The sun dipped lower in the burnt-orange sky, painting the broken ruins in streaks of gold and shadow. The air grew slightly cooler, but the Wasteland never truly forgave—not with its biting winds, its hidden dangers, and the constant, gnawing hunger that lingered in every survivor's bones.
Aris led Kael through a narrow alley formed by collapsed skyscrapers, their metal frames twisted like dead trees. She moved silently, her steps light and practiced, while Kael followed with the stiff, grudging posture of a man who'd gone from emperor to prisoner in a single day.
If the situation hadn't been so entertaining, Aris might have felt a little bad for him.
Might have.
"You're walking like you've got a metal pole stuck in your spine," she commented over her shoulder, not slowing down. "Relax. I'm not going to sell you to the first cannibal camp we see. They pay terrible rates."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I am not accustomed to being led on a rope."
"Welcome to the Wasteland," Aris said cheerfully. "We don't care about your titles or your habits. We care about water, food, and not getting murdered. Adapt or die. Those are the only options."
She paused for a split second, listening to the wind. The Wasteland spoke if you knew how to hear it—scuttling sounds meant small creatures, too small to be dangerous. Heavy footsteps meant trouble. Silence meant either safety… or something very, very patient.
Right now, all she heard was wind and the distant cry of a carrion bird.
Safe enough.
She kept moving, her hand brushing the knife at her hip out of habit.
"Where are you taking me?" Kael asked after a long stretch of silence. His voice was lower now, calmer, like he was finally accepting his situation.
"To a market called Scrap Corner," Aris explained. "Small, out of the way, run by people who don't ask questions. Perfect for selling high-value merchandise without attracting armies of raiders."
"Like the ones who attacked the last market," Kael said dryly.
"Exactly like those," Aris agreed. "I prefer my sales to be drama-free. Explosions and gunshots are terrible for negotiating prices."
Kael fell silent again, his golden eyes fixed on the back of her head. He'd studied hundreds of people in his life—soldiers, nobles, enemies, allies—but he'd never met anyone like Aris.
She was small, scrawny, covered in dust and scars, and yet she moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. She feared nothing. She trusted no one. She cared only for her own survival and her own profit.
She was a scavenger. A survivor. A real creature of the Wasteland.
And for the first time in his life, Kael didn't know how to handle her.
"You're staring," Aris said without turning around. "Quit it. Creepy merchandise sells for less."
"I am analyzing you," Kael corrected.
"Analyze all you want," Aris said with a shrug. "You'll still end up sold to the highest bidder. Save your brainpower for fighting raiders. That's what I'm paying you for."
"You are not paying me," Kael pointed out.
"Water and protection are payment," Aris said, as if it was obvious. "In the Wasteland, that's better than coins. Most people would kill for the deal I'm giving you."
She stopped suddenly, holding up a hand to signal silence. Kael froze immediately, his body tensing—training kicking in despite his current predicament.
Aris slowly crouched, peering around the edge of a rusted metal wall.
Ahead, half-hidden by rubble, was a small camp. Three tents made of tattered cloth, a dying fire, and two men sitting on crates, cleaning rusted guns. They looked like regular scavengers—rough, tired, harmless… on the surface.
But Aris knew better.
The Wasteland didn't do harmless.
"Low-level scavengers," she whispered to Kael, not looking at him. "Probably just passing through. But they're armed, and they won't hesitate to rob or kill us if they think we're easy targets.
She stood back up, turning to face him, her expression serious.
"Stay behind me. Keep quiet. Don't look threatening. If this goes well, we walk past. If it doesn't…" She tapped her knife. "You get to earn your water."
Kael nodded once, sharp and obedient. For once, he didn't argue.
Aris tightened her grip on the rope and stepped forward, moving into the open with a casual, unthreatening slouch. She kept her hands visible, her posture relaxed, the picture of a harmless scavenger just passing through.
The two men looked up immediately, their eyes sharp. Their gazes flicked to Aris… then locked onto Kael.
Tall. Armored. Dangerous even with his hands tied.
The men tensed, hands drifting toward their guns.
"Easy," Aris said quickly, raising her free hand in a calming gesture. Her voice was light, friendly, the kind of tone that defused tension like water on fire. "Just passing through. He's with me. No trouble."
The bigger of the two men snorted, standing up. He was broad, with a scar slicing across his cheek, and he looked at Kael like he was a problem to be solved.
"With you?" he said, skeptical. "He looks like a warlord. You look like a rat that got lucky."
Aris smiled, sweet and harmless.
"Looks can be deceiving," she said. "He's just extra muscle. I'm the one in charge."
The man laughed, rough and mocking.
"Sure you are, little scavenger. Hand over your supplies and the armored freak, and we'll let you walk away."
Aris's smile didn't fade.
But her eyes went cold.
She'd hoped for a peaceful pass. She really had. Negotiating and running was always better than fighting. Fighting wasted energy. Wasted time. Wasted opportunities to sell her very expensive salvage.
But some people just didn't know when to quit.
She sighed, soft and dramatic.
"Last chance," she said pleasantly. "Let us pass. No one gets hurt. No one loses anything."
The man grinned, reaching for his gun.
"Or I'll take everything you have."
Aris glanced sideways at Kael, her tone dry.
"Your turn to earn your water," she said.
And then she stepped back.
For the first time since Kael had woken up, he moved without hesitation.
He didn't need his hands free. He didn't need a weapon.
He just moved.
One second, he was standing still. The next, he'd slammed his shoulder into the bigger man's chest. The man crumpled with a gasp, air exploding from his lungs.
The second man reached for his gun—but Kael's leg snapped out, sweeping the man's feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, his head bouncing off the dirt.
It was over in three seconds.
Two armed scavengers, defeated by a tied-up warlord.
Aris stared, then slowly turned to Kael, her eyes wide.
"Well," she said, impressed despite herself. "You're worth the coins after all. Nice work."
Kael straightened, his expression unreadable.
"Can I untie you now?" he asked.
Aris grinned.
"Nice try. You're still merchandise. But… I'll admit it. You're the best temporary bodyguard I've ever had."
She slung her backpack higher on her shoulder and tugged the rope.
"Come on. Let's get out of here before they wake up. I've got a sale to make."
Kael followed, silent once more.
But somewhere deep inside, he felt a flicker of something new.
Respect.
For the scavenger girl who didn't bow. Who didn't fear. Who treated a warlord like salvage… and somehow made it work.
The Wasteland had just formed its most unlikely team.
And Aris couldn't wait to profit from it.