Chapter Eighty-Five: The Knight's Ceremony

"Viscount Quentin, I have some secret questions I wish to ask. Please have your subordinates leave," the Saint said.

"As you wish, Your Highness," replied the Viscount. "Philip, take everyone outside and guard the door. No one is to approach."

The civil servant bowed and led the guards and others out, waiting in the corridor.

"Please raise your heads, both of you," the Saint said.

York and Balder stood up again, but York did not dare meet the Saint's gaze. Even after rising, his eyes darted away, fixed on his own toes.

The Saint did not question the dwarf's strange behavior, simply asking calmly, "On the nineteenth day of the Month of Winter's Veil, the Church sensed the presence of the Demon Grand Duke Aym in the North. Are you aware of this?"

As she spoke, the White-winged Knight beside her produced a roll of parchment, upon which ancient sigils were drawn—broken and incomplete, with many blank spaces between the markings, intentionally left so. Some words and symbols carry inherent mystical power; to avoid attracting the attention of demons, the Church keeps these sigils fragmented.

"If the lines on this parchment were joined, they would form Aym's sigil. Have you seen it before?" the Knight asked.

Lucas nodded. "When the Prince and I recovered the Stone of Mist, we encountered the terrifying Fire Mother and imps in Alvado. On the arms of the necromancer and some Islanders, I saw this sigil."

"What was the necromancer's hair color? Eye color? What did he wear? How old did he seem?" the Saint continued.

"He was a black-haired, black-eyed Sonvikian, called Casimodo Vick. Said to be a fifth-circle necromancer, but I never fought him directly—only glimpsed him from afar," Lucas answered.

"So it was him," the Saint mused. "He is a descendant of the Saints, an illegitimate child of the Son Kingdom's royal family. His mother was a lowly maid; to cover up the scandal, the Queen secretly executed her."

"As a child, he was sent in secret to the tower of Mage Kelton. Because of his talents, the royal family hoped to train him as a wizard, to later adopt him as a son and restore him to princely status."

"But twelve years ago, he fell into darkness, secretly murdering many civilians to research necromancy. He also slew his master, Kelton, seized a merchant ship, turned the crew into corpses to sail the vessel, and fled to the North Sea."

"If it was him, being watched by Aym is hardly surprising."

"Casimodo—so it is him..." the Viscount exclaimed in shock.

That incident shook all of Northia. Thorn Bay was one of the Son Kingdom's busiest coastal ports, yet Casimodo's corpse plague contaminated the entire city.

It was recorded that on that day, over ten thousand died in Thorn Bay. The city was shrouded in pestilence; the sea teemed with poisoned fish, bellies up.

Order in the bay collapsed. The aftermath was immense: criminals surged, merchants' wealth was plundered, homes invaded by violence, and nearby coasts were infected. By the time Church support and the lord's personal guards arrived at the bay, the city was a smoky ruin, nearly a dead town. To this day, it hasn't recovered, now a haven for chaos.

After this calamity, Casimodo Vick was deemed extremely dangerous, for he could destroy a city simply by contaminating its water.

The Viscount grew fearful. "Your Highness, we must send priests and alchemists to test the reservoirs and underground water immediately!"

He dreaded that Violet Citadel might suffer the same fate, but the Saint remained serene.

"Do not worry, Viscount. Casimodo is dead. Before arriving at Violet Citadel, the Church was informed of Alvado's situation. Before dawn on the nineteenth, all the departed were released."

The Saint spoke softly, "The necromancer has been slain. For Aym to intervene in the material realm from the shadows is no simple feat. Aym descended only to claim Casimodo's soul and body. The fire demon likely made a pact with Casimodo; only upon his death could the demon, through the contract, claim the wizard's soul—blood of the Saints—and briefly manifest. This aligns with the Church's observations."

"Casimodo... is dead?" the Viscount asked, stunned. "Who killed him?"

A fifth-circle necromancer is terrifying in war—a single necromancer is an army unto himself, able to create legions of undead who feel no pain, require no morale, at little cost.

A necromancer can hide in shadows, letting his servants wear down enemies.

And Casimodo had an Islander warband and demonic aid. Who could have slain such a wizard?

Did the Saint herself intervene?

"Casimodo is indeed dead," Lucas replied as the Viscount wondered. "The Prince who traveled with me beheaded the wizard and released the souls of the departed."

The Viscount and the White-winged Knight both turned to Lucas.

They had previously thought this group merely lucky to escape the necromancer and Islanders, but the weight of these words left them speechless.

The Saint remained calm, though her eyes lowered, with a hint of regret and sorrow.

"Was it the fire demon's power that destroyed the Prince?" the Saint asked.

Lucas was silent.

"What is his name?" the Saint asked.

The Viscount and the White-winged Knight listened intently. Such a formidable person could not be unknown; surely a gold-ranked professional, perhaps even transcending that path.

Lucas turned and wrote two words with a lead stick on a wooden board.

Just as that Prince had once written in the snow for him to see.

Lucas recalled the firelight of that night, the simple four-panel stick figure drawn in the snow, which he had found wondrous and full of charm.

He carefully finished writing, then turned and replied, "The Prince cannot speak, but once wrote his name in the snow. I do not know his surname, nor his past, but he was full of compassion and mercy—not only redeeming the departed, but with his noble soul, pulling us poor souls from the abyss."

The Viscount and the White-winged Knight stared at the name Lucas had written, searching their memories for anyone connected to it, but found only emptiness. "Vaid" was a name common across the continent.

It was a name used by uneducated, low-status folk, just like "Lisa" or "David." Shout "Vaid" in the streets of Violet Citadel, and seven or eight people would turn their heads.

They had never heard of any famous "Vaid," nor any deeds bearing that name; even in chivalric novels, no writer would use such a bland name.

Perhaps he was a mighty figure who had lived in seclusion in the North for many years.

Simply living quietly in a peaceful village, enjoying tranquil days, yet when danger came, he would take up his long-unused sword.

He did not seek fame. With a noble heart, he struck down the wicked and helped the Tania people reach Violet Citadel.

The White-winged Knight removed her helmet; her chestnut hair fell upon her shoulders. She saluted the name with a knight's gesture.

The Viscount followed suit; he too had once been a knight and sworn to uphold virtue.

There are so many knights in this world who have sworn oaths, but how many truly keep them?

At least the Viscount knew he could not. If placed in the same situation as this man, he would not sacrifice himself to bring hope to the Tania people, nor risk his life against Casimodo.

He would abandon burdens, taking only those who would not weigh him down to Violet Citadel.

He was moved by that man's deeds, regretting and sorrowing for him, bowing and saluting with knightly honor.

He offered his deepest respect, for he could never do the same.