Raphael Earhart
Adelais—a rapier I would recognize among thousands. A blade that had become an extension of my hand, without which I couldn't picture myself as a knight. Its weight, balance, even the finest engravings—all felt familiar, as if this sword had never left me.
With a nonchalant yet precise motion, the Patriarch tossed it toward me. Time seemed to slow as the blade shimmered in the air, reflecting the light as though it knew exactly to whom it was returning. I reached out, my fingers closing around the hilt, and the cold metal greeted me like an old friend.
— Of course, — I replied calmly, sliding my thumb over the smooth pommel before storing Adelais in my spatial ring.
— Then you are dismissed.
I bowed, stood, and, feeling the weight of their gazes on my back, walked toward the exit with my sister.
Once the doors shut behind us, the tension melted away, and I exhaled.
