Eventually, he stopped. After listening to his long confession, Nashetania said, “Goldof, I’m glad that you were born in this country. Thank you, truly, so much for saving me. Please, let me show you my thanks.”
“There’s…nothing…I want.”
Nashetania shook her head. “You’ve done so much for me, even though you’d never met me before and you didn’t know me. I have to repay you somehow.”
But there was nothing that Goldof wanted now. He’d already gotten his wish—to see Nashetania one more time. For her to thank him. What more could he need? Goldof racked his brain, and finally he said, “I have…just…one request.”
“What is it?”
“If…you’re ever…in danger…again…” He hesitated to say it out loud. He was anxious, not sure if it was allowed. “Can I…come save you…again?”
When Nashetania heard that, she put a hand over her mouth. A hint of wetness welled in her eyes. “Of course, please, come save me. Come save me again and again.”
Goldof was so relieved, the tears he thought had dried spilled out once again.
That was how Goldof became a knight in Nashetania’s service. The civil war ended, and Nashetania returned to the capital. King Nalphtoma was stripped of all authority and reduced to a mere figurehead on the throne. Nashetania designated a high chancellor who would take on the responsibilities of governing the nation.
By Nashetania’s decree, a lower-ranking knight named Kenzo Auora adopted Goldof, and so the boy’s surname was changed, as well. Goldof learned how to read and write, how to wield a spear, manners and etiquette, as well as the tenets of chivalry.
Life for him at the royal palace couldn’t be called comfortable. His humble origins made him feel obligated, and many of the other knights were jealous of his incredible strength. But none of that mattered compared to the joy he obtained by being with Nashetania. He could suppress the black flames in his heart if it meant being with Nashetania. He was able to forget his past violence. Goldof had been reborn.
But as Nashetania turned out to be an outrageous tomboy, Goldof was confounded by how often she caused trouble for everyone.
When Goldof was fourteen years old, he became the youngest-ever victor of the Tournament Before the Divine. As his reward, he was promoted captain of the Black Horns knights. But in practice, the previous captain, Gazama, was really in command. Goldof’s title was in name only.
He also received one more reward: a hieroform that had been passed down through generations in Piena’s royal family. Four hundred years ago, the King of Piena had ordered its construction in the utmost secrecy. Even the elder of All Heavens Temple didn’t know it had been created. Goldof was not allowed to tell anyone of its existence or its power.
The hieroform was called the Helm of Allegiance, and it was charged with the power of the Saint of Words. When the wearer’s liege was captured, the helmet would activate automatically. First, it would make a sound like a bell to alert the wearer to the danger. No one else could hear the sound. Then the wearer and their liege would be able to communicate at will. No matter how far apart they were, they could hear even the gentlest whisper from each other. The Helm had one drawback, however: It only activated when the wearer’s liege was captured. If the liege was in danger, but not specifically captured, then the helmet would not react at all.
Goldof wore the helmet at all times, never letting it leave his person. He’d even worn it at socially inappropriate times, making him the butt of some jokes.
Goldof was in love with Nashetania; he wouldn’t deny that. But more importantly, he had sworn a solemn oath of loyalty to her. Love did fade, but loyalty was endless, and Goldof believed that a bond of fealty was far deeper than one of passion.
Nashetania was a good master.
Her willfulness did often cause trouble. Sometimes she would sneak out of the castle on her own to talk to dubious characters. Sometimes, she would overwhelm her retainers with impossible requests. Her behavior was rarely befitting of a princess. The greatest stir she’d ever caused had been her tantrum because she wanted to be a Saint. But still, everything she did was, in her own way, with her people and the country in mind.
I will not be a princess who is simply there to be protected. I’ll defend the people, she had said, puffing up with pride. That was Nashetania: the girl who made him worry, the girl who was dear to him, the girl who made him proud.
Nashetania was Goldof’s raison d’être.
This must be a bad dream, Goldof told himself. If he closed his eyes and opened them again, he’d surely wake up. Nashetania won’t be the seventh; she’ll still be the liege I swore to protect, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut.
“…”
After a few blind moments, he opened them again. Nightmarish reality lay unchanged before him. He was in the Howling Vilelands. With him were the other five Braves and one impostor; his beloved Nashetania was not among them. If this is a nightmare, let me wake up now, he mentally implored as he opened his eyes, but the reality was the same.
It was the afternoon of the seventeenth day after the Evil God’s awakening. The Braves of the Six Flowers had made it through the Cut-Finger Forest and now stood before the massive ravine dividing the Howling Vilelands.
“Meooow! That’s huge! I’ve never seen nothin’
