CHAPTER 208: CHAPTER 207: THE VEILED FLAME

A ripple of commotion spread. The goblins and kobolds cheered in their harsh tongues, but the humans stood frozen.

On the side, Liraeth frowned. "What’s happening?"

On the other hand, Sorrin stiffened. His weathered face grew pale as his aura trembled in response to what he felt from the five captains. It was familiar, achingly familiar.

"...This is..." he whispered, eyes wide. "I’ve felt it before... in battle against mages."

Gordon’s brows furrowed. "Mages? You mean..."

"Yes," Sorrin cut him off, his voice low but firm. "It’s the same presence. They’re not just strengthening their bodies. They’re touching the flow of mana itself."

The words struck the courtyard like a blade. The human soldiers exchanged horrified looks. Even Liraeth’s composure cracked.

"You mean... they’re mages? Impossible! Even the emperor’s court hasn’t reached that path!"

Lumberling didn’t flinch. He simply watched as his captains steadied themselves, their breathing ragged but triumphant. Then, slowly, he smiled.

"But how?" Liraeth pressed, eyes narrowing. "What secrets are you hiding, Lumberling?"

For a moment, Lumberling’s gaze drifted to the horizon. He didn’t answer her question directly.

"I’m sorry, Viscount Liraeth. That’s not something I can share. I made an agreement."

Silence stretched. Liraeth did not push further. She knew well that such secrets were not given lightly. Yet curiosity gnawed at her, sharp and insistent.

The weight of what they had just witnessed pressed heavily on every soul present.

Liraeth’s gaze flicked toward Gordon and Sorin. No words passed between them, but the same truth burned in their eyes, Lumberling’s force was no ordinary. And if monsters could truly wield magic... their rise would not stop here. They would climb higher.

The courtyard erupted in cheers as the five captains, Aren, Skarn, Takkar, Gobo1, and Gobo2 stood with faint wisps of mana swirling around their bodies. Their comrades slapped their backs, teeth bared in wild grins.

"You’ve done well," Lumberling said, stepping forward. His voice was steady, but pride burned behind his eyes. "This is just the beginning. You’ve proven you’re more than soldiers, you’re paving a path no one thought possible."

The five captains knelt as one, fists pressed to their chests. "We will not fail you, my Lord," they answered, their voices rumbling like one.

.....

Evening had settled quietly over the estate. As Lumberling walked back through the lantern-lit halls toward his chamber, the faint sound of the night breeze drew his eyes outside.

There, standing on the veranda, was Viscount Liraeth. Her dark hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight, and her green eyes reflected the stars as though she were lost in a world far from the burdens of her title.

"Viscount Liraeth?" Lumberling’s voice carried a touch of surprise.

She turned slightly, offering him a small, tired smile. "Lord Lumberling. Congratulations on your subordinates’ success."

The smile was there, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Beneath the poised expression lingered something else, helplessness.

Lumberling caught it instantly. "Is there something troubling you?" he asked, his tone low. In all the time he had known her, she had never let such a look slip through her walls.

But she shook her head. "No... nothing."

He didn’t press. If she didn’t wish to share, he wouldn’t force it. Instead, he simply stepped beside her, both of them staring silently at the spread of stars overhead. The quiet stretched, soft and almost fragile.

It was Liraeth who finally broke it. "I’m jealous of your talent, Lord Lumberling. And not just yours, your subordinates’ as well."

Lumberling tilted his head, watching her carefully, but said nothing.

Her eyes stayed on the sky. "Judging from your appearance, you can’t be past your twenties. Yet already you can match the strength of a True Knight. In this empire, such talent is... rare."

Lumberling studied her for a moment before replying, his voice calm. "You’re talented too, Viscount. Just in a different way."

That caught her attention. She turned to him slightly, curiosity flickering through her expression.

"You lead well. You see paths others don’t. I’ve watched how you handle your county, decisive, sharp, unafraid to risk when needed. That’s talent as much as a sword arm. It’s why you’ve held this place together, why your people follow you. Even me being here... that’s because you played your cards right."

Liraeth smiled, but there was no joy in her eyes. "I couldn’t walk the Knight’s path, you know..." Her voice softened as she paused. "I tried. Again and again. But no matter how hard I pushed, I failed. Someone like me relying on others to survive would be the first to be swept aside in these times of chaos."

Lumberling studied her quietly. He understood. Not everyone could force open the gate of knighthood, even with resources, guidance, and unshakable effort. Some simply weren’t chosen by that path. She was one of them.

"I don’t think you’re someone easy to defeat, Lady Liraeth. You’re strong. Independent. You rose to your position and held it on your own. Strength aside, Viscount... anyone would be blind not to see your beauty."

Her brows arched, and for the first time that evening, a real smile touched her lips. "Oh? Is that a compliment I hear from you, Lord Lumberling?"

"It is," he answered without hesitation, a faint curve on his lips. "And it’s especially true when I say you are beautiful."

The words caught her off guard. A flicker of red traced the tips of her ears, and for a heartbeat her composure wavered. She quickly masked it with a soft sigh, glancing away. "Such beauty... it fades quickly for someone like me." Her chuckle was light, but tinged with something bitter. "In a world where strength rules above all else, beauty means little. Without power, I am..."

"I don’t agree," Lumberling cut in gently. "Maybe knighthood wasn’t meant for you. But strength takes many forms. You saw it yourself today, knights, mages, even those Vikings with their strange power. Paths aren’t only made with swords."

Her lips parted, as if to argue, but then she closed them. Slowly, her gaze drifted back to the stars, and she exhaled. "You’re right. Thank you, Lord Lumberling."

She didn’t know why she was speaking so freely, why she found herself sharing wounds she had buried so deeply with someone she had only just begun to trust. But it felt... lighter somehow, as though a burden had eased just by voicing it.

Lumberling watched her in silence, the moonlight brushing her pale features and the night sky reflected in her eyes.

’She really is beautiful,’ he thought.

...

After a few more days, the banners of the Church finally appeared on the horizon.

The courtyard filled with tension as their forces marched in. Liraeth stood on the veranda with Gordon and Sorrin at her side, her sharp eyes narrowing as the procession drew near. Even she seemed unsettled.

Lumberling, however, simply watched in silence, unsure of who the leading figure was.

It was Sorrin who leaned closer, his voice low and weighted.

"That... is Thalia Moorn. The Veiled Flame."

Lumberling raised a brow. "Veiled Flame?"

"She isn’t one of those churches that use divine healing," Sorrin explained, his tone carrying caution. "Many believes she can see the threads of fate itself. That she has glimpsed what is to come. She became famous after predicting ambushes and the outcome of several battles. Many have sought her counsel, though few walk away unchanged."

Lumberling’s eyes lingered on her as she drew closer.

Thalia Moorn’s was another beauty of her own. Her face was stoic, almost cold, yet breathtaking, perfectly sculpted features that carried an untouchable grace. Long black hair flowed like silk down her back. Her body moved like vapor, elegant and fluid, shrouded beneath layers of fine veils that drifted with every step, concealing yet hinting at the figure beneath.

Behind her followed a True Knight, unmistakably Knight One Stage and behind were five hundred trained soldiers. Their armor gleamed beneath the sun, their movements in perfect order.

Compared to the other great churches, the Twilight Prayer was considered the weakest of the Three Major Churches of the empire. Yet even so, they were no trifling force. They had endured for thousands of years, surviving storms that had swallowed countless forces.

They would not be underestimated.

Liraeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. She could hardly believe the Church had sent their precious diamond, someone so valuable that even nobles tread lightly around her name.

Her thoughts spun. ’The Church wouldn’t risk her without reason. So why now?’

Her frown deepened, suspicion flickering across her eyes. ’Could it be because of Lumberling... and his strange subordinates? Did Thalia foresee this as a battle worth coming to? A victory already written?’

The soldiers of the Church halted with crisp discipline. Their banners fluttered in the wind as the clergy leaders and officers dismounted, striding directly toward the veranda where Liraeth stood. Their robes flowed with practiced grace, their faces stern, their focus entirely on the Viscount.

Not one glance was spared for the monster soldiers at her side, not the goblins, not the kobolds, not even the captains who radiated strong auras.

To them, nothing else mattered. Only the Viscount.

But not all of them ignored.

From the corner of her eye, Liraeth noticed. Thalia Moorn had not followed her fellow clergy toward the veranda. She remained still, her veiled figure framed against the backdrop of soldiers.

Her eyes, or what could be seen through the delicate layers of her veil, were fixed elsewhere.