The corridors of the royal palace sang with quiet activity. Courtiers whispered, knights exchanged reports, and attendants passed in and out of chambers, their presence barely acknoledged.
In the middle of it all, the Anastasia camp walked, their chatter lively, their discussions serious. Julius remained a few steps behind Anastasia's right side, as he always did. His posture perfect, his uniform pristine, not a wrinkle insight, obvious that it was neatly taken care of.
"Alright," Anastasia spoke, adjusting her scarf "we'll head back to the inn and start drafting a proposal to coordinate with the Lugunican Treasury. I'll need a list of engineering firms still intact in Kararagi."
Ricardo scratched his head. "Sure thing, boss. Gonna be a pain in the ass finding ones that ain't already bought up."
Mimi nodded enthusiastically, then blinked up at Julius. "Oh! Uh—Sir Knight, could you carry the folders for us?"
Her smile was bright, but unsure. Not the way she used to look at him.
He took the documents wordlessly and tucked them under one arm, giving her a slight nod and his usual charismatic smile. "Of course."
He followed behind them, silent and graceful, as always. His violet hair caught the golden sunlight filtering through regal windows, his demenor impeccable. He was everything a knight should be. Except, Known
They remembered his position.
Not his presence.
Not the times he stood beside them in every important deal. Not the beatufil nights spent talking about philosophy with Anastasia or teaching Mimi proper table manners. Not the warm, proud glances from Ricardo after a hard fought victory.
Anastasia might have acknowledge him as a knight, but never as a loved one. In her eyes stood, not the Julius she used to know, but another tool to be used during the Royal selection, a convenient tool whose sole value was its skill with the sword.
His outstanding skills allowed him to be recognised as a royal knight, But without memories, without his sense of presence, he was… lesser. Forgotten, even while he stood in plain sight. A polished, beatufil, violet flower radiating its shine upon an empty stage.
All his training, accomplishments, respect, all gone. His own memories and the callus on his hands, the only proof that he was ever alive, the proof of his excistence.
Everything he ever stood for is completely gone, stolen by Gluttony.
Even his loyalty felt like it was being done from behind a veil of obscurity, accepting a role that was never his.
His whole identity,
The Self-Proclaimed Finest Knight
"—you'll coordinate with the guildsmen in Kararagi, then," Anastasia kept speaking, her voice quick and businesslike as she addressed Ricardo and Mimi. "Focus on rerouting supplies through the north to avoid the damaged districts."
"Aye, boss," Ricardo nodded with arms folded, his massive frame casting a long shadow. He didn't glance Julius's way.
Mimi shone with excitement as she jumped up and down. "Ooooh! Can we stop at that one restaurant with the chewy apple pies on the way? Pretty please?"
"Not unless you finish the inventory reports I gave you," Anastasia replied without missing a beat.
As they reached a quieter hallway, Anastasia paused and turned slightly, finally acknowledging him.
"...You did well today, keep this up in the future" she said. Her tone was even, guarded.
"...Julius" the name escaped her mouth, a perfect symphony to his ears.
He bowed, a smile wider than ever before. "Thank you, Lady Anastasia. I promise to be useful to you until the end"
Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer than it should have. Not warm. Not cold. Just… calculating. Then she turned and continued walking, joining in the chatter with the rest of the camp.
Julius shifted his weight slightly, preparing to speak. But nothing came, the words got stuck inhis throat, choking away at his resolve. No one looked at him. Not even a flicker of familiarity crossed their faces. All he could do was observe, look at the happy faces of those he loved, a stranger in his own family. It was better, he shouldn't ruin their mood with his meaningless words, with memories that didn't matter. Imposing his feeling on them would be the greatest act of selfishness. He prayed that Pride would speak soon, maybe, just maybe, there was still a place where he belonged.
HIs steps, slowed, losing the perfect rhythm and stripping away at his perfect posture. Boots cracking heavily against the red carpet, he was steadily being left behind. Fate abandoned him, cutting his string from the others, leaving him an inanimate puppet. Forced to look forward, the light being blocked by their enormous sihluttes, basking in the shadows of the memories he held dear.
Useful.
The word sat bitter on his tongue.
The gardens of the royal palace were quiet.
It was late afternoon, the sun hanging low in the horizon, casting orange light through the leaves. The chaos of court had finally begun to settle. Talks of Pristella's reconstruction had stretched long into the evening, filled with tension, strategy, and exhausted minds. The royal candidates had all spoken their part. Promises were made, resources pledged, alliances rebalanced. And now… quiet.
Emilia let the stillness settle into her shoulders as she walked along the path between hedges and fountains. Her silver hair caught the wind, dancing lightly, strands getting caught around her face. She didn't wear her usual sweet, angelic smile. Her mind was overwhelmed with complicated thoughts. This was an opportunity to be alone, no beatrice, no camp members, no annoying nobles, just her.
And that is when she saw him seated at the edge of a fountain, his back straight, eyes lifted to the sky. He looked like a knight should. Poised. Quiet. Dignified. Yet no one gave him the respect, the dignity of one. No one greeted him with the reverence they once had. He stood behind Anastasia still, fulfilling his duty, but to the whole world he was no longer Julius Euculius.
He was just a stranger in a knight's uniform.
To them that was all he was, to Emilia, though… something lingered.
She approached him, her steps soft like an angel's feather. He didn't flinch when she stepped closer.
"You look like you're waiting for someone," she said, her voice gentle.
Julius turned his head slowly. His violet eyes met hers, they were tired but contained a hidden kindness. "Perhaps I am. Or perhaps I simply enjoy the quiet."
Emilia sat beside him, keeping her hands folded neatly in her lap. "I didn't expect to see you out here alone."
"I imagine most don't expect much of me anymore," he replied, not with bittirness, but with the calm resignation of someone who understood their circumstances, not accepted, but understood.
"That's not fair," Emilia spoke softly, her voice, the sound of bells.
Julius smiled, not with his usual fake, charismatic smile but with something faint and distant. "Fairness doesn't often survive war, nor the loss of names."
Emilia hesitated. "I don't remember everything… about who you were. But… I feel like I should."
The half-elf became aware of a void that burrowed deep in her chest. Something, or someone was missing. Feelings that had no where to go, flooding the dam, making cracks that leaked with emotions too foreign for her to understand.
He looked at her, he truly looked at her for who she was and for the first time in days, there was something warm in his gaze.
"You are too kind"
Julius' words struck at her heart, she was not a genius leader nor a half-devil, in that moment, she was Emilia. Just Emilia.
She looked away, a faint blush brushing her silky cheeks. "People talk about you like you're a stranger. But I have seen the way you carry yourself. You saved lives in Pristella. Helped me. Helped everyone in Pristella. And no one seems to realize it."
Julius tilted his head, eyes half-closed "It's easier to forget what doesn't fit in their perception of the world"
"But I don't want to forget," she said, suddenly, fiercely. Remembering how she had forgotten mother Fortuna, Geuse, all her childhood. She didn't want to forget anything, not now, not ever.
Emilia stood Abruptly, a shine reflecting out of her amethyst eyes
"I don't know who you were, Julius. Not all of it. But I see who you are now. You don't have to carry this burden alone." Emilia boldly declared, her body radiating pure determination.
Julius also stood up slowly, and for a moment, they stood face to face, close enough to feel the warmth of each other's breath.
"I'm not the man or Knight I once was," he said.
Emilia shook her head, gently. "None of us are."
Guided by pure instict, Julius reached out, brushing a silver strand from her cheek. His touch was hesitant, unsure if he was allowed such levels of familarity.
Emilia blushed for the second time today, but she didn't pull away.
Something unspoken passed between them. Not quite love, at least not yet. But a beginning, flourishing In the ruins of what had been forgotten, something small but real had begun to bloom.
"Would you… walk with me?" Emilia asked, the tone in her voice quieter now.
Julius offered his arm. "It would be an honor, Lady Emilia."
Her hand slipped into the crook of his elbow and together they walked into the settling horizon.
A man and a woman.
An incomplete puzzle and a lone piece wanting to fit in
The central plaza of Pristella was filled again, not with floodwater or screams, but with murmurs. Knights in the Royal Knight uniform of Lagunica stood shoulder to shoulder before a gathered crowd, sunlight refelecting off the hilts of their swords.
A wooden platform had been constructed, crude but tall enough for all to see.
A captain with geen eyes and a sharp jaw adorned with a scar, took steps foward, holding a scroll bearing the emblem of the Dragon kingdom.
"Citizens of Pristella," he called, voice clear and firm, "we bring word today of a captured enemy of the Kingdom, one whose sins rival those of the worst Archbishops in recorded history."
A low murmur swept the crowd, eyes widening at the next words.
"The Sin Archbishop of Pride." His voice filled with venom "Subaru Natsuki"
The crowd's whispers quickly turned to confusion. The name given meant little, there were no stories, no sightings, no face. Just a title and a meaningless name, an obscure void.
"This being was captured during the pristella siege along with the Sin Archbishop of Wrath.. After an intensive interrogation, he confessed under divine rites to a list of crimes stretching back years."
He held the scroll tighter before resuming
" Tampering with magical infrastructure in Pristella. Orchestrating attacks during the city's siege. Deceiving high-ranking officials and sowing distrust among the royal candidates. Pillaging villages, forcing woman, conspiracy, and aiding Lust in disfiguring citizens just to name a few"
The whispeer turned into screams, the families affected by lust going into an outrage.
No one in the crowd questioned it.
They couldn't.
There were no faces, no tales to counter it. No defenders. Only a name spoken now with disgust, and the imagined figure of a faceless monster behind it.
"Let this be a warning to the Witch Cult," The captian said, rolling the scroll close. "We have your Archbishops, we have extracted their information, this is Lagunicas victory and the royal knights are more than ready to deal with you"
One knight drove a spear into the wooden platform behind him. In the other end of the spear, a banner swung against the wind.
It bore a figure dressed in a modified Witch Cult uniform, lined with orange and white, a big N on the right side. Their figure was shown bowing their head, arms outstretched in mock humility. Many crimson star surrounded the figure. A single word sewed into the banner
Pride.
The people looked on, and hate took root where no memory could grow.