Bab 120: Failure Of Perfection

The young lady stood in the garden, her expression vacant as she observed her knights assembled before her. 

Dressed in their gleaming armor, they stood in complete silence, motionless like statues. Not a twitch, not a breath.

It was then that she spoke, her voice soft yet commanding, a whisper that carried the weight of unshakable authority.

"Fly," she ordered one of the knights.

The word hung in the air, absurd and impossible. If there was any sane servant in this mansion, their immediate reaction should be confusion. A human knight, flying? Even these bizarre, soulless beings had their limits—or so I thought.

One of the knights, faceless behind his helmet, stepped forward without hesitation. He moved to the center of attention, standing tall as if preparing for something monumental. 

But he didn't speak, didn't react. He simply stood there, frozen as the seconds ticked by, the weight of the impossible command settling on him like a shroud.