Beyond the inner city lay a spiraling passage that descended downward. After passing through a long flight of steps, a modest building came into view.
The structure was clearly old, surrounded on all sides by dense, flourishing trees.
A closer look revealed thick roots forcing their way out through cracks in the walls, twisting and winding around one another to form a strange, almost surreal scene.
If one listened carefully, the soft sound of flowing water could be heard.
This place lay at the lowest level of the Haligtree, adjacent to Elphael's underground waterways.
When it was first designed, the intent had been to use running water to suppress and purify corruption. That was precisely why the two Empyreans had chosen to place their living quarters here.
Deep within the building was a single room. On its soft bed rested a petite figure.
She wore a circlet woven from golden leaves, sheer silk draped lightly over her shoulders, and a violet dress that traced her slender figure perfectly. Her long silver-white hair was slightly disheveled, adding a hint of allure to an otherwise serene and sacred appearance.
Her skin was pale as snow, her cheeks faintly flushed, beautiful enough to resemble a masterfully crafted work of art. Her captivating eyes were gently closed as she lay sprawled across the bed, exuding a languid, indolent charm.
…
On the other side of the wall, two Golden Needle Knights came to a halt before the great doors.
Nolan stepped out from beneath the bright glow of a glintstone lamp. Some of the surrounding walls had already been cracked open by warped roots, which coiled like living serpents, brimming with vitality.
Groups of Golden Needle Knights and Cleanrot Knights stood guard in silence, their eyes sharp with vigilance, ready to respond to any sudden threat.
With layers of steel guarding the area, whether there were additional defensive mechanisms hardly seemed to matter.
"Nolan, His Highness is waiting. Go inside."
Leda stopped at the entrance, one hand gripping the greatsword at her waist as she carefully scanned the surroundings.
The Haligtree was, after all, a place of acceptance. That also meant it drew all kinds of people. Even after the end of the Golden War, forces that still posed a threat to the Golden Order Dynasty had not been completely eliminated.
Strictly speaking, if one ignored his power of enchantment, Miquella's raw strength did not rank particularly high among the demigods.
Compared to the ever-victorious Valkyrie, this gentle Empyrean of love required far more protection from others.
Nolan, however, shook his head dismissively at that.
'Even a demigod who looks fragile is still a demigod.'
He knew that no matter how gentle or frail a demigod appeared, their power far surpassed that of a minor knight like himself.
He pushed the door open lightly and stepped inside. A strange, subtle fragrance drifted toward him.
His gaze passed over the threshold and settled on the small figure lying on the bed, quiet and still, like a flower in slumber.
Messy strands of hair covered her face, obscuring her features from view.
Nolan's expression grew more serious. This wasn't fear of an Empyrean. With how delicate she looked, it was hard to feel afraid at all.
In both presence and power, this gentle Empyrean could not compare to the great Sun King, Gwyn.
Yet there was an unmistakable pull that reached deep into the soul, as though the one lying there was not merely a sacred maiden.
"The androgynous Empyrean… Miquella's enchantment really is 'terrifying,'" Nolan muttered.
He stepped closer and bent down, an involuntary impulse rising within him to commit an act of disrespect. But the moment he leaned forward, clarity returned to his eyes.
Though the residents of the Haligtree all believed Miquella treated him exceptionally well, Nolan knew the truth.
This was the Empyrean his own sister had once called the most terrifying of them all.
"So… did you fail again?"
As Nolan's thoughts drifted, a voice reached his ear. It carried a trace of disappointment, yet remained soft and gentle, snapping him back to his senses.
"Lady Trina, do you really have to joke like this every time? What if—"
He cut himself off, offering a simple knight's salute before lifting his head to look at that exquisitely beautiful face.
Holy and pure, yes—but could you turn off the enchantment when talking to me?
If those zealots from the Dryleaf faction ever found out that a pure saintess was teasing an upright knight in broad daylight, they would probably throw him onto a pyre and cleanse this sinful heretic who dared to seduce a saintess.
"What if what?"
Trina clearly hadn't expected that the young knight's thoughts were not lingering on the beautiful girl before him, but on a band of deranged martial masters instead. She propped herself up with both hands on the bed, blinked, and asked with a smile.
"Nothing. It's just that your enchantment is too strong. I don't know if I can resist it every single time."
Nolan answered honestly. He himself didn't quite understand why he was able to withstand Miquella's allure at all, and could only attribute it to the power of the Primordial Flame.
"Then it's better if you can't."
Trina folded her arms and muttered softly. There wasn't the slightest trace of an Empyrean's dignity left in her now. She stared at the knight she favored for a few seconds, then abruptly changed the subject.
"Were you hurt on this mission? Miquella, that idiot, was far too ruthless."
The words sounded reasonable enough, though the irony was hard to miss. Weren't they the same person?
"Just some minor injuries. I've already fully recovered."
"That's good." Trina nodded in satisfaction, then continued, "One more thing, my knight. Can you answer another question for me?"
"What is it?"
"You once said you wanted to become a Lord. What about now?"
The question caught Nolan off guard.
More than ten years ago, he had still been a kid, unaware that his talents in this life would turn out to be so lacking. Back then, he really had said something like that, though only to Trina and Malenia.
In the Lands Between, the throne belongs to the worthy. It need not be inherited by those of the old Radagon line or the old Godfrey line alone.
Bloodline was important, but what mattered more was earning the gods' recognition, or possessing overwhelming power capable of suppressing everything else.
Seen that way, such words were hardly blasphemous. With enough strength, becoming a Lord was one thing. Even marrying a goddess wouldn't be out of the question.
Beyond that, Nolan carried his own private motive. He loathed the decaying era that awaited the future, and that hatred was precisely why he wanted to become a Lord, to stop that age from ever arriving.
He had already had enough of darkness and despair.
If this question had been asked before he encountered the Kindred of Rot, he might have answered without hesitation that he had long abandoned such an unreachable dream. But now…
"I will become a Lord. I want to become… the Lord of the people."
Nolan answered without the slightest pause. The latter half of that declaration was something he had once borrowed from a pureblood veteran.
Such grand words, spoken by a weak knight, would surely invite ridicule if they spread.
But Nolan still said them, and Trina did not laugh.
Her gaze shifted slightly. Compared to his desire for the throne itself, she seemed far more fond of the latter part of his answer.
"The Lord of the people… Miquella, I told you long ago not to rush. If you'd missed this answer, you would have regretted it."
Miquella offered no reply, and the room fell silent once more.
Trina stopped teasing him and asked instead,
"I'm satisfied with your answer. Now let's talk about this mission. You've earned merit. What reward do you want?"
"I'd like to replace my weapon. And if possible, I'd like Old Man Roy to help me get a new set of armor."
Nolan thought for a moment before answering. His position couldn't rise any further. He certainly couldn't push Leda out of her place. Since that was the case, he might as well ask for something practical.
"Very well. Go to the armory tomorrow. I'll have everything prepared. Anything else?"
"For future patrols or cleanup missions, I hope I can continue to take part."