"Thank you," Hermit said, lifting the teacup Chief had placed before him, his gaze drifting toward the wide window of the office. "I see you've made some changes to your manor."
Fishun Manor was modest compared to the estates of higher nobles, yet unmistakably the residence of a viscount. A broad steel gate enclosed the grounds, guarded by two armed sentries. Beyond it stretched a wide lawn, a simple fountain standing at its center, bordered by rows of carefully trimmed bushes. It was humble, even for a noble.
Chief smiled with quiet pride.
"I didn't wish to," he admitted, sipping his tea. "But the townsfolk insisted I deserved at least that much."
He glanced outside, watching fishermen haul heavy baskets from their boats, laughter echoing faintly through the open windows.
"Back then, Fishun was in dire straits. The kraken along the northern Blue Path nearly ruined us." His eyes softened. "If you hadn't slain those beasts… I don't know what would have become of this place."
Hermit took another sip, then set his cup down with a gentle sigh.
"I was merely passing through on my way to Kafkak," he said lightly. "Think little of it. I acted on a whim."
"Not at all, Sir Hermit."
Chief rose and dropped to one knee. "I am forever grateful—as are the people of Fishun. I could never repay such heroism."
With a snap of his fingers, invisible mana lifted Chief effortlessly back into his seat.
"You are the leader of this town, boy," Hermit said with a smile. "Do not bow so easily to anyone."
Chief could only smile in return, gratitude shining plainly in his eyes.
"Oh—there was something I wished to ask you," Hermit added, shifting slightly.
Chief straightened at once, attentive.
"What is it, Sir Hermit?"
"Well… Ciro," Hermit began. "On my way to an acquaintance, I passed through his village." His expression dimmed. "Bandits, most likely."
Chief had already guessed. He said nothing.
"All my life, I have never raised a child. Perhaps it was pity… or some foolish desire for redemption." Hermit folded his arms, pausing. "But those sad, green eyes that day stirred something pure within me. Something that told me I could not leave him behind."
Chief listened carefully, waiting.
"The boy was silent at first. Utterly silent." Hermit smiled faintly. "Who wouldn't be, after witnessing such ruin? That was… until he saw my magic."
"Until?" Chief prompted.
"Until then," Hermit continued, "he began to change. He eats well. He's shy, but observant. Sharp-tongued, though never cruel. And though he speaks little of it… he is deeply drawn to magic."
He exhaled softly.
"Despite everything he has lost… from what I have seen, that boy is stronger than I am. Much, much stronger."
Chief set his teacup aside.
"Sir Hermit," he said gently, "I believe you need none of my counsel."
Hermit blinked. "How so?"
"From what you've told me," Chief replied, smiling, "you've already done everything that could be done."
Hermit hesitated—then nodded.
"Yes… I believe I have."
"Then all is well," Chief said warmly. "You have saved yet another life."
"That reminds me—I wonder how those two are doing," Hermit wondered.
"Lye is a bit of a troublemaker, but I've straightened him out already," Chief said, though with a distinct worry in his voice. "I am sure they're getting along well."
_________________________________________________________________________________
"Urrrgh!" Lye groaned, tugging at his hair. "Why do I have to follow you?!"
The two walked through the town, Ciro taking in the small yet orderly streets. The air smelled of fresh fish—strong, but not unpleasant. Houses of wood and stone lined the roads, vendors calling out as townsfolk drifted past. It was crowded, yet lively.
From the corner of his eye, however, Ciro noticed several children glaring at them as they passed. One boy among them, bald, stout, and silent, gave him a sensation he could not quite place.
"Off..." Ciro muttered.
"Huh? What now?" Lye asked, annoyed.
Ciro stopped.
After burning my hand, the old man taught me how to detect mana.
I can feel it from the townsfolk… from this noble brat too.
But that baldy...
It was different.
Not strong. Not sharp.
Just… wrong.
Like static crawling across his skin.
There's something weird about him, Ciro thought. But I don't know what.
"Nothing," he said at last. "Just shut up and do as your father told you."
He turned, offering Lye a small, condescending grin.
"Mule boy."
"This commoner—!" Lye lunged for his collar.
"Ahem."
The nearby guard cleared his throat.
Lye froze, his arms stiff, then crossed them with a huff.
"So, where exactly do you wanna go, Blondie?" Lye asked, disinterested.
"Blondie?" Ciro scoffed. "Don't get chummy with me, Lysander."
This commoner brat!
"You—I—AAAGH!" Lye raked his fingers through his hair. "What do you want?"
"A library."
"Library?" Lye blinked. "Father said you don't need to spend a coin. Why go to some boring place that's free?"
"To read a book—oh." Ciro paused, lightly patting Lye's shoulder. "Sorry, I guess that's something you're unfamiliar with. See, reading is—"
"I know what reading is, asshole!" Lye snapped, swatting his hand away. "Besides—you're a commoner. Can you even read?"
"I've read more books than you have friends," Ciro glanced behind them.
Lye immediately realized, seeing shadows following slowly in an attempt of being left unnoticed.
He began to speed up, their shadows following suit to his pace.
"Follow me, Blondie!" Lye barked, suddenly sprinting.
What is he, a horse?
Ciro was not slow for his age, yet even he could not help but praise Lye's speed.
"They're getting away—hurry!" the bald one urged.
Using the dense crowd, Ciro weaved through the adults, slipping between baskets and shoulders, leaving their pursuers behind trapped in the bustling center.
When he glanced back, the pursuers were trapped behind a wall of moving bodies.
Yoink!
Without warning, he was yanked into a narrow alley.
Lye pressed against the wall, peeking around the corner.
"We lost them," he whispered, exhaling.
"We?" Ciro muttered. "You left me to eat dust."
"Whatever, just stay low for now," Lye replied as he continued peeking.
"So—what was that about?" Ciro asked, curious of the circumstances that forced him to flee.
Lye remained silent for a moment, scrambling an explanation to give.
He sighed as he began, "That was Sir Kahlo's son—Calvin and his goons."
"Sir Kahlo?" Ciro asked.
"The Knight of Fishun—a strong fighter who was knighted by Father after saving the town from monsters," Lye lowered his voice, as if hesitating to tell Ciro, "But… something's wrong with that family."
Ciro leaned against the wall, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
"One night, in the manor where he and his family stayed—I saw it," Lye lowered his tone, perturbed by the memory. "Just as I was about to train, I heard the voices of Calvin and Sir Kahlo—they were arguing about something. But it was what happened moments later that freaked me out..."
Ciro stiffened.
"Calvin stabbed him. Right through the chest. I hid behind the training grounds' gate. I couldn't deny that I was scared." Lye crossed his arms, sensing a slight chill run down his spine.
"Then what happened?" Ciro pressed.
"...Sir Kahlo, he... He rose from the floor like nothing happened." Lye swallowed. "He shoved... something inside Calvin's mouth. After that, Calvin stopped arguing, and even hugged Sir Kahlo like they were never fighting."
Ciro's mana prickled.
That feeling again.
"That's… strange," he said slowly. "But why chase you?"
Lye gripped his sword by the handle, tightening as did his throat. He sat on the ground, lying his back against the wall.
"Calvin's talented." He stared at the ground. "People whisper that a commoner-turned-noble shouldn't be stronger than the viscount's son."
"Well," Ciro shrugged, "you were born with a silver spoon."
"Shut up!" Lye snapped. "He keeps demanding formal duels. I always refuse. If I lose… it stains my father's name."
He exhaled.
"So I fight anyone else. Then I can claim I'm too tired to fight him..."
"…You don't have many friends, do you?"
"Will you shut the hell up?! Come on!"
He stood, heading deeper into the alley.
"Where to?"
"The manor has a private library," Lye said proudly. "Even commoners get access."
Ciro followed, though for good measure, he glanced behind them—his mana, uneased.
I could have sworn my mana sensed something...
There was no one.