Before he logged in, Kiriti told himself three things.
One: don't talk too much.Two: don't try to impress anyone.Three: don't call the guard captain sir right away.
He broke all three before the sun even rose.
The boots were too big.
Kiriti had stuffed the toes with bits of cloth, but they still flopped with every step. The left one squeaked. The right one pinched. He walked stiffly down the narrow alley between the barracks and the stables, balancing the too-long spear over one shoulder.
Stonehollow hadn't woken yet. Its stone buildings hunched in the morning mist like old men, chimney smoke curling into a pale sky that hadn't decided on a color.
There were no glowing quest markers. No booming system alerts. No icons dancing overhead.
And Kiriti loved that.
Here, in Kingdom & Knights, there was quiet.There was time.There were people who didn't know his real name — and that made all the difference.
He reached the south gate early, like the board had said.
"South Patrol — if you care enough to show up."Reward: none listed.
A weaker player would've skipped it.
Kiriti straightened his tunic and waited.
The barracks door creaked open behind him.
Boots followed — slow, heavy. Unhurried in a way that didn't need to prove anything.
Kiriti turned.
Captain Emeric looked like he belonged to another century. Gray in his beard, one eye clouded, the other sharp as a drawn blade. His armor wasn't shiny. It was practical. Old. Trusted.
He stopped. Said nothing.
Kiriti swallowed.
"Good morning, sir."
That earned him a long, steady stare.
Then, finally:
"'Sir,' huh?" Emeric muttered. "You calling me that out of respect… or you think it opens bonus dialogue?"
Kiriti blinked. "I… just thought it was the right thing."
A grunt. Not amused. Not annoyed. Just… acknowledged.
"Walk with me."
They circled the town on foot.
No quest window opened. No music played. Just the quiet of dirt under boots and the distant cluck of waking chickens.
Emeric talked a little — not much. He pointed at buildings. Broken fences. The leaning tower near the chapel.
"Rotted beam. Should've been replaced last winter."
"Why wasn't it?" Kiriti asked.
"Politics. Priorities. Take your pick."
Kiriti nodded.
They kept walking.
They passed a woman unpacking jars at a crooked stall. Her hands were wrapped in linen. Her eyes flicked to Emeric, and she gave him a small nod.
Kiriti watched carefully.
"She knows you," he said.
"I know everyone," Emeric replied.
"Could I?"
That got a sideways look.
"Why?"
Kiriti tilted his head.
"Because names matter. Don't they?"
Emeric didn't answer right away.
When he did, it was with a sigh.
"Maybe."
By the time they reached the west watchgate, the mist had started to lift. Kiriti's hands were cold, his ankles sore, but his heart felt steady — like he was doing something real.
Emeric tested the gate. It screamed against the hinge.
Kiriti winced. "That's loud."
"It's been like that for months."
"Why not fix it?"
"You volunteering?"
Kiriti smiled. "If you show me how."
Emeric scribbled something on a torn bit of parchment and handed it over.
"Marla's shop. Ask her for the gate oil. Tell her I sent you."
"Alright. Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me. Just follow through."
The walk back to the barracks was slower.
Kiriti didn't mind. The silence felt… earned.
Back at the fire pit, Emeric dropped onto a bench with the grunt of a man who'd carried too much weight for too many years.
Kiriti hesitated. Then sat across from him, careful not to scuff the stone with his boots.
They stared into the flames for a while.
"Do you ever get tired," Kiriti asked, "of players treating you like a walking quest box?"
Emeric huffed.
"Most don't even treat me that well."
"I'm not here to use you."
That got another glance. Not warm. But not cold.
Just measuring.
"You came early," Emeric said.
"Wanted to start right."
"That wasn't in the objective."
Kiriti shrugged.
"I didn't read the objective."
A small smile tugged at one corner of the captain's mouth.
"Tomorrow," he said, standing slowly, "check the northwest gate. It's starting to warp."
Kiriti blinked. "You mean…"
"If you show up again," Emeric muttered, "you might as well be useful."
Kiriti stood. Smiled.
"Understood, sir."
Somewhere deep in the system architecture — buried beneath numbers and scripts and forgotten logs — a dormant line of code stirred.
🧾 [Trust Path: Emeric | 3%]🧾 [Memory Thread Activated: Watchman's Ghost]🧾 [Awaiting Response from Anchor NPC...]
And back at the hearth, long after Kiriti had logged off, Emeric sat alone with the fire.
He stared into the flames.
Then, quietly, said to no one:
"…Kid's got good boots."