Chapter 16 – A Different Kind of Knight
Guts left the table without a word.
The meal had ended in a heavy silence, and he climbed the stairs with a slow, heavy step. Back in his room, he shut the door with a dry creak.
The pale moonlight poured through the half-open window. Guts removed his belt, set his prosthetic arm on the table, and sat at the edge of the bed, drained.
Guts (grumbling to himself): "Tch… Why does it always end like this… in some damn noble's court."
He clenched his fist, staring into the void.
Guts: "What the hell am I doing here… What the hell am I supposed to do..."
A soft sound echoed in the room — like a closing book or a breeze brushing past.
???:
"Are you going to keep sulking, or will you finally do something useful, I suppose?"
Guts (startled, snapping upright): "What? Who's there?"
His gaze landed on a familiar small figure, sitting in a shadowed corner of the room, a cup in one hand and a book in the other.
Beatrice (calm and dry): "What a dramatic entrance… You look like a kid sulking after missing dessert."
Guts: "What the hell are you doing in my room, kid?"
Beatrice (raising an eyebrow): "Your room? Tss. Fool. I'm the one who moves the library around here. If you're here, it means you wandered into my door again."
She stood slowly and locked eyes with him.
Beatrice: "But… I suppose it's not a coincidence."
Guts (rubbing his face): "You believe in coincidences?"
Beatrice: "No. Especially not with someone who reeks of misfortune and the chains of fate like you do."
Guts (grunting): "Tch… Your master, Roswaal. He's asking for my loyalty… But I hate nobles. They're all the same. Cold, calculating. Always playing their little power games."
Beatrice (turning to the window, back to him): "Roswaal is… a special case, I suppose. I don't particularly like him either. He's manipulative, eccentric, obsessed with his goals…"
She paused, staring at the moon.
"But… he wants Emilia to win. That much I know. And that's not nothing."
Guts (slowly standing): "And you think a guy like him would want something good for someone… without wanting something in return?"
Beatrice (flatly): "I never said that. He always wants something. Always."
Then, more softly — almost sad:
"But maybe… in this world, nobles aren't exactly like the ones from yours."
Guts (watching her closely, surprised): "...You figured it out, huh? That I'm not from here."
A long silence. Beatrice finally turned to face him, her violet eyes piercing.
Beatrice: "I've known from the start. The energy flowing in you, the brand on your neck, your resistance to mana… Everything screams that you're not a child of Lugnica."
She narrowed her eyes, intrigued.
"But that's not what's strange. What's strange… is that this world let you in. That it... chose you."
Guts (fists clenched): "Chose me, huh? Never felt chosen. Thrown away, crushed, sacrificed… yeah. But chosen?"
Beatrice: "And yet here you are. Surrounded by people who respect you, fear you even… and a girl who believes in you."
She pointed subtly toward the door — where Emilia had been not long before.
"You can refuse Roswaal. But you can't run from this world forever. It's watching you, you know? And it's waiting to see what kind of man you'll be here."
Guts (after a silence, muttering): "...Maybe this world's just as rotten as the last one."
He let out a bitter smirk.
"But yeah… I said I wouldn't run anymore."
Beatrice (arms crossed, mock annoyance in her tone): "In that case, stop brooding like some beaten old dog and do something with your sorry carcass, I suppose."
Guts (raising an eyebrow, half-smiling): "Still as sweet as ever, huh."
Beatrice (locking eyes with him): "I'm not sweet. I'm honest. And honestly, you'd be far more useful as a knight than as a silent wreck."
She turned away with a sharp flick of her tongue.
Beatrice (leaving the room without looking back): "...But hey, do what you want. It's not like I'm expecting anything from you, you fool of a Black Swordsman."
The door shut gently behind her.
Guts stood there for a while, deep in thought. Then a faint smile tugged at his lips — barely noticeable.
Guts (to himself): "...What a damn weird world."
The mansion had slowly fallen into the stillness of night. The once-lively halls now slept beneath the whispering wind.
Guts had just escaped another cleaning chore forced on him by Ram. Exhausted, he rested by a window, staring into the darkness.
Outside, in the garden bathed in the glow of magical lanterns, he noticed a familiar figure: Emilia, seated alone in the small gazebo, surrounded by silence.
Intrigued — or maybe drawn to the calm — Guts slowly made his way down the stairs.
Guts (approaching, hands in his pockets, grumbling): "You planning to sleep out here?"
Emilia (looking up, slightly startled but not scared): "No… I just like the quiet at night. It's gentle."
Guts (glancing at the sky): "Too quiet for me. Makes my skin crawl."
Puck (hovering over Emilia, arms crossed): "And yet here you are, disrupting the calm, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody."
Guts (slight smirk): "Still flapping your wings, huh, dragonfly?"
Puck (offended): "I'm a great spiritual being, not a bug."
Emilia (laughs lightly): "You two argue like old friends."
Guts sat down opposite her on the bench, tired but curious. He eyed the floating lanterns around them.
Guts: "Those lights… Are they fairies?"
Emilia: "Not really. Just little spirits. Leftover magic in the air, drawn to mana."
Puck: "We call them 'lucis orbs.' They don't speak, but they respond to feelings."
Guts watched them for a moment, quietly.
Guts: "It's… beautiful. In my world, spirits are rarer. And the fairies… never shut up."
Puck (mocking tone, but faintly wary): "You mean her? The one you called… Schierke?"
Guts froze — just slightly.
Guts (voice distant, eyes lost in the trees): "She wasn't a fairy. A witch… a brilliant kid. The only one who didn't run away."
Puck fell silent. He couldn't see the full picture, but he felt it — the weight, the blood, the screams. A night with no end.
Puck (softly): "You're carrying a hell of a burden."
Guts (hoarse grunt): "You've got no idea."
Silence again. Emilia rested her hands gently on her lap.
Emilia (hesitantly): "You know… you don't have to face everything alone. Even if you're strong… no one should walk alone."
Those words. Too soft. Too honest. Guts froze. For a brief moment, everything around him blurred.
A memory flashed in his mind — the warmth of a campfire, Judeau's jokes, Rickert's clumsy laughter. Casca's hand resting on his arm. Trusting eyes. Shared hopes. The Band of the Hawk… when it still lived.
And then, it all faded. Swallowed by steel, screams, and the shadow of monstrous wings. A single tear ran down his cheek, unnoticed even by him.
He blinked, pulled back to the present. Emilia was still there, her silver hair catching the moonlight, dancing in the night breeze like a dream.
Guts (looks at her, voice softer now): "Your hair."
Emilia (blinks, surprised): "My… hair?"
Guts: "Never seen anything like it. Silver, like moonlight. One of a kind."
Emilia (blushing, looks away): "Oh… thank you… It's rare here too. Not always accepted."
Guts: "Then people are fools."
A small, genuine smile crossed his lips. Puck looked surprised. For the first time since meeting Guts, he felt something pure — not pain, not rage. Just… a pause in the storm.
But peace never lasted long.
Guts (growing somber): "I'm scared of repeating my mistakes. I served a king once. Was just a pawn. In the end… everyone I cared about died."
Emilia (placing a hand on the bench beside her): "Then this time, choose. Don't let anyone decide who you are — or what you're supposed to be."
Puck: "And if you want to protect Emilia, do it because you want to. Not because someone told you to."
Guts (looks down at his hands — one flesh, one iron): "Protect, huh…"
He looked back at Emilia. Her determination, her vulnerability… her quiet strength. It reminded him of Casca — not in appearance, but in the fire he thought long gone from people.
Guts: "You're not weak, Emilia. And I ain't your hero. But if you fall… I'll be there to help you get back up."
Emilia (softly, eyes shining): "Then… you'll stay?"
Guts (long sigh, then nods): "I'll stay. But not as anyone's puppet. I'll be your knight… if you let me do it my way."
Emilia (smiling sincerely): "Then… I'm counting on you, Guts."
Puck did a little flip in the air.
Puck: "Sir Guts! Has a nice ring to it!"
Guts (mocking): "Keep talking and I'll pin you to the ceiling."
They all shared a brief, genuine laugh. The kind that had seemed impossible not long ago.
Barely seven days had passed since he arrived… and already, the world had started to change him. Or maybe, he had started to change it.
The night moved on… and so did the story.
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