“Do you think he can do it?” Alice whispered, eyes wide with expectation as she watched Balian squeeze through the growing crowd in front of the tavern.
“I hope so,” Estel murmured, trying to tip-toe to peer over the heads of hungry patrons. “We came all the way here just for breakfast, it’d be a shame if there’s none left…”
“Queue up! Keep in line!” the tavern barkeep hollered. “No one’s getting any food if they are not—sir, what are you doing? Sir!”
As if on cue, Balian raised his cane and feigned a pitiful look while pointing at Estel and Alice. “Young man, I just want to get parfaits for my two granddaughters who came all the way from the capital to visit me…please, may I have just two parfaits?”
A conflicted look fshed across the barkeep’s eyes. “But sir, everyone has to queue up…”
“Young man, I beg of you,” Balian pleaded, adding a feeble cough for good measure. “My two granddaughters rarely pay me a visit, and I really, really wish to treat them to something nice before they leave today.”
Scratching his head, the barkeep gnced at the crowd before sighing and stepping aside. “Please, sir, go ahead.”
“What?!” a burly man in a grey tunic protested. “I was here first! That’s btant abuse of elderly privilege!”
“Barkeep, how can you just let that old skeleton in like that?!” another woman yelled. “It’s unfair! I’ve already been waiting for over half an hour!”
“Unfair! Unfair!”
“Give us our parfaits!”
As the barkeep tried to calm the crowd down, Alice let out an impressed whistle. “Damn, that’s low even for a retired knight.”
“I guess he’s long outgrown the code of chivalry,” Estel agreed.
“Isn’t the code more what’d you call ‘guidelines’ than actual rules in the first pce?”
“Really? I didn’t know that…”
Moments ter, Balian emerged from the crowd triumphant, holding two beautifully stacked waffle cones in one hand.
“I got the st two before they sold out!”
“YES!” Alice pumped her fists in celebration and lunged for one of the cones. “Uwaah, I didn?t know there are shops that sell actual yogurt parfaits here! Why didn’t I come here sooner??”
Estel gratefully accepted the other cone, examining the eborate yers with a curious tilt of her head. The yogurt looked light and airy, almost like whipped cream, with golden grano pieces scattered between strawberry slices and chunks of glistening peach that created a sweet and slightly tart aroma.
“You like yogurt parfaits that much?” she asked, raising a brow as she took a cautious first bite.
“Mmmhh! I mean—don’t they look simply delicious?” Alice professed, almost salivating at her yogurt parfait. “Plus, in the game, yogurt parfaits are like the ultimate affection item! You can boost your target’s romance points by 500% just from making yogurt parfaits together, so I’ve always been curious to try it out.”
“Ohh…” Estel tilted her head, not too sure if she understood everything Alice said. “If you like yogurt parfaits that much, we can make them together in my kitchen next time.”
Alice paused mid-bite and stared at her with a funny expression on her face.
“Er, did I say something wrong?” she asked, suddenly feeling a pang of self-consciousness.
“No, it’s just…that’s the exact line that the target character would say before the affection boost kicks in,” Alice mumbled and shook her head. “N-never mind, please ignore whatever I said. I’ll gdly accept your invitation, Este!”
“Sure.” Estel smiled. “I’ll let the cook know so that he can prepare the ingredients beforehand.”
“My apologies for interrupting your conversation, Your Ladyship,” Balian cut in, leaning towards her as he gnced behind him. “But I think we should leave before the crowd gets out of control.”
“O-oh, yes, you’re right.” She quickly climbed into the carriage with her parfait, followed by Alice who was already halfway into hers. “Will you be following us to the North Gate, Balian?”
“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I still have some loose ends to tie up from yesterday,” he apologised. “I’ll write to Adrianne to tell her that you have left Nordertor safe and sound. Please take care on the way to Selvern, Your Ladyship.”
“Mm, I will.” Estel nodded her head. “Thank you for your hospitality, Balian.”
The old knight bowed elegantly, kissing her hand before he released it and closed the carriage door. “It’s my honour, Lady Estel. Tell your father I send my greetings.”
“Old man!” Alice shouted, waving her hand in a goodbye as the carriage began its journey northwards. “Thank you! Especially for setting up the hot spring chapter!”
“…pardon?”
-
Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, Balian turned back toward the main street—and immediately narrowed his eyes.
The cloaked man who had been trailing Estel was still there, lurking just beyond the tavern. The moment their gazes met, the man hurried into a nearby alley.
“Tch, you’re not slipping away again!”
He pursued the man without hesitation, using the cane in his hand to propel himself forward.
“Hey!” a peddler yelled as the cloaked man shoved past. “Don’t you have eyes?!”
“Oppassen!” another woman cried out.
More and more voices shed out at the cloaked man trying to force his way through the crowd.
“Geht es ihm gut?”
“…wygl?da dziwnie…”
Balian steadily pushed through the growing tide of furious protests and curious gnces. He caught up just as the cloaked figure found himself cornered—trapped between a butcher’s stall and the swelling crowd.
“Excuse me,” he said, voice calm but firm, “I have some questions for you before I can let you go.”
The man gave no answer. He remained rigid like a broken statue, the shadow of his hood hiding his face. The butcher, noticing the ck of coin and odd silence, tried to shoo him away with a dismissive hand.
Balian stepped closer, tapping the man’s shoulder with two fingers.
“There’s no point staying quiet,” he continued in a low, probing voice. “I know that you have been following Lady Estel and her escort since yesterday—or perhaps you were already on their tail before they entered this city, I’d wager. What do you want from the Lady?”
The stranger shifted slightly, his tattered cloak parting to reveal legs scarred with old wounds and fresh bruises. Balian’s keen eyes observed the man’s posture—tense, shoulders hunched, and the handle of a dagger half-concealed in calloused hands.
But what made him straighten in arm was his filthy surcoat, which was adorned with the unmistakable symbol of the Temprs.
“Who sent you, Tempr?” he hissed, tightening his grip around the hilt of his cane. “Are you the one responsible for Gerald’s death?”
A guttural sound escaped from under the hood.
“…warn…”
“Pardon?”
“I…have to warn…her…” The voice cracked, like dry twigs snapping underfoot.
The Tempr’s body shuddered—not from fear, but with a terrible, gut-wrenching sobbing that seemed to shake him to his bones. His hands spasmed, clutching the dagger with white-knuckled intensity.
Balian tensed. One wrong move, and the man might just sh out.
“M-m-my brothers…they have lost their minds, sir,” he cried out all of a sudden. “They…they are going to k-kill…kill…”
“Kill?” Balian repeated warily, gncing around at the oblivious townsfolk bustling about them. “Kill who, exactly?”
The Tempr fell silent, his cracked lips trembling with unspoken words.
“Verpiss dich!” the butcher barked, fuming now. “You’re obstructing my business! Can you move out of the way?!”
“…sir, help…”
Balian stiffened again as the Tempr whimpered something under his breath.
“Help me, please…” the man choked out, sobbing so violently that his entire frame shook. “I…I don’t want to kill…”
“Speak up, boy,” he said cautiously. “What is it that you want?”
Turning his head around, the Tempr lifted his head slightly such that the sunlight revealed his face.
“T-the voice…her voice…”
“!”
Balian froze when he met his eyes. Their whites were completely red and swollen, as if he hadn’t slept for days. Tears—or something darker—welled up in the corners of his vision, but there was no grief in his gaze.
Only madness.
“I…I can’t get it out of my mind, sir,” he wailed incoherently, his voice ripping apart in anguish. “I don’t want to kill…this is not what the Goddess…wants—”
Without warning, the Tempr flung back his hood frantically. His mouth opened in a hoarse, broken scream—a sound of such raw and primal agony that it froze the entire alley in its tracks.
“NON VIDET LUMINA NOS!” he shrieked. “DERELIQUIT LUMINA TERRAM!”
The crowd recoiled as one, horrified murmurs sweeping through the gathering onlookers.
“Vad s?ger han?”
“G-Gottesl?sterlich!”
The Tempr staggered forward, spittle flying from his mouth, his dagger fshing dangerously beneath his cloak. His bloodshot eyes darted about wildly until they locked onto a girl standing frozen in fear nearby.
Balian’s instincts snapped into action
“DOWN!”
With all his might, he threw himself at the girl and shoved her aside just as the Tempr’s bde came swishing down. The sharp metal struck the cobblestones where she had stood an instant before, sparks fring from the impact. Around them, the alley dissolved into chaos—carts overturned, merchants yelled, frightened townsfolk shoved and stumbled over each other, desperate to flee the sudden violence.
“Get back!” Balian shouted, shielding the girl who had tumbled behind the butcher’s stand with his body. His heart pounded like a drum against his ribs, but his mind remained clear, focused only on the threat before him.
The cloaked Tempr turned on Balian with a snarl, adrenaline fueling his crazed gaze as his dagger dripped blood from his own quivering hand.
“Guards!” someone screamed from up the alley. “Guards, over there!”
The Tempr jerked his head in the direction of the cry. For a tense moment, he stood motionless, bloodied tears streaming freely down his ash-pale cheeks.
Balian drew his cane sword, preparing to strike.
“…peccavi nimis, O Goddess! Peccavi nimis!”
Before he could react, the Tempr let out a ragged ugh and plunged the dagger deep into his own chest. Gasps and shrieks broke from the few onlookers who hadn’t fled as the bde bit through flesh and bone with a sickening crunch, causing his body to jolt violently.
“Effunde syper eos indignationem tuam…” he spluttered, blood spilling down the front of his surcoat like a crimson tide. “Et…ira furoris tui conprehendat eos…”
Then, staggering backwards, he collided with a heavy iron brazier behind him.
“NO!”
Balian rushed forward instinctively—but it was too te. The brazier toppled with a crash, sending a storm of sparks and embers across the cobblestones as the Tempr’s cloak caught fire. With a strangled cry, he colpsed, thrashing and writhing while the fire devoured him.
“S-s-somebody, fetch water!”
“Es eilt!!”
The air quickly filled with the putrid stench of burnt flesh, the smoke rising thick and oily. The Tempr’s body twitched once more—and then y still, nothing but a smouldering ruin amid the spilled coals.
“Hau ab! Hau ab!”
The next moment, soldiers burst into the narrow alley, pushing their way through the chaos with spears and swords drawn. They moved swiftly to cordon off the scene and chased the lingering bystanders away.
Balian grimly watched the soldiers douse the charred remains of the Tempr, muttering malisons as the smoke stung their eyes.
“Adrianne was right.”
He gripped his cane so hard that it quivered in his fist. “Lady Estel is in danger.”
