Chapter Text
"I'll always love you forever. Even if the universe tears us apart."
♡ Paths Bound To Cross (UPDATED: 06/16/2026)
For nearly a century, the Valerian Empire had known only peace. It was the kind of peace most nations could only dream to achieve. Peace built not on the absence of conflict, but on the certainty that conflict would change absolutely nothing. The empire's strength was simply too strong and absolute, its rules deeply rooted within the citizens. Valeria's oldest rivals had long since stopped hoping for anything more than survival in its shadow.
No one within its borders could have guessed how soon, and how completely, that certainty would be tested nor that the first crack would not come from an invading army or a failed harvest, but from a single child, on a single afternoon, during a ceremony that had been performed the exact same way for centuries.
♡
Chance Sapphirite, the youngest knight in the Valerian Empire's Knight Order, was carrying out his daily patrol through the capital's busy streets. Despite his young age, Chance carried a significant amount of responsibility on his shoulders, often making him the busiest member of the first-year knight batch. Between combat training, morning drills, academic studies, patrol duties, and various assignments from his superiors, he rarely found a moment to himself. His schedule was so demanding that most days blended together into a continuous cycle of work and discipline.
Spring had arrived early that year, bringing soft winds and clear skies. The morning air carried the scent of baked goods, blooming flowers, and melted iron from the nearby smithing district. Birds perched along rooftops, their chirping almost drowned out by the constant chatter of merchants advertising their goods. Dressed in the standard uniform of the Knights' Order, a fitted black coat reinforced with silver-plated armor along the shoulders and chest, accompanied by a dark blue cape bearing the empire's crest, Chance's presence alone was enough to distinguish him from the crowd.
He was not simply another knight. Within both guild circles and criminal networks, his name carried weight. Though officially registered as a knight under the Knights' Order, he was far better known as a bounty hunter whose success rate was almost perfect. Over the past year alone, he had captured dozens of fugitives, dismantled smuggling operations, and assisted city guards in difficult cases. His methods were efficient, calculated, and rarely merciful. Most referred to him as "Soul of the Black Wing," a title he privately disliked but had long since accepted as part of his identity.
During his patrol through the capital, Chance made a brief stop at a local blacksmith to repair his sword. The smithy was located in the northern district of the city, nestled between a well-known apothecary and an upscale boutique. Although modest in appearance, the establishment possessed an outstanding reputation throughout the empire. Knights, adventurers, and even archmages frequently visited the forge to repair damaged equipment or commission new weapons and armor.
The smithy had been operated by the same family for generations. Its owners were dwarves, a race renowned for their exceptional craftsmanship, precision, and deep understanding of metallurgy. Their work was considered some of the finest in the empire, and many of the weapons carried by Valeria's elite soldiers had been forged within the walls of this very workshop. The rhythmic sound of hammers striking metal echoed from within the building, accompanied by the warmth of the forge and the faint scent of coal and molten steel. It was a familiar place for many knights, and for Chance, it was simply another stop in his long day of duties.
Chance peacefully inspected the collection of daggers displayed at the front of the smithy. His attention was soon drawn to one particular blade, and he reached out to pick it up. The moment he held it, he immediately noticed the enchantment woven into the weapon. A faint layer of Light mana had been infused into the blade, subtly enhancing its sharpness and cutting power without compromising its durability.
Curious to test its performance, Chance walked over to a training dummy positioned in the corner of the workshop. With a swift swing, he brought the dagger down against the dummy's wooden arm. The blade sliced through it cleanly, severing the limb with almost no resistance. The cut was so precise that the detached arm remained upright for a brief moment before falling to the floor with a dull thud.
At that moment, a dwarf emerged from the forge at the back of the smithy. He removed his protective gloves and pushed his goggles onto the top of his head before glancing at the damaged training dummy.
"Testing the new batch of daggers?" the dwarf asked with a grin. "They're the finest set I've forged this month."
"They're far more efficient than I expected, Fernec," Chance replied as he carefully returned the dagger to its display stand. "I might consider buying one once I receive my next payment."
"That's a rare compliment coming from you," Fernec chuckled. "Most of the time you only talk about practicality."
Chance shrugged. "A weapon doesn't need to be fancy. It just needs to do its job well."
"Spoken like a true knight." Fernec crossed his arms before nodding toward the sword hanging at Chance's waist. "I'm assuming you're here to repair your sword again, as usual."
Chance let out a quiet sigh before unfastening the weapon from his belt. "Unfortunately, yes. Training exercises have been rough lately."
"Let me guess," Fernec said, already reaching for the sword. "You used it as a shield again."
"...Maybe." Chance muttered.
The dwarf laughed. "One of these days, you're going to bring me nothing but the handle."
Chance nodded and unsheathed his sword before carefully placing it on the counter. Fernec picked up the weapon and began inspecting it with the practiced eye of an experienced craftsman. He turned the blade through several angles, examining its edge, balance, and overall condition. Every scratch, dent, and imperfection was scrutinized as he assessed the extent of the damage.
After a few moments, the dwarf let out a thoughtful hum. "The tip of the blade has chipped, and the handle is starting to wear out," Fernec said. He paused briefly before placing the sword back onto the counter. "That'll be two gold coins. But since you're a regular here, I'll do the job for a single gold coin."
Chance immediately shook his head. "Thank you for your generosity, but I'll have to decline," he replied, his voice carrying genuine gratitude. "I'm grateful for your service, Fernec, but as a knight, I shouldn't take advantage of the kindness of others." Reaching into his coin pouch, Chance placed two gold coins onto the counter. "A fair service deserves fair payment."
Fernec stared at the coins for a moment before chuckling. "If that's the case, I can't complain," he said as he pocketed the money. "More coins for me, then." The dwarf leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, looking far more relaxed now that business had been settled. "So," Fernec began, "how's your regular patrol going? Anything interesting happen lately?"
Chance thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Not particularly. The city has been peaceful these past few weeks. Most of my reports have been routine matters of lost property, minor disputes, and helping merchants with paperwork."
"Sounds boring." Fernec muttered.
"It usually is." Chance replied.
"Hah! That's a good thing, lad," Fernec replied with a laugh. "When knights start having exciting days, it usually means something has gone terribly wrong."
Chance couldn't argue with that. In fact, he preferred peaceful patrols over emergencies. A quiet city meant its citizens were safe, and that was exactly what a knight was supposed to protect.
Chance chuckled softly. "Well..." He scratched the back of his neck. "Nothing that really caught my interest has happened during my patrol so far. I'll let you know if anything interesting happens tomorrow."
A faint smile appeared on his face. "I'll be waiting with your repaired sword this evening," Fernec replied.
After finishing his conversation with the dwarf, Chance stepped out of the smithy and returned to the bustling streets of the capital. A cool breeze brushed against his face, carrying the fresh scent of spring through the market district. The air felt cleaner and lighter than it had during the winter months, a clear sign that the season was changing.
As he continued down the street, his gaze drifted toward a nearby park. Two small birds perched upon the branches of an apple tree, chirping and singing at the top of their lungs as though competing to be heard. Beneath them, children ran across the grassy fields while families enjoyed the pleasant weather. The sounds of laughter nuxed seamlessly with the cheerful calls of street vendors advertising their goods throughout the market.
Merchants stood behind colorful stalls displaying fresh goods, flowers, and handcrafted trinkets. Customers moved from shop to shop, bargaining, chatting, and going about their daily routines. The capital of the Valerian Empire possessed a charm unlike any other city. Its vibrant atmosphere, welcoming citizens, and lively streets created an identity capable of captivating even the most well-traveled outsider. For many visitors, a single day spent within its walls was enough to understand why so many people regarded the empire as one of the greatest nations in the world.
♡
A cry for help echoed through the marketplace.
Chance's attention immediately shifted toward the source of the commotion. Near one of the side streets, two hooded men were harassing an elderly woman, attempting to snatch the basket of groceries from her hands. The old woman struggled to resist, but her age made it impossible to match their strength. As a knight, Chance did not hesitate. Within seconds, he crossed the distance between them. Before either criminal could react, Chance delivered a precise punch to the first man's jaw, knocking him unconscious. The second hooded figure barely had enough time to turn around before receiving a similar strike. Both men collapsed onto the stone floor.
After ensuring they were no longer a threat, Chance secured the criminals with a length of rope and reported their location to a nearby city guard. Only then did he turn his attention to the elderly woman.
"Are you injured, ma'am?" He asked.
The old woman shook her head. "No, dear. Thanks to you."
Chance helped gather the groceries that had fallen onto the street and offered to carry them home. The woman gratefully accepted, and together they made their way through a quiet residential district. After arriving at her home and setting down the groceries, the elderly woman smiled warmly.
"Thank you, darling. You've been such a sweet child today," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Please wait here for a moment."
Before Chance could respond, the woman hurried inside. Several minutes later, she returned carrying a small paper bag. The aroma drifting from it was enough to reveal its contents before she even spoke.
"These are some homemade apple pies," she explained, handing the bag to him. "I baked them this morning and had a few left over. Please accept them as a token of my gratitude."
Chance politely accepted the gift. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll make sure they don't go to waste."
The old woman laughed softly.
After exchanging farewells, Chance resumed his patrol through the capital. The paper bag rested securely in one hand while the other remained close to the hilt of his sword. There was still plenty of ground left to cover before his shift ended.
His pace was slightly more relaxed than before, but his movements remained sharp and disciplined. Even while enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the city, a knight's duty never truly ended. The rest of his patrol around the market consisted of settling a dispute between two merchants, assisting a vendor whose cartwheel had broken, and chasing down a pair of pickpockets who tried to flee through a side alley. By the middle of the day, he had already handed over several more criminals to the city guards stationed near the southern gates.
As he watched the guards lead the criminals away, Chance crossed his arms. "There have been a lot of criminals lately," he muttered to himself. "Either security at the city gates is weakening, or someone is allowing the wrong people to enter the capital. I'll have to report it to the Head Knight."
As the sun gradually disappeared beyond the horizon, the vibrant vermilion hues of the evening sky made way to the deep colors of dusk. Chance eventually arrived at the center of the marketplace. A towering statue stood proudly at its heart, surrounded by a large fountain whose crystal-clear waters reflected the golden glow of the lanterns nearby. After spending the entire day patrolling the city, Chance decided to take a brief rest. He sat along the stone edge of the fountain, feeling the stiffness in his muscles from hours of walking and constant vigilance.
Now that he finally had a moment to himself, he opened the paper bag the elderly woman had given him earlier. Inside were two freshly baked apple pies. The sweet aroma immediately filled the air around him.
Chance took one of the pies and slowly bit into it, savoring every mouthful. The flavor was surprisingly rich. The apples provided a slight tartness at first, followed by a pleasant sweetness that lingered afterward. The crust crumbled gently with each bite, making it the more enjoyable. By the time he finished the first pie, he found himself genuinely impressed by the old woman's baking. Rather than immediately eating the second one, Chance carefully returned it to the paper bag. Even while resting, Chance remained alert. His gaze constantly wandered across the crowd, carefully observing the movements and behavior of those around him. He paid close attention to suspicious body language, hidden hand movements, and unusual interactions between groups of people. Years of training had taught him that danger rarely announced itself openly.
Fortunately, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. As the evening continued and the flow of people gradually thinned, Chance finally concluded his patrol. Rising from the fountain, he brushed the dust from his uniform and made his way back toward the smithy to collect his repaired sword.
♡
"Sir Chance," Fernec greeted warmly. "I see you're back from your patrol. I've finished repairing your sword."
The dwarf reached beneath the counter and unsheathed Chance's weapon before carefully placing it on the workbench. The blade looked as good as new. Every chip and scratch had been removed, while the dull sheen that had plagued the sword earlier was gone entirely. The polished steel reflected the forge's light with a clean, brilliant shine.
"Thank you, Fernec," Chance replied.
He picked up the sword and gave it a brief inspection. Satisfied with the quality of the repairs, he slid the blade back into its scabbard and adjusted it at his waist. Leaning against the counter, he continued,
"Nothing too unusual happened during my patrol. Ran into a couple of thugs harassing an old lady. Taught them a lesson, helped her carry her groceries home, and she gave me some apple pie as gratitude." Chance casually tossed the paper bag onto the counter.
Fernec barely managed to catch it before it slipped from his hands. "Apple pie?" he repeated, peering inside the bag. "That's awfully kind of her."
The sweet aroma quickly reached his nose.
"Wait a second..." Fernec looked up. "You're giving this to me?"
Chance shrugged. "I already ate one. Figured you'd appreciate the other more than I would." He replied.
For a brief moment, the dwarf simply stared at him before bursting into laughter. "Hah! Thanks for the free pie, lad. I appreciate it." He immediately opened the bag and took a bite. "...That's actually really flavourful."
"You sound surprised." Chance muttered.
"I am surprised," Fernec replied between bites. "Most people reward heroes with gratitude and a handshake. You somehow came back with dessert."
Chance shook his head with a faint smile. "You're the one who repaired my sword on short notice. Consider it a small thank you."
"Well, if this is how knights repay favors, I should start repairing more swords." Fernec chuckled.
The two shared a laugh. Chance didn't respond. Instead, he simply raised a hand in farewell before turning toward the exit.
"See you tomorrow, lad!" Fernec called out from behind him.
Chance stepped out of the smithy and into the cool night air. A gentle breeze brushed against his armor, causing the metal plates to softly rattle with each step he took. The lively atmosphere that had filled the capital during the day had begun to fade as the city settled into the evening.
The market district had grown considerably quieter. Most merchants had already packed away their goods and closed their stalls for the night. Only a handful of street vendors remained open, their lanterns casting warm pools of golden light across the cobblestone streets. The occasional sound of conversation drifted through the air, accompanied by the distant laughter of late-night customers.
Despite the peaceful surroundings, Chance paid little attention to the scenery. His patrol had already ended, and exhaustion from the day's duties was beginning to settle into his body. With his newly repaired sword resting at his waist, he walked steadily through the streets, his destination clear in mind.
The headquarters of the Knight's Order stood in the distance, illuminated by rows of enchanted lanterns. Without slowing his pace, Chance headed straight toward the imposing building, eager to submit his report and finally bring the long day to an end.
The headquarters of the Knight's Order was a massive stone facility located within the capital's military district. The building housed hundreds of knights in shared quarters and served as the center of military operations within the city. Armor racks lined the hallways, weapon maintenance stations occupied every floor, and training schedules were posted on major notice boards each morning. The sounds of drills and marching soldiers usually echoed throughout the complex from dawn until dusk.
♡
After returning from his patrol, Chance entered his assigned room. The chamber was small and simple, containing only a bed, a desk, an equipment rack, and enough space to move around comfortably. He removed his gloves and dropped them onto the table before taking a seat at his desk.
Pulling out a sheet of paper, he reviewed the training schedule for the following day. "Got a lot of work tomorrow." Chance muttered.
The rest of the Knight's Order had already settled down for the night. One by one, the lights throughout the headquarters disappeared until only a single room remained illuminated.
Rather than sleeping, he opened a thick book detailing the history and responsibilities of the Imperial Knights, the highest rank a knight could achieve within the Valerian Empire. The position was considered one of the empire's most sacred military titles, reserved only for individuals who had demonstrated unwavering loyalty, exceptional skill, and complete devotion to protecting the nation.
Becoming an Imperial Knight demanded a life of sacrifice and responsibility. The position required years of service and often placed its holders in dangerous situations. However, it also granted immense prestige, influence, and financial security. For many young knights, earning such a title represented the pinnacle of their careers.
Chance carefully studied each page, breaking down every paragraph and analyzing its contents in detail. He paid close attention to historical records, military doctrines, and the achievements of past Imperial Knights. Time slipped away unnoticed as he immersed himself in the text.
Eventually, his gaze shifted towards the mechanical clock resting in the corner of his desk. The small hand struck twelve. It was already midnight. Only then did Chance realize how late it had become.
♡
The following morning, the quiet atmosphere of the headquarters vanished. The sounds of armored boots, conversations, and distant training exercises echoed throughout the corridors outside his room. Knights moved between assignments, morning drills, and administrative duties as the building returned to life.
Chance slowly opened his eyes. For a brief moment, exhaustion lingered on his face as he sat upright in bed. He rubbed his eyes, strapped on his belt, secured his sword at his waist, and prepared for the day.
Stepping into the hallway, he found the headquarters already bustling with activity. Groups of knights hurried from one destination to another while officers distributed orders and reports.
Chance adjusted his coat and briefly glanced back at the training schedule resting on his desk. Fortunately, today was one of his rare days off from official knight duties. Most knights would have used the opportunity to rest, sleep in, or spend time with friends. Welll... Chance had other plans. Without wasting a moment, he left the headquarters and made his way towards the Imperial Guild Hall, intending to make the most of the free time he had been given.
The Imperial Guild Hall was one of the largest buildings in the capital. Constructed from dark stone and reinforced oak, the massive structure towered above the surrounding streets. Its high ceilings were supported by thick wooden beams, while enchanted lanterns illuminated every corner of the hall. Large banners bearing the crest of the Valerian Empire hung from the walls, giving the building a sense of authority and prestige.
Inside, the guild was as busy as ever. Knights, mages, adventurers, and merchants moved between request boards, mission desks, and reward counters. Some groups discussed upcoming assignments, while others celebrated the successful completion of difficult commissions. The constant murmur of conversations mixed with the occasional clatter of armor and the rustling of paperwork, creating an atmosphere of organized chaos.
Behind the main counter stood one of the guild clerks, a young woman with neatly combed hair and wire-framed glasses resting upon her nose. Several stacks of documents surrounded her workstation as she assisted a group of adventurers with their requests. Despite the overwhelming amount of work, she handled each customer with ease.
The moment Chance entered the Guild Hall, a few bystanders immediately noticed him. Whispers spread through the crowd. Some voices carried admiration, recognizing him as the youngest knight in the Valerian Knight Order. Others sounded envious, wondering how someone so young had already achieved a position many could only dream of obtaining. A few simply stared out of curiosity. Chance paid little attention to any of it. He had long grown accustomed to the attention.
Without acknowledging the murmurs around him, he walked directly through the crowded hall and approached the guild clerk's counter, sliding several bounty posters onto the counter.
"I'm here to claim the bounty." He said with a sharp tone.
The guild clerk responded immediately and stepped toward an enchanted stone slab positioned beside the counter. Adjusting her wire-framed glasses, she placed a hand against the artifact and channeled a small amount of mana into its surface.
Moments later, a translucent mana screen materialized above the stone, displaying a list of criminal records, active warrants, and recently completed requests. Her eyes moved quickly across the information as she searched for the reports associated with Chance's patrol.
After a brief review, she gave a small nod.
"Captures are confirmed," the guild clerk said. "All three. The reports match the records submitted by the city guards."
She dismissed the mana screen before disappearing into a room at the back of the Guild Hall. Several minutes later, she returned carrying a leather coin pouch heavy enough to make a noise audibly against the counter. Setting it down with a solid thud, she pushed it toward Chance.
"Your payment." She said softly. "Thank you for your service."
Chance accepted it, weighing the pouch in his palm. "Glad to be of service."
Untying the cord, he counted the coins inside to confirm the amount. Satisfied that everything was correct, he secured the pouch to his belt. "Thank you." He replied.
The clerk smiled politely before returning to her work, while Chance remained at the counter for a moment, considering what he would do with the rest of his day.
Satisfied with the reward, Chance exited the Guild Hall and stepped back into the busy streets of the capital.
Among the many members of the Imperial Guild Hall, Chance ranked exceptionally high on the bounty-hunting leaderboards despite his young age. His reputation had been built through countless successful missions, efficient captures, and an impressive completion rate. Guild records frequently praised his advanced combat skills, independence, and ability to adapt to rapidly changing situations. Criminals rarely stood a chance against him once he accepted a bounty.
Today, however, a small smile rested on his face. A rare expression softened his features.
For the past three years, Chance had carefully saved every coin he earned as both a knight and an independent bounty hunter. While other young knights spent their wages on entertainment, equipment upgrades, or luxury items, Chance had chosen to save almost everything. His lifestyle remained simple, and his expenses were minimal.
Since joining the Knight Order, he had spent nearly all of his teenage years living within the headquarters. The institution had become a second home to him. He trained there, studied there, ate there, and slept there. Through countless errands, assignments, patrols, and duties, he had gradually earned his place among the empire's knights.
After years of disciplined saving, countless assignments, and living under the restrictive conditions of the knight barracks, he had finally earned enough to purchase a home. No more shared quarters, endless chores assigned by senior knights, sleeping in rooms barely large enough to hold a bed and an armor stand.
Finally, I can get my own private space. He thought.
Over the past month, he had visited numerous properties throughout the capital with the assistance of local merchants and real estate agents. Most of the houses he had been shown failed to impress him. Some were too expensive, others were poorly maintained, and a few simply lacked the atmosphere he was looking for.
However, after weeks of searching, he had finally found one. A modest but well-located townhouse. The moment he had stepped through its front gate, something about the property had immediately captured his interest. It wasn't the largest house available, nor was it the most luxurious. Nevertheless, it possessed a quiet charm. And now, after years of saving and weeks of searching, the day had finally arrived.
Today, Chance Sapphirite was going to purchase his very first home. After months, Chance allowed himself to feel satisfied though that satisfaction lasted less than an hour.
After a long walk through the capital, Chance finally arrived at the residence he had been eyeing for nearly half a year. The house stood exactly as he remembered it, nestled within a quiet district away from the crowded marketplace. Just seeing it again filled him with anticipation.
Near the front gate stood the property merchant.
"I finally have enough money to purchase the residence," Chance said happily as he approached.
The merchant's expression immediately stiffened. Instead of sharing his excitement, the man looked away nervously. His hands fidgeted at his sides, deliberately avoided making eye contact.
Chance's smile slowly faded till oblivion.
"The house..." The merchant began hesitantly. "It has already been sold. The property was purchased earlier this afternoon. A noble offered above the listed value and completed the transaction immediately."
Silence hung in the air. Chance simply stared at him, as if the words refused to register in his brain. "Eh? Purchased?..." He repeated flatly.
This was the house he had spent years saving for. The house he had scheduled to purchase. The one he had planned his future around and now someone else owned it.
The words settled like stones. His grip tightened around the coin pouch. Months of planning. Years of saving. Disappeared. Just like that. Slowly, disbelief gave way to emerging irritation. Then anger hit like a tide.
"Who the hell buys a house knowing someone else has been planning to purchase it for years?!" Chance said sharply, his voice carrying frustration rather than rage. "Are you serious right now!?"
The merchant visibly flinched, opening his mouth to respond, but someone else stepped forward before he could speak.
"I am that individual you're talking about." The voice was deep, sharp, and carried an unmistakable sense of authority.
Chance turned around to face the voice.
The moment he did, he found himself facing a man who stood considerably taller than him. The stranger's attire immediately revealed his noble status. A dark navy coat with gold-thread embroidery along the sleeves, polished leather boots, and a crest Chance didn't quite recognize. His posture was relaxed yet firm, carrying the certainty of someone used to have authority. The man's most striking feature, however, was his hair. Long, fluffy and black like midnight.
Within the Valerian Empire, black hair was an extremely rare trait, often associated with the royal bloodline itself. Nobles and government officials could identify its significance immediately.
Unfortunately, Chance had never paid much attention to noble customs or royal genetics. As a result, he had absolutely no idea what the black hair represented. All he saw was the noble who had bought his house.
The man glanced at Chance briefly, then at the house behind him. The one he had purchased before Chance.
"I purchased this property earlier today." He stated plainly. "The transaction is complete and legally registered. You were simply too late. Unfortunately."
Chance's expression hardened.
The man continued without hesitation, his tone calm but highly dismissive. "Life simply operates on timing and resources, but you lacked both in this case. How pitiful..." The man's face was filled with amusement.
Chance's eyes narrowed slightly as he fully faced the man. The clothing confirmed it immediately. He was a high-ranking noble. Most likely from one of the administrative families, or a minor house with sustainable financial resources.
His mood shifted. Something swirling into resentment. "Nobles..." Chance murmured while gritting his teeth. "Always stepping over people to secure what they want."
The man's brow twitched slightly at the remark. "That is merely an oversimplified and emotional interpretation." He replied. "The nobles funds all the construction, trade routes, supply chains, and land development. Without capital accumulation from our class, the empire would crumble into oblivion." He adjusted his glove, continuing to state his words. "Common citizens benefit from systems that they cannot simply comprehend."
Chance let out a short, sharp breath through his nose. He was clearly tired from the situation. "So that's your justification?" he said. "You just take something someone else worked for years to afford, and label it as an 'economic function'?"
The man's gaze sharpened slightly, though his tone remained controlled. He sighed. "You did not secure it. Therefore, you did not own it."
A pause followed. Chance's hand tightened briefly at his side. Then he spoke again, lower this time. "Of course. Nobles take what they want and explain it away later."
The man exhaled slowly, clearly growing mildly irritated. "You misunderstand your position on this," he said. "You are merely a knight. A trained asset for the empire. That alone places you above most civilians already. Yet you speak as though you are being suppressed completely."
Chance took a step forward. The air between them shifted. It was still tense. "Don't talk like... you know me," he said. "You cannot understand the life of commoners."
For a moment, neither moved. They only glared at one another. Then Chance stepped back, breaking the tension on purpose.
"...Forget it." He stayed quiet just for a moment before turning away. "Keep the house. End of discussion." He began walking down the stone path, boots striking the ground steadily.
♡
The man watched him go without a flicker of expression. For a long moment he simply stood there, hands clasped loosely behind his back, watching the knight's retreating figure vanish into the crowd. Then, quietly, almost to himself, he spoke.
"Interesting." A faint, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Most knights wouldn't dare speak to royalty like that. Fewer still would simply walk away afterward."
There was no anger in his voice. If anything, it sounded almost like approval.
He turned back towards the house, studying it for a moment longer than necessary, before glancing toward his attendant, who stood waiting beside the carriage with practiced patience.
"Finalize the registration tonight," he said. "I want this property transferred under the Royal Seal before the sun rises again." His tone sharpened, just slightly. "See to it that nothing goes wrong. Not even a misplaced signature."
The attendant bowed low, the motion was crisp and immediate. "Yes, your highness."
♡
By the time Chance reached the Knights' Order, the last light of dusk had bled out of the sky entirely. He moved through the corridors without really seeing them, brushing past knights returning from evening drills, his expression carefully blank. It was a face he had perfected over years. The kind of expression that gave nothing away.
The moment his door closed behind him, that composure cracked.
He yanked off his gloves and threw them onto the desk harder than he meant to. The leather slapped against the wood, loud in the small room, and for several seconds he simply stood there, staring at nothing. His jaw tightened.
You did not secure it. Therefore, you did not own it.
The words replayed in his head exactly as the noble had said them. The calm, dismissive, almost bored tone of the noble. As if Chance's years of saving, of skipping meals and turning down new gear and sleeping in a room barely large enough to stretch his arms in, amounted to nothing more than bad timing.
"Who the hell does he think he is..." Chance muttered.
He dragged a hand down his face and dropped into the chair at his desk, the wood creaking under him. The merchant's nervous expression kept resurfacing in his mind. The way the man had refused to meet his eyes, the apology that hadn't really been an apology at all. The house was gone. Just like that. Years of planning, undone by a man who could apparently buy an entire property on a whim and apparently not even remember doing it tomorrow.
"It's just a house," Chance muttered, leaning back until the chair groaned in protest. "There are others. Better ones awaiting."
The words sounded just as hollow out loud as they had in his head.
For a while he simply sat there, listening to the headquarters settle into the night. Footsteps could be heard fading down the corridor, a door closed somewhere below and the distant clatter of a sword being racked. Eventually, he reached for a folded sheet of paper sitting at the edge of the desk and smoothed it flat in front of him.
Nevernich Academy Entrance Examination.
One of the most prestigious magical institutions in the Valerian Empire, and one of the most selective. Every year, thousands applied for a handful of seats. The examination itself was brutal by design consisting of combat assessment, magical aptitude testing, tactical reasoning, and discipline evaluation, stacked back to back with no room. Most successful applicants came from noble families or elite preparatory academies that had been grooming them since they could walk. Well... Chance belonged to neither group, for he had grown up within these walls, trained alongside active knights since before he could properly hold a sword, and by eighteen had become the youngest officially registered active knight in the Order's history. His combat skills were not in question.
His eyes dropped to a line near the bottom of the page.
Scholarship Candidates: Top-ranked applicants receive full tuition coverage, housing assistance, and a monthly stipend.
"I need that scholarship." He said quietly, tapping the paper with one finger.
Without it, tuition alone would swallow nearly everything he earned. Books, equipment, examination fees, all of it would only make things more worse. But if he placed high enough, he wouldn't need the Order's support at all. He wouldn't need anyone's.
His gaze drifted to the calendar pinned above the desk. One month remained until the entrance exam. There was still time to make up for everything he lacked. He folded the paper back along its crease, set it down, and exhaled slowly, some of the tightness easing out of his shoulders.
"No distractions." He muttered.
He stood, grabbing his worn training sword from the rack beside the door. The blade was chipped along one edge and the grip had long since lost its shape to his hand, but it would do for tonight.
"I'll get the other sword later."
♡
The next morning, a sharp knock rattled the door before Chance had even finished lacing his boots.
"Sir Chance." The voice belonged to one of the junior messengers, slightly breathless. "The Head Knight has ordered your immediate presence at his office."
Chance froze for half a second, a boot still half-lacked. It was immediate presence. Not a request. Not routine. Knights weren't summoned like this for missed paperwork.
He ran through the last few days in his head, the patrol reports, the bounty captures, the argument with the noble outside the townhouse. His stomach gave an unpleasant twist at that last one. Surely a property dispute with some self-important aristocrat wasn't enough to land him in front of the Head Knight himself. Surely.
"Understood." He said, keeping his voice level low.
He finished dressing quickly, strapped on his belt, and secured his sword before stepping into the corridor, which was already alive with the usual morning chaos. Knights were moving between drills, officers barking out assignments, the clatter of armor against stone. None of it registered on his mind, for it was elsewhere, turning over every possibility and discarding most of them as to be absurd.
"Head Knight's office." He murmured to himself and started walking.
♡
The doors to the Head Knight's office were heavier than Chance remembered, and they groaned faintly as he pushed them open. Inside, the room was exactly as imposing as its reputation suggested. Weapon racks lined the walls, the Order's banners hung in rows behind the desk, and towers of mission reports sat stacked in neat, labeled piles. The air smelled faintly of ink, paper and old leather.
Behind the desk sat Sir Arthur Silverleaf, a man whose noble bearing hadn't faded one bit despite decades of military service. He didn't look up right away. He finished viewing a document, set down his pen, and only then lifted his gaze.
"Sir Chance. Take a seat." He commanded.
Chance obeyed, lowering himself into the chair across from the desk. He kept his back straight and his expression neutral, though his mind was still racing through every scenario that could have led here. Summons to this office were rare, and rarely good.
Arthur studied him for a moment, as if weighing something, before reaching into a locked drawer. He produced a single sealed document, the royal crest pressed into red wax across its fold. Chance's eyes flicked to the seal and back to Arthur's face.
"There's been a decision from the Royal Family." Arthur said, breaking the seal with ease. He scanned the first lines before looking up again. "You've been selected to serve as personal guard to the Crown Prince."
For a moment, Chance simply stared at him, trying to absorb the depth of the situation.
"...Personal guard?" He repeated the words slowly, as though testing whether they'd make more sense the second time. They quite didn't. "That's a royal-level post. With respect, why me?" Chance reasoned.
"Because your evaluation places you above every other candidate currently available in the Order." Arthur slid the document across the desk, tapping it once. "You're the youngest active knight we have, and your field record speaks for itself."
Chance opened his mouth, then closed it again, letting Arthur continue to speak.
"The selection board eliminated most candidates for one of three reasons." Arthur said, leaning back slightly. "Dependence on team support. Lack of adaptability under pressure and political ties to noble houses that the palace didn't want anywhere near the Prince." He met Chance's eyes evenly. "You were the only name left that satisfied all three conditions."
"...And the King signed off on that himself?"
"Personally." Arthur's tone didn't waver. "He reviewed your file and issued final approval without revisions."
Chance let out a slow breath, processing that. The King himself, reading through his record containing captures, solo missions and probably every disciplinary note from his first year of training too.
Arthur slid a second stack of papers across the desk. "Palace rules. Security protocols. Restricted zones. Conduct regulations. I order you to read all of it, twice. Once you transfer, your authority changes completely. You'll be under the Royal Palace's care."
His voice dropped, just slightly, the formality giving way to something closer to a warning. "In the palace, small mistakes become political incidents, Chance. A wrong word, a misplaced step, an old grudge you didn't know you'd made." He leaned back on his chair. "Any of it can spiral fast, and it won't just be you who pays for it. You have two months before your transfer takes effect. Use these months well."
Chance gathered the documents, his expression unreadable, though his mind was already turning over the weight of what he'd just been handed. "...Understood, Sergeant."
♡ Earlier, at the Royal Palace
In a private study tucked deep within the palace, a room reachable only after passing through three separate checkpoints, each manned by guards who verified identity through both sight and spell. The Crown Prince sat alone at his desk, a single file open in front of him.
The walls here were lined with enchanted stone, thick enough to swallow sound whole and dense enough to scatter any mana attempting to listen in from outside. Lamplights, fed by suspended mana crystals rather than flame, distributed evenly across shelves of records, and reports that had shaped half the empire's recent history. Despite the room's size, nothing in it was out of place. Every document sat exactly where it had been left. The room gave a small, quiet reflection of the mind that worked here.
The Crown Prince turned a page.
- NAME: CHANCE SAPPHIRITE
- AGE: 19
- CURRENT RANK: Knight (Knights' Order)
- SPECIALIZATION: 1st Year Knight / Independent Bounty Hunter
- MISSION RECORD: 14 confirmed bounty captures (low and high-risk) 3 classified targets eliminated without squad backup Zero recorded mission failures High efficiency in solo combat scenarios
He skimmed the numbers without much reaction. It was impressive certainly, but numbers rarely told him what he actually needed to know. It was the next section that made him pause.
- BEHAVIOR REPORT: "Shows resistance to authority when instructions are unclear. Prioritizes personal judgment over rank hierarchy. Maintains composure even under pressure."
A short, dry breath of amusement escaped him. "So this is the knight Father selected." He leaned back, the chair creaking softly beneath him, and turned the line over in his mind. "A soldier trained to think for himself. Not someone who simply follows orders because they're orders."
He tapped the file once with a single finger, considering. "Which means he'll question things. He won't tolerate being managed, and he certainly won't tolerate being lied to." A faint, almost rueful smile crossed his face. "Wonderful."
Then, slower, the smile faded into something more thoughtful.
"And he'll recognize me the moment he sees me properly." A pause. "Because he's already met the future emperor of Valeria and called him a filthy noble to his face."
He set the file down and allowed himself, for just a moment, to remember it properly. The marketplace. The argument over the townhouse. A knight who hadn't lowered his voice, hadn't stepped back, hadn't shown the faintest flicker of the deference his rank should have demanded not even when faced with a man dressed head to toe in royal black.
It had been, the Crown Prince privately admitted, one of the more entertaining conversations he'd had in months.
"He thinks I'm an arrogant aristocrat who steals homes out from men for enjoyment." The Prince laughed, amused by the entire situation. "And in two months, that arrogant aristocrat is going to be standing at his shoulder every hour of every day."
He closed the file with a soft snap and rested his chin against his knuckles, eyes narrowing slightly as the next thought settled in.
The misunderstanding wouldn't last, of course. The truth always surfaced eventually at the correct possible moment. The only real question was how Chance Sapphirite would react when he finally realized exactly whose house he'd been arguing over.
The Crown Prince found, to his own surprise, that he was looking forward to their meeting.
♡ END OF CHAPTER 1