SOTBW - 214

It had been over ten days since the Seriths disappeared. The atmosphere in the field had changed significantly from before. Mercenaries were caught sneaking sips of alcohol hidden in their canteens, and soldiers huddled around campfires to warm their hands and feet, dozing off like sick chickens. 

Those who remembered the horrors of the past remained vigilant, staring tensely at the fortress walls. But as hours passed without any movement beyond the walls after sunset, even the most disciplined knights inevitably relaxed their guard.

Especially the young boy soldiers seemed overjoyed that they no longer had to fight the Seriths. They basked in the unfamiliar leisure of the field, writing letters home by the firelight or singing nostalgic songs of their hometowns.

Amelia, too, was out on the field that day. She paused to listen to the boys’ songs before gazing up at the starlit night sky.

Unable to accept that Najane wouldn’t live much longer, Amelia had burst into tears and lashed out in anger before fleeing the residence. Najane hadn’t stopped her. Despite promising herself countless times not to act like a child, facing Najane’s impending death left her completely unprepared. No amount of resolve could have helped.

She didn’t know how long she cried on her way back to the maids’ quarters. Amelia wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Najane. Having believed so strongly that Najane would recover no matter how dire her condition, the shock of reality hit her hard.

This outcome wasn’t entirely unexpected. Since Najane’s collapse, Maximón’s demeanor had grown increasingly somber, and Amelia had braced herself for the worst. 

But knowing something was coming didn’t make it easier to face. Amelia couldn’t help but cry. Even if she had known about Najane’s fate earlier, she would still be crying today.

Though she had witnessed many senseless deaths on the battlefield, Amelia always thought Najane would live a long life—perhaps growing frail with age but enduring nonetheless because that’s just who Najane was.

As Amelia recalled Najane’s gaunt face, she absentmindedly wiped at her eyes, only to knock her helmet with the back of her hand. Embarrassed, she blinked rapidly to stop the tears, forgetting for a moment that she was wearing a helmet. 

The absurdity of her actions made her chuckle through her sadness, and the tears subsided quickly. Still, her heart remained heavy. Part of her wanted to storm up to Maximón and demand why he hadn’t done more to save Najane—but she knew such an outburst would likely cost her head.

Amelia stared at the eerily quiet fortress walls before lowering her gaze. If only she had accepted Gwyneth’ offer sooner, or trained as a healer earlier—could she have helped Najane?

Tears welled up again, stinging her nose. This time, Amelia lifted her helmet and hastily wiped them away.

Just then, someone patted her on the back. Turning around, she saw Olkoni standing there.

“It’s cold out here. You’re working hard.”

Startled, Amelia hurriedly adjusted her helmet and greeted him. Olkoni knew she had been crying but pretended not to notice as he stood beside her.

“It’s nice and quiet without the Seriths, but it’s unsettling, isn’t it?”

Olkoni removed his helmet and looked up at the distant stars twinkling in the night sky. Amelia followed his gaze.

“Do you feel uneasy too, Sir Knight?”

Amelia asked earnestly. Cradling his helmet in his arms, Olkoni chuckled softly.

“I’m always uneasy and scared. When I fight the main bodies, I pray to Lady Cyrine. Unlike Dame Elderkerth or Lord Elgort, I wasn’t born with extraordinary talent, so I leave my fate to chance. All I can rely on is my effort and this body of mine.”

By now, Amelia’s tears had mostly dried. She removed her helmet as well. Her eyelashes were frosted white, but Olkoni pretended not to see, gently patting her shoulder as she tucked her helmet under her arm.

“Mr. Royan, you’ve really started to look like a proper soldier. I’m very proud of you.”

Surprised by the unexpected praise, Amelia smiled shyly. Olkoni watched her rub her frozen eyelids, then glanced down at the frost-covered ground, which had melted and refrozen repeatedly.

“Are you troubled because of Lady Schnicks?”

Amelia was astonished that Olkoni had pinpointed her distress so accurately. Eyes wide, she stared at him, silently asking how he knew.

“I heard the rumors. Knowing your close bond with Lady Schnicks, I figured you’d be struggling emotionally.”

Olkoni truly lamented Najane’s approaching death. Amelia swallowed a deep breath that shook her shoulders, then exhaled slowly.

“I’ve heard stories of losing brothers right before your eyes while fighting in the field. I always thought someday I might die in front of Najane… Never once did I imagine Najane would go before me…”

Amelia swallowed another shaky breath. She could understand Najane being ill, but accepting her death felt impossible—as if it were some baseless fiction. Like hearing that Maximón had suddenly lost an arm overnight and could never wield a sword again.

The lack of reality made her feel like she was floating in a dream. But whenever she pictured Najane curled up on the sofa by the fireplace, gravity would crash down on her, snapping her back to harsh awareness.

Amelia had already lost her father, two older brothers, and a younger brother in Noctis Fortress. When she was told they were dead, it felt strangely unreal. She kept thinking they would be out in the fields or ask her to help pick up grains of wheat if she wasn’t busy—only to realize she would never see them again.

After holding funerals with their belongings, since their bodies were never found, Amelia quietly wept while looking at their empty rooms. Death was far deeper and more complex than she had ever imagined.

While sorting through her younger brother’s clothes, Amelia regretted not packing more jerky for him when he left for Noctis Fortress. If she had known it would be the last time, she would have given him all the food she could spare…

As she burned their belongings, Amelia thought that such small flames couldn’t possibly resolve the weight of someone’s death. But as always, she went back to working in the fields, pretending everything was fine.

And now, that same unbearable reality was staring her in the face again. Amelia had come to Noctis Fortress hoping to meet a wealthy man and improve her lot in life; she hadn’t spared much thought for friendship. Before meeting Najane, she didn’t have close relationships with the other maids, who mostly gossiped and criticized one another.

So how could she possibly burn Najane’s body and clothes, erasing the unexpected friendship they had nurtured? How could she do that when she hadn’t even repaid what she owed Najane, let alone shown her how well she could manage on her own? Could she really reduce their shared memories to ashes?

Amelia was terrified of being left alone in Noctis Fortress. She couldn’t imagine enduring loneliness and pretending to thrive. She feared struggling alone and inevitably failing.

Though no tears fell, her expression kept sinking into sorrow under the weight of her despair. But with Olkoni by her side, she desperately tried to maintain composure. This was the battlefield. Too many people had died here meaninglessly for her to break down like a child again.

Amelia steadied her breathing, determined not to cry.

Olkoni sighed softly and murmured wistfully:

“Since this endless war began, everyone has lost someone precious… I, too, lost my entire family on this field.”

Amelia froze, startled. It was the first time she’d heard anyone else’s personal story besides Najane’s. Olkoni held his helmet in one hand and his sword in the other, meeting Amelia’s gaze. His expression remained calm despite the sorrowful tale he told.

“My father, mother, uncle, and brothers—all were knights of Recheo. They served the order for years, but there was no time to hold proper funerals for them.”

Olkoni spoke as though recalling events from long ago, his tone eerily serene.

“The day after losing my entire family, I still came out to fight on this field. Dame Elderkerth suggested I take some time to rest, but I insisted on returning to battle. To me, defending this field was the greatest tribute I could offer to my fallen family. The best gift those left behind can give to those who’ve passed is to fulfill their duties faithfully where they stand.”

He didn’t mention how soon after losing his family he stopped crying or got back on his feet. Everyone mourned differently—some for days, others for months, years, or even a lifetime. Olkoni still mourned his family deeply. It was because he loved them so much that he poured his entire youth into the harsh, hopeless environment of Noctis Fortress.

Olkoni liked Amelia. Her weaknesses stemmed from low self-esteem and the inferiority of being a tenant farmer, but paradoxically, these very flaws were what made Amelia Royan grow stronger. That’s why Olkoni hoped she would become tougher.

Even as the world cut into her like a cold wind, he hoped she would endure through tears. He wanted her to realize that even when she felt utterly alone, there were people watching over her from behind. 

When the moment came where she couldn’t retreat because something needed protecting, when she no longer feared sacrificing her life to save others, she would come to understand that more people than she realized wished for her happiness and well-being. And in that moment, the weakest person could become a hero.

“Do what you can, Miss Royan. Cry and grieve as much as you need, but don’t run away from your responsibilities. From my experience, continuing to wield a sword—even after losing someone as precious as Lady Schnicks—brings more comfort than wallowing in regret.”

Olkoni glanced toward where the Recheo Knights were stationed and said he should get going, putting on his helmet.

Amelia knew Olkoni had come to comfort her and carefully reflected on his words. Though it was slightly embarrassing that her gloom had drawn a knight from another order, she understood she needed clarity to avoid further regret.

“Sir Knight… Do you think I’ll be able to fight alone without Najane?”

Olkoni, who had been about to leave, turned back at Amelia’s question.

As if he had anticipated it, he replied confidently:

“Of course. Believe in yourself.”

“What if I make a foolish mistake?”

“You have your comrades. Call me if things get tough. I’ll gladly come running. I may not fight as well as Lady Schnicks, but at least I can help you back up if you fall.”

Even through his helmet, Amelia could almost see Olkoni’s reassuring smile. She waved at him as he returned to the Recheo Knights’ position.

Perhaps, even after Najane’s death, Amelia’s daily life wouldn’t change much, just as it hadn’t when she lost her father and brothers. After Najane’s funeral, she would naturally return to the field and continue holding her ground. This field had become her place now.

Amelia recalled Olkoni’s words—”Grieve, but don’t run away; do what you must”—like a prayer. And then, suddenly, the thought struck her: I need to become a priest. 

The idea felt natural, almost inevitable. There was none of the fear she had once associated with the lifelong solitude that came with the role, nor the overwhelming sense of devotion to others that had daunted her before. It simply felt like something she was always meant to do, as if it were a truth written long ago in the fabric of her life. That night, Amelia Royan resolved to become a priest.

And this decision—this was the first choice Amelia had ever made entirely for herself.