The Scars of the Rose Knight

As night fell and inside the tent, Knight Ilivy watched Anto enter, then instinctively rose and headed outside:

“My Lord, the ground has been prepared. I shall stand watch outside now; please rest well.”

“There are others on watch outside, Knight,” Anto replied, settling onto a blanket. The blankets provided here were specially prepared by the Church, far more comfortable than those issued to common soldiers. In fact, the medical team’s supplies were remarkably abundant, almost luxurious—likely due to King of Draynes’s willingness to extend goodwill and Rhys’s audacity in arranging such lavish provisions.

“…You’ve worked hard today,” Anto suddenly murmured from the blanket. Ilivy shook her head.

“It was merely my duty, Lord Anto…” Ilivy began, but Anto shook his head, cutting her off.

“That’s not what I meant, Knight. I thank you for your restraint today.” These sudden words startled Ilivy, but Anto continued:

“Those people certainly said some overly harsh things today, and your ability to hold back was truly commendable.”

“…Thank you,” Ilivy responded, nodding after hearing his words. Anto, still seated beside her, continued:

“Although I am young and perhaps a little naive, I am not foolish. Knight… there’s truly no need for such formality between us. I believe we should be able to speak more openly, otherwise, it will be quite dull,” Anto stated. “In fact, if you… if you wish to become my personal attendant, then our relationship cannot remain purely that of superior and subordinate. At the very least, we must come to understand each other, mustn’t we?”

“…Lord Anto,” Ilivy began. Anto gestured to the spot beside him. “Please, sit. There’s no need for such deference; it makes conversation truly exhausting. Outside, I already have to be so demanding of myself to survive. Here, let me relax just a little.”

Ilivy listened, then settled down beside Anto. He removed his hat, then hugged a pillow close. In the confined space, he curled up, resting his head on the soft pillow in his arms. The capable and kind nun he presented to the outside world now finally allowed a weary expression to cross his face:

“Phew… after all, you’re the only one here who knows my secret, so please, don’t make me keep up appearances even in front of you. Ugh, it truly was terrifying when those people surrounded us; my heart genuinely skipped a beat.” He sighed, lamenting, while Ilivy countered, “Yet, my Lord stopped me and resolved the crisis with such composure.”

“That’s only because you stood in front of me that I realized I could do it,” Anto whispered, clutching the pillow. “Otherwise, I would have truly wanted to run away… desperately wanted to run away.”

The Anto here was not the composed and unhurried Sister Antolia, the beacon of light to everyone outside the tent. Inside, there was only Anto, a boy of thirteen or fourteen, forced to leave his home at such a young age, only to return to this perilous land. He might appear calm, steady, and dependable, but that didn’t mean he truly didn’t need someone to rely on.

“If not for you, I would truly be alone here,” Anto confessed. “So… I want to understand you better. It’s quite simple, really. I don’t even know your background, your preferences, and you haven’t revealed any of these things to me. I don’t truly know you, do I?”

“Lord Anto, do you wish to know me?” Ilivy asked, pondering as she sat beside him. “…Is that so? Then…” With that, she suddenly reached out and began to systematically remove her armor. As the knight shed her heavy plate, leaving only her undergarments, and prepared to take a further step, Anto hastily intervened:

“Ah, no… that’s not the kind of understanding I meant! And I don’t have *those* kinds of preferences yet, even if Eric says I’m a bit precocious, I’m still… uh… Knight, this is a tent, not outside, we can’t…”

“…My Lord, you wish to understand me better, don’t you?” Yet Ilivy did not stop. She turned her back, unfastening her close-fitting soft armor, revealing her back.

“This…” Anto froze, stunned, as he saw her back. For, unlike her beautiful face, the knight’s body was entirely different from his previous impression. Her back was covered in scars:

“Ugly, isn’t it? These are the marks of disgrace,” Ilivy said at that moment. “The Rose Knights, as a primary force of the Papacy’s knight orders in the later stages of the war, participated in all campaigns, including the Great Expedition. We hail from the Western Rose Church, upholding our vows, and fought in every battle, but…”

“In all wars, no one remembers the vanquished. No one cares for the merits of those who failed.”

The Rose Knights were formed from the reserve personnel of the Western Rose Church. The initial three major Knight Orders of the Papacy had been utterly decimated, and so the Rose Church formed this new order from the remnants of the withdrawn knights and volunteers. Most of these volunteers were battle-nuns from the churches, or children entrusted to them by frontline warriors. With an insufficient number of experienced fighters remaining, the Papacy’s recruitment standards steadily declined to maintain its military strength, leading to the current state. These women, many of whom had been trained as battle-nuns in the early stages, underwent rigorous training and then took their vows. Subsequently, they entered the battlefield as a full-fledged Knight Order. Before their deployment, people only knew them as a formidable force from the Papacy, whose knight orders were considered the most unyielding bulwark on the front lines, the bedrock against the encroaching darkness. The former three great Knight Orders had once stood against enemies outnumbering them many times over, and against arrogant Demon Lords. The current Papal Knight Orders were expected to do no less.

Yet, glory and responsibility could not erase the truth: most of them were raw recruits. Even with brief formal knight training and the ability for many to wield Holy Light, they could not compare to the former Knight Orders. Nevertheless, through sheer effort and their specialized prowess against demonic forces, they managed to hold the border lines. While they might not have been as powerful as their predecessors, they were determined not to tarnish the Papacy’s record, at least.

When they first entered battle, the eruption of blood, duty, and honor allowed them to successfully establish defensive lines and repel the invading enemy. This was the absolute best they could do. However, some failed to grasp this. As the Papacy’s power gradually waned, the high-ranking figures desperately sought an opportunity to prove the Church had not yet fallen. They clutched at any straw of hope, and these knights, having just completed a miraculous offensive, were seized upon. Such fanaticism… led to a tragedy, a disgrace, a… brutal farce. The Great Expedition.