190th Day of the Year 1016, Nuallis City
It was the day of enrollment.
The raid had occurred forty-four days ago, though the past could never be really left behind.
Who knew what was happening in Blutenheim anymore?
Every day felt like a the same day, looping endlessly since the invasion.
Time had never really gone forward.
The first glimpse of Nuallis City didn’t astound Kisatsu as much as Hamburn City had.
The buildings weren’t much different—gables crossing over houses, finials perched atop a cathedral’s dome—and the dull, overcast sky that never seemed to relent beneath the hidden sun.
But the place was noticeably warmer, heated by industrial buildings clustered in vast arrays.
Would Vinhurd City be warmer than this?
The question crossed his mind, a hopeful speculation he clung to, trying to ward off the cold.
Soon, they arrived at the front of Camershire Academy.
The school looked noble, towering over them with prominent arches and dark ceilings that gave it a vintage feel.
Students entering and leaving the premises were clad in kilts—some were more formal, more professional, likely professors.
The courtyard was far larger than anything he’d ever seen.
What kind of school did Ryurei go to?
Kisatsu wondered as he ambled down the cloister with Dalsdair, staring into the quadrangle as the colonnades repeatedly blocked his view.
This was only a satellite school—the main campus was in Verdetierra, and the thought made him curse in bewilderment.
At first glance, the place already looked flagship enough.
There must be some really strong knights here.
The thought came to mind with unbridled thrill.
Wait—didn’t Harlan say he’d meet me here?
Is he the strongest one, then?
“Is this the first time you’ve seen anything like this, Kisatsu?” Dalsdair asked, glancing at him sideways.
“…Yeah.
I…
like it here,” Kisatsu replied, turning to him.
Xavior never brought you to any Rage academy, did he?
Dalsdair sighed with dawning realization.
I suppose he’d only make things more difficult if every school knew you were his son.
“They have dorms here,” he said.
“Mr.
Vasthorpe said they charge a lodging fee of a thousand bucks per month, but he managed to negotiate it down to six hundred.”
A four-hundred buck cut?
That’s beyond eager.
Kisatsu repeated in his mind, furrowing his brow at the thought before staring ahead, a resigned smile touching his face.
I guess he really didn’t want me going anywhere.He remembered the guild Harlan had told about.
The Camesarian Guild, then…
“Uncle Dalsdair, why do guilds exist?” he asked, turning to him once more.
“Hm?
Your father hadn’t told you anything about them yet?”
“N-No.
I didn’t even know they existed, so I had to ask them,” he said, looking ahead, then back at Dalsdair.
“Ryurei never mentioned guilds either.”
It’s not that they’re trying to hide them from me, I hope.The thought gnawed at him with an unexpected edge.
Dalsdair glanced up toward the ceiling, tracing a slow arc, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t turn into a lecture, before looking back at him.
“In short, they’re like companies, and knights are their employees.
You don’t strictly need one to become a knight, but there are plenty of benefits to joining—a lot.”
A raised circular pedestal stood as they walked past, where a fountain sprayed from a statue on a marble plinth, encircled by a pool of crystalline water.
“There’s also the ranking system,” he added, starting to get lost in his own explanation.
“The more prestigious the guild you belong to, the more impressive you look to others—and, naturally, the more likely you are to rank higher.”
The admission office loomed closer as they strolled, each step slowing as the lecture continued—Dalsdair no longer seemed aware of it, but Kisatsu somehow ended up remembering everything he’d said.
“If you become a knight without a guild, you’re basically a freelancer.
You’ll likely start at the very bottom.
The stronger you get, the more you’ll stand out to the big-name guilds,” Dalsdair continued, turning to Kisatsu as he gestured with his hands.
“The higher your rank, the more attractive you are to them.”
“I see,” Kisatsu replied, understanding more than what his words alone suggested.
“How do you know so much, though?” He glanced at Dalsdair, tilting his head slightly.
“Were you a knight once?”
Dalsdair stared ahead in thought—he hadn’t expected the question.
“Nah.
If I’d become a knight, I wouldn’t have lasted.” A pause, his eyes hooding.
“People back then were…
blunter.”
Well, today would have been as well.
Kisatsu rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm.
So what are the most popular guilds?”
“For starters, the most illustrious one at the moment is the Camesarian Guild.
It’s run by the Autocrat of Verdetierra.”
“Wait—Autocrats can lead guilds too?” Kisatsu’s gaze snapped to him, a flicker of surprise sparking his expression.
“Then how do other guilds compete?
Why doesn’t everyone just join the one run by an Autocrat?”
“They could, but only one Autocrat has ever led a guild.
Guilds aren’t just groups of powerful knights.
They’re formed around a purpose,” Dalsdair explained.
“If knights only wanted to hang around other strong knights, they’d just join a club or organisation instead—no guild needed.”
He finally looked at Kisatsu, expression unreadable.
“And even organisations have goals—some far more extreme than guilds.
I doubt most knights would join just for company.
That’s why some of them can’t even handle missions that match their level.”
Kisatsu thought of Thanduin from the description, almost feeling sorry for him.
“So what’s the guild’s goal, then?”
I just want my brother back.
I can leave anytime if they don’t share my purpose, he added, a selfish afterthought.
“The Camesarian Guild claims its goal is to advance humanity, or so they say.
I can’t pretend I know exactly how they go about it.
Their ties with the other Autocrats through the guildmaster give them a certain legitimacy,” Dalsdair paused, creasing his forehead with suspicion creeping in.
“That said, I’m a bit wary.
They’re not as transparent as the other guilds.
And because it’s run by an Autocrat, most people just assume everything’s above board.” He turned to Kisatsu once more and gave him a small, reassuring smile.
“But you’ll be alright there.
Just keep your identity to yourself for a while—unless someone recognises you,” he added gently, facing forward again as they continued walking.
“Your father, Xavior, and the other Autocrats…
well, let’s just say they didn’t get along.”
Abolish the system of autocracy and replace it with something like autarchy.
Those were the words Ryurei had once said about the Autocrats.
Kisatsu hadn’t forgotten how much Ryurei disliked them, even though only a month had passed.
Autocracy…
autarchy…
he mused, staring ahead in silence before turning back to Dalsdair as a question suddenly formed in his mind.
“Uncle—did Dad come from beyond the barrier?” he asked.
“Oh, Mr.
Vurgemond—and Kisatsu.
Good to see you both again.” The familiar voice cut him off, sounding somewhat glib.
Thanduin stepped toward Kisatsu and Dalsdair, visibly grateful—a presence they’d expected, but weren’t sure they welcomed it
“It’s a relief to see you up and about, Kisatsu.
I don’t believe I ever properly thanked you, did I?” Thanduin said, glancing at Dalsdair, then back to Kisatsu.
“So, let me be straightforward—your tuition is on me.
Completely.”
“Ha, now hold on.
You’re being far too generous.
We didn’t march in here just to enrol a capable lad and have you foot the bill,” Dalsdair quipped, gesturing toward Kisatsu.
Thanduin let out a small chuckle.
“I was the one who encouraged him to become a knight—and he did save my life,” he said earnestly, low and sincere.
“I’d rather see it as compensation for putting a child in harm’s way.”
“You’re certain there’s no catch?” Dalsdair asked, arching a brow at him in genuine amusement.
“None whatsoever,” Thanduin replied flatly, a deadpan expression flattening his face.
“If there are any complaints, I’ll hear them myself.”
These two…
I’m starting to think that four-hundred-buck cut was way too cheap, Kisatsu thought, staring at them with a baffled look.
They finally entered the admissions office.
Many people—mostly teenagers and young adults in their early twenties—waited in a long, cluttered line, especially since it was the one-hundred-ninetieth day of the year.
Enrollment was only available until the two hundredth day.
With a line this long, it’ll take us all day just to reach the counter, he thought, eyes scanning the queue with idle exasperation.
Must be nice, being here with friends for enrollment, he said to himself, envy flickering through his eyes.
I wonder if I’ll have any roommates in my dorm.
“Kisatsu, your aunt’s called me,” Dalsdair’s voice cut in softly.
“Mind if I leave you on your own for a moment?
I’ll be right back.”
“Y-Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Kisatsu replied.
“Does she need anything?”
“She left her wallet and’s now queuing at the flower shop.” Dalsdair pulled out his wallet and handed him two bills.
“Here, take two hundred bucks in case you need anything.
Don’t worry, Mr.
Vasthorpe’s already promised to cover the enrollment fee.
I’ll be back before you know it.”
He strode out of the admission office in a hurry.
Kisatsu watched him leave as the line shifted slowly forward.
“Kisatsu.”
He turned toward the voice.
Thanduin gave a small gesture for him to come over.
“But I’m still in the queue,” Kisatsu said, voice mingling with the crowd, barely audible from this distance.
“Come along.
I’m putting you in Reco—unless you’d rather join the regular intake.”
“Reco?” he repeated, curiosity and slight confusion lacing his voice.
Harlan had mentioned it before, though Kisatsu still didn’t understand what it meant.
After a brief hesitation, he stepped out of the queue and followed Thanduin toward a different office.
“What does that mean exactly?” Kisatsu asked, the glass door sliding closed behind them with a faint click.
“Oh—Sir Thanduin.
Good morning.
How are you feeling today?” one of the office ladies welcomed him with a breezy greeting.
“I’m afraid Doctor Chrypha isn’t here at the moment.”
“That’s fine, I wasn’t looking for her,” Thanduin replied, tone casual.
“Wait—was she here earlier?”
“She was, earlier this morning.
You didn’t hear?”
“No, I didn’t.” He stepped closer, genuine surprise flashing across his features.
“What brought her in?”
“Well, she was debating whether to check in on her younger brother during his enrolment,” she said, rolling her wheeled chair across the back area.
“For some reason, she left not long after.
I’m not certain she actually saw him.”
“Hm.
The new recruit, then?
I’ve yet to meet him,” Thanduin replied, resting his hands on the desk.
“By the way, I’d like to recommend another candidate.”
The woman turned to him, expression unamused, and let out a soft, exasperated sigh.
“Aren’t only Third Division knights and above permitted to put forward new members?
And on top of that, the Reco team’s already rather full—we may have lowered the bar enough as it is.”
She moved over to the counter before him.
“Lord Khoerskha would give us quite the lecture if he caught wind of this, you know.”
“It’s fine—you’ve got nothing to worry about.
Harlan himself asked me to put the recommendation through,” he said with easy confidence.
“Besides, we’ve fewer than ten members in Reco compared to the thousands of amateurs in the guild.
If anything, the bar’s been set too high.”
He raised his hand in a defensive gesture.
“And I’ve not seen the old man in person two years now.
Do you really think an Autocrat has the time to fret over this?”
She released another fed-up sigh in resignation.
“I assume you’ve some proof of that, then?
An email, a letter—anything to show Harlan actually authorised this?”
Without hesitation, Thanduin pulled out a letter in one slick motion and handed it to her.
She opened it with slow, disinterested movements and read the text—plainly written, almost informal—scrawled across the page.
From that alone, she recognized it once as Harlan’s.
Without looking up, she handed it back, humming flatly.
“Very well.
Bring the candidate in.”