From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

The procession moved slowly forward, the knights of Lancelot moving swiftly and in perfect order. Their horses were strong, and their armor gleamed with a cold, sharp light in the morning glow. Each knight maintained a disciplined formation, their steps almost perfectly synchronized.

Eric, mounted on his horse, silently observed their every move, and couldn't help but admire them inwardly.

This is the true Knights Order.

He had seen many cavalrymen in the army of the Kingdom of Northria, but most knights were more like brutish warriors, only knowing how to charge into battle, lacking true discipline and tactics. However, the Knights of Iser displayed a completely different style; they were not only skilled in combat, but also in coordinated operations, and every movement revealed a well-trained and rigorous discipline.

"What are you thinking about?"

A deep voice sounded beside him.

Eric turned his head and saw Lancelot riding beside him, looking at him calmly.

He paused for a moment, then said frankly, "Your knights are more disciplined than any army I have ever seen."

Lancelot smiled faintly: "We are the Royal Knights of Iser, and this is our pride."

He turned his head slightly, gazing at the distant mountains shrouded in morning mist, his tone tinged with composure: "In Iser, knights are not merely warriors, but guardians of the kingdom. We do not pursue mere force, but a higher order."

Eric nodded, but didn't say anything more.

Their destination was Arthen, a fortified city in the western part of the Kingdom of Ither, and one of the important bases of the Royal Knights.

Lancelot told them that the city was not only home to Iser's elite knights, but also had close ties with the magic academy in the capital. As a result, there were many mage scholars in the city who studied ancient magic and forbidden knowledge, and were also responsible for monitoring the movements of dark forces.

"We'll rest there for a bit before deciding on our next move," Lancelot said. "Both you and this young lady can find some new direction there."

Eric did not respond, but simply nodded slightly.

Leah seemed curious and asked softly, "What kind of place is Altheon?"

"A fortress, a city steeped in a thousand years of history," Lancelot said calmly. "It was once our bulwark against Nosteria."

Eric scratched his head somewhat awkwardly. He knew that Lancelot was referring to the invasion of Ither by Northorium decades ago. At that time, the King of Itherium was only 8 years old and had just been crowned. The King of Northorium thought this was a good opportunity to expand his territory. However, he did not expect that the King of Itherium, despite his young age, would be so bold and personally lead his troops to crush the King of Northorium's ambition.

After several days of trekking, the Knights finally arrived in Arthen.

As Eric rode his horse through the city gates, he couldn't help but look up and survey the historic fortress.

The walls of Arthas rise high into the clouds, their thick stone bricks bearing the marks of time, as if they had witnessed countless battles. Guards at the city gates, clad in silver-white armor, grip long spears, their eyes scanning the passersby with vigilance. In the distance, the banner of the Kingdom of Ither flutters atop a high tower, a golden phoenix with outstretched wings whistling in the wind.

Just as Lancelot had said, this city was indeed Iser's shield.

Eric pondered to himself, while Leah beside him seemed somewhat uneasy. She had never set foot in such a massive fortress before, and her gaze involuntarily wandered among the crowd.

The knights lined up at the city gate, and then Lancelot rode up to Eric's side and whispered, "Let's settle into the military camp in the city first, and then report to the commander."

Eric nodded, as the knights slowly advanced.

However, as he walked through the crowd, his gaze suddenly stopped on one spot.

In the shadows beside the city gate, a gaunt figure huddled. His clothes were tattered, his face covered in dust, and he looked utterly wretched. Yet, even in this state, Eric recognized the face at a glance.

It's him!

His pupils contracted slightly, he abruptly pulled on the reins, dismounted, and strode over.

The man seemed to sense his approach and flinched, preparing to dodge, but Eric grabbed his arm.

"Wait!" Eric said in a deep voice, "It's you, isn't it?"

The man paused for a moment, then looked up, his eyes filled with terror and confusion.

"Lord Eric?" His voice trembled, as if he still couldn't believe he was seeing someone familiar.

Eric looked closer, and his conviction deepened. This man was none other than the waiter at the Emerald Cup tavern, who used to always be smiling and bustling around with a glass of wine, but now looked so haggard.

Lancelot noticed their conversation, rode over, and nodded: "That's right, he's the one who escaped and came to us for help."

Eric's heart tightened.

He quickly grabbed the man's shoulders and asked in a deep voice, "Tell me, what exactly happened that day?"

Upon hearing this, the man's previously suppressed emotions instantly collapsed. His shoulders trembled violently, and his lips quivered, as if every word was being forced out of his throat.

"That night," his voice was hoarse and filled with fear, "it was late at night, and although most people were already asleep, some customers stayed in the tavern to eat and drink. We, we were still laughing..."

He choked up, his voice breaking, "But before we could react, a ball of black flame suddenly swept in from the doorway! It was like, like a living monster, carrying a chilling aura and the scent of death; in an instant, it engulfed the entire hall!"

Eric's brow furrowed even more, and his fists clenched tighter without him even realizing it.

"When the flames burst in, everyone panicked!" the waiter continued, his eyes filled with terror. "Some people screamed and overturned tables and chairs, some drew their weapons, but nobody knew what was happening. Then, the tavern door was kicked open, and a group of men in black rushed in!"

He clenched his collar tightly, his knuckles turning white, as if trying to pull himself into his clothes. "They...they're wielding swords and knives, hacking at anyone they see! They're not ordinary bandits; they've come to kill us all!"

Eric felt as if his heart had been struck a heavy blow.

"A swordsman drew his sword in resistance, but... but..." The waiter choked up, his eyes becoming vacant, as if he were seeing some horrific scene he didn't want to recall.

"They came too fast. The black fire was burning the whole room. We didn't have time to catch our breath. We had no chance."

He lowered his head, clutching his hair tightly, his voice trembling: "Some people tried to escape, they rushed towards the door, but the black fire had blocked all the exits. Those who tried to escape were burned to ashes in the flames!"

His voice trembled in the air, and his body began to convulse, as if enveloped by suffocating fear.

Eric felt a sharp pain in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his anger, and asked in a low voice, "How...how did you escape?"

The waiter looked up, his eyes filled with the terror of surviving a close call: "Eileen saved me."

Eric's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Eileen?!" he asked almost instinctively. "Where is she?! Did she escape?!"

The waiter shrank back in fright at Eric's interrogation, but he still tried his best to recall, his voice still trembling: "At that time, Eileen used magic to blow away the black flames, tearing a gap in the flames, and she also gave me a bottle of invisibility potion."

He said, trembling, "I'm short, so I just managed to squeeze through. Then I ran for my life to the nearest garrison to ask for help..."

Eric's heart sank.

"Where's Eileen?!" He grabbed the waiter's shoulder abruptly, his voice urgent and almost frantic. "Has she come out yet?!"

The waiter's body stiffened abruptly, then he slowly shook his head.

"I don't know," he said softly, his voice filled with endless guilt and pain, "I ran away, but I don't know how she is."

do not know.

These two words pierced Eric's heart like sharp blades. He felt his breath catch in his throat, as if something was pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He had expected this answer, but when he actually heard it, he still felt an indescribable disappointment and pain. His breathing quickened slightly, as if he wanted to ask something more, but before he could speak, a steady hand pressed down on his shoulder.

"Alright, Eric."

Lancelot's voice was steady and calm, carrying an undeniable authority. His gaze swept across Eric's face, then fell on the trembling waiter still kneeling on the ground, his tone softening slightly, "Making him continue to recall these things will only double his pain."

Eric clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning white. He then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress his anxiety. Finally, he straightened up and whispered, "...I'm sorry."

The waiter kept his head down, his shoulders trembling slightly, seemingly still immersed in grief.

Lancelot gave a wink to the knight beside him, and immediately an Iser warrior stepped forward, helped the waiter up, comforted him in a low voice, and led him aside.

"We can't linger here too long," Lancelot said in a low voice. "It will take a few more days to reach the palace."

Eric didn't speak, he just nodded.

Their rest in Arthen was short; just three days later, Lancelot led his troops westward to Elgarden, the capital of Ither.

They walked along Starshine Avenue, an ancient road paved with blue stone bricks that had traversed the entire kingdom since the founding of Iser, leading to the oldest land.

The scenery along the way should have been breathtaking. They traversed vast forests, where lush oak and pine trees cast dappled shadows in the morning light; they passed crystal-clear streams, their murmuring waters shimmering silver in the sunlight; they climbed rolling hills, where golden wheat fields swayed gently in the wind like waves on the earth.

However, Eric's gaze remained cold and unwavering; his mind was no longer on the scenery.

After several days of arduous travel, the group finally arrived in Elgarden.