Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

He took some beans out of his saddlebag and patiently fed them to the horse.

"What's there to thank?" Marvey agilely dismounted, letting his steed rest for a while.

With a playful grin, he said, "I should be thanking you. Traveling with you has made my research journey a hundred times safer than I originally planned. Have you decided where you're heading next?"

Siegfried pulled out another handful of beans from his saddlebag and fed them to the horse with care: "Wherever there's war, that's where I'll go. I want to see what the rebels, deemed the most dangerous enemies by His Majesty, are really like."

Marvey asked curiously, "What about the prince? You're just leaving without a word?"

"I have no interest in the politics and schemes hidden within those chambers," Siegfried replied succinctly. "Besides, I am not one of the prince's retainers."

Marvey sighed lightly, speaking with layered meaning: "I fear someone else may not see it that way…"

Siegfried remained silent.

"Oh well, I already knew that giving you advice was pointless — it's always been like this, anyway." Marvey chuckled dryly, self-mocking, before switching topics with glinting eyes and a sly lick of his lips. "What I do want to ask is, do you really think you can steal away His Majesty's favorite daughter without him finding out? Aren't you worried about the wrath he'll unleash after this?"

Siegfried still said nothing.

Seeing he couldn't get anything juicy out of him, Marvey showed a slight trace of disappointment.

He patted his friend's shoulder, his eyes dancing with amusement as he teased, "If you ask me, if His Majesty truly didn't want the princess to leave, our dear sister Liz wouldn't even make it past the capital gates before being dragged back. Relax, maybe His Majesty is deliberately giving you a chance, haha…"

The audacious laughter scattered beneath the pounding of hooves — Novice Sister Liz, or rather, Elizabeth the Princess, returned with water.

Suspiciously, she glanced at the expressionless Knight Siegfried and the grinning Marvey. Sister Liz asked, bewildered, "What were you talking about?"

Siegfried took the water pouch from her, replying coldly, "Nothing."

Sister Liz seemed to realize something, her expression growing tense as she raised her guard and warned: "I… I'm telling you right now — don't even think about sending me back home! If you do, I'll just run away again, and you won't find me next time! I… I mean it! You, you…!"

"Rest assured, dear Sister Liz," Marvey said with a smile and a bow. "No one here wants to send you home."

Siegfried, on the other hand, abruptly extended his arm, palm open in midair.

After a moment, his brow furrowed: "Rain's coming…"

…

As the three travelers hurried toward the nearest village to avoid the rain, on the far side of the towering Sheltering Mountains, the Oath Breaker Henry III — the Empire's supreme ruler — was slowly ascending a tall tower.

He brought no guards, no attendants, not even his usual shadowing priest.

The staircase was dark and endlessly long, the Oath Breaker holding a torch as he climbed alone to the tower's highest floor.

Throughout the Empire, indeed across the entire continent, there were almost no people left who

no longer anyone whom "the Oath Breaker needs to personally visit,"

Eventually, reaching the final step, he pushed open the pitch-black wooden door to reveal a room both chaotic and orderly.

The chaos lay in the way instruments, books, and drafts cluttered the room to the point where it seemed impossible to set foot inside.

The order lay in how each instrument, every book, and each single draft was evidently placed in predetermined positions — any uninvited tidying would not only hinder the user's access to them but also cause severe anxiety and uncontrollable frustration for the user.

In the spacious top floor of the tower, the only signs of daily life were a bed, a square table, and a chamber pot.

On the square table, a small piece of leftover bread rested quietly on a silver plate, awaiting someone to clear it away.

In stark contrast were the strange instruments scattered across the room, their long, uneven forms inset with precious, colorless lenses at both ends.

In the corner of the room, an elderly man bent over his calculations, puzzled as he raised his head to look at his visitor.

After a brief moment to identify him, the old man recognized his guest's face. Yet he made no move to greet him, only scratching his disheveled hair in bemusement: "Ah, so it's you."

As his words fell, the candles and oil lamps scattered around the room began to light up one by one.

The scorched wicks sprang into flame, the extinguished lamp cores reignited, and the previously dim attic was now brilliantly illuminated.

The Oath Breaker left his torch outside the door and stepped further in: "It is I, Teacher Bonaldi."

"What brings you here?" the old man asked, confused.

Without a trace of displeasure, the Oath Breaker calmly replied: "I came to ask you about the whispers of the stars."

"Oh? Oh! That matter."

The old man finally understood, standing and shuffling to a bookshelf. He fumbled through it for a moment before pulling out one scroll of star charts after another.

Laying the star charts flat on the floor, he muttered to himself as he explained: "The tail of the Red Dragon sweeps past the Hunter's spear; Venus stands firm at the center of the Zodiac, awaiting Mars' arrival."

The Oath Breaker did not look at the star charts but kept his gaze fixed on the old man's eyes: "Just as the ancient texts of the Ceres People say?"

"Precisely," the old man nodded. "As said in the records of the Ceres People, the Saracens, and the Church alike."

The drip-drop sound echoed above their heads.

"It's raining," the old man remarked.

…

[Sea Blue City Suburbs]

[Navarre Manor]

Catherine Navarre lay on her bed, watching the ribbons on the bedposts gently sway in the wind.