that clear sky in the morning... A blue sky full of whiteness, without a single blemish. A sky that brings joy... truly beautiful."

She paused for a moment, as if thinking aloud, then added, in a lighter tone, but one that was completely poisoned:

Talia: "It came to my mind while I was admiring it... And I also remembered your fiancé, Lord Felix Sparoff..."

"Stop!"

Isabel's voice was sharp and cutting, filled with disturbance. There was something like panic in her eyes, as if she realized too late where this conversation was heading. Her hands were clenched on the table, her breath coming in short bursts as she tried to steady herself, but her body betrayed her.

Talia did not stop. On the contrary, she leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice, but each word was like the edge of a blade, slowly sinking into Isabel's consciousness.

Talia: "He adored her..."

In a moment, it was as if something inside Isabel broke. She stared at Talia in shock, then slammed her hand on the table violently, as if trying to break this feeling that was starting to overwhelm her.

Isabel: "I told you, stop!!! What nonsense are you saying!?"

Her voice was filled with anger, but it wasn't just directed at Talia. She was angry with herself as well. Angry at her weakness, at the fact that Talia had exposed her so easily in front of everyone.

The tea in Rosalyn's cup was cooling slowly, but she didn't seem to care. She raised the cup gracefully, took a sip, then returned it to the table deliberately, as if the noise around her meant nothing. As for Renalis, she turned her gaze away, unwilling to get caught up in this tense whirlwind.

In stark contrast, Katrina sat still, as if she had lost the ability to move. Her eyes were wide, lost in space, her lips trembling. She placed her trembling fingers over her mouth, trying to control her panicked breath, but the tremors were clear, betraying her inner state.

But Talia showed no sign of being affected. She stood there, motionless, her cold gaze fixed on Isabel, as if she had expected all of this from the very beginning, as though she had known things would come to this inevitable point. Then, in a calm voice, but one edged with a chilling sharpness, she spoke.

Talia: "Because the truth always finds its way to the surface, Lady Isabel... just as impurities do when the sky is clear."

She paused for a moment, then slowly turned toward Katrina, who was trembling as though on the verge of collapsing. With the same cold tone, she continued.

Talia: "Since you love rumors so much… why don't you tell her yourself, Lady Katrina?"

Isabel froze. Her gaze slowly shifted to Katrina, who didn't dare meet her eyes. There was something wrong. Something she couldn't understand immediately, but when she saw Katrina's tremor, the way she was shrinking into herself, she understood.

"...Y...You?!"

It wasn't a scream, but a hoarse whisper that escaped her lips, as if she couldn't believe that the one she had considered her faithful shadow might be the reason for the knife in her back. But the shock turned in an instant to a furious rage, an explosion of emotions.

In a moment of madness, Isabel raised her hand and slapped Katrina hard. The sound was deafening, echoing in the air, causing everyone to stop. But Isabel didn't stop there. She grabbed Katrina by her clothes, lifting her to her eye level, her eyes narrowing like a snake ready to strike.

Isabel: "You worthless wretch! How dare you do this to me!!!"

Her breath was rapid, as if she were trying to absorb the reality that the person she trusted, the one she thought was on her side, was the dagger stabbed into her back. As for Katrina, she didn't resist, didn't defend herself, but just stared at Isabel with trembling eyes, as though she lacked the strength to even apologize.

Meanwhile, as the chaos escalated, Talia stood there indifferent, as if what was happening was nothing more than the inevitable result of what she had started moments ago. Beside her, Rosalyn sighed lightly, then leaned toward her and whispered.

Rosalyn: "Looks like you were a bit too harsh on them."

But Talia didn't respond. She simply watched the scene for a few moments, then turned and began to leave, with Rosalyn following her. As the voices of Isabel and Katrina grew louder behind them, Renalis still refused to look at what was going on, as though ignoring it would make it disappear.

At the edge of the garden, Talia paused for a moment, lifted her head toward the sky, gazing at the scattered clouds, then breathed deeply, as if letting something go with her breath, before whispering in a barely audible voice.

Talia: "The truth is always more painful than lies… but I do not sympathize with those who build their pride on illusions."

Rosalyn smiled gently at her, as if understanding her meaning without the need for explanation. She nodded at her, then turned toward the right path, while Talia walked down the left, leaving behind a charged scene and people who still hadn't realized that their real battle wasn't with each other… but with the truth itself.

The Battlefield – Under the Watchful Eyes of the Malacard Family.

Aqua was amidst a sea of blood, breathing heavily, attacking, blocking, dodging, as though his body was moving with a will of its own. Two knights charged at him, but he didn't think, didn't retreat. Instead, he moved directly toward them, raising his sword, ready for battle…

But suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Count Yukron Windsword appeared.

He grabbed Aqua's shoulder and yanked him back violently, nearly causing him to fall. Before Aqua could process what had happened, the Count had moved forward, taking the blow in his place.

A quick strike from Yukron's sword knocked the first knight's sword from his hand, then with a decisive blow, he severed his head in an instant. As for the second knight, he attempted a swift strike, but Yukron skillfully ducked, evading the blade, then drove his sword into his foe's abdomen, bringing him down dead.

Aqua stood, panting, his body swaying, feeling dizzy, his eyes unfocused. Yukron approached him angrily, gripping his arm tightly, glaring at him fiercely before speaking in a low, contemptuous voice.

Yukron: "What are you doing here, you fool?! Your father has no one but you... Are you planning on making him a widower too?!"

He didn't wait for a response. He shoved Aqua away from him, then turned and continued on with the other knights, pressing forward into the heart of the battle.

Aqua remained standing, gasping for breath, looking around, his face and hands covered in blood. He raised his gaze to the top of the hill...

There, at the summit, two horses stood firm, their riders observing the scene from above. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled the air, as drops of sweat and blood stained their clothes and faces, marking the brutal battle they had just fought.

The first, Duke 'Rossipov Malacard', a man in his fifties, with long, white hair and a broad beard, reflecting years of harshness and authority. His sharp black eyes hid behind them years of experience and hardship. His clothes, though worn, still bore remnants of past greatness: a blue cloak adorned with golden edges, and a golden fur collar resting over his shining golden armor. His appearance commanded respect, surrounded by an aura of power. But the blood staining his cloak did not hide the cruelty in his eyes.

And to his left sat his eldest son, youn Duke... Lord 'Kray Malacard'. A young man in his twenties, with short dark beige-blond hair and stern features, made even sharper by his merciless black eyes. He wore a dark green robe adorned with golden edges over his golden armor, and for a moment, he appeared not merely as an heir, but as a confident leader seated atop his steed. Despite the fatigue evident on his face, the glow of youth and ambition shone in his eyes, and the blood of battle staining his armor did not dim the radiance of hope that dwelled in his heart.

From above, they watched everything unfold. Aqua had yet to determine whether they were observing him with interest or merely studying the battlefield, treating it as just another piece on the chessboard of war.

The duke spoke in a low voice, yet his words cut through the air like sudden lightning, flashing between the cold distance that separated him from his son.

Rossipov: "Observe this scene well... son, for you may never see it again."

Kray, who had been staring at the horizon, turned his head slightly toward his father.

Rossipov: "The greatness of the past means nothing if power has faded in the present. History will not restore your dignity when you break today… Remember this well."

He paused for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the ground, where blood pooled like rivers, and the groans of the fallen filled the air.

Rossipov: "Since we weakened... since our power crumbled in our war against the occupation, and since the kingdom betrayed all the sacrifices we made, here we are now. Watching our lands being pillaged before our very eyes by the Arcadians. It is easy to believe that weakness justifies everything… but the truth, my son, is that if we surrender now, we will never return."

Kray locked eyes with his father. It seemed as though he was trying to put his tangled emotions into words, but he remained silent, as if his mouth had been sealed shut by a mist of confusion and indifference.

Rossipov: "We do not fight for the past, but for the future. We will stand here, on this land that bears witness to our blood, and we will fight to defend everything that was once ours... whether anyone acknowledges our sacrifices or not. Whether the kingdom raises the banner or not. We will follow the path chosen by our blood."

The duke's eyes burned with a fire that had not dimmed, despite the ruin surrounding him. The dry wind howled through the dead trees, while their gazes remained fixed on the Arcadian army as it looted what remained of their land.

Rossipov: "This moment, son, is the beginning of the end of what we once were... but it is also the beginning of what we will become. Remember this, for everything here depends on you. Do not let weakness cloud your resolve."

Kray took a deep breath, then lifted his head toward the sky, as if searching for an answer in the endless horizon. The once-lost eyes were now filled with determination, though shadows still lurked in his heart.

Kray: "If this is the path we must take, then we will never turn back until the sun rises once more… even if the ground beneath us remains in darkness."

The duke leaned in slightly, his tone sharp, carrying an unspoken message.

Rossibov: "We will not stand in the shadows for long, Kray. The sun will continue to rise and set, but remember: only our strength will endure. If you wish to leave something behind in this world, let it be your power that speaks for you... even if tears must water the path ahead."

The sounds of battle and the howling of beasts faded into the distance, as the scent of blood and sweat mixed with the burning earth beneath them. The blood staining their faces and clothes seemed to merge with the brutality of this merciless war. The air between them was thick with cruelty and despair, shared through heavy breaths and wary eyes.

Then, in a moment that burst with fury and chills, Aqua's scream tore through the battlefield... a scream that echoed across the land, laced with rage and awe, as if he was trying to piece himself together amid the chaos and bloodshed.

With eyes ablaze, he lifted his gaze once more toward the hill, where Duke Rossibov Malacard and his son Kary. watched him from above.

Aqua: "MALACAAARD!!! You cowards!!"

His voice slashed through the silence of the hill like a sharp blade... a challenge, an insult.

On his steed, Lord Kray immediately lifted his head, his eyes narrowing as his grip tightened around his horse's reins. His chest boiled with fury, yet he remained composed.

As for Duke Rossibov, he remained motionless, his sharp features unchanged, as though he had heard nothing of significance. In a voice cold as ice, he addressed his son without turning to him.

Rossibov: "He is provoking you..."

Kray tightened his hold on the reins further, his voice sharp but restrained.

Kray: "I know that..."

Yet his gaze never left Aqua… as if he had fallen into a snare from which there was no escape.