It was a relatively common event in the Argonia Empire.

A small village would have a bad harvest.

There were plenty of reasons why the regrettable event would happen: not enough rain; too much rain; or swarms of pests would come by to devour their produce.

And war.

That was the most typical reason for a harvest to fail.

The noble that ruled over the village would recruit healthy young males to fight for their cause, touting pretty words of how they should be happy to obtain the opportunity to fight for their lord and master. Then, with the absence of these young men, the harvest was all but assured to fail.

And as if to say that misfortune never arrived without bringing friends, their lord would demand higher taxes from them to fund the war effort — as if the war was their decision.

As if it was their responsibility.

But what could the villagers possibly do? The one demanding taxes from them was a glorious lord of the great Argonia Empire, the largest nation of the largest continent in the world.

Puny villagers like them would never be able to resist someone so lofty. They would simply be crushed under the thundering hooves of horses as the cavaliers atop them parted heads from bodies. Perhaps they wouldn't even receive the "honor" of being trampled underfoot — just the empire's espers could turn them into balls of crushed meat.

Or worse yet, they could be fed to the monstrous creatures that the Imperial Army commanded.

With fear in their hearts, the villagers could only offer up what little resources they had at hand, knowing that what was left would not be enough to tide them over to the next harvest. For years, they would sing songs of their tragic lives, filled with hardship and pain. Mothers would weep for the sons who never returned, and wives would cry for the children who'd grow unfathered.

But time could whittle down most things in the world.

Even fear.

Soon, the villagers would take up what arms they could raise, be it hoes, sickles, or wooden poles. Then with reckless abandon, they would charge their lord's manor while waving flags of rebellion.

Then they would be exterminated easily.

Or worse, enslaved — forced to work for their lords until they die, their lives mere playthings to those in power.

What few men the villages had left would be pushed to the front lines as cannon fodder. While the women would be used until the lords were bored of them, all before being passed down to subordinates or brothels — where even paupers and the dirtiest thugs could buy their bodies for a few coins.

The difference between the tale of Valter's village and other villages, however, was that the rebellion he had led was a success.

Most would be ecstatic to be the leader of the first successful rebellion in Argonia's history. But Valter was not. Looking back, perhaps he wouldn't be such a damaged man if he had failed. That said, he was satisfied with where his life had led to. The following decades after his rebellion was but a distant nightmare to him now, something that had happened a millennia ago.

Now, he was in a good place, serving a country he would gladly die for. Surrounded by family he loved and comrades who deserved his trust — comrades who felt that he was deserving of theirs.

His desire to keep what he had safe could only be matched by the hatred he held for Argonia.

 

---

 

In a dim-lit stone chamber with not a single piece of furniture within, Valter opened his bright purple eyes.

With lethargic but fluid movements, he slicked back the dark purple strands of hair that had covered his face at some point. His dark skin was slick with sweat as he squatted on the floor, topless — but with a mere wave of his hand, a deeply black sludge rose up from the ground to cover him for but an instant, and when it was gone, every drop of sweat was gone with it.

'It should be about time...'

He had a meeting with the king and the second prince in a few minutes. Being late was the height of insolence — a height he was not willing to fly up to.

Valter took out his black military uniform and began to get dressed. Even if he could manifest the clothes in a way they would already be worn on his body, going through the motions like this wasn't too bad from time to time.

In fact, he found it enjoyable.

From the rustling of the crisply ironed garment to the familiar feeling of the cloth touching his skin, everything about it invoked a feeling of satisfaction for him. Even the freshly washed scent wafting over to his nose always brought him some measure of tranquility.

Squee!

Just as he was smoothing over his beloved knightly regalia, his spirit bond suddenly manifested into the material world; a black-feathered bird the size of a fist silently stared at him with its purple eyes while it hid in his chest pocket.

"Freed, you woke up too? You can go back to sleep if you want." He gently stroked his bond's soft feathers. After receiving its firm refusal through their mental connection, Valter chuckled in exasperation. "We can't go hunting today since I'm too busy. You'll have to go alone."

The tiny bird chirped in annoyance but didn't leave, making its intention to stay together clear.

This made Valter smile even wider. Since he was a young boy, Freed had always been by his side, helping him endure hardship. In fact, if it weren't for the adorable yet fearsome creature, Valter would have likely died before hitting puberty.

To him, few things could be more comforting than his long-time partner's presence — not that they could be too far apart in the first place, of course.

'What a great start to another peaceful morning...'

For a moment, Valter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the little joys of his long life.

"Ancestor, you've awoken?"

From beyond the door, his great-great-great granddaughter's aged voice could be heard.

"Yes." Valter's deep voice echoed throughout the small room as he opened his eyes. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no. There's no problem. I was just wondering if you'd like some breakfast."

"Hm..." Valter hummed in thought for a bit. A quick peek in the kitchen with his perception afforded to him as an Ascendant made him beam with delight. "Stew? I'd love some... but I cannot leave His Majesty and Prince Reivan waiting."

"Just one bowl shouldn't take too long. Should I warm it up for you, Ancestor?"

"That would be wonderful, Melinda." He nodded, despite knowing his elderly descendant couldn't see him. "Has Seren returned?"

"Unfortunately, she still has not returned from the Sanctum."

"I see..." Valter grumbled, somewhat annoyed at not having seen his wife for three years. Hopefully, their time apart wouldn't last twenty years like that one time a few centuries ago.

Just as he was thinking that perhaps it would be a good idea to barge into her chambers at the Sword Sanctum, he sensed her familiar aura headed his way.

'Speak of the devil...'

"Let's go get some breakfast."

Freed screeched in agreement as it flapped its wings, urging him to move faster.

"I know, I know... nobody's going to steal your food even if we're a little late."

With a smile on his face, Valter left the stone chamber.

 

---

 

"My love!"

A beautiful blonde woman descended from the skies, passed through the open window, and zoomed into Valter's outstretched arms. Luckily, her chest was not particularly impressive, so the bird between the two avoided being crushed into a paste.

"I've missed you!" Seren cooed, rubbing her face on his chest — which Freed had quickly vacated — before looking up and meeting his gaze.

Valter smiled as he kissed his wife's forehead. "Me too."

For a moment, the youthful-looking couple lovingly embraced each other under the warm gazes of their descendants and servants. Had someone uninformed seen them at this moment, they would likely think they were looking at a couple in their mid-twenties drowning in romance.

They would never expect that the couple both measured their ages by centuries.

Furious chirping brought the two Ascendants out of their own little world.

"Oh, hello there, Freed." The woman grinned at the angry spirit beast. "Have you laid any eggs yet?"

Freed snapped its beak threateningly at her before flying off and diving into a pot of stew.

Seren's grin widened as she turned toward her husband. "I heard your disciple just Ascended. You must be very proud."

"Oh, of course I am." Valter let go of his wife and led her to the table before his bond ate all of the food. "I just wished she didn't break me out of seclusion with her incessant messaging, asking for congratulations. Though, I suppose I must thank her for waking me, since I was able to attend the Second Prince's coming-of-age ceremony."

"That definitely sounds like something she'd do." The woman giggled as she took a seat. Once she was comfortable, she raised an eyebrow at her husband. "So, will she be joining you as your second wife then?"

Valter almost spat out a mouthful of his beloved stew when he heard that. He frowned as he looked toward Seren. "And what, exactly, is the relation of her Ascension to becoming my wife?"

"Six hundred years ago, was I not your disciple too?"

"That is correct..."

"And here I am." Seren pointed outside, where a few children were playing with each other. "With grandchildren. And no, I don't remember how many greats came before that. I've lost track at this point."

Valter's frown deepened as he muttered, "But the children came before your Ascension..."

"That's fine. You don't have to make children with her, no?" Seren continued, despite her husband's obvious displeasure. "Judging by how she rushed her Ascendance instead of restrained it, she must not want kids."

"That may also mean she doesn't want to marry..."

Seren rolled her eyes before her lips curled into a teasing grin. "We both know that's not the reason."

"I have no intention of taking another wife. End of discussion," Valter firmly declared, causing his wife's smirk to widen. He sent her a look of resentment and sneered. "Why don't you worry about your own disciple? How long was it since you last saw each other?"

His wife's expression stiffened as she looked away. "I come out and guide her from time to time... I don't neglect her as much as you think I do."

Valter shook his head in exasperation before returning his attention to the warm stew in front of him.

"But since we both took disciples at the same time, I should probably ramp up her training..." Seren mused.

"Don't push her too much," he said in between mouthfuls. "Different people have different rates of growth."

"I know, I know..." She replied, looking slightly annoyed. "I'm well aware of the pressure that just being selected as an Ascendant's disciple can bring, so I won't go too far."

"Good." Valter licked off the traces of stew on his spoon, drank a mouthful of water, and stood up. "I'll be going now."

"Mhm." Seren's face immediately brightened into a smile as she nodded. "Good luck!"

"You too." He smiled back at her and started walking towards the nearest window. As he put his foot on the window frame, he shouted, "Melinda! The stew was wonderful!"

With that, Valter flew into the sky, heading straight for the royal palace.

A high-pitched screech soon reverberated throughout the room as a black falcon flew after its master and friend, leaving a mostly empty pot of stew behind.

 

---

 

In front of the massive doors that led to Aizen's throne room, Valter secretly fixed his clothes for the umpteenth time, causing Freed — who was perched on his shoulder in falcon form — to chirp in exasperation.

"Hm. You can't blame me. It's been a while since I was last here..."

The opulent hall beyond was used so infrequently in recent centuries, that he could barely remember the last time he was inside.

'Now when was it... Ah, yes. It should be when I was assigned as a guardian knight four hundred years ago...'

Valter winced and unconsciously grabbed at his chest. The memory not only brought with it joyful feelings but sharp pangs of pain as well.

'Never again...'

Never again would he helplessly watch another royal die under his protection.

With renewed vigor, Valter clenched his fist as he pushed the doors open. He took steady steps forward, not daring to insolently use his Ascendant perception. He didn't even look around; only gazing straight ahead of him.

Since the throne and the royal family's seats were on an elevated platform, this meant that Valter was staring at the stairs as he paced across the blue carpet leading from the entrance to the other end of the hall. Still, he could vaguely make some things out in his peripheral vision.

Aside from the absence of the queen, the entire royal family was present — including the newly added member from the Mercer Household. There were also a few knights in full armor floating in the air along the walls, all of which, Valter recognized.

'Cheeky bastards, the lot of them...'

If the centuries they'd fought side by side were to be counted on, he was sure that they were smirking on the inside — expecting him to take them all out celebrating afterward.

Eventually, he made it to the designated spot. He stopped and knelt down on one knee instead of doing a normal knightly salute. Since he was surrounded by his trusted comrades inside one of the most secure locations within the palace, he did not need to be too alert.

Freed, having gone through the same actions for centuries, also lowered its head.

"This humble knight greets Aizen's guiding light."

"Stand, Sir Valter." The king's regal voice boomed throughout the vast hall, seemingly shaking Valter's soul with its gravitas.

"At once, Your Majesty."

Finally, Valter stood and gazed at his liege.

Rodin smiled as he sat on his throne. "I hope you've been doing well since I last saw you, Sir Valter. And Freed as well."

"I have been doing more than just well, Your Majesty."

Freed released a short screech in response.

Valter sent a glance at his companion of more than a millennium and smiled. "Freed has also been well, Your Majesty."

"That's good." The king nodded in satisfaction before waving his youngest son forward. "Go on."

"Yes, Father."

A young boy stood up from his seat. His silky grey hair shone silver under the light while he walked down the stairs. The boy's handsome and adorable features formed a calm expression as his golden eyes stared into Valter's own.

Valter stiffened despite himself, feeling as if his entire existence was being examined.

'Is this the prince's supposed special ability...?'

The prince had likely used this when they met in the Outlands last night, but Valter couldn't remember feeling such an intense stare.

'What could've possibly happened in the span of a few hours...?'

It was certainly strange, but it wasn't the time to ponder such things.

The prince had already stopped making his way down, stopping just one step above Valter. Since he was so short, and the knight in front of him so tall, the boy had to strain his neck just to maintain eye contact.

As such, Valter kneeled on one knee again. Now, their gazes were leveled somewhat equally.

"This humble knight greets His Highness, Prince Reivan."

"We meet again, Sir Valter." Reivan smiled at him. "Please stan— uh, no, never mind. Actually, would you mind staying like that...?"

Valter restrained a grin from creeping up his face. "I do not mind at all."

"Thank you..." The young prince scratched his cheek while smiling wryly. Perhaps now that they were a bit closer and Valter was without his helm, the boy took this chance to examine Valter more carefully.

Valter silently accepted the scrutiny. The prince likely knew that his life would be placed in Valter's protection now, so Valter thought it was actually admirable that the child thought to analyze him early on. The knight felt the boy's gaze flit here and there, before stopping on his face.

"Hm...?" Reivan tilted his head a little, even raising an eyebrow in confusion.

'Ah... it's been a while since I've been looked at this way...'

Valter's skin was quite a bit darker than most people in Aizen. Which made sense, since he wasn't born here. His people were a minority from a ruined country, courtesy of the Argonia Empire's expansion more than a thousand years ago. And even in the empire — where people with skin as dark as he were relatively common — his people were still discriminated against.

Mudmen.

Dirtborne.

The Overcooked.

Shitskin.

Those were just a few of the derogatory terms he'd gotten used to hearing.

It was quite ironic that he faced the least discrimination in the country which had never seen people of his skin color before. And even there, he'd still get confused stares or harmlessly curious glances.

A thousand years of living had tempered Valter to the extent that words would just bounce off him and the strange looks others gave him would just breeze past. He was no longer affected by such things.

Naturally, Valter found no fault in a sheltered young boy being confused over the existence of a man with such a different skin color.

"It has always been like this, Your Majesty," he kindly said.

"Huh?" Reivan frowned in apparent confusion. "What is?"

"My skin." Valter pointed at his face. Since he was wearing gloves too, his face was the only area where his skin was exposed. "It has always been this color."

The young prince's frown deepened as his bewilderment intensified. "Uh... I see? That's good to know, I guess?"

'Hm...?'

Valter also felt puzzled. It felt like they'd both completely missed each other's intentions.

Eventually, the young boy seemed unable to take the awkwardness any longer. He pointed at his head, to his beautiful crown of grey hair.

"I'm more interested in your hair."

Valter's hands unconsciously reached up to his locks. "My hair...?"

"Yeah— I mean, Indeed." Reivan let his hand fall to his side before asking, "Has it always been purple?"

"Hm? Ah... yes, Your Highness...." Valter nodded with a vacant expression, blindsided by the strange question. "It has been like this since I was born..."

"Interesting..." The prince curiously stared at the knight's hair before sighing. "That's amazing. I rarely see people with strange hair colors like you and me."

'So he was looking at my hair...'

He didn't know when he was younger, but the reason why his hair was purple was because of his Darkness Affinity. Apparently, affinities sometimes affected the appearances of those who had them.

"Well, since we both have special hair, let's get along." Reivan beamed as he held out his hand.

As if being sucked into it, Valter's hand unconsciously took the young prince's little one. And while still in a bit of a daze, he returned the boy's handshake.

Reivan let go and straightened his back. "We'll be together for a long time, Sir Valter."

Valter once again stared into the young prince's eyes, which looked like a bottomless pool of golden light. "Indeed, we shall, Your Highness."

The boy smiled in response, but then he scratched the back of his head, a mannerism that Valter was all too familiar with, having watched many children grow into adults before having children of their own.

"Uhm... and I'm sorry for staring at you earlier." Reivan dipped his head in apology. "It may have been unpleasant for you. And it was rude too. I apologize."

Valter was just about to speak out for the prince to stop bowing to him but then he was interrupted by booming laughter.

"That's good." Rodin chuckled. "If one does something wrong, then one should apologize. Isn't that right, Sir Valter?"

Faced with a question from the king, the knight could only answer in the affirmative. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Right. Then all that is left is to see whether the offender is forgiven. Sir Valter, please respond honestly to the prince's apology."

Although the king had worded it politely as a request, it carried a palpable authority that forced Valter's compliance.

It was a command that no knight who'd taken a pledge in this very throne hall could ever refuse.

For the thousand or so years that Valter served the kingdom of Aizen, he'd never been subjected to this authority. Everything he'd accomplished was done by his own will and loyalty. Even if the king ordered him to charge into the Outlands, never stopping until death embraced him, Valter would do so without hesitation. There was never any need for the ruler to use such a forceful method to make the knights obey.

'And yet, it's being used for something like this...'

Valter couldn't help but inwardly shake his head at the royal family's eccentricities. He didn't know why nearly every royal he'd ever seen had a few screws loose, but he also couldn't deny that they were all worth serving with all that he had.

In any case, Valter had received a command, so he must now complete it.

"Your Highness, there is no need for me to forgive you. Since no offense was taken." Valter responded truthfully to the young boy, who was younger than any of his current descendants. "Rather, I find it amusing that you were so fixated on my hair. Usually, people would notice something else."

"Really?" The young prince raised a brow at him. "But your hair is so flashy. It's purple. What else is there to notice...?"

"I wonder..." The knight held back a grin. "In any case, you've no need to apologize. I think it's a good thing for children to be curious."

"I see. That's true." Reivan started nodding in agreement before abruptly stopping. The young prince then rounded on Valter with a frown on his adorable face. "Sir Valter, I'll have you know, that I just underwent my coming-of-age ceremony. In fact, you were there. So you should be aware, that I am, in fact, not a child. I am now a legitimate member of the royal family!"

Seeing the young boy let out a disgruntled harrumph as he turned away, Valter finally couldn't stop his lips from curling into a smile.

"I see. I apologize, Your Highness. It will never happen again."

"Very good." Reivan nodded sagely, but — in Valter's eyes — only managed to look like a child pretending to be an adult. "I forgive you."

"His Highness is truly magnanimous." Valter lowered his head to hide the insolent smirk on his face. When he looked back up, however, he could see Rodin covering his mouth while the First prince's shoulders trembled.

The two men were obviously amused by his interaction with Prince Reivan.

Rodin cleared his throat after wiping off a tear from his eyes. "We don't have all day, so let's start. Valter, go ahead and offer your pledge so you can go and celebrate your new post with old friends."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Valter, still kneeling, summoned a pitch-black spear with a flourish of his arm. He then stabbed it into the floor in front of him as he lowered his head and uttered the pledge that carried the regrets of the past and his hopes for the future.

 

---

 

This knight, Valter Suprana, humbly swears his allegiance to Prince Reivan Aizenwald.

I promise to put your words above anyone else's, and your safety before my own.

For as long as I live, I will be the lance that skewers your enemies.

The shield that serves as a bastion against your foes.

And a pillar that you can lean on.

My lord and master.

I pledge:

You shall not perish before I do.

---