The weather had been growing colder by the day, especially in the suburbs at night, but to a powerful Supernatural Knight and a dragonborn, this bit of cold was clearly nothing.
Asalina stood quietly atop a starlit hill. The imperial capital, illuminated by countless lights, looked like a jewel set beside the White Water River, shining in her eyes far more brilliantly than the stars above. Several winding ribbons of light extended from the city into the dark plains beneath the night sky, linking even more distant lights—that was the busy network of roads and railways, carrying the Empire's lifeblood across this land like arteries.
After the topic of Tarlonnd, she and Byron said nothing for a long time, allowing silence to gradually close in from all directions. After who knew how long, she finally heard that familiar, low voice from beside her. "...It would have been nice if they had lived to see this day..."
"If they were all still alive, you would most likely still be that mercenary captain drifting through the gray areas. And if you were still a mercenary captain, Lady Heti and Miss Rebecca would not have had you at their side when Old Cecil was struck by the Aberrants. Without your strength, Cecil's last spark would have had a hard time surviving that disaster. In that case, even if Gawain Cecil had still been resurrected, the fate of this land would be utterly different from what it is today..." Asalina turned to look at Byron, her eyes glimmering faintly dark red in the night. "I know that sounds a little cold, but Captain, fate is a chain of links."
"...Yes, fate is a chain of links," Byron sighed softly. Then he looked at Asalina with a strange expression. "But you never used to say