Chapter 98: Banners Beside the Ruins

Before any of them mounted up, Jeanne took the time to speak properly with the village chief and the others gathered around him, thanking them and bidding the residents farewell.

She left them with clear instructions too, telling everyone to stay hidden a while longer, at least until imperial reinforcements arrived to watch over the village. She’d already sent word out the moment the Gargoyles first appeared, and help should be on its way before long.

Eleonor made her own rounds saying goodbye, and it quickly became clear the villagers already knew who she was, that she was bound for Virelle to be formally recognized as the Order of Lumielle’s newest Saintess.

The children, especially, weren’t ready to let her go, tugging at her sleeves and insisting she stay just a little longer, that there was still so much more they wanted to play.

Eleonor crouched down and ran a hand gently over a few small heads, her voice soft and apologetic, explaining she couldn’t stay, that her path led somewhere else now and she had to keep moving.

Their faces fell at that, disappointment settling in heavy enough to show.

But her smile never wavered. She caught Arnold’s eye with a small gesture, and a moment later he produced a handful of small wooden boxes.

The children’s eyes went wide the instant the lids came off. These weren’t ordinary carved toys. Each one held a mana crystal fitted with its own delicate pattern, enough to make the little figures inside move entirely on their own.

Arnold explained, with obvious pride, that this was a signature craft of the Republic of Rippledale.

More than a few parents watching looked faintly uncomfortable at the sight, clearly aware of just how expensive a gift like that actually was.

And the toys weren’t even the full extent of it. Word quickly spread that Eleonor had also quietly handed over a full pouch of silver coins, meant to help cover whatever the villagers had lost when their livestock vanished, despite the fact that Emperor Varka himself would almost certainly see to replacing the animals through proper channels.

Lucian watched all of it unfold, taking in a woman who carried herself like someone born into real wealth and genuine generosity both.

But there was something in her warmth, in the easy, gentle way she spoke, that tugged uncomfortably at a memory of Lumina, back when she still wore the mask of a Saintess for the world to see.

The resemblance alone was enough to drag a few less pleasant thoughts up with it. He found himself wondering, quietly, whether Eleonor’s kindness came from something genuine, or whether it served some purpose he hadn’t worked out yet.

He realized, too late, that he’d been staring at her for far longer than he meant to. Despite the distance between them, Eleonor turned from the children mid-laugh and caught his eyes directly, a fresh smile spreading across her face.

"Sir, is there something strange about my face?"

It was the first time she’d spoken to him directly, though he’d caught her glancing his way more than once already tonight.

He wasn’t hesitating out of embarrassment at being caught staring. The real trouble was that her question put him in an impossible spot. He was supposed to be blind. There was no honest way to answer a question about how someone’s face looked, not without unraveling the one lie that had kept him safe all night.

He fumbled for something that might hold.

"Unfortunately, Miss Eleonor, my brother can’t see. He has no idea what your face looks like. But as far as I can tell, there’s nothing wrong with it at all."

"...Wait, what?"

There was no mistaking the look that crossed Eleonor’s face, something close to genuine foolishness, her eyes blinking rapidly as the realization caught up to her.

Arnold looked just as unconvinced. He’d crossed blades with Lucian himself not long ago, and nothing about that fight had felt like facing a blind man.

If anything, it had felt like facing a swordsman well past his own level. To Arnold’s mind, the technique Lucian had shown required real sight, full stop, and he still hadn’t quite made peace with the memory of his own strongest strike being turned aside so cleanly.

Lucian managed a small, awkward smile, rubbing the back of his head, still scrambling for some way to explain a situation that would look deeply strange to anyone paying close attention.

Arnold hadn’t forgotten the spear throw either, the one that had found a hidden Gargoyle’s wing with perfect precision in the dark.

Even with two working eyes of his own, Arnold doubted he could have managed a throw like that. As far as he was concerned, what he’d just watched should have been flatly impossible.

Jeanne tapped a finger against her own chin, and what came out of her mouth next left the whole group even more stunned than before.

"It’s likely my brother’s own special gift. He carries a White Awakening, after all. I’m sure you all know people with White Awakenings tend to carry some unusual power of their own, the same way you command that Omen of yours."

She said it without missing a beat, because at this point it was the only explanation that fit cleanly enough for everyone present to accept. If people believed Lucian genuinely carried that kind of power, it tidied up every strange thing they’d witnessed tonight in one clean stroke.

But to the ears actually hearing it, the claim landed as something closer to nonsense. Disbelief spread fast through the small crowd, more than one voice muttering that a man carrying a White Awakening simply wasn’t a thing that had ever happened, not once, not anywhere.

The children, though, lit up with open curiosity the moment they caught the words. They swarmed closer, tugging at Lucian’s sleeve, asking eagerly whether he could summon a holy creature too, something like that beautiful whale they’d just seen.

"Um. About that—"

Lucian could see their eyes already shining with anticipation, but the truth sat heavier than he wanted to admit. He had no idea how to call Sol Invicta forward again, and worse, he was fairly sure he was still under the very restriction forbidding him from trying.

Some part of him wished, quietly, that he could. If he’d been able to summon it here, in front of everyone, it might have gone a long way toward clearing up the mess that had nearly gotten him thrown out of his own family only hours ago.

The children kept pulling at his arm, pleading, until their own parents finally stepped in, drawing them back and apologizing to Lucian for the disturbance.

It wasn’t only the children who’d grown curious, though. Eleonor closed the distance between them in a sudden, startling burst of motion, a scatter of small bubbles trailing behind her, and leaned in close enough to study his face, then his eyes, with open fascination.

Wait, what is she doing? Why is she coming at me like this?

Lucian muttered the thought to himself, already trying to lean back out of her reach.

"Miss Eleonor, rein in your curiosity a little. You’re frightening the poor man."

"Hold on, Luis, I’m still examining him."

The man in armor, his face shadowed beneath a close-fitted helm, was named Luis. He crossed the distance in two long strides and hauled Eleonor back by the shoulder, firm but practiced, the motion of someone who’d clearly done this more times than he cared to count.

He offered his apologies to the group at large, explaining, with the patient, worn-down tone of someone delivering a line he’d used before, that Eleonor could be a touch childish at times.

He muttered a quiet scolding at her under his breath as he steered her away, the kind of exasperated correction an older brother might give, even though the two of them shared no blood at all.

Whatever elegant, composed image Eleonor had carried in Lucian and Jeanne’s eyes up to this point dissolved completely in that moment, replaced by something far more chaotic and, somehow, more endearing for it.

Of the whole party from Rippledale, Luis alone seemed to carry himself with any real steadiness.

The strange, flustered moment finally broke when Elder Petrovel arrived, leading the horses up to the inn’s front steps.

The storm, mercifully, had begun to loosen its grip at last, the rain thinning into something almost gentle, the first pale light of dawn beginning to climb the eastern sky.

Jeanne, relieved at the break in weather, swung up onto her horse.

Lucian, after offering his own farewell to the villagers, moved to mount the same horse beside her.

"You there. Why don’t you ride with me instead? We could talk, get to know each other a little."

Lucian raised a hand immediately, declining with as much composure as he could manage, privately terrified of whatever Eleonor might decide to try next if given the chance.

"Miss, please. Your antics have frightened quite enough people for one day."

"Tch. That’s your fault, Luis, not mine."

The three of them, Eleonor, Arnold, and Luis, kept bickering as they climbed into their own carriage, their voices still trailing arguments about Lucian and the state of the empire as the door swung shut behind them.

The Phantom unit finally pulled out of the village, Jeanne and Elder Petrovel riding at the head of the column, the carriage carrying Eleonor and her companions falling in close behind.

They continued their journey over the following days, traveling without interruption until, at last, they crested a rise and came upon another village, far larger than the last, situated only a few kilometers from Korven itself.

This one hadn’t been nearly as fortunate.

Entire rows of houses stood collapsed into rubble, roofs caved inward, walls scorched black in long streaks that climbed toward the dawn sky.

What had once been a thriving settlement now looked gutted, the mud churned with debris, the wreckage of carts and fences scattered where they’d been thrown. A few structures still smoldered faintly at the edges, thin curls of smoke bleeding upward to meet the thinning rain.

And yet, amid all that ruin, the place was far from empty. A sprawling camp of soldiers had already taken root among the wreckage, tents and banners staked into the churned earth, clearly waiting for their arrival.

Jeanne’s eyes went straight to the banners snapping in the wind ahead of them.

House Sarnel’s own crest flew there, unmistakable. But beside it hung another banner entirely, one that didn’t belong to her family at all.

"Lady Jeanne. Those look like House Versys’s Magic Archers."