Volume 4 Chapter 64 A New Warrior Monk Order of Knights ①
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
After returning to the trade house and cleansing himself, Kian relayed to Guria the story of Rita speaking with a strange golem along the shoreline.
The sky had only just begun to pale, that faint bluish-white of false dawn, so Guria at first was still groggy, rubbing her eyes in irritation. But the instant Kian added that Rita might have been colluding with the enemy, the princess’s drowsiness shattered—she bolted upright from the bed as though the words had struck her like a whip.
When Kian finished recounting, word for word, the conversation he had overheard thanks to his vampire hearing, Guria pressed her lips together, brows drawn tight, her silence heavier than the early light creeping through the shutters.
”Sorry to barge in at such an hour,” Aliona said softly, drawing back the curtains so the dim glow washed across the room. The girl with golden-brown hair, still in her negligee and sitting at the bed’s edge, shook her head with quiet insistence.
”No, I’m grateful you told me. Kian, there’s no mistake about what you heard?”
”None. It was definitely Rita. Ms. Aliona and I both saw her with our own eyes.”
”I see…”
Again Guria faltered into silence, only to snap her chin up with sudden resolve.
”This mustn’t be spoken of to anyone. Kian, Ms. Aliona—you saw nothing, you heard nothing.”
”You mean to let Rita run free?”
”No. I mean to trust her.” Guria’s voice carried a faint edge of anger as she fired back. She pushed forward before either of them could interrupt.
”From what you described, she wasn’t feeding military deployments or guard patrol routes to the enemy. If anything, it sounded like someone from Shidarkan—one of the Malc Family—approached her, and she told him flat-out, ‘I’m Crete’s Rita,’ and sent him away.”
”Well, yes. She even told him not to come again. It didn’t feel like she was passing intelligence to Azrael. Still… she revealed her return route, and mentioned the Sea of No Return’s disappearance. Things she should have reported immediately, and yet she clearly has no intention to. And remember—this is the second time we’ve caught her meeting someone. The first, she hid her contact with Azrael from everyone, including you.”
”From Rita’s perspective, reporting it would be impossible. Actually, I’ve been hiding something too—when Mansoor attacked me, I heard him call Rita ‘Nizaam’s disciple’…”
”What? Did you tell anyone?”
Guria shook her head so fiercely her wavy hair—usually tied back in a ponytail—danced around her shoulders, spilling that sweet feminine fragrance into the room.
”I couldn’t. If I had, Rita would already be under suspicion.”
”And if she really is the traitor feeding Crete’s secrets to Malc? That would be beyond repair.”
”She risked her life to protect me!” Guria’s words lashed out as she sprang to her feet, stepping close enough that Kian felt the heat of her anger. Her eyes trembled, wet with conviction.
”Listen. Rita is earnest. And she never forgets a debt. If she truly was Nizaam’s disciple, then yes, she probably feels bound by obligation to the Malc Family. That would explain why she wouldn’t tell us about their messengers. But at the same time, she’s sworn loyalty to Crete, and she’s saved us over and over. She’s indispensable to the Order of the Lightning Knights!”
Her voice rose, fueled by her belief.
”Rita’s heart is with us. This incident should not be blown out of proportion. She’s chosen to sever herself from her past. I trust her to do that.”
”…Princess Guria Selda. May I ask why you place such faith in Ms. Rita?” Aliona’s quiet question floated into the pause, her tone careful, respectful. She lowered herself onto the nearest chair, fingers folded primly in her lap.
”From our vantage, Ms. Rita is someone who consorted with the enemy, divulged information, and made no report. If you say nothing, then we shall remain silent as well. But for our own peace of mind, please, explain why you trust her. Give us a reason, so we can truly honor your request to keep this secret.”
”Why…? That’s hard to explain…” Guria’s gaze softened, drifting back three years. “I’ve known Rita that long. I know her heart. We first met in the back alleys of Phoenicia, the Malc Family’s capital. I was lost, and she guided me back to the main street. She looked… as though she had given up on life entirely, ready to end it right there. After she pointed me back, she tried to vanish into the alley, but I grabbed her hand and pulled her along. ‘At least let me treat you to a meal,’ I said. That was the start of our bond.”
Her eyes shone as she went on.
”I did most of the talking that day, but Rita never looked annoyed, never once. I was lonely, studying abroad with no friends yet. She listened. She stayed. And before I knew it, I’d decided to take her home with me. The maids were scandalized. They wanted to shoo her away as some nameless drifter. But—didn’t you notice? She has a certain refinement. Her clothes, though dirty, were finely made. Her hair beautiful, her skin healthy. I just knew she wasn’t some vagabond.”
”In fact, she wasn’t. She was Nizaam’s top disciple. A spy sent straight into the company of Crete’s first heir to the throne.”
”She wasn’t a spy!” Guria snapped, her indignation making Kian’s temples throb. Aliona had asked why she trusted Rita, and Guria’s entire answer amounted to: she had met her under the shadiest possible circumstances, and somehow decided she was a friend.
They had bonded over a chance guide through the alleys, and Guria had marched her all the way home to Crete, like stepping neatly on every buried landmine while humming a happy tune.
”So in short, because you’ve known her long and she’s been good to you, you believe she could meet with the Malc Family and still never betray Crete. Is that right?”
”Yes! Exactly! And that’s where your perspective and mine differ. Kian, you don’t know her at all.”
”I know only that she’s a powerful warrior monk. And… that everyone in the Order of the Lightning Knights respects her. Any of them, when asked, say the same thing: Rita is loyal, reliable, compassionate.”
”Then that’s the truth, isn’t it?” Guria set her fists on her hips and exhaled sharply, almost like a victorious snort.
”She’s trusted by everyone! She’s saved me countless times! I’ve never felt the slightest hint of betrayal from her. She’s a pure, righteous, dependable friend.”
Kian could only groan inwardly. Azrael’s warrior monks were trained for infiltration. If they couldn’t mask their true selves, they would be discarded—exposed and executed before completing a single mission. That the Order trusted her so much might itself be proof of her mastery in deception.
If Kian were a high-ranking officer of Crete, he would have quietly increased surveillance on Rita. Test her with a false Malc messenger, push her into a corner, draw out a confession. If she slipped, he’d be ready to strike.
But he wasn’t an officer, and he truly didn’t know her. And right now, they couldn’t afford to throw away one of their strongest front-line fighters. For now, he would have to let Guria’s judgment stand.
”I understand, Princess.”
Aliona’s smile turned gentle, and Guria’s relief was plain.
”Still, please, speak with Ms. Rita directly. You haven’t since Mansoor’s attack, have you?”
”Ugh… h-how did you know?”
”Years of instinct. I’ve seen many like you. When the betrayal isn’t clear, when the person even saved your life, it’s easier to avert your eyes, to let things fade away. That is natural.”
”…”
”But talk to her. If not, then the closer you consider her a friend, the deeper the wound will be when something happens.”
(I may not follow Ms. Aliona’s words fully, but if you face her, you’ll sense the truth. And a spy who feels discovery closing in would already have fled. That Rita remained, even after Mansoor revealed she was Nizaam’s disciple… maybe that alone makes her clean.)
Beside him, Guria sighed in resignation.
”You’re right. Since that day, Rita and I have been avoiding each other. I thought, if she stays my friend, if no trouble comes of it, then I could just forget. But I should talk to her.”
”That would be best.”
”In that case, I’ll be going to training today, so I can catch her afterward and bring her here—No. I’ll go.” Guria raised her head, eyes burning with determination.
”This is something I have to face directly. Besides, everyone in the Order of the Lightning Knights has been worried sick since I nearly became Asterios’s sacrifice. I need to show them I’m all right.”
”Then let’s say General Asterios is under my watch,” Aliona said, placing her hand gracefully against her chest. “I’ll inform the outer sentries myself. Kian, leave the house-sitting to me.”
”If Ms. Aliona says so, I’ll trust you with it. Guria—shall we leave together at dawn?”
”Yes! But I’m using the bath first. Do I still have training clothes here somewhere?”
With that cheerful declaration, Guria disappeared into the closet, and Kian slipped from the room. Aliona stayed seated, unhurried, which suited him just fine. She would probe deeper into Rita’s circumstances in her own calm way, and if the two of them grew closer as women in the process, so much the better.
He had already endured one hellish battlefield of jealousy in Ramsey and never again.
That time Natra, Sarah, Linca, and Priscilla had cornered him and sentenced him to the humiliation of being paraded naked through the streets. If such a punishment ever befell him here in Crete, he might as well swear never to set foot on the main boulevard again.
’So, you intend to slip Guria into the harem as well.’
(Of course. Otherwise the royal family will discard her as useless. Crete already has its king, and a younger sister to inherit. Guria is a princess only in name. Someone has to see her through to the end, and that someone will be me.)
’No, no. What I meant is that it suits our side best if she becomes queen, and you as Asterios steer from the shadows. Still… do as you like. My hunch is that Guria Selda’s tale will not conclude with a neat little “harem entry, happily ever after.”‘
(What do you mean by that?)
’I won’t deal in speculation. Call it nothing more than a premonition.’
Talia said no more, and Kian only tilted his head slightly before jogging down the stairs two at a time.
* * *
That day, the Order of the Lightning Knights’ base swelled with nearly double its usual numbers. Not only the knights themselves, but court mages and even the island’s local dignitaries had come. The mages at least had their roles; the dignitaries were only fat-bellied civilians, and one glance at their girth and wobbling rears told Kian their purpose was not training but attaching themselves to him.
Sure enough, the instant he stepped onto the training grounds, they descended in a swarm, each demanding a greeting. If a conversation wrapped up within five or six minutes, it was a mercy. Some dragged their daughters—already knight-trainees—over by the arm and offered them like merchandise. “If you are yet unmarried, might I suggest my daughter?”
The Order’s girls were, admittedly, brimming with charm, and Kian wouldn’t have minded tumbling into bed with nearly any of them once. But the sight of their power-hungry fathers leering from the sidelines drained any thrill dry. He had no intention of being bartered away for political convenience. Marriage was out of the question.
He floundered in their smothering circle until Medea appeared, brusquely driving them all back out through the gates. They’d never been permitted inside in the first place—only smuggled in by whispering to their daughters within the ranks. Somehow, that counted as acceptable.
Apparently the Order contained not only the elite but also the “connections recruits,” girls signed on not to fight but to stamp their resumes and gather ties to true knights. With war against Azrael looming, all of them were discharged effective today. Kian would have liked to peek at those contracts just to marvel at their absurdity.
As he apologized profusely to the earnest members like Eugenia, who swarmed him with mortified faces over the disruption, Guria darted up onto the dais set at the field’s edge.
Dozens of eyes turned as one. Confusion rippled through their ranks, but Guria stood tall, as if oblivious, her voice ringing bright.
”Good morning, everyone! Guria Selda here. As you can see, I’m alive and well!”
Kian scanned the lines of girls beyond her and quickly spotted the white fox beastman. Rita stood apart, several meters off, sending up at the princess a gaze heavy with sorrow.
”Thank you for worrying for me. I’m fine. I intend to fulfill my mission to the end. And now… to the main point. Lord Asterios is sulking. At present he refuses to grant us royals the thunder’s blessing. Ordinarily I should persuade him swiftly, but I haven’t managed it. I’m truly sorry.”
She faltered, fumbling for words, then carried on.
”Between us only, perhaps Asterios’s thunder itself is weakening. You’ve all heard the Sea of No Return has vanished. In the same way, Zeus’s power may be waning under some unseen shadow. Which is to say—he may not be refusing to share his power, but unable to. Just a possibility, but… after speaking with him, that’s the feeling I’ve had.”
Her explanation unfolded, each phrase slow and careful.
”Each time the subject of thunder arose, he lashed out with exaggerated fury, cutting the topic short. It struck me: perhaps it was all to hide his own weakness. That the mighty Asterios would feign rage so no one would suspect.”
She swept her eyes across them all, concluding the thought.
”Princess, is that truly so?” Medea, hands behind her back, shot up a doubtful stare. After all, most believed the Staff of Dominion had bent Guria’s mind toward Asterios-first devotion. For her to stand before them and proclaim his decline seemed unthinkable.
Yet Guria, brimming with her usual inexplicable confidence, nodded firmly.
”It’s only a possibility. But surely you’ve all once or twice snapped at a parent, exaggerated your anger just to shut down an unwelcome truth? Isn’t it the same?”
”If that’s true, then that white bull’s worth drops to zero.”
”Not zero, Medea. He still gave us that powerful barrier. And his physical ability remains unparalleled. Even if Mansoor attacks again, I’m convinced Asterios will crush him. His body is simply on another plane. Believe me—I’ve shared a bed with him. I know.”
The knights and mages exchanged uneasy looks, caught between laughter and disbelief at her reckless joke.
”What I want to impress upon you is this: on the day of battle, we may very well stand without thunder’s aid. Train with that in mind. And when the time comes, I will fight at Lord Asterios’s side. Together, we’ll smash the enemy! That’s all.”
She turned from the dais, only for a single hand to rise at the far side. Rita. Medea spotted it immediately, calling from the platform’s flank, “What is it?”
Every gaze converged on the fox girl.
”Forgive me. I have something important to say to everyone. May I have a little of your time?”
”Rita? What is it?” Guria’s face, drawn with worry, fixed on her.
Kian, too, felt the prickling sense she was about to confess—I am a spy.
Rita strode forward, the knights parting to let her through, then bounded up to the platform as Guria stepped aside. She looked out over them all, drew breath, and began.
”Everyone. Long ago, I served as a warrior monk in Malc’s territory under Azrael—” She broke off with a gasp, clutching her head, staggering a step. The motion was as natural as swatting away an insect, and no one interrupted before she straightened again.
”I was one of Malc Family’s disposable warrior monks, trained for a single purpose. On a mission, I failed, and just like that I was discarded. I was never high in rank, never more than a tool raised to be thrown away. So they threw me.”
”—!”
At first her words failed to register. Then realization swept the crowd in a wave, gasps and murmurs swelling.
”Quiet, everyone!” Guria cried. At once, silence.
”I wandered, abandoned, until the Princess saved me. Since then, though I carry Malc’s blood, I have sworn myself a knight of Crete—knight to Princess Guria Selda. Now I have two homelands. But of them, Crete is the one I must protect.”
”Rita…!”
The fox girl sent Guria a smile, warm and gentle, then steeled her eyes and faced the rest.
”I should have told you sooner. By rights, I should never have passed the initial screening. Yet by some twist of fate, I stand among you.”
”Because the Princess bullied you into joining, right~desuwa?”
Eugenia’s tsukkomi set off a ripple of laughter across the ranks, soft snickers breaking the tension in pockets all around the field.
Guria, caught between embarrassment and relief, hesitated a second too long before finally lifting a hand to the back of her head and offering an awkward little grin, the sort of smile that said, “sorry for causing such a fuss.”
Rita, however, was not smiling. She drew herself straighter, voice resonant and heavy. “All of you are my precious companions. This country is the homeland I must protect. That is why, starting today, alongside Lord Kian, I wish to teach you everything I can about the techniques of Azrael’s warrior monks. I should have confessed long ago—before Lord Kian ever arrived, before fifty of our comrades were slain, before Amora was left crippled. Even then, I should have shared what I knew of their techniques. By keeping silent, perhaps I let lives be lost that might otherwise have been saved. That regret weighs on me more than I can bear.”
She inhaled deeply, drawing the declaration to a close. “If you will allow it, I wish to atone by teaching you their techniques. If it is demanded of me, I will resign from the Order of the Lightning Knights. I will accept the condemnation of the families of the dead. Everyone… I am truly sorry. That is all.”
Her words had barely left her lips before voices broke the silence, scattered but fervent: “Don’t worry about it,” “Rita, you’re still our comrade, nothing’s changed!” The swell of reassurance seemed to carry her, though Medea stepped forward at the base of the dais to murmur a far sterner note: “We’ll speak in detail later.” And around Kian, he noticed, some of the girls held their tongues, suspicion flickering in their eyes even as they let the tide of forgiveness wash over them.
As an outsider, Kian could not judge. He could not tell if Rita’s sudden confession was a desperate ruse to cover her spycraft, or a genuine outpouring of guilt. Yet that day, she proved herself. She threw herself into the drills, aiding his lectures, and openly revealed one of her trump cards: the secret technique Shadow Pursuit. Again and again she demonstrated it, exposing the foxfire of her abilities in plain sight. No longer did she hide behind feigned ignorance—she wielded her spear boldly, coupling it with Shadow Pursuit and shot-style techniques unique to warrior monks.
Her instruction was tireless, her conviction unmistakable: if learning these tricks meant her sisters-in-arms could survive first encounters, then she would spend herself in teaching.
By evening, as the sun bled toward the horizon and drills came to an end, Rita lingered in private conversation with Guria. Then she was surrounded by Medea and the other elite knights, gently but firmly ushered toward the barracks. Guria returned a short while later, her face solemn, leaning close to whisper, “Rita admitted to meeting with Shidarkan.”
Kian’s brow furrowed, but Guria rushed on. “She swore she gave nothing away. The Sea of No Return was already exposed, and the route she mentioned to the golem was the southwest path—the one blocked anyway. She said it made no difference.”
”And your conclusion?” Kian asked.
”It hasn’t changed. I trust Rita.” Guria’s eyes caught the crimson light of sunset over Sandy Beach, and her answer was instant, unwavering. “You heard her confession. Someone plotting betrayal would never stand before everyone and say such things! She answered Medea’s questioning without evasions, and tomorrow she’ll return as she always has—our Rita, a knight of the Order of the Lightning Knights!”
”If you’re that certain, then I have nothing to add,” Kian conceded.
”No one will say otherwise. Rita is vital to us. More than that—she is my friend.” Guria’s jaw tightened in stubborn resolve.
Perhaps, Kian thought, she was dragging private feelings into matters of survival. Yet even he had to admit the spy theory had weakened. No agent would reveal her arsenal so freely, nor place herself at risk of exposure with such candor.
Any handler would have ordered her to vanish the moment suspicion fell, lest the investment of gold and training be wasted. The gamble of standing firm and hoping to be believed loyal was too dangerous for any seasoned infiltrator. That alone made her confession lean toward truth.
He debated whether to caution Guria against letting her emotions cloud her command, but the thought broke when Eugenia’s voice rang across the field. She came running, breathless, ribboned hair bouncing. “Master Kian, you have a visitor~desuwa. Your associate, Mr. Rou, just returned.”
”Rou? He said he’d check progress on the tenth, but today’s only the ninth.”
”I told him exactly that,” she replied with prim certainty, dipping a quick bow to Guria before darting back to the others still training on Sandy Beach. Kian gave the princess a brief nod—”I’ll return shortly”—and headed out.
* * *
The eastern youth was waiting beyond the gate, expression as unreadable as ever, eyes narrow and unblinking. Kian passed the guards with a polite dip of his head and crossed to the iron fence where Rou stood.
”Guildmaster,” Rou said, voice level, “the list of buyers for the treasure is complete. Delivery is set for tomorrow, the tenth. Twenty items in total. Current estimates place the sum at one thousand four hundred gold coins.”
”One thousand four hundred…!” Kian’s mind raced. “The crown and the sword fetched eight hundred each. That means we’ve reached three thousand in total. Incredible. More than enough—at least the installations on Minotaur Island can be funded.”
”As for the Salamanders,” Rou continued, “the Underworld Smoke Crystals seem effective. On Underworld Island they can be obtained at no cost, save labor. As long as we avoid the lava wyrms, the expense is minimal. But if the general intends to duel one directly, he will need equipment resistant to fire and heat.”
”Agreed. Out of the profit, we’ll allocate about a thousand to find such gear. I’ve already sent word to Izerland, though without revealing my presence here. The reply will have to come routed through East End. It’s troublesome, but secrecy is essential for Ms. Priscilla’s commission.”
Rou’s mouth curved faintly, his voice still monotone. “A wise precaution. If Linca learned that Asterios was to wed Princess Guria Selda, matters would become… inconvenient.”
He let the words hang, then added smoothly, “I have three further reports.”
Kian inclined his head. “Go on.”
”First, after the battle with Mansoor, the enemy may devise specific measures to defeat you. The mist transformations, the instantaneous regeneration, the siphoning of magic from the Spiritual Veins—any one of these may be countered next time. Were I Lord Jibril, I would ensure my agents carried counters to them.”
Rou’s lips eased downward. “Especially with Hanami among them. She is clever. Beware. She may seek a weapon capable of killing you outright, ignoring all regeneration.”
”I understand. Thank you for the warning. I’ve suspected as much myself. They’ll prepare counters; I’ll prepare counters to their counters.”
”That would be prudent,” Rou agreed. “Second: it seems the Western Church has dispatched envoys to Water Island. Scipio is even now struggling to curry their favor.”
”I know. Princess Guria Selda briefed me. Let us trust in his skill.”
”The Church will not give an answer lightly,” Rou said. “To call for a grand alliance against Azrael is to plunge east and west alike into full war. Unless assured of victory, they will not commit. Failure would ruin their authority. What they require is not flattery, but proof of strength. Scipio does not see this.”
He went on, eyes still hooded. “Izerland will not refuse outright, but they will stall, citing consultation with their princess. Chatillon will be like the Church, demanding certain victory. In my view, the envoy to Chatillon will return empty-handed. Izerland may provide token support, but no more. Guildmaster, you should reach to Chatillon yourself now, and be ready to cover for Scipio’s failure. Without both powers, it will be near impossible to turn Gensou’s spear away from us.”
”To turn Gensou’s spear?” Kian echoed.
”Yes. To pit our forces against Nile’s elite is folly. Far better to aim Gensou toward Malc, their flank wide open. That is the swiftest road to ending this war.”
”You have some plan already, I see. Best not to discuss it here. What is your third point?”
Rou placed his hands together, bowing deeply. “Would you teach me, Guildmaster, how to wield the divine gift? The art of Azrael that drains life. With it, I could wield power like a god. The endless flow of magic I crave would be mine. With magic, I can fight. Let me serve you as your first true warrior, with this left arm.”
He lifted his head. For once, the slitted eyes widened, and a boyish grin—mischief itself—lit his face.
”And with that strength, we shall consign Azrael’s warrior monks to history. Let us create a new fighting order, one to surpass them. An order of knights born from Kian’s merchant guild, a secret brotherhood of arms. I propose we establish it now—our new warrior monk order!”
Notes:
• Shidarkan – Gloomy, bearded son-in-law of the Malc family (Flora’s clan); once a modest Malc magician, ordinary next to Shajar’s elites. Attends the Cyclops Island war council after losing his wife, Flora, and sisters-in-law in the northern base’s destruction. First appears Vol. 4 Ch. 45. Reminder: bereaved Malc son-in-law—sober, doubtful, and dim but dutiful.
• Mansoor – Crimson-eyed elder monk and Azrael’s Divine General from the Shakerdoust domain near Dacia. Wielding mist form, blood-drinking, rapid healing. He ties to allies like Ryoma and Hanami Tsai. First appearing in Vol. 4 Ch. 25. Quick tag: vampiric red-eyed grandpa-general who mist-forms and drinks blood, obsessed with rescuing his captured son unlike other human monks.
• Nizaam – A former member of Azrael’s Twelve Divine Generals and the current head of the Malc family, though he has passed both titles to his daughter to return to the battlefield. He is a prominent warrior noble in Azrael, known for his love of beautiful boys and fierce battles.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Amora – Scipio’s fiance, and the knight of crete.
• Gensou – Eccentric young Eastern monk-general in Azrael’s army, playful yet ambitious. Wields sun-like magic, swordsmanship, and assassination tactics. Linked to three masked wives—Seishi, Oushoukun, and Yougyokukan (Head Magician). Ally of Mansoor and Oji, serves under Jibril, proposes Operation Assassination. First appears Vol. 4 Ch. 45. Reminder: playful Eastern general with masked harem wives, always late but magically explosive, contrasting serious monks with his bathrobe vibe and schemes.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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