The Knight's Wish

Mythag University Training Grounds At Dusk

The Silver Key glints. You guide the invisible, delicate silver thread in your mind, withdrawing it from the shining dot of light.

Ogier sinks to one knee. With the link severed, he must brace himself with his spear to keep from collapsing entirely.

Thick, black liquid seeps from the corners of his eyes, lips, and ears. His organs are already shattered by amorphous black slime, it's easy to imagine the agony the boy is enduring.

Seeing Ogier teetering closer towards losing control, you decide to wait no longer. You firmly grasp his hands, which now covered in black sludge.

The Silver Key flickers. You steer your mental tendrils through the Gnosis Tempest, crossing stacks of darkness to link with Ogier once more.

Accompanied by a faint, electric-like sting, images flash before your eyes and vanish in an instant.

The signs of frenzy recede like an ebbing tide. Ogier's condition stabilizes, though his youthful face shows a hint of exhaustion.

The stopwatch's hand barely passed half of the circle. Without the link, Ogier couldn't hold out any longer than in the previous training session.

His tone is anxious; after all, this Link-Severance Training was his own idea.

He's been brooding over the anomaly from the day of the Keybestowal Ceremony, fearing that one day he might also lose control and turn his spear against you all. To that end, he wants to enhance his ability to maintain sanity without the link.

Ogier's eyes flicker with resolve, then dim. His voice tinged with self-reproach:

Under his exuberant, puppy-like gaze, you drag your equally exhausted body back to the dormitory.

You perform a quick wash and collapse onto the soft bed. With a silent thanks to Mythag's taste in bedding, your consciousness gradually drifts away...

...

A strange, melodious tune rings out in the darkness, accompanied by the clinking of silver goblets. The dream is brimming with a bustling yet elegant atmosphere.

You roll over and reach for the blanket you kicked off the bed.

Your hand plunges into a sea of mist, grasping what feels like a rain cloud, a touch both real and illusory.

A woman slaps your shoulder hard. The darkness fades, and an unfamiliar scene comes into your view.

A grand hall, an orchestra playing ancient suites in the distance, exquisite and tempting desserts, and noble ladies all gazing at you.

And there, surrounded by them all, is a young girl reclining on a plush chaise.

The girl, addressed by others as the princess, gently comes to your defense.

Fragments of memory flood your mind. They are disjointed and incomplete, but sufficient for you to play the role of this shell, the princess's chief attendant.

Your body bows instinctively. Amidst gazes of both envy and disdain, you weave through the cluster of noblewomen toward the more crowded part of the hall.

You look down at "your" hands. The skin tone is a few shades darker than your own, which are usually hidden under gloves. Fine, faint scar marks are littered across, clearly not the hands of someone raised in luxury.

The ornate gilded vase that you pass on the way further confirms your suspicion...

The reflection it presents is not your face.

A maid darts out from the crowd, her eyes clearly sharper than your own; she spots the familiar "you" instantly amidst the bustling throng.

The maid skillfully parts the crowd with her words while whispering playful remarks to you, leading you right up to the throne.

In the "Dream" Princess's Palace

After your third attempt to wake up only to see no changes in the scene before you, you finally accept the truth: you are trapped in Ogier's memories.

You stand in a corner of the princess's chamber, holding the appearance of a dutiful listener and meekly playing the role of an attendant.

No... that's not right... Perhaps there are other possibilities.

Based on the maid's account, Ogier is currently undergoing training at the Knights' Order. Since Ogier did not participate in this conversation, the hypothesis that this is "Ogier's memory" doesn't hold.

This isn't merely a "memory." Perhaps you've entered a real, historical event, or maybe it's a dream based on someone's subconscious?

If it's the latter, then waking its dreamer might be a way out?

Your thoughts drift further along the faint clues, and just as your "Wake the Dreamer" plan begins to take shape, nails dig sharply into your arm. The pain jolts you back to reality.

The key to escaping the "Dream" must lie with Ogier. Though you are curious about what the world beyond the center of the dream is like, you couldn't stray too far right now.

The princess smiles gently, brushing aside the maid's teasing. She waves you over.

Perfect timing, the princess provided you a perfect reason to approach Ogier.

In the "Dream" Knights' Order Training Ground

Guided by other attendants, you navigate the maze-like castle and gardens until you reach the training grounds.

The crisp clang of blades mixed with cheers and jeers rolls across the field like thunder, people are sparring under the scorching sun.

You do not expect, however, for one of the sparring parties to be Ogier.

In the face of absolute disparity in strength, persistence and determination mean little. The adult knight hasn't even used his full strength, yet the shock of clashing weapons has already caused Ogier to lose the grip in his hands.

The spear is knocked away. Sweat-soaked and breathless, the boy collapses onto the coarse, gravelly ground.

Ogier trembles all over as he bends down to pick up the fallen spear. With great effort, he adjusts his stance, pointing the spear tip at the opposing knight.

The boy's face flushes red from exhaustion and lack of oxygen. Seeing his tenacious will, the Commander who intended to force Ogier to give up through training finally speaks.

The Commander's words ignite Ogier. The boy's eyes light up instantly, brimming with excitement.

The Commander pauses, his gaze softening as he takes in Ogier's scraped, bloodied limbs.

Before the Commander's words even fade, cheeky protest bubbles up from the crowd, the young knights blowing off steam in this light-hearted atmosphere.

Amid the collective wails, Ogier finally relaxes and collapses to the ground with a thud.

Ogier snaps upright instantly. The scrape on his knee drags against the sand, twisting his expression with pain and tension.

You wave him off and pull out a small vial that the princess somehow slipped into your pocket earlier.

The princess "you" serve is a mysterious girl: reclusive, yet gifted with uncanny knowledge of herbal remedies. In your own era, she would be a renowned pharmacist.

But here, in this forgotten age centuries past, her talents are misunderstood. You've heard other attendants secretly call her a "witch" more than once.

Afraid of squandering such a rare remedy, Ogier finally sits down quietly. The other knights gradually leave the field, and you realize this is your chance.

The boy misinterprets your words in a way that best fits the current situation. He sighs with his eyes closed, his voice filled with satisfaction and longing.

Your hesitation catches Ogier's attention. He suddenly grows uneasy, nervously rubbing the hem of his clothes.

Ogier's voice grows quieter with embarrassment, his head sinking lower. Whatever the reason, it clearly shames him.

Speaking of this, Ogier's face turns pale. He looks at you anxiously, as if afraid you'd accuse him of "impure motives" or punish him on the princess's behalf.

The same youthful innocence, the same resilient will. He is undoubtedly the Ogier you know.

Ogier fumbles for his handkerchief, but it is already caked in dust from training. This wipe only makes Olgier's mess even worse.

You drop to one knee, bringing your eyes level with the flustered little puppy, then extend your hand.

This era knows no tradition of pinky promises, but Ogier still somewhat confusedly hooks his little finger around yours.

In the "Dream"

Conspiracies stir in the dark, igniting the fuse laid by the plague. War erupts overnight.

The incurable plague has already spread throughout the Duchy. The city guards, plagued by sickness and pain, are powerless against the invading cavalry.

Even the royal knights have gone beyond the moat by the Grand Duke's orders, joining the last line of defense for the capital.

The knight couldn't find any other reason to refuse. He nods in agreement, and together you return to the palace.

The palace is empty; even that boisterous maid has left. Apart from the three of you, only the princess remains.

You knock on the gilded bedroom door. The sound echoes through the silent halls, hollow and heavy as a tomb's sigh.

There is no response. You wait a moment before knocking again.

Through the heavy wooden door comes the sound of rustling fabric. Someone is struggling to sit up in bed.

The girl's breathing is faint, her voice as thin as a mosquito's hum. It seems that simply responding to you has drained all her strength.

The plague spread unchecked through the Duchy, sparing not even the nobility. The princess fell ill before the war began, and now, she lacks even the strength to leave her bed.

The court physician declared her too frail to be moved from the palace, even the slightest jolt could take her life.

Faint, unsteady footsteps came from inside, followed by the sliding of the door latch...

Ogier struggles to push Sir Fernando's body away from the doorway, then pulls down a curtain to cover the spreading pool of blood before it can seep inside.

The Mutant's spikes pierced through the chest armor and flesh, leaving the chest a bloody mess as if it had exploded from within. Sir Fernando has already died in agony.

You and Ogier exchange a glance, silently wrap the knight's body in a carpet, then sit on the ground before the bedroom door. Grief and anxiety fill the air.

Ogier shakes his head; your shallow comfort clearly failed to soothe him. Just then, a faint knock comes from behind.

Her voice trembles, yet she speaks in a playful tone. Confronted with the looming threat of death, she shows no trace of fear.

A long, resigned sigh comes from behind the door. After a while, the princess speaks to you.

Ogier clutches his weapon tightly, his knuckles white from the force. It is as if the spear in his arms is his family whose fate is unknown, the dying princess, or the forever-gone Fernando.

He stares fixedly at the palace entrance, his mind drifting far away. Not even the loud crash of the gate being struck could bring him back to reality.

The gate is slammed open, but the banner fluttering in the wind isn't the color you hoped for.

The armored boots, carrying sparks and dust, step onto the palace carpet.

This is your favorite carpet in this "Dream." You and the chatty maid spent an entire afternoon selecting it from the Grand Duke's warehouse, and another half-day laying it flat.

The princess left her room, a rare occurrence. She leaned against the railing of the second-floor corridor, leisurely watching the two of you bustle about in the hall below. Ogier, who had come for an audience, was so nervous he didn't know where to place his feet.

Ogier shoves you hard, pushing you under the low table. Your vision spins, and all you can see is the luxurious Persian rug curling at the edges due to the flames.

Ogier raises his spear, blocking the staircase.

The sergeant ignores Ogier's warning, walking up to the chamber door, looking down at Ogier.

Ogier strains to hold the spear horizontally, trying to block the sergeant's advance.

Resistance is a fickle thing in the face of absolute power. The sergeant effortlessly parries Ogier's spear, and with a casual flick of his wrist, drives a dagger deep into the boy's chest.

Blood surges into his windpipe, creating a dull, suffocating agony, like drowning on land. Each breath chokes on the scent of blood.

You want to rush out from under the low table, to shove the sergeant down the stairs, to protect Ogier kneeling by the door. But your body betrays you. Trembling, rigid, it refuses to obey.

The armored boot stomps heavily on Fernando's corpse, accompanied by the clanging of metal and the crisp snap of breaking bones.

Ogier's body thrums with adrenaline, and he snatches up his spear and charges toward the enemy!

Resistance is futile. His attack not only fails to budge the sergeant but also exposes his back to the scout.

Blood pours from his ears. Ogier can't make out every word, but he still catches the most crucial one.

His vision begins to whiten from the edges. Some force is pulling his consciousness out of his youthful body.

He crawls forward, over Fernando's corpse, over the boots of the sergeant and the scout, until his fingers finally touch the heavy wooden door.

The wood feels warm, carrying a slightly pungent fragrance. Behind this door, a gentle voice used to call to him. Now, the only sound left is the steady tick-tock of the water clock.

This time, it's his own spear that pierces deep into the flesh.

The weapon mocked by many and despised by enemies, the one he never let go of from beginning to end.

The spear tip pierces through his body, pinning him to the door. He cannot move.

Ogier's mouth hangs open. The princess's name is on the tip of his tongue, yet he simply could not remember it.

He hears the sound of flowing water. Did the water clock fall? Does that mean... the Princess is still alive?

Enough... Ogier... Thank you...

Thank you... my...

First, a few black streams seep under the door seam, mingling with Ogier's blood, like tears shed for someone.

Then, a torrential flood burst through the doorframe, cracking it open. Roaring and surging, it instantly engulfs the palace.

The plague, invisible to ordinary people, washes over the two intruders. Black ooze gushes into their eyes, nose, and mouth, drowning them in midair.

You describe everything in the absurd dream to Doll. The princess, the knights, the plague...

The feeling of being devoured by D-Slime was all too real. The morning sun shines on the blanket, but the warmth that should feel comforting now makes your body feel as if it is plunged into icy water.

Mythag University Training Ground Morning

The campus broker's calves are bound with weighted sandbags as she tearfully jogs slowly around the track. Ogier jogs alongside her, encouraging her, effortlessly keeping pace without breaking a sweat.

He hands over the supervision of Hannah to another staff and runs towards you.

He has been training with other students and Awakeners all morning, yet he stands before you bright-eyed, brimming with reverence and vigor.

Ogier clearly didn't expect you to suddenly suggest a break. Even you yourself didn't expect it.

That afternoon spent with him in the Knights' Order suddenly appears in your mind. Memories you thought would fade with the dream resurface.

You mutter your itinerary on purpose, striding off without a backward glance. You feel no worry at all.

Because you know he'll follow.