Standing atop a heap of debris was a man. Keiser wasn't sure if he had actually come to help, or at least, that's what he hoped.

'The third help.'

He couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if his younger self had seen Aisha as he saw her now.

In hindsight, without the knowledge of the betrayal to come, he might have chosen to listen to her, over a stranger, or even over himself.

In that case, this man wouldn't have been an ally at all, but a third adversary in their struggle against fate itself.

But he was still alive.

The elf hadn't mentioned Lenko's death, which meant, at the very least, Muzio's vassal was still breathing.

That much was something. A small reassurance that, for now, one more thread in their tangled web had not yet snapped.

But the man standing atop the rubble, he carried the same steady stance, the same cold, unwavering gaze, the same familiar defiance etched into every line of his face.

Only he was younger, sharper, less burdened by the weight time had pressed onto Keiser.

Something in his hand caught the morning light, glinting sharply against Keiser's eyes. His dagger.

Keiser realized with a start that this man had probably been the one to throw it. The thought sent a ripple of uncertainty through him…

'Was Sir Keiser here to help or to hinder?'

If it weren't for the figure slung across his shoulders, Keiser might have leaned toward caution.

Aisha, the mage he never thought would reveal the faintest trace of the 'seventh' tendencies he had glimpsed only once before he 'died'… was unconscious, blonde hair matted, dried blood streaked across her temple. Yet she was still breathing, proof that someone had kept her from being entombed.

Keiser's stance tightened, coiling instinctively, every muscle ready. Sir Keiser's narrowed eyes were fixed on him, squinting against the rising sun behind his own back. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the light and dust weaving around them like a trial of wills.

Suddenly, the glint of metal is back, snapped across Keiser's vision, closing in faster than his eyes could track. If it hadn't been for the familiar taut pull of Muzio's mana along with it, his hand would have missed the dagger entirely.

"Thought you might need that back," Sir Keiser said flatly, nodding toward the blade now resting in Muzio's hand.

Keiser stared at it, heart thudding. The runes etched along the dagger pulsed faintly, as if recognizing their true owner at last.

Relief hit him in a wave, unexpected, almost dizzying, washing through the exhaustion and tension that had been knotting him up since waking up in the middle of the 'end'.

He had doubted himself all along, wondering if his younger counterpart, who is technically older than him right now, would even trust a letter written in his own handwriting.

One with half-formed warnings and riddles, signed only with a name, he had left behind, or they had left behind.

If anyone else had sent such a thing, he knew exactly what he would've done.

Tracked them down, eliminate them before asking a single question.

But he had come.

Despite everything.

Despite the impossible, the uncertainty, the weight of fate pressing down on them, he had come. And in that moment, all the doubt, all the fear, all the tension in Keiser's chest eased, just slightly, as if the impossible had just become possible.

As Keiser lowered the dagger slightly, he became aware of the weight of the white-haired man's gaze. That stare, sharp, measured, and unnervingly precise, cut straight through him.

He knew it. He knew that look.

Something had happened while he had been unconscious. Something that left an impression other than 'one of the king's spawns', but something subtler, deeper, and impossible to ignore.

Even Sir Keiser, standing tall and steady atop the rubble, seemed momentarily on edge, as if uncertain how to regard the tenth prince.

The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken questions and the echo of events neither fully understood yet.

The man's eyes lingered, cool and appraising, and Keiser felt the strange, heavy weight of someone measuring him, not just as a combatant, but as a force, a puzzle, a thread of knowledge he hadn't yet untangled.

Keiser wanted, needed, to speak with him. There were too many questions clawing at his throat, truths he had to voice, things that demanded acknowledgment.

He opened his mouth, ready to step forward, ready to share information that would almost certainly earn him a blade at his throat.

But even so, it would be worth it. Because if he told him just enough, even a fragment, it might plant the seed he needed… a sliver of doubt, a spark of curiosity.

Something that would push his younger self to question, to pry, to start tearing apart the carefully crafted 'truth' Gideon had draped over all their eyes.

Even if it cost him.

Even if it risked everything.

He just needed to say something---

Hooves clattered in the distance. Voices carried over the wind, faint but unmistakable.

The royal brigades.

At the very least, the knights on duty had been dispatched to investigate the explosion.

If they were caught here, if the court got involved before he and his companions slipped away, all of his careful work, the plans, the bargains, the sacrifices, would be for nothing.

Mr. Genevra would walk free once more, untouchable as ever, while the nobles closed ranks and worked together to pin the blame on them instead.

Keiser's jaw tightened. Part of him wanted to stay, to finally have that conversation with himself, to confront the other, to understand. But another part, the part honed by countless battles, by years of navigating the treacherous courts and alleys of this capital, tensed instantly.

But before he could move, Sir Keiser slid and leapt down from his perch.

Keiser barely had time to react before the man passed by, his eyes flicking toward Althira with a careful, appraising glance. Something was off, subtle, almost imperceptible, but the elf, without Keiser noticing, had shifted her hair color to appear more human, blending in seamlessly before the captain of the royal brigade.

Then Sir Keiser's hand shot out, gripping Mr. Genevra's collar with firm control. Without even glancing at him, the white-haired man muttered, voice dry and sharp…

"I guess you actually woke up from whatever the hell that was. Why do you princes have to wreck buildings every time you throw a tantrum?"

"…tantrums?" Keiser muttered under his breath, glancing at Althira, who only smiled sweetly back. That smile, deceptively innocent, carried a meaning he didn't like one bit.

The realization that followed pressed down harder than the distant pounding of hooves and the stomping boots of the royal brigade, surely arriving to investigate their missing captain and the damage left in their wake.

Reports of endangered nobles, disrupted royals, they would be meticulous, relentless.

His eyes sweeping over the scattered remnants of the confrontation.

"I did this…" Keiser realized.

There had to be more to it than simply letting Aisha take control while he was unconscious. Whatever had happened, it was far beyond anything he imagined, enough to bring an entire building down around them.

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