The palace trembles, as if two mighty gods were exchanging blows.
To my left, marble pillars shudder, each tremor sending shards crashing down, creating melodies of royal ordinance.
To my right, portraits of the late King Heinrich von Habsburg tilt and sway with the shaking.
It must be Drevail and Troy, Ithought.
But what once seemed straightforward became tangled.
How could Drevail possibly stand a chance against Troy? Drevail is neither a knight nor a man-at-arms.
Mana boost.
Drevail must have had his mana boosted by the same person who empowered Troy.
Step by step, I rose from the clinic bed.
The noise seemed to echo from above.
My instincts were right—it was Drevail against Troy.
As I left the clinic room, the tremors ceased.
I rushed toward the staircase, but before I could ascend, I saw something that shattered my world.
Drevail descended the stairs, a sword clenched in his right hand.
What struck me wasn't him—it was the sword, drenched in blood. Someone's blood.
Before he could step off the final stair, I asked,
"I hope it isn't true."
"Is it the truth you seek, or the lie you wish to see?" he replied.
I bolted up the stairs, pain shooting through my legs with every step—the wounds from my battle with Troy still fresh—but I pressed on, desperate to cling to the lie.
Reaching the upper corridor, I saw it: a stream of blood leading from the king's office.
Slowly, steadily, I followed it, each step pounding against my ribs, my heart an unwilling harmonium.
The door was wide open.
At its entrance, I froze.
My heart stopped, caught in the cold grasp of the abyss.
It was his head—Troy Habsburg's head.
My eyes welled, blurring the gruesome sight before me—the lifeless head of Troy—until tears spilled free, carving silent trails down my face.
Kneeling, cradling his head in my bloodied hands, I whispered my final words to him,
"Troy... You said you hated me, you claimed you despised me... but when we fought, we smiled.
Every clash of swords was followed by a chuckle.
We were friends in combat.
And as the warrior you were, I will grant you glory—a proper burial for your head."
With his head and sword in my hands, I descended the stairs, singing hymns of glory:
"Hail the kings of the earth; a fellow crowned joins God in heaven."
"Come, let us rejoice, for another knight marches toward heaven."
His blood left a trail behind me—his blood still yearning for glory, fame, and power.
At the palace garden, with bare, blood-soaked hands, I dug a grave, deep enough to hold his head and sword.
First, I placed his head into the earth.
Then, I laid his sword beside him and covered the grave with my own hands.
Moments like this made me question why I chose to become a mage knight.
Was it to protect the king?
To uphold the church's teachings?
To defend Ostina?
To help the weak?
No.
It was none of those.
I only ever wanted to be a hero—
To be someone heroes would admire.
I just wanted to be like my brother.
I wanted to be like Alaric Freiburg
So I thought.
---
With his head buried, my mind wandered among the clouds, retracing my steps—why I chose this path, and what lay ahead before me.
I was just eight when my brother and only sibling, Alaric Freiburg, was training me in the arts of magecraft and swordsmanship.
"Not like that, Mathias," said brother.
"But you said I should just swing the sword this way! I'm tired of sword training. I want to do magic! I want to shoot fire from my hands," I said.
"Hahaha, no, Mathias. You have much to learn. First, let me correct you: we mage knights neither use magic nor tricks. What we use is magecraft. Magic is a divine authority that belongs only to God."
"Huh? Magic and then magecraft? Hahaha, you're making this hard. What's the difference?" I asked.
"Not to burst your head now, Mathias, I'll try to keep it simple. In using magecraft, your mana pool is a big factor. Magecrafts are classified from S to E, with S being the highest. You must have a specific mana pool count to be able to use certain classes of magecraft, and finally, you must use a grimoire when performing magecraft."
"So basically for magecraft, I need a grimoire and a specific mana pool count," I said.
He replied,
"Yes, exactly.
Magic, just like magecraft, is the transubstantiation of mana into elements or functions. The major difference between magic and magecraft is that magic is performed without a grimoire and isn't dependent on mana pool count."
Surprised, I said,
"I like magic better. I don't want to carry some book around!"
"But Mathias," he said, chuckling, "did you forget? I told you magic is a divine authority. Only God can perform true magic."
"But you said magecraft depends on mana count. How do I know my mana count?" I asked.
He chuckled again before answering,
"You use a measuring device. But at your age, you can't measure your mana count yet."
"Why? Is it because my mana isn't fully developed?" I asked.
With another chuckle, he answered,
"Oh no, that's not the reason.
A law was passed to prevent anyone under 18 who hasn't graduated from a knight or mage academy from measuring their mana pool."
"That doesn't make any sense! Why prevent me from knowing my full potential?"
He knelt down, placing his hands firmly on my shoulders.
"You see, Mathias, if you knew your mana count was low, you wouldn't be as excited as you are now. You wouldn't recite scriptures, wield the sword, or practice magecraft with the same fire.
You'd lose your resolve, knowing you might never reach the top.
That's why we prevent young lads like you from knowing it too early.
We want your spirit to keep burning—that's how strong mage knights are made."
"That's a lot of words, brother... but I think I get it," I replied.
"Since we're done talking about magecraft, let's get back to sword training," he said.
As brother unsheathed his sword, I noticed it wasn't the one he usually wielded.
"Brother, your sword... that's not the one you usually carry in the golden sheath."
"Oh, yes, that's right. My primary sword shouldn't be used for simple activities," he answered.
With a pout and angry smirk, I replied,
"Simple? You call my training simple? You think I'm weak, not worthy to face your real sword?"
With a serious face, he said,
"You see, Mathias, I am not like the others. I am like the sun that shines to protect the kingdom.
I am a Saint.
And as a Saint, I have a codex of conduct.
My main sword is one of the Solis Swords a human can activate—the Sword of Destruction."
I was both surprised and confused. The Sword of Destruction...
"But I thought you were just a mage knight! What does it mean to be a Saint?"
He stood tall, gazing at the vertical sun.
"A Saint is a mage knight tied to the Sun.
Each knightly kingdom has at least one Saint, who stands as their strongest knight. After the Helios Baptisma, a mage knight with a specific mana count becomes a Saint and wields a Solis Sword."
The strongest mage knight... brother is the strongest? How powerful is he really...?
"I think I get it now."
Just then, one of the church messengers called out to my brother,
"Excuse me, Sir Lord Alaric Freiburg, the High Priest of the Royal Cathedral wishes to see you."
"I'll be on my way," brother replied.
He turned to me and said,
"I must leave now, Mathias. See that you continue your training. Never relent, and you will become a wonderful mage knight."
He followed the church messenger out the garden gates, and I thought to myself,
Why do I want to be a mage knight?
Do I want to save people... or do I just want to be like my brother?
---
The early morning smell from the kitchen—that was my alarm, waking me up each morning.
As I got ready to go downstairs to train, I saw brother. He was packing, as if he was heading out and wouldn't return for a long time.
Why is he packing? It must have been that meeting with the High Priest...
"Brother, I see you're going somewhere... but can we train for a little bit first?" I asked.
"No, Mathias. As you can see, I'm heading out.
I've been called for an important mission by the kingdom."
"But why you? There are many knights in the realm! Why choose you over them?" I said.
"As I said yesterday, I am the strongest knight in the kingdom.
And as a Saint, it's my duty to take on the most dangerous tasks," he replied.
He then said,
"Promise me something, Mathias:
Become a mage knight.
Don't relent in your training.
Read the scriptures.
Practice your magecraft.
And never abandon the path of righteousness."
"I promise, brother."
He took his leave—and that was the last time I saw him.
Many years passed, and we could not find any trace of his whereabouts.
We presumed he was killed in action.
That's when I chose to become a mage knight.
I finally found my resolve: to keep my promise to my brother.
Every time I wield the sword, it's to fulfill that promise,
to honor his legacy,
to immortalize his ways.