The quiet of the northern barracks was broken only by the turning of parchment.
Kane sat cross-legged at the far end of the library, lantern light flickering over the scattered maps and worn leather-bound books he'd gathered.
Lucian had passed by once, brows raised, only to be waved off with a muttered "busy."
In truth, Kane was busy—more than ever. The comm link with Arasha from the night before lingered in his mind.
Her laugh.
Her warmth.
The soft look she gave him just before sleep claimed her.
He couldn't stay a squire forever. Not if he wanted to stand beside her as more than just someone she missed.
So Kane did what he'd always done best—plan.
Step One: Resource Acquisition.
Kane poured over what he knew from both timelines—his past life, and from what he remembered from the game.
There were lands abandoned after the Monster Bloom, areas too dangerous for average knights to explore.
But Kane had details—specific ones the game had never meant to be shared. Hidden paths through the Whispering Fens, a dormant ruin in the Moonshard Vale laden with untouched crystal ore, and a collapsed fortress near the Obsidian Chasm rumored to house ancient armory schematics.
He sketched paths by memory, marking monster migration patterns, weather phenomena, and hidden waypoints known only to players who'd maxed exploration reputations.
In-game, these zones were optional side content, vastly ignored. But in this life, they were real goldmines.
Kane whispered to himself, "Get the ore. Get the tools. Build something that lasts."
Step Two: Influence.
Next came the trickier part—people.
He remembered key NPCs from the game. Their dialogue, their quests, their conditions for trust. They weren't just background flavor now—they were powerful people with real pull.
Rothald, the Reclusive Arcanist: Once a royal court mage who exiled himself to the ice-locked ruin of Sorvahn Tower. In-game, he demanded a rare herb only found in a specific lava-bloom cave. Kane knew exactly where it was.
Mistress Anjra of the Midnight Markets: A black-market broker with ties to multiple noble families. She'd take an enchanted relic that could only be unearthed by solving a forgotten knight's riddle buried beneath the Forest of Vows.
Brother Anselm, a traveling monk beloved by commoners and feared by the corrupt for his sermons—his favor required rescuing a group of enslaved villagers from a mining camp hidden in the mountains near the old border.
Each of these people, once helped, gave access to more than just quests—they opened up influence trees in the game. In this world, that influence would be real.
Kane traced over the paths with his finger. "If I can reach Rothald by the end of summer... then Anjra in the fall... and save the villagers before the frost closes the mountain passes…"
He could see it.
Step by step.
Resources.
Power.
Connections.
Then he could come back—not as a squire, but as a man worthy to stand beside Arasha.
"Two years," he whispered to himself. "That's all I have. That's all I need."
The next morning, Kane went to Duke Lionel and bowed low with a formal request.
"I want permission to pursue independent field operations for scouting and regional resource mapping. Not just as a squire... but as someone preparing for knighthood."
The Duke narrowed his eyes, reading the conviction behind the words.
"You've grown sharper," Lionel said. "But know this—ambition can burn as much as it builds."
Kane met his eyes. "I'm ready to build."
And with that, Kane began his journey—not just to carve his own name into the world's history, but to become a man who could share in Arasha's legend as her equal.
****
The mid-morning light slanted through the high windows of Arasha's office, golden and warm, but her eyes were narrowed and sharp as steel.
Leta stood to the side, arms crossed, a half-amused smirk playing on her lips as she watched her Commander stiffen in her seat.
"He did what, exactly?" Arasha asked slowly.
One of the senior knights, Sir Merrin, cleared his throat carefully. "Scouts from the merchant guilds traveling west reported sightings of a young knight—unmarked armor, traveling light, alone or with temporary allies. They said he entered the Whispering Fens through the south fork trail."
Arasha's brows furrowed. "That area has been red-flagged since the bloom two years ago."
"It was," Merrin agreed. "But... he came back out. Not only alive, but with crates of ore, relic shards, and some kind of map the caravans say he sold to a minor house for a king's ransom."
"...Kane," Arasha murmured under her breath with a frown.
Sir Garran, who had entered midway into the report, stood with arms behind his back. "He's on a mission. His own, it seems. But carefully calculated."
"He should've reported to me first." Arasha declared.
"I'm sorry for not letting you know beforehand, Commander." Sir Garran apologized. "But, he was adamant he wanted to prove himself and seeing his resolute look, I couldn't stop him for I knew his sentiment very well. I was once a squire after all."
And once a man who was in love with an out-of-reach woman and eager to prove himself long ago… Sir Garran added in his mind.
That didn't calm her.
Arasha stared at Garran, searching for another reason why Kane was so set to go on his own.
Sir Garran met her gaze, calm and collected.
Arasha sighed as Sir Garran gave her a look that she should let it go.
But she couldn't, so.
"I'm calling him."
Deep in a wooded pass near the Forest of Vows, Kane sat sharpening his blade when the sigil on his wrist flared to life—pulsing gently with warm light.
He smiled faintly. "Commander."
He tapped the link, and her voice filled the air, clipped and direct.
"Kane. Is it true?"
Kane didn't feign ignorance. "Yes."
"You're going into old monster territory. Alone. Without notifying me."
"I notified the Duke," he replied calmly.
"That's not the point," Arasha snapped, though her worry bled through the hard tone.
Kane looked toward the sky, letting out a slow breath. "You said you believed in me."
That gave her pause. "I do."
"Then wait for me." His voice softened. "Let me do this."
A quiet hung in the link. Then Arasha exhaled heavily.
"You're infuriating."
You're infuriating…
He said that once to Arasha a lifetime ago…
Kane shook his head and chuckled. "I'll take that as permission."
"Fine. But you better come back, safe, Kane."
"I will."
Just before the link dimmed, Kane added quietly, "Thank you for trusting me."
Arasha stared at the now-silent sigil, her expression unreadable.
Then she called Leta.
"He's being reckless," Arasha muttered.
"Right, like you have the right to talk," Leta stated, sipping her tea. "I bet he got his recklessness from you."
Arasha didn't answer.
Instead, she flicked her eyes toward the courtyard, where several newly knighted squires were running drills.
Fine, I'm might be reckless but I won't Kane be.
"Pick four," she suddenly announced. "The ones ready for real fieldwork. I'm sending them after him."
Leta choked. "You're sending them to babysit?"
"No," Arasha stated, a small glint of mischief in her eye. "I'm giving them the same opportunity he took. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair."
"Very noble of you," Leta commented dryly. "Or maybe a tiny bit petty?"
Arasha didn't answer. But the slight lift at the corner of her lips betrayed her.
****
A week later, Kane stood overlooking a rocky ravine, bag half-full of salvaged ruins, when he heard them.
"You've made quite a name for yourself," came a familiar voice.
He turned, only to see four squires—now knights—grinning at him.
Calen, Boris, Anne, and June.
"Commander sent us," one of them said cheerfully. "Said it wouldn't be fair if you were the only one out here making legends."
Kane stared, dumbfounded for a second—then laughed. A genuine, warm sound.
He glanced at his comm link. "So this is how she wanna play huh."
But deep down, he was grateful. Not only because Arasha trusted him, but because she still cared enough to make sure he wasn't alone.
****
The private parlor inside a fortified trade hall near the border of the merchant territories hummed with restrained opulence—thick velvet drapes, gleaming wood inlaid with silver, and a quiet staff that slipped in and out like shadows.
Kane stood at the long table, maps and relic samples laid before him, posture alert but still, like a hunter awaiting a moment to strike.
Across from him, Cassian lounged in a high-backed chair with a calm smile, one leg crossed over the other. His merchant's robe bore the signature embroidered filigree of the Eastern Accord—a sign of influence few dared cross.
"You drive a hard bargain, Ser Kane," Cassian said, folding his fingers before his chin. "But I deal in reality, not idealism. This relic," he tapped one with a long finger, "might be worth more to a collector in the Empire than whatever reconstruction project you're aiming for."
Kane didn't blink. "It's not a reconstruction project. It's an investment in stability—an Order strong enough to hold the fractured edges of this kingdom together. I thought peace was a currency you valued."
Cassian chuckled. "Ah, peace is admirable. But profit sustains it."
Their words were smooth, polite even, but the tension between them was electric, like the clashing of swords beneath velvet.
Cassian reached for one of the relic samples, and in the motion, in his peripheral vision, he saw a glimmer of soft gold and violet at Kane's side.
He froze.
"...That potion vial," Cassian said suddenly, his voice low and tight. "That's the one I gave to Commander Arasha."
Kane didn't answer immediately.
Cassian's gaze sharpened, no longer amused. "So she gave it to you."
Kane's mouth drew into a hard line. "She trusted me with it. It saved a squad of lives in the Fenroot valley."
"Of course it did," Cassian replied, the corner of his mouth twitching, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "She always chooses well. Even when she doesn't realize what it means."
Kane's eyes darkened.
"She chose you—for now," Cassian continued, standing slowly, his graceful, almost feline movements belying the blade-edge in his voice. "But make no mistake, Ser Kane. Influence, power, and resources aren't forged from blind loyalty. They're earned—across cities, through alliances, with silver and strategy. You'll find, perhaps too late, that strength alone isn't enough."
Kane's voice came like a low growl. "I don't need to earn her. I'll stand beside her."
Cassian paused. Then, to Kane's confusion, he gave a light laugh—not mocking, but tired. Resigned.
"Very well," he said at last, pushing forward a ledger and sealing it with his personal crest. "I'll provide the relic valuation. I'll even assist with distribution routes for your next venture."
Kane narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
Cassian's gaze was calm again, but something flickered behind it. "Because it's for Commander Arasha's cause. And that—" he stepped closer, just enough for Kane to feel the quiet storm he masked beneath civility, "—is the only reason I haven't crushed your proposal beneath market sanctions and guild pressure."
Kane's jaw clenched, but he accepted the seal, knowing full well it came with invisible strings.
Cassian stepped back, voice softening just slightly. "Try not to waste what she's building."
Without another word, Cassian turned and left the chamber, his cloak whispering behind him like a closing curtain.
Kane remained still for a long moment, eyes locked on the relics on the table—then slowly looked at the potion vial at his belt, the last glint of Arasha's trust.
"Damn him," Kane muttered under his breath. "Damn him for being right."
But already, plans were forming in his head.
He would repay this favor.
And outmatch the man who thought Arasha was someone he could covet.
****
The air was crisp in the late afternoon, tinged with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil and distant wildflowers.
Just a few miles from their base, Arasha stood overlooking a modest village nestled between gentle hills, where villagers waved as she passed on horseback. She was alone today, save for a pair of knights riding at a discreet distance—her form relaxed but alert as always.
A familiar silhouette appeared just off the main path, beneath a blooming willow.
"Commander Arasha," Cassian greeted, his voice warm and smooth, the faintest grin tugging at his lips.
Arasha blinked, surprise flickering across her face before she dismounted with a graceful motion. "Cassian. What brings you all the way out here?"
He stepped forward, bowing with a polite flourish. "Business, of course. But also... curiosity. I wanted to hear more about your vision. For peace. For change. And for a change of pace."
Arasha tilted her head slightly, studying him.
Cassian looked tired and even somewhat weary, not like the last time they met.
Remembering the potion and other gifts he gave her that were very useful, she didn't mind paying him back with a bit of time to ease his burdens.
So then she smiled. "Well, I can hardly turn down such interest. Come back with me. We can talk more in my study."
The small reading room in Arasha's quarters was quiet and warmly lit, its walls lined with ledgers, maps, and historical tomes. A pot of floral tea sat between them, steam curling in the golden dusk.
Cassian reclined with his usual elegance, while Arasha sat across from him, a rolled parchment spread before her as she spoke with conviction.
"If the western supply chains can be rerouted through the mountain passes, we might bypass the noble tariffs. That alone could reduce the famine pressure by nearly a third. But the long-term solution lies in diplomatic treaties with the borderland tribes and establishing trade equity."
Cassian listened intently, occasionally interjecting with logistical insights and merchant forecasts. Their exchange was fluid, ideas bouncing between them like sparks in a forge.
Then, with masterful subtlety, Cassian leaned forward. "You know, I recently had an... interesting encounter. A young knight carrying a potion I had given you."
Seraphine's eyes widened a fraction. "Ah. Yes. Kane told me it saved lives in the Fenroot valley. Thank you, Cassian. That potion made the difference."
Cassian blinked—a rare moment of honest surprise. Then he chuckled, leaning back. "I expected more questions. But I find myself strangely pleased."
Arasha offered a small smile. "I'm always grateful when others help in saving lives. That is, after all, what we're trying to preserve."
His expression softened. "You're tireless. But remember, Commander... even dreams worth bleeding for fade if the dreamer burns out. Take care of yourself. No cause can replace your presence."
Arasha looked down for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup.
What he said is true…I should keep that in mind.
Cassian's words had made Arasha reflect on herself, which she was grateful for, so she reached into a drawer and brought out a small charm stone, glowing faintly with her blessing.
"A token of gratitude. For your help. And... your concern."
Cassian accepted it carefully, the faint shimmer reflecting in his eyes. He stood, bowing his head.
"Then I shall wear it close. For fortune. And perhaps... to remind myself of who I believe in."
He turned and left, the soft tap of his boots fading down the corridor. Arasha remained seated, her gaze lingering on the closed door.
Far from her notice, a victorious smile played on Cassian's lips as he tucked the charm into his pocket—an ember of possibility nestled close to his heart.
****
The base was unusually buoyant. A subtle cheeriness hung in the air, infusing even the most mundane duties with a spark of amusement.
The root cause of this sudden uplift?
None other than Commander Arasha's uncharacteristic gesture of inviting a foreign merchant, Cassian, into her private reading room.
Leta, always quick to pick up on any anomaly, led the charge with a smirk that betrayed her enthusiasm. "You know what this means," she whispered conspiringly to a group of younger knights polishing their armor nearby. "Our Commander finally cracked. I bet ten silver she blushed."
"Blushed?" one of the squires choked back a laugh. "Commander? Our ice-blooded, fierce leader?"
"Even glaciers melt under the right sun," Leta replied sagely, which set off a cascade of giggles and gasps.
Meanwhile, in the training grounds, Sir Garran stood like a mountain of reason amidst the waves of speculation.
His arms were crossed, brows furrowed, as he overheard another enthusiastic retelling of how Cassian may have leaned in too close to Arasha over a map of disputed territories.
"Enough," Garran barked, though not unkindly. "You all forget that merchant is a civilian. An outsider. There's no room for romantic distractions in the heart of a war campaign."
The senior knights nodded in solemn agreement, though even they couldn't entirely dismiss the amused twinkle in their eyes.
In the mess hall, another topic gained traction—Kane. The returning squire, whose name was now uttered with a tone of pride and intrigue. "Did you hear? He met Cassian. Didn't back down," one cook said as he stirred a massive pot of stew.
"The lad's got fire. And he's been with her since the beginning," said the quartermaster. "I say it's a classic underdog tale. My coin's on Kane."
Bets were quietly exchanged, alliances formed over meals and chores, the base alive with the story of their Commander's love affair—real or imagined.
And Arasha?
She moved through her halls with her usual poise, the quiet strength of someone long used to bearing the weight of command.
When a report of the growing gossip reached her, she merely sighed and muttered, "Let them talk. If it lifts their spirits, it serves a purpose."
Still, when no one was looking, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
For the first time in a long while, the base felt not just orderly and efficient, but alive.
****
It was a quiet morning when Kane finally found time to report his latest progress to Sir Garran.
He called in through his sigil, recounting his newly acquired resource network and modest regional influence he'd begun building.
Garran listened with his usual attentiveness, nodding along and offering the occasional grunt of approval.
Then, as though it were a mere side note, Garran said casually, "The base seemed to be more lively because of Commander meeting with that merchant—Cassian, I believe—last week. He dropped by the base and had quite the long chat with her in the private reading room."
Kane froze.
His mind halted, heart stalling for a beat. "Cassian?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain even. "At the base? In her reading room?"
"Yes, Commander treated him politely, of course. Although it was unlike her to give someone a charm stone, though," Garran continued, his voice unfazed, not noticing the tight coil of silence forming on Kane's end.
Kane ended the call shortly after, his responses clipped and mechanical.
The moment the connection faded, he sat on the edge of his temporary quarters, staring blankly at the ground.
A mix of emotions festered—confusion, jealousy, and a bitter twinge of helplessness. Cassian, with his influence, eloquence, and unnerving grace, had spoken with her alone.
And she had smiled.
Offered him a gift.
Invited him into a space so few ever stepped foot in.
He brooded over it for days.
Lucian noticed immediately. "You're slipping," he said bluntly one afternoon. "You look like you're ready to punch the wind."
"I'm fine," Kane snapped.
"You're not. And there's only one person who comes to mind to make you like that, Big Sister Arasha. So call her. Ask her what's bothering you," Lucian said, handing him a cloth soaked in cold water. "Or you'll lose yourself and maybe even her."
You'll lose yourself and maybe her…
Swallowing his pride, Kane activated his sigil.
The call shimmered open, and Arasha's face appeared, warm and faintly tired. "Kane," she greeted, her tone soft, genuinely happy to see him. "You're earlier than usual."
"I heard about Cassian," he said bluntly, skipping any niceties.
Arasha tilted her head slightly. "From Garran, I assume? Yes, he came to talk about peace strategies and trade cooperation. I invited him in for the discussion, and he was respectful. Insightful, even."
Kane's jaw clenched. "And you gave him a charm stone?"
Arasha blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Yes. He'd given me a potion that helped save lives. It was a token of gratitude."
"He has better ones than the charm stone, Arasha. Besides, he's rich and powerful. He doesn't need to be given such thing!"
Arasha studied his expression, perplexed, her voice quieting. "Kane... are you upset because you feel outmatched? Cassian is older, more experienced—but so what? You're still growing. You have time to catch up."
Kane's breath hitched. Her words, though meant to encourage, felt like a jab to his pride.
"So I'm just supposed to wait until I'm worthy? Is that it?" he said bitterly. "While others walk freely into places I've never been allowed? While they get your attention without even trying?"
"Kane, that's not—"
He ended the call.
Silence enveloped the room. He sat there for a long time, anger simmering not just at her, but at himself—for not being enough.
Outside his tent, the wind howled softly, echoing the storm within him.
****
In the quiet of his quarters, Kane sat hunched over the edge of his cot, the dim glow of lantern-light casting long shadows over the scattered maps and documents around him.
He had spent the last several hours pouring over logistics, contacts, and old strategies pulled from a game he once knew—but none of it felt like enough.
His fists clenched as he stared blankly at the table. Cassian. The name echoed bitterly in his mind. That man—resourceful, composed, successful in every corner of the world—had clawed his way into prominence without second chances, without knowledge of what lay ahead.
Kane had everything a person could dream of: future knowledge, routes to power, ancient artifacts... and still, it felt like he was losing.
He let out a shuddering breath, gripping his chest as a hollow ache crept in. "Even with everything... I'm still not enough, am I?" he whispered to no one, the darkness closing in like a tide. "I don't deserve her…"
The creeping poison of self-loathing began to cloud his thoughts, his memories distorting into accusations: how Arasha smiled at Cassian, how she praised him, how Arasha had once smiled like that at Kane—but maybe out of kindness, never affection.
Then the door burst open.
"Kane!" Levi's cheery voice filled the room like a gale of wind ripping through stagnant air.
The younger noble strolled in with complete disregard for Kane's privacy, arms loaded with fresh fruit and two steaming mugs.
Kane, startled and irritated, shot up from his chair. "Levi, what the hell?! I didn't ask for company—"
"Yeah, well," Levi said, grinning as he set down the mugs. "You've been holed up like a sad ghost for days. Lucian said if I didn't drag you out, he'd burn your maps himself."
"I'm busy," Kane muttered, but the protest had no weight. His anger faltered when he saw the genuine worry beneath Levi's usually carefree expression.
Levi tilted his head, eyes sharp for once. "So. What's going on?"
Something cracked. Kane sat back down, his shoulders slumping. His voice came low and strained. "I just... I've worked so hard. I have knowledge no one should have. I've mapped routes, built alliances, gathered relics... and still, someone like Cassian can rise higher. With nothing but his wit. No second chances. Just... himself."
Levi was quiet for a moment, watching him. Then he asked, "Is this really about Cassian? Or is this about Big Sis?"
Kane looked away.
Levi's voice softened. "Kane... why don't you believe in our big sister?"
Kane's eyes widened.
"You say you're not enough for her. That you're falling behind. But Big Sister isn't someone who's impressed by power or riches. She never was. She's someone who notices those who stay beside her. Through storms. Through pressure. Through silence. And she chose to get close to you."
Kane's breath hitched.
"Trust her," Levi said simply. "She's strong, but she's not perfect. If you love her... then believe in her. Don't fight against shadows."
The room fell into silence, broken only by the soft clink of the cooling tea cups. Kane stared at the floor, words frozen in his throat. For once, his turbulent mind had no retort.
****
The evening air was crisp as Kane stood alone beneath the open sky just outside his temporary lodging.
The stars shimmered faintly above, like a tapestry of unreachable truths — yet somehow, they felt closer tonight.
Levi's words lingered in his mind, like a soft ember warming the cold chambers of his heart:
"If you love her... then believe in her. Don't fight against shadows."
Kane exhaled, long and steady, before finally pulling out his comm-link sigil. The faint glow flared to life in his palm, the connection forging a bridge between his tangled heart and the person it yearned for.
It only rang once before it connected.
"Kane?" Arasha's voice came, soft and clear like a balm. Her hair was slightly tousled, a candle flickered behind her—she was still in her study.
"Commander—" he began, but she cut in gently, her tone unusually tentative.
"Wait… let me speak first."
Kane blinked, surprised.
"I realized after our last call… I may have been too harsh," she said, eyes downcast, voice threaded with honesty. "I was trying to comfort you, but I ended up dismissing your feelings. I'm sorry."
Kane opened his mouth, stunned into silence.
"I want you to know," she continued, raising her eyes to meet his through the link, "I'm not perfect either, Kane. I have my burdens, and I try to carry them alone. But if we're going to support each other… I need to remember you're someone I can lean on too. And I want to be someone worthy for you to lean on."
His heart clenched at her words — vulnerable, sincere, and warm.
"…I was supposed to be the one apologizing," he finally said, voice low. "I said stupid things. I doubted myself, and… I even doubted you. I'm sorry."
Arasha smiled, gentle and forgiving. "Then we're both sorry. And we're both trying."
There was silence for a moment, not awkward, but full — thick with emotions shared and unspoken understanding.
Then Kane softly chuckled, shaking his head with a half-smile.
"…Levi was right," he murmured.
"About what?" she asked, curious.
"That I should just believe in you."
Arasha's lips parted in surprise, then curved upward in a smile that made Kane feel like the world was right again.
For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel like he was chasing something unreachable. He felt… he belonged, and he was alright being just him.
And strangely enough, he felt hope.
A better future, for Arasha and me…