Vol 1 Chapter 11: Epilog - The Knight Who Failed to Protect

Hestia's Guilt

POV: Hestia Neville

The Arclight sky was so blue… but to Hestia Neville, there was no light in her heart.

In the palace training courtyard, the sound of clashing swords didn't sound majestic. Instead, it was trembling.

Hestia's grip weakened. Her sword's swing lacked sharpness—it lost its form, its meaning.

Tsk!

Her sword fell to the ground, hitting the stone floor with a sound more painful than a thousand reproaches.

Hestia knelt. Her dashing body, clad in light plate, looked fragile, her shoulders drooping like a sky exhausted from supporting clouds. Her blonde hair was a mess, covering eyes filled with… guilt.

“I should have protected Lune…”

The sound was nothing more than a heartbroken whisper. She lowered her head further, until her forehead touched the hilt of her sword.

“It hasn't even been a day… since the Queen gave that order. And I… failed.”

The autumn breeze gently touched her cheek. But it couldn't cool the burning remorse in her chest. Her hands clenched into fists.

“If only I had come along back then… if only I hadn’t left him alone in the garden…”

Hestia stared out the window of Lune’s silent room. Ever since the Prince had fallen asleep under an unknown curse, time had seemed to stand still. Not just for the palace—but for Hestia, too.

She hugged herself, as if trying to preserve whatever warmth she had left. But all she felt was… cold.

Colder than the night. Sharper than a wound on the battlefield.

“I… am no knight… nothing…”

And amidst her sighs of regret… memories came, bringing a glimmer of the past.

—

Hestia’s Childhood Flashback

Arclight, seven years ago.

The Nevilles were the royal family’s protective wall. But that wall was too high for a little girl named Hestia. Young Hestia—a blonde girl with eyes full of ambition—practised swordplay with a burning passion. Before her stood Gerand Neville, her dashing brother, a perfect figure idolised by many young warriors.

“Haaah!” Hestia exclaimed, swinging with all her might.

But her sword only sliced through the wind. Gerand dodged easily, then parried with a subtle but powerful counter-blow.

“You’re too predictable,” he said flatly.

Hestia gritted her teeth. She attacked again. But…

Tap!

One slash—and Hestia’s small body fell to the floor.
Her breath hitched. Her chest pounded. But not from exhaustion. From… doubt.
Gerand stared at her with inexplicable eyes. A mix of disappointment and… cold affection.

“Your sword is lifeless, Hestia.”

“If you want to be a knight, find the ‘soul’ of your slash.”

“Otherwise… just be a good girl.”

He left the room. No hug. No apology.

Silence.
The only sound was Hestia’s heart, slowly fading in the large training room, too cold for a girl as small as her.

“So… I’m not worthy of being a knight?”

—

Little Hestia's Restlessness

Hestia locked herself in her room. No training. No sound. Just silence.

Until one night… a soft knock was heard.

Knock… knock… knock…

“Hestia, it's Father.”

She opened the door.

And before her stood a dignified, middle-aged man—her father—with eyes that held a wound deeper than a child could comprehend.

“What makes my daughter gloomy like a stormy sky, hm?”

At first, Hestia didn't answer. But her father sat on the edge of the bed, silently keeping her company. Until finally…

“I lost in training with Brother Gerand…”

“He said… my sword had no life.”

“He said… I'd better be a good girl.”

Hestia's father sighed softly. Then he smiled faintly, but his eyes weren't laughing. It was… a look of gentle sadness.

“Being a knight isn't about winning or losing.”

“It's not about being strong or not.”

“What matters is… why you raised that sword.”

“If you don’t know why, then find your own.”

Hestia lowered her head. But her heart began to feel a little warm.
Her father stood up and said,

“Tomorrow, I’m assigned to the palace. Want to come?”

“Who knows… your answer is there.”

—

A Meeting of Two Children in the Arclight Sky

The palace sky that day was as clean as new linen.

The air was fresh, and the breeze carried the scent of young pine needles growing around the central garden.

At the eastern gate of Arclight Palace, a man in the uniform of a guard commander stood tall, his left hand holding the small hand of a blonde girl in a training uniform.

Hestia Neville, daughter of a royal guard family, walked a little nervously beside her father, Muller Neville, toward the throne room.

Their footsteps echoed softly in the white marble hallway. The footsteps of a proud father. The footsteps of a child… searching for meaning in herself.
Upon arriving at the throne room, the King of Arclight greeted them with warm eyes.

“So this is your beloved daughter, Muller?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. She is my daughter, Hestia.”

Her father bowed politely, followed by little Hestia. Small but determined, she bowed respectfully with the typical knightly gesture.

The King smiled.

“Little Hestia, you are a good girl. Following your father on duty? How sweet.”

“I wonder, Your Majesty.”

“Want to know what?” the King asked in a curious tone.

Hestia looked straight into his eyes. Full of determination. Full of doubt.

“I want to know… what I can protect. To become a knight… like Father.”

For a moment, silence fell over the large room.
King Arclight laughed softly.

“I see. Why don’t you play with my son, Lune? Perhaps there you will find the answer.”

—

At the Training Grounds

The palace training grounds were filled with youthful vigour. Young knights were sparring, and all eyes were fixed on one child: little Lune, the nine-year-old Prince of Arclight, standing with a wooden sword in his hand. With a swift movement, Lune managed to strike down her larger opponent.

“The Prince is truly amazing!”

“His last slash was incredible!”

The greeting made Lune's face flush slightly. But she remained humble, politely sheathing her wooden sword.
Until… a voice called out.

“Little Lune, come here, child.”

Lune jogged over to the King and looked at little Hestia standing next to her father.

“This is Hestia, daughter of Muller. Get along well with her.”

Lune smiled brightly.

“Of course, Father!”

Lune turned and bowed slightly politely.

“Let me introduce myself. My name is Lune Arclight.”

His smile was soft, as if all the sunlight was shining on his face at that moment.

Hestia froze. Her heart beat a little faster. It was as if her body recognised something… that her mind couldn't yet explain.

“Hestia, are you alright?” her father asked softly.

Hestia gasped softly, her cheeks flushing.

“Sorry… I’m a little nervous. Let me introduce myself, my name is Hestia Neville,” she said with a neat bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hestia. I hope we can become good friends.”

“Of course… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince.”

They shook hands. Their small fingers met briefly. But for Hestia… the warmth lingered for a long time.

—

Days Together

The following days passed like a spring dream.

Every time her father was assigned to the palace, little Hestia went along. And each time she arrived… she was greeted by little Lune waiting at the gate of the palace garden.

They played. They practised. They laughed.

And one day, they sparred.

“Hyaah!” Hestia shouted, swinging her wooden sword at Lune.

Lune dodged easily. Again. And again.

Hestia didn’t give up, continuing to attack, even as sweat began to pour down her small forehead.

Finally, when her strength weakened, her sword was deflected and sent flying. Hestia fell to her knees.

“Hestia! Are you all right?” Lune rushed to her.

Her hand was outstretched.

Hestia looked up at his face. A face as radiant as the morning.

“I’m fine, Prince Lune. Thank you.”

“Thank goodness… I was worried I’d hurt you.”

They sat on the edge of the training field, under the shade of a tree. Their breathing was still unsteady, but their hearts felt calm.

“Lune… do you think… I’m not worthy of being a knight?”

Lune turned around.

“Why do you ask that, Hestia?”

“My Big Brother said… my sword doesn’t have a ‘soul.’ If I can’t find it… I should just be a good girl.”

Hestia’s hands trembled as she said this. But Lune just… stared at her for a long moment. Then she said innocently:

“I think anyone can be a knight.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because a knight… is someone who protects the people they love, right?”

“I don’t know about the ‘sword’s soul,’ but I do know… if you stand up for the weak and fight for those you care about… that means you’re already a knight.”

Hestia fell silent. Her eyes slowly filled with tears.

“Thank you, Lune…” she whispered.

“You’re right.”

“Perhaps my answer isn’t perfect,” Lune said, scratching the back of his head, “but I hope… You can find your own ‘sword’s soul’ someday.”

Hestia chuckled softly. Looking at Lune, her smile was like a small light in the dark chamber of her heart.

In her heart, a small, once trembling voice now spoke firmly:

“I don’t know why I raise my sword…”

“But if I can use this sword to protect that smile—your smile, Lune… then I will keep swinging it.”

—

Flashback Epilogue

From that day on, Hestia trained relentlessly.

Not to prove herself to her brother.
Not for a title.
But for something… far more tender than pride: a secret love for the light that once held her hand.

Years passed.
And one day, the Queen proposed a name to be Prince Lune’s guard.

The King agreed.
And that name was…
Hestia Neville.

—

Back to the Present

The dusk sky hung over Arclight Palace.

Thin orange light filtered through the corridor windows, sweeping across the marble walls like an unfinished painting.

The sound of light steel shoes rang out softly...

The thump was muffled, but each step carried an invisible weight—the burden of guilt, the burden of unfulfilled promises, the burden of love that could only be borne in silence.

Hestia Neville walked down the palace corridor. Her steps were calm, but her heart was like a stormy lake. Her hands were clenched weakly. Her eyes stared straight ahead.

And when she reached the end of the corridor... she stopped.

The door to Prince Lune's chambers. The place where the figure she had protected now slept in an endless sleep. However, before she could touch the doorknob...

“... ”

The door opened from the inside. And from behind it, a girl with blue hair, eyes as deep as rubies, dressed in an elegant gown that even in silence radiated superiority.

Rubea de Bluesky.
Prince Lune's fiancée.
And a rival Hestia never said aloud, but always felt deep within.

Those violet eyes stared at her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, cold as winter glass.

Hestia bowed politely. Her voice was low.

“I want to protect the Prince.”

Rubea was silent for a moment. Then she answered matter-of-factly:

“You have failed.”

The words were sharp.
Like arrows that struck without mercy.
Hestia didn’t deny it. She didn’t defend herself. She simply replied softly:

“I know.”

Rubea stared at her silently. Her eyes weren’t shouting, but judging.

“Then… go. Leave Lune alone.”

Hestia didn’t back down. Although her face remained downcast, her voice was firmer this time.

“I have indeed failed… but I still have responsibilities on my shoulders. Besides, the Queen hasn’t revoked her order.”

Those words made Rubea pause for a moment.

Then, she stepped past Hestia. Their shoulders didn’t touch, but the air between them was tense.

And as he passed Hestia, he paused—close enough for only the two of them to hear.

“You’re just a guard.”

“Don’t get too close to Lune. I’m her only fiancé.”

Those words weren’t just a warning. They were a boundary.

The boundary between those who deserve it… and those who don’t.

Hestia didn’t answer.
Her expression remained. But her eyes… held a silent storm.

Rubea left, her dress waving a cold farewell.

—

A Knight’s Will

Hestia looked back at the bedroom door.
Her hand reached for the knob slowly.
Then she turned.
The door creaked softly. A crack opened.
And inside, she saw—

Lune.
Asleep on the bed, his face peaceful… as if he never knew the world could be this painful.

Hestia stood in the doorway. Her feet wanted to step inside.

But something stopped her.
Maybe shame.
Maybe guilt.
Or maybe… a love too deep to be hurt by a mere presence.

Her hand released the doorknob.
The door closed gently.

Click.
Silence.

Hestia stood upright in front of the room's door.

Her back was straight, her hands at her sides. Her eyes gazed out the window of the long corridor at the night sky.

The stars began to rise one by one. But the one she longed to see most… still slept in the darkness.

“Lune…”

“The reason I wielded my sword… was to protect you.”

“I may have failed.”

“But… if you allow me… to stand by your side once more…”

“This time, I will not fail.”

No one answered.

But the night breeze gently brushed Hestia's face.

It was as if the heavens themselves accepted her oath.

And before the room, a knight stood.

Not because of duty.
Not because of the title.
But because of love… that still longed to atone for the wounds.