The early afternoon sun cast a soft glow over the north gardens of Duskmere Manor, where the Healing Ward celebration was set in motion. Banners of deep forest green and twilight silver fluttered in the breeze, matching the ivy-covered walls and enchanted lights strung high across the garden path.
Tables lined the outer paths, filled with light refreshments, while the gentle hum of music from an arcane harp mingled with the breeze. The entire area felt like something pulled out of a noble's dream, yet it welcomed all equally.
Children stood proudly in the center, dressed in fresh robes, their cheeks flush with new life. They had once been patients. Now, they were symbols of hope. Their families filled the garden crowd with minor nobles, commoners, tradesfolk all standing shoulder to shoulder, boundaries forgotten.
At the center stage stood Maelin Duskmere, her dark green robes laced with living ivy that curled gently with her every breath. Her eyes swept across the gathering, calm and resolute.
"House Duskmere has stood for many things across the ages, honor, tradition, resilience." Her voice carried, soft but unwavering. "But today, we stand for something greater."
She motioned gently to the children behind her. A soft breeze stirred the petals at their feet, dancing around the stage.
"Today marks the grand opening of the Duskmere Healing Ward. A place where age, wealth, or blood do not determine one's right to recovery. A place where pain does not demand payment."
A hush fell over the crowd. Some nobles stiffened. Many others listened, eyes wide with something between awe and reflection.
"Everyone deserves to be healed," Maelin continued, her voice gentling. "To feel the warmth of relief in their chest, knowing that sickness will not steal their breath. To know that they will not suffer alone, nor be ignored for lacking coin or crest."
She lowered her gaze, then smiled softly.
"Let this be our promise that healing will not be hoarded. That compassion is the noblest art we can offer. And may these children's smiles remind us of what truly matters."
For a moment, silence followed.
Then, a wave of gentle applause began small at first, then rising. No fanfare, no grand trumpet. Just warmth. Sincerity. And peace.
The celebration began in earnest. Laughter returned to the garden, and the mingling of once-divided worlds continued beneath the fading sunlight.
A new hush fell over the garden as Arthur Duskmere stepped forward to the center platform. Clad in a formal militaristic uniform, a deep obsidian coat trimmed with silver, Duskmere's crest embroidered over his heart, he stood like a statue forged from steel and principle.
He gave the crowd a firm nod before speaking, his voice steady and commanding.
"Some say our actions hold no honor. That to act without permission is to act without principle. That such behavior is no better than a beast."
He let the words settle for a moment.
"But while they sit in their halls, debating how to deepen pockets already full, or posturing about 'proper' honor while waiting for permission from those with ulterior motives... people suffer."
Arthur's gaze swept the crowd.
"They suffer not from monsters alone but from the inaction of those who claim duty, yet forget responsibility. Their silence breeds rot. Their hesitation costs lives."
His voice lowered, intense. "We did not act for profit. We did not act for praise. We acted because someone had to. Because those in need had no time for politics."
Arthur raised a silver cup in one hand, his expression solemn.
"In this moment, we honor the fallen. And we praise those who returned knights, candidates, and volunteers alike who faced the dark not for glory, but so that others could return home."
He paused, raising the cup higher.
"To duty. To sacrifice. And to the strength of choosing what is right over what is easy."
The crowd raised their glasses in return. Nobles, knights, and commoners alike. A moment of unity brief, but real.
Arthur lowered his cup, the steel of his gaze now shifting from solemnity to strength.
"In honor of these brave individuals," he said, voice clear, "I now call them forward to be recognized for their actions not in war, but in justice."
He turned toward the stairs of the platform.
"Ceris Valen Duskmere. Ethan Peirce. Sylviane Duskmere. Sayo. Step forward."
Arthur took a breath and stepped before them, speaking to the audience once more.
"These four stood against what others ignored. Beneath our very capital, illegal operations were conducted in the shadows, corruption festering beneath cobbled streets and marble towers."
His voice rang sharp as a blade.
"They did not wait for approval. They did not beg for permission. They acted with discipline, with purpose, and with resolve."
A steward approached, holding a tray of medals. Arthur took one, then the next, presenting each individually to the honorees.
"For courage. For clarity. For upholding the Duskmere name with action, not just words."
The applause this time was stronger. Louder. A rising wave that even the nobles couldn't hold back.
Arthur gave a final nod.
"Let this honor not be the end of their efforts, but the beginning of greater burdens and greater strength. They are the vanguard of what Duskmere stands for. And they are not alone."
"And of course," he said, voice lighter now, "what kind of celebration would this be without a proper feast?"
Arthur raised a hand.
"Let it be known the official feast has begun!"
Cheers broke out, mingling with laughter and music as the crowd surged forward. Ceris and Ethan exchanged a glance. Sayo folded her hands behind her back, while Sylviane exhaled softly, the formality fading into festivity. The garden bloomed not just with flowers but with the living, breathing unity of a house reborn.
As the crowd dispersed into smaller clusters around the banquet table, Ethan found himself beside Ceris near the edge of the garden. A warm plate in one hand, he stared down at the medal on his uniform as if it were a foreign object.
"It's so weird," Ethan muttered. "Never thought I'd be the kind of guy to get a Medal of Honor. Feels... surreal."
Ceris chuckled softly, her posture relaxed for the first time that day. "Get used to weird. This is only the beginning."
She glanced around at the still-gathering nobles, merchants, and guards. Her expression sobered slightly.
"But it's not always without cost," she added. "Now that we've been formally announced in front of everyone... the other houses will be watching. Every step, every win, every stumble."
Ethan nodded, his eyes trailing over the crowd. "Yeah... I figured as much."
Before either could say more, a familiar voice rang through the garden.
"Ceris!"
Ceris turned just in time to see Iria Valan waving enthusiastically from between two wine tables, her dark hair bouncing with every step.
"Iria?" Ceris blinked, then lit up with surprise. "You came!"
The two met halfway, exchanging a short, tight hug that carried the weight of a friendship kept apart by duty.
"Of course I did," Iria said with a grin. "What kind of best friend would I be if I missed your big moment?"
Before anyone could respond, a meaty chomp echoed behind them.
Solus strolled in with a mutton chop already halfway devoured, his other arm swinging casually around Ethan's shoulder like they were old drinking buddies.
"Yo! We've met again, Beast!" he said with a wild grin.
Ethan blinked, mouth full of bread. "You again."
Ceris turned, looking between them with mild disbelief. "Wait, you two know each other?"
Ethan scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward Solus's grin. "Uh, yeah. We kind of... met when Solus randomly attacked me in the middle of the capital."
"I call it a combat interview," Solus said proudly.
Iria sighed. "I call it a public disturbance."
The laughter that followed was light, real, and just what the moment needed.
Ceris turned to Ethan with a grin. "You should go ahead and eat. I need to catch up with Iria. It's been too long."
Ethan nodded, stepping back slightly. "Alright. Don't let her talk your ear off."
Iria with a smirk. "Solus, just keep eating while we talk. And don't cause trouble."
She gave him a warning look, the kind that said she'd seen the chaos he could cause.
Solus threw his head back and let out a booming laugh, still clinging to Ethan's shoulders. "You girls go have your tea party with all your noble flairs! Me and this Beast? We're gonna have a feast then a spar!"
Iria groaned, clearly annoyed. "I just said not to cause any trouble!"
Ceris gave a small chuckle. "It's fine,as long as you don't cause too much trouble for the rest of the manor."
She looked directly at Solus, raising a brow. "And if you're going to fight, at least use the training hall. Not the rose garden."
A little later, after the crowd had fully embraced the festivities, Ceris and Iria quietly stepped away from the main celebration. They wandered toward a quiet circular table tucked beneath a flowering arbor, away from the clamor of voices and clinking glasses. Two cushioned seats awaited them, draped in silver linen and lit softly by hovering runes that mimicked lantern fire.
They sat in peace, the world around them fading just enough to feel like old times.
Iria leaned back with a teasing smile. "So... your Kingmaker. He stood beside you like a knight. And I noticed how he kept glancing your way."
Ceris narrowed her eyes slightly. "Don't start."
Iria chuckled, clearly amused. "Mmm, you two looked pretty good standing up there a while ago though. And that medal he couldn't stop smiling. I wonder why."
Ceris folded her arms. "He's just... happy about the medal. He's not used to attention."
"Mmm," Iria mused, twirling a lock of her hair. "But he seems like he's used to your presence."
Ceris scoffed, exasperated. "Ugh. He's reckless, a civilian, and fights like a worm slithering behind his enemies to strike. Clearly no honor."
Iria grinned wider. "But it sounds to me like you don't mind his fighting style."
"I do not" Ceris snapped, cheeks a shade warmer than before.
Iria laughed quietly, her eyes glinting with playful mischief. "Ethan's not just some civilian, you know. If he really was, Solus wouldn't find him interesting. And he wouldn't have deflected Solus's strike either."
She leaned forward, voice softening just a bit. "To me... he seems like a seasoned warrior. Maybe not by training, but by instinct. And that counts for something."
Ceris didn't respond right away. She just looked away, letting the silence answer for her.
After a beat, she lifted her eyes again, a spark of defiance returning to her voice.
"You keep talking about Ethan," she said, smirking now. "What about yours? He's tall, muscular, good-looking… clearly your type."
Iria groaned, burying her face in her hand. "He might look like that, but that guy is a walking disaster. Everywhere we go it's trouble."
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a mix of fondness and frustration playing on her face.
"When I first summoned Solus, the very first day, he tried to challenge the captain of our knight division. Said he wanted to take his place as the new captain."
Ceris blinked. "Seriously?"
"Oh, it gets worse," Iria said, exhaling. "He then tried to challenge my father yes, the patriarch of House Valan to a duel. Claimed he wanted to be the new head of the house."
Ceris covered her mouth with a hand, trying not to burst out laughing. "Please tell me he didn't—"
"He did. And he got beaten to a pulp. My father didn't even lift a hand. Just glared at him until Solus passed out."
She sighed, shaking her head with a rueful smile. "He's always been like that. I used to struggle so much just trying to contain him. Now... I guess I've just gotten used to it. It's still chaos but it's familiar chaos."
Iria tilted her head curiously. "So what was it like when you summoned Ethan?"
Ceris leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting to something more pensive.
"Well… it wasn't as chaotic as yours, that's for sure," she said with a huff. "Honestly, it was almost annoying."
She paused, eyes narrowing slightly as if remembering that exact moment.
"When I first summoned Ethan, I didn't understand him. The moment I saw him and his Ego weapon it felt like the world was mocking me. Like the system betrayed me."
Ceris's voice dropped, the edge of frustration creeping in.
"I got someone who couldn't even cut paper with a mythical weapon. I was furious. He didn't move like a warrior, didn't speak like a soldier. He just… stood there, confused and scared."
She looked down, thumbs brushing together.
"The first few days, he felt like dead weight. I kept asking myself why the Kingmaker system would choose someone like him."
Ceris took a breath, softer now.
"But then… he started trying. He showed up to training, even when he was bad at it. He kept getting back up."
Her voice lowered, almost to a whisper.
"And I started feeling bad. Because I dragged him into this. I pulled him from a peaceful world, his world and dumped him into mine. With my problems. My goals. And I expected him to just… go along with it. Like he didn't have a life before all this."
Ceris didn't respond right away. She just looked away, letting the silence answer for her.
Iria tilted her head, smirking just a little.
"If you hate him that much," she said casually, "then can I just have him?"
Ceris blinked. "Huh? Why would you want Ethan?"
Iria leaned forward, eyes glinting with that sharp, teasing mischief. "He's unpredictable. Not a knight, not trained but he adapts fast. That kind of instinct? You can't teach that. His unpredictability isn't just a flaw, it's a weapon. Controlled chaos. And people like that? They're rarer than talent. Like finding a needle in a haystack that's trying to stab back."
Ceris opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again, frowning.
"Still sounds like you're defending him... or maybe you're just impressed."
Iria grinned. "Not defending. Just observing. I mean, you're the one who talks about him the most today."
Ceris muttered something under her breath and picked at the edge of her teacup, heat rising to her ears.
She looked back up with a slight scowl, cheeks still warm. "You can't have him. Solus would tire him to death sparring and eating 24/7."
She rested her chin on her palm, her gaze fixed in the distance. Then, with a quieter but firmer tone, she added, "Besides, he's my Kingmaker. And I'm not giving him to anyone."
Iria leaned back, still smirking, but her voice softened a little.
"Remember when all we cared about was dodging etiquette lessons and stealing sweetbread from the kitchens?"
Ceris raised an eyebrow, then let out a quiet laugh. "You mean when you got caught and I had to pretend you were sleepwalking?"
"I maintain that was a solid plan," Iria said with a mock huff.
"It was until your father found crumbs in your pocket."
Both girls shared a quiet moment of laughter, the kind only longtime friendship could bring.
"Those pastries were worth risking my title for,"
While Ceris and Iria found their quiet moment beneath the arbor, Ethan stood awkwardly near the center of the garden where the food tables had been arranged. Plates lined the linen-covered surfaces, steaming with fragrant roasted meats, vegetable medleys, and soft golden pastries.
Ethan held a plate in one hand and a fork in the other, eating with careful bites trying not to draw attention.
Beside him stood Solus, who clearly hadn't gotten the memo about manners. The man gripped an entire roast leg of something with a metal fork stabbed clean through it tearing into it like a starving wolf. Grease glinted on his chin and fingers, and he looked unbothered by the stares of passing nobles.
"Seriously," Ethan muttered under his breath, "there's a table for a reason."
"I am the table," Solus replied proudly, crunching bone with zero remorse.
As Ethan attempted to refill his drink, a nobleman approached with the air of someone trying too hard to be polite.
"Excuse me, young man," the noble said smoothly. "You're the Kingmaker from another world, yes? Ethan, was it?"
Ethan hesitated. "Uh. Yeah."
The noble gestured to a young woman standing a few paces behind him, clearly his daughter, dressed in an elegant, sky-blue gown.
"I'd be honored to introduce my daughter to you. Perhaps... get acquainted? You strike me as a promising figure. If you're open to a future—"
Before Ethan could open his mouth to respond, Solus pointed his meat-laden fork in the noble's direction.
"Stand back, rodent," Solus said, mouth still full. "This Beast is with me."
Ethan nearly choked on his drink.
The noble's face froze. "I—excuse me?"
Solus didn't even blink. "You heard me. Go peddle your politics somewhere else. The Beast is off the market."
Before Ethan could even process what just happened, he heard a familiar voice shouting from across the garden.
"Ethan!"
Kite came running over with Lynn following close behind, both carrying plates piled high with food. Kite's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"This food is amazing! I haven't eaten this good in... I dunno, forever!"
Lynn, more composed than her brother, set her plate down and walked straight up to Ethan. She wrapped her small arms around him in a sudden hug.
"Thank you, big brother Ethan. Thank you for helping Kite."
Ethan smiled softly and gently stroked her head. "You've got a bright future ahead of you, Lynn. Study hard and maybe one day, you'll be even greater than Maelin."
Then he turned to Kite. "And you? You've got knight blood in you. Train hard. You'll make a fine Duskmere knight someday."
Solus, still chewing, grinned with meat between his teeth. "Speaking of strong… let's go and spar, Beast!"
Ethan blinked. "What? Solus there's a party going on. Causing a scene here is a terrible idea."
Solus shrugged. "Then let's not cause a scene here. We'll fight somewhere else."
Ethan let out a long sigh, already regretting what was about to happen. "Fine. The training grounds."
Kite's eyes lit up. "Can I watch?! I wanna see! Maybe I can learn something!"
Ethan chuckled. "You can watch. But stand back. Like, way back. Just to be safe."