Chapitre 35: Sol Lucet Omnibus
"...You are impressively shameless," Aldric said, his gaze lingering on the stone statue nearby. The blonde-brown-haired man, seated comfortably across from him, remained silent. Aldric's berating words seemed to slide off him like water off a stone, and though Aldric had half a mind to leave him there, his persistence amused him enough to relent.
"What do you need? A place to sleep or a place to eat?" Aldric asked, his tone sharp with impatience.
"I'd like to propose a—"
"No."
Aldric cut him off without hesitation. "A place to sleep or a place to eat," he repeated firmly, his words a barrier against whatever nonsense was about to follow.
The man hesitated for only a moment before replying, "A place to eat would be proper to quench my hunger, sir."
With a sigh, Aldric rose from his spot and motioned for the man to follow. They descended the steps to the restaurant below, settling into the same empty table Aldric had chosen earlier. He gestured in the same dismissive way, allowing the man to make his order without interference.
The man selected chicken stew, bread, ale, and, inexplicably, a side of raw pepper. When the food arrived, he devoured it with a fervor that suggested he hadn't eaten in days.
"What is your name?" Aldric asked absently, his attention drifting to the other patrons and the muted hum of conversations around them in the same previous manner.
The man choked on his chicken at the question, hurriedly downing his mug of ale before waving for another. Once he had regained his composure, he answered, "This one's name shall be Gottfried, sir."
"That right..." Aldric's voice trailed off as a peculiar sense of déjà vu washed over him. He turned his full focus to the man to the break the repetitive order, his mind racing. What are the chances this man is a beast or a knight like him? The thought struck him like a hammer to the chest, and fragments of earlier interactions began falling into place.
And then it hit him: the word. Knight.
He had spoken it earlier in his poem.
An irrefutable mistake, fatally caused by his own ignorance.
Why was I unharmed? Why were people around me unharmed? Why was the beast unharmed?
The realization gnawed at him, his brows furrowing deeply. He should have felt the consequences of uttering such a word. Yet he was fine.
"Has it dawned on you yet?" Gottfried said calmly, his words cutting through Aldric's spiraling thoughts. "You said the word 'knight,' and nothing happened. Why?"
Aldric's gaze snapped to him, his doubt writ large on his face. "How—"
The man said the word now and he is unharmed, how?
"Sir Aldric of the Anvil," Gottfried interrupted smoothly, finishing the last of his meal with a deliberate air. They sat in the corner of the restaurant, out of earshot of prying ears, and Gottfried took full advantage of the privacy. His voice dropped to a solemn tone as he began to speak.
"I am Sir Gottfried. Sir Gottfried of the Old Capital. My title is 'Gottfried the George's Shield'. I have come from the old capital of the world erased, which we—the old ones—remember as the Heels of Aurora."
Aldric's face contorted with disbelief, his confusion spilling out in a single word: "What?!"
The exclamation startled nearby patrons, but Aldric was far beyond caring. His mind reeled, trying to grasp the man's meaning.
"You are—"
"...A knight of the old order of the capital, yes," Gottfried said, finishing Aldric's sentence with an air of calm sincerity. "When the realm was called Evandria, not the Capital."
Aldric simply stared at the man, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he examined him with intense scrutiny. Whether this "Sir Gottfried" spoke the truth or wove lies was a question for later. What gnawed at Aldric now was the shift—the change in the Sanctuary's laws that allowed them to speak the forbidden words without consequence.
"That is why I wished to propose we speak in a more sincere and secluded setting, Sir Aldric," Gottfried said, his tone calm, almost rehearsed.
Aldric's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I am a swordsman?" he asked, deliberately avoiding the forbidden term. He refused to believe the laws had truly changed.
"The way you carry yourself," Gottfried replied without hesitation. "A decorated 'knight'—" Aldric's body tensed as soon as the word left the man's lips, his heart bracing for the telltale burst of agony—but nothing came. They were fine. "—moves with precision and purpose, always in favor of the weak, no matter how cruel one may be to oneself. After all, one does what one can."
Aldric's thoughts churned, deliberately trying to untangle this web of impossibility. The forbidden words flowed freely from Gottfried's tongue, unpunished. It wasn't just a fluke; something immense must have shifted in the foundations of their world to allow such an anomaly. But what?
Even as his mind worked furiously, Aldric decided to pry further into the man seated across from him. "Well," he began, his tone laced with suspicion, "if you've known of me for so long, why approach me only now?"
"I have not known you for long, Sir Aldric," Gottfried replied with a touch of weariness. "I awoke from a slumber of unknown length only recently—perhaps a week ago or less. When I rose, I searched for the remnants of the old world: the Academy of Knights, the Anvil, even the Twilight Halls of the Conjurers. Yet none remained. Desperation drove me, as did hunger and cold. That was when I discovered that Lord Henry of the House of Gillberg was recruiting mercenaries. I joined to earn my keep. It was there I saw you—another knight."
Aldric's brows furrowed deeply. "Wait," he interrupted, leaning forward. "Were you able to say the word knight from the moment you woke?"
"No," Gottfried admitted with a shake of his head. "On the first day, when I introduced myself as a knight to a man in the woods, he… died. His heart exploded, just like I expected mine would. I survived only because of my innate technique."
Aldric's eyes flickered with something unreadable. Innate technique? The words stirred his curiosity. If Gottfried had needed to heal himself, was he not immortal, like Aldric? But Aldric kept the thought to himself. "And then?"
"On the third day, after burying the man," Gottfried continued, "I mistakenly said it again to another man, a woodcutter—but nothing happened. I thought, at first, that the man in the woods had died because I'd activated some witch's curse buried deep in me- although he did die because of me only in the first place and my guilt is immense. But that wasn't it. I searched far and wide, asking about knights, the capital—Heels of Aurora. Nothing. The Twilight Halls? No answer.
"I asked about the west, north, and south, but only when I mentioned the east—Tear Drip—did I receive a clue. I learned it had moved south and was now called Dripping Heart. There, I discovered the Anvil was still remembered and remained, but it had changed. Hunters were all that remained, and finally… I found you, Sir Aldric."
Gottfried bowed a little across the table. "Although, I have not heard much about your accomplishments here, I have had certainly heard much about you back in the days of old."
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
DaoistpMEI89
DaoistpMEI89 Shoutout to my readers who genuinely read and enjoy the series even though I am so bad at narrating it
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone