Chapter 8: Bonfire

By the time the campfire in the center of the camp was lit, the twilight had completely faded into night. Sparks rose into the night wind like countless tiny meteors. After the attendants returned from the town with wine and food, they gathered around the massive bonfire, their singing and laughter swaying along with the dancing flames.

Loran and the others sat by a smaller campfire a short distance away.

Ailiya finally picked up the plate with a satisfied expression after arranging the last roasted shrimp. She had prepared the fruit wine herself, mixing in some honey and bay leaves to keep the alcohol content low. She had also grilled the shrimp by the fire until the shells were crispy and the meat tender, drizzling them with a specially prepared sauce.

Ailiya’s skills were as excellent as ever; the fruit wine was sweet and refreshing, and the roasted shrimp were delicious. Everyone praised the meal, but Loran alone ate with a hint of distraction.

His mind was entirely occupied by the Iron Book.

‘Why did that golden line suddenly grow longer?’

“Loran.”

A voice sounded in his ear. Loran snapped back to reality, realizing that Keluowei had somehow moved next to him, sitting so close that their shoulders almost touched.

“Your Highness?”

He instinctively tried to create some distance, but Keluowei quietly tugged on his sleeve.

“You… seem to care a lot about Ofiliya?” the young girl asked, feigning nonchalance.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because ever since she appeared, you seem to have been watching her.”

Loran remained silent for a moment before draining his fruit wine in one gulp.

“On one hand, I’m curious about what kind of person Your Highness’s childhood friend really is. On the other… she is also heading to the Capital to participate in the Sacred Rite. In other words, Lady Ofiliya is one of the competitors for this year’s Tianmian Class at the Academy.”

Keluowei gave a thoughtful hum. She lowered her head, her silver hair sliding off her shoulder to obscure half of her face.

“Ofiliya… has been a genius and a role model in the eyes of others since she was a child. Competing against someone like her, I…”

Loran pursed his lips. Then, taking advantage of the moment while Ailiya was looking down to organize the tableware, he reached out and quickly pinched Keluowei’s cheek.

Keluowei let out a small cry and jerked her head up, meeting the boy’s eyes as he pretended nothing had happened.

“No matter what you do, you must have confidence first. If you don’t try, how will you know if you’ll succeed?”

Suddenly, a commotion broke out from the direction of the large bonfire. The crisp sound of wooden swords clashing cut through the night, mingled with the shouts and laughter of the knights.

The group looked over to see the knights of Branshue House and the guards of Lufiniyasi House forming a circle. They were holding wooden swords coated in white ash, stretching their limbs for some post-meal exercise.

Curious, Loran went to check on the situation. As he approached the crowd, he noticed that most of the knights from Lufiniyasi House were hanging their heads.

“What’s going on?”

The issue wasn’t complicated; it was simply a case of knights from two houses wanting to test their skills after some drinks.

The rules were simple: each house would provide ten men for a gauntlet match. The loser would leave the field while the winner stayed, continuing until one side had no more people to send out.

At the moment, Lufiniyasi House had only one man left. He stood a short distance away, clutching his wooden sword, his palms drenched in sweat. On the opposing side, five men from Branshue House remained, standing in a row like a solid wall.

Having understood the situation, Loran scratched his head and walked over to the final knight, reaching out his hand.

“How about letting me try?”

The last knight froze for a second before reacting and handing over the wooden sword.

Loran weighed the wooden sword in his hand, familiarizing himself with its center of gravity and feel before walking into the center of the clearing.

The knights of Branshue House exchanged glances before sending out their first man. He was a young knight with steady footwork, and he even performed a flashy sword flourish as he took the field.

It had to be said that the knights of Branshue House were indeed stronger. However, to Loran, who had been put through a “military drill” by Slud for several years, their movements were far too sluggish.

That knight lasted for only three breaths.

During the first breath, Loran sidestepped to dodge. During the second, he raised his sword. During the third… the knight’s wooden sword flew from his grip, carving an arc through the air before plunging into the snow.

The cheers that the onlookers had prepared caught in their throats.

Then came the second knight, the third, and the fourth… gradually, the knights of Branshue House could no longer bring themselves to smile.

The final person to anchor the team was the lead Branshue knight from earlier. He looked older than the others.

Initially, his gaze toward Loran held a habitual contempt. After all, in his eyes, a youth like Loran likely only knew some flashy swordsmanship used to show off or entertain women.

But when four of his companions were defeated in quick succession, his mocking gaze changed.

The knight crouched low and held his wooden sword level, performing a standard duel salute.

Loran returned the salute, the tip of his sword touching the ground.

Two figures collided in the firelight, the dull thud of wooden swords echoing through the camp. This time, Loran finally felt a bit of pressure.

The opponent’s sword was heavy and solid, and his angles of attack were cunning and experienced. He truly deserved the title of captain.

The sound of clashing wooden swords drowned out the wind. The surrounding crowd erupted in cheers, wave after wave, until they disturbed the two figures standing together in the distance.

Keluowei and Ofiliya walked over, one behind the other, both looking toward the figure of the youth silhouetted clearly by the firelight.

The moment the wooden sword was knocked away, the knight didn’t even realize what had happened. He stared blankly at his empty palm, his expression one of utter disbelief.

The knights of Lufiniyasi waited a moment before erupting into cheers.

“I yield.”

Loran reached out to pull the knight, who was still sitting on the ground, back to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the three figures standing nearby. The knights naturally saw their own family head as well; after standing up, they knelt on one knee to ask Ofiliya for forgiveness.

“It’s fine,” Ofiliya said calmly. “It was just a spar. What crime is there to forgive?”

She gave a thin smile that looked exceptionally soft in the firelight.

“Besides, you did very well.”

The knight was slightly startled, then lowered his head even further.

The crowd dispersed as the alcohol and adrenaline slowly cooled. The wooden swords were put away as if nothing had happened.

Ofiliya remained where she was. She walked up to Loran, tilting her head as she scrutinized him carefully.

“Mr. Loran… you truly are a special person.”

The camp gradually returned to silence. Keluowei stepped forward as if she wanted to say something to Loran, but she was half-dragged into the tent by Ofiliya.

The silver-haired girl looked back at Loran with a hint of reluctance, but the boy had already gone to help Ailiya clean up the remains of the meal.

***

At midnight, Loran lay in his tent but found himself completely unable to sleep. His mind was filled with the final images of the last loop… the sky filled with fire, the collapsing Sanctum, and the Saint Sword that had pierced through his chest.

The youth sat up and poured himself a cup of wine before leaving the tent and sitting down by the campfire.

The flames were no longer as vigorous as before, yet they continued to flicker stubbornly.

Before he could take more than two sips, he heard the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow beside him. A figure sat down next to him, bringing a familiar scent. Loran looked up — it was Ailiya. She had let her hair down, and it cascaded like a waterfall. She held a wine cup in her hand as well.

“Ever since Lady Ofiliya appeared, you’ve been restless,” she said softly, her usual cold tone greatly diminished. “Is something bothering you?”

Loran wasn’t sure if it was just an illusion, but under the glow of the firelight, Ailiya’s already gentle face seemed even more tender.