The doors of the throne room shut with a deep, echoing thud, sealing away the gasps, accusations, and the final humiliating declaration of the Queen. The hallway outside felt strangely quiet, as though the air itself had paused to absorb the weight of everything that had been revealed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the oppressive pressure around the Shield Hero seemed to lift—thin at first, like a faint breeze, but unmistakable.

Raphtalia walked beside him, steps measured, her tail swaying softly behind her. Her voice trembled with relief even though she tried to keep it steady. “It’s finally over… they all heard the truth.” Her eyes glimmered in the filtered sunlight from the high windows, reflecting hope mixed with the fading ache of long-carried fear.

“It’s over, huh?” he murmured back, though the words came out tired rather than triumphant. “Maybe I’ll feel better later.”

Ahead of them, Filo twirled in small, excited circles, her wings fluttering with every bounce. “They called her Bitch! The Queen actually said it!” Her laughter echoed down the hall, bright and unhindered, breaking through the tension like a ray of childish sunlight. Raphtalia sighed softly, a smile tugging at her lips as she gently scolded the bird-girl for shouting in the palace, but the warmth in her voice betrayed her relief.

The group stepped out into the courtyard, where the wind carried the distant murmur of the city reacting to the news. Some voices were shocked, others quietly apologetic; all of them felt different now, no longer sharpened by suspicion. Raphtalia leaned lightly against the stone balustrade, ears lifting as she listened to the faint cheering somewhere far beyond the castle walls. “Everything they took from you… all that time.” She breathed out slowly, the breeze tugging at her hair. “I never thought the Queen would overturn it all so clearly.”

“She did what a ruler should,” came the quiet reply. His fingers brushed the surface of the shield, as if testing whether it, too, felt lighter. “Doesn’t erase anything.”

“It doesn’t need to,” she said gently. “You’ve already shown everyone who you really are.”

Down by the steps, Filo’s restless energy burst forward again. “Are we getting food now? Or adventure? Or food and adventure?” she asked, hopping from one foot to the other. A weary sigh slipped from Raphtalia as she tried—and failed—to keep the girl from running off in search of meat skewers. The sight tugged a faint, genuine smile to the hero’s lips.

Footsteps approached from behind, soft and composed. The Queen stepped into the sunlight with the poise of someone long accustomed to bearing entire nations on her shoulders. She looked upon the small group with regret that ran deeper than political duty. “There are no words that can atone for what was done,” she said, her voice warm but weighed by responsibility. “But the truth has been spoken at last.”

“It’s not something I’ll forget easily,” he answered, meeting her gaze with calm, hardened honesty.

“Nor should you,” the Queen replied. “But I pray it becomes a foundation for the future, rather than a wound that never closes.”

Raphtalia bowed when the Queen acknowledged her, cheeks warm with shy pride. After the Queen departed, the courtyard grew quiet again, the wind shifting gently through Raphtalia’s hair as she stepped closer.

“I was so afraid they wouldn’t listen,” she whispered. “That no matter what we did, they’d never treat you fairly again.”

He looked out over the city—from the distant rooftops to the streets where people were already repeating the truth the Queen had given them. “You believed in me when no one else would,” he said quietly. “I won’t forget that.”

Her smile was soft, steady, filled with a strength that had carried them both this far. “Then let’s move forward. Together. We still have Waves to face… and a world that needs you.”

A breeze rolled through the courtyard, brushing cloak against armor, tail against stone, sunlight glinting from the surface of the shield.