### Chapter 106: Light and Dark (Part Three)
It had been almost ten days since the Iron Guard besieged the city and Peilo left the academy.
For Sophia, this was a torturous time. Though she wouldn’t show it on the outside, inside she was a nervous wreck, quaking in her boots every single day.
Her mother and brothers had already left the Royal City, and the noble friends she used to be close with had gradually made their exits too. Families with any connections saw their kids trickle out of the academy like leaky faucets; every day she found fewer and fewer students in class. This trend had only grown worse since the day the catapult sent stones crashing into the South City wall. After the Rest Zone, nobles were practically extinct at the academy.
But Sophia stayed put.
Making that decision had been downright agonizing. For the first two days, she barely slept, each news of a familiar face leaving squeezing her heart just a little tighter. A flicker of regret sometimes danced through her mind:
If only I had followed my mother when I had the chance…
But that was just a fleeting thought in those early days.
The noise coming from the South City wall had shaken Sophia to her core. She had read about wars in storybooks, but to find herself in such a situation was beyond her wildest imagination. Most people in the city probably felt the same way.
This was the Royal City, after all…
Yet that day she watched fireballs crash down, terrifyingly monstrous—she could almost hear the scream of countless souls extinguished in an instant. It wasn’t like those little sparks her friends strutted around with; this was a whole new level of chaos.
Sophia wasn’t unfamiliar with truly strong individuals. The teachers at the Royal Academy had made quite a reputation for themselves—one after another impossibly formidable. Yet after that day, she couldn’t help but wonder: even those teachers would have been roasted alive had they faced such an assault directly…
No matter how mighty an individual, or how strong the bonds of order might be, heroes would feel as helpless as common soldiers before a tidal wave of thousands. If that weren’t true, why wouldn’t Her Majesty the Queen just wield her sword and wipe out the enemies to the last?
Her Majesty was the Pope Knight, the most powerful figure in the Royal City.
Sophia was stunned.
But soon enough, she adjusted her mindset.
I am different from those who ran away.
They fled out of fear; I am afraid too, but I will not run.
If running away is your choice when fear strikes, how can such people ever achieve anything? How can they bear the responsibility of their families?
Sophia understood that her father supported Her Majesty in secret. In this urgent time, it was a perfect opportunity for him to showcase his abilities and loyalty. He had a lot to manage, yet the immediate task was to store emergency supplies and food in the North District. Most of the residents from outside the city had been relocated there, all under her father’s jurisdiction.
The city wouldn’t fall, but how long would the fighting outside continue? No one knew. The longer it dragged on, the more the resources in the city—food and medicine—would dwindle. Her father’s role in managing the backup supplies would become crucial. If he handled this well, easing Her Majesty’s concerns, perhaps after the war, he’d consider moving closer to the palace.
But her father didn’t have many people he could rely on.
The longer the war stretched, the more troublesome issues arose. Those cheerful faces from before, who could be trusted and who could not, were like night and day. Recently, someone had learned about the situation from somewhere and approached her father with dubious intentions—a fact Sophia was acutely aware of. The more chaotic the time, the more cautious one must be. Stances were vital; she couldn’t be overly accommodating or craft her own clever schemes.
So, for the next few days, Sophia practically skipped the academy. She requested leave, bid farewell to the two silly girls still hanging around the dorm, and ran daily to where her father was handling affairs, enthusiastically volunteering to be his messenger. Most of the time, she was just dashing around delivering letters, but that job required a trust that only the most loyal could manage, as any information delivered could leak.
Sophia was cautious—every time, she handed the letters directly to the messenger, never allowing them to be taken by a servant. If she couldn’t meet the person directly, she’d wait or hunt them down. Once she delivered the intel, she would rush back to report to her father, detailing the recipient’s responses and even describing their subtle expressions. When words needed to be delivered, she made sure to memorize every single word, communicating it back verbatim.
She loved the way her father’s face glowed with approval as the days passed. He transitioned from a silent demeanor to gradually sharing information and discussing serious matters with her. She could tell he was starting to regard her as a “partner” instead of just an untested daughter, which filled her with joy.
Slowly, her father began assigning her more critical tasks and sometimes even allowed her to sit in on discussions, sharing the situations outside the castle each evening.
The Iron Guard attacked the city day and night, hardly ever letting up. They even dug tunnels, trying to breach the city from below, but their efforts seemed to have stalled; after a few days, the army began to show signs of fatigue.
Their enemy’s situation was unstable. As her father told her, the Old Duke was thrown into prison after that fateful night. People were worried he couldn’t keep his promises and led a riot. The Clive family’s reputation plunged, and the eldest son leading the charge outside seemed to have caused some casualties, gradually quieting the chaos. But that was just a temporary fix—the promised reinforcements had yet to arrive, and the morale of the Iron Guard was plummeting. It wouldn’t be long before they descended into disarray.
Some of the earls and marquesses who attended Her Majesty’s birthday feast had remained in the city, dispatching ravens to distant territories. Reports suggested that reinforcements, numbering nearly thirty thousand, were on their way.
Prior to that, Her Majesty had already sent out several couriers on missions—to convince bards to stir up support among nearby towns and villages, urging those who couldn’t or wouldn’t leave to take up arms and resist the plundering marauders. Such actions would likely bear fruit soon enough.
Her father shared a great deal; some of it Sophia grasped, and she diligently asked questions about what she didn’t understand until everything was crystal clear. Soon, she realized one thing: this siege wouldn’t last much longer; Her Majesty would secure victory before long.
With that knowledge, Sophia felt a sense of ease wash over her.
She became increasingly dedicated to helping her father, and she had visited the palace several times. Once, she even met Her Majesty herself.
And that had her buzzing with excitement for an entire day.
What a stunning woman!
She wasn’t much older than Sophia, but she radiated authority—so intimidating that Sophia found it hard to speak loudly…
But this was a fantastic start.
None of her noble friends had been fortunate enough to meet Her Majesty; Sophia was the first. It was precisely because she hadn’t left the city that such an opportunity presented itself.
Perhaps if she kept at it, Her Majesty might remember her?
Remember that there was a girl from the Jiaslin family who, while her peers fled, stayed behind to actively assist her father with affairs and contribute towards the defense of the city?
Thinking of this got Sophia all giddy.
But then she remembered that night filled with clinking glasses—a petite girl squeezed in between high-ranking nobles, walking side-by-side with Her Majesty. Peilo, who always seemed a tad goofy, had just been munching on snacks.
The little princess of Duke Skarlick’s family from the Valen Empire—Peilo, the genuine Little Princess of Shanter Castle.
Her father had said she needed to maintain good relations with such individuals.
But what was it about Peilo that allowed her to be so close to Her Majesty? Surely even her noble father, the powerful King of Tricks, wouldn’t receive such special treatment in the Royal City… It was a known fact that Her Majesty wasn’t keen on being close with anyone; it was unheard of for someone to stroll in and out of official events alongside her unless that person was a king.
Yet Peilo…
Sophia knew there had to be things she didn’t understand, but she simply couldn’t grasp why Her Majesty held Peilo in such high regard. What could she possibly do? She looked so silly that maybe bribing her with a snack was all it would take… It’s hard to believe she’s the daughter of a duke… Spoiled rotten from childhood, perhaps?
But that day, the Saintess Class came looking for Peilo, seemingly in a hurry, and whisked her away.
After that day, Peilo never reappeared.
Sophia thought that perhaps Peilo had already left the Royal City.
She remembered it was the same day the Iron Guard began their assault… Was her father somehow involved in sending Peilo to safety through church connections?
The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
But to have swayed members of the Saintess Class… Surely the current Lady Saint Margaret wasn’t an easy one to deal with? The connections and power the Duke of Skarlick wielded were terrifying… No wonder Peilo wouldn’t want to leave through her channels…
Having such a father must be so wonderful.
And Sophia didn’t complain or express dissatisfaction. She quietly made a resolution—one day she would achieve something myself and protect my daughter in that way.
As for a son, meh. Men must be independent and strong; otherwise, they would end up just like those foolish nobles at the academy.
But her optimism was shattered by sudden news.
Reinforcements for the Iron Guard had arrived, rushing toward them from fifty miles away—over twenty thousand strong.
Sophia remembered her father’s face when he told her the news, worry etched all over it. She knew things weren’t simple. Sure enough, a few hours later, she heard that Old Leikmon’s stronghold had fallen; the Iron Guard had chained up his entire family of twenty, from the old lady to all the household staff, all dressed in prison garb, being briskly marched this way. Their delay was due to this reason.
Sophia felt her heart chill. She realized that Old Leikmon’s fall was catastrophic for the city’s defenses.
Her father had been grim all day, and when she later tried to ask him about things, he fell silent. And then she heard the shocking news: Her Majesty had been attacked.
It was Old Leikmon’s doing.
Before she could process whether this news was true or not, chaos erupted within the city.
Everything had transpired too rapidly, leaving even her father a bit dazed. He had mostly stayed in the North District, and since the uprisings began, he had nearly cut off all communication with the outside world. All he knew was that the walls were breaking down, and chaos reigned at the city center, countless lives lost. In just one night, the enemy seemed to have breached the palace, leaving Her Majesty severely injured, with whispers already circulating that she might be dead.
Her father hadn’t slept a wink that night. Sophia stayed by his side, unable to rest either.
As dawn approached, a squad of soldiers arrived. Her father hurriedly hid her in a side study in his office, urging her not to come out regardless of what happened. He told her to find an opportunity to escape.
In that moment, Sophia was terrified.
She trembled, watching her father’s retreating figure, unable to utter a single word.
Sophia hid in the study for what felt like an eternity until the sun had fully risen. The cacophony of yelling from outside filled the air; many people were fleeing. She too wanted to escape but found her legs helplessly weak, unable to move.
Then her father returned. When the door swung open, Sophia caught a glimpse of his waning face and threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
He comforted her, saying it was okay. The soldiers had left; they hadn’t harmed him, only informed him that Old Leikmon was winning, telling him to prepare to escape once the storm passed. It seemed some of them had once been helped by her father.
But her father insisted he would hold out to the last moment. He didn’t believe Her Majesty could lose, yet he urged her to leave, hide in the church just two streets away, which was the safest place left. He would take care of the rest.
Sophia hesitated.
She wanted to stay and accompany her father, but her fear was too overwhelming.
In the end, she slipped out the back door, trying to avoid the crowds, and ran toward the church. She vowed she’d never run this fast in her life, practically gritting her teeth to escape. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind; she tossed aside all notions of decorum and elegance. She had never envied Sarah before, but at that moment, she longed for Sarah’s robust physique.
Sophia stumbled, tearing her dress and scraping her knee. Amidst the pain, she lay there for what felt like ages, and it was then she heard a deafening roar echo through the sky above her. Peering up, she saw a black meteor streak past, quickly plummeting into an alley, presumably hitting a rooftop.
She had no idea what it was. She had never witnessed such power before. But she was too scared to contemplate anything else; all her thoughts were consumed by the desire to reach safety at the church, so she forced herself to get up and hobbled forward.
Boom—
The violent explosion reverberated.
Sophia’s heart quivered, and as she looked toward the street, half-obscured by rows of houses, a brilliant white light flared up. Clouds of dust erupted, and black sparks floated upward.
Sophia couldn’t see what was happening; she just understood that it was something terrifying. The shouts from that direction grew louder, and the soldiers who had previously sought her father seemed to have moved in that direction. Fear gripped Sophia tighter, and she gritted her teeth, enduring the pain as she hurried along. Just as she was nearing the edge of the street, another horrifying fireball shot up into the sky.
Then came the chilling, spine-tingling screams.
They’re dead…
Terror made Sophia tremble uncontrollably, her teeth rattling as her mind blanked. She didn’t know whether to keep running or hide, uncertain of how she’d escape unharmed. She stood at the street corner, frozen, watching someone dart past nearby, only to be intercepted by a shower of black flames descending from the sky.
That seemed to be a girl.
With wings of black flames sprouting from her back, she descended from above like a tempest, fire and smoke spilling onto the ground. A pale azure light flickered around her before quickly getting absorbed into her form, her figure reminiscent of a bloodthirsty demon from a story, yet she wore a strangely oversized nun’s robe, cradling someone in her arms.
The wind coursed around Sophia, nearly blinding her.
In the next instant, a shrill scream erupted right before her.
Sophia covered her ears.
By the time she registered it, the girl had sliced off both legs of the man beneath her, standing triumphantly on his face.
“The Gate of Truth…”
The delicate, melodious voice coming from the girl pierced Sophia’s ears and felt unnervingly familiar.
“P-Peilo…”
It slipped from her lips involuntarily.
Then she saw the girl turn her head, unveiling that familiar beautiful face she had spent countless hours with.
Both froze in astonishment.
“I’m not—”
The girl seemed to instinctively deny it, but this only solidified Sophia’s belief that she was indeed Peilo.
What on earth…
What is this…?
Peilo… what are you?!
Wait a moment, the person she’s holding… has blonde hair… blonde hair…
What the heck…?
Sophia’s mind was a jumbled mess.
In the next moment, she noticed Peilo quickly turn her head, hiding her face from view as her wings spread out. Just at that moment, the man she had stepped on shouted angrily, crimson flames billowing from his eyes.
