Romuald stepped through the lower quarters of Ki-Elico, his boots striking the clean-paved stones without a rhythm. The air smelled of sawdust and rubble, thick with the noise of hammers and chisels. All around him, the streets were being reconstructed. The steady tread of worker golems shook the ground as they hauled materials for countless masons and carpenters.

  A pair of the stone giants trundled by, each bearing wagonloads of rubble. Another moved slower, cradling a single block of polished pale stone. Unremarkable—save for the faintest traces of runes along its edges, so shallow one could mistake them for scratches. Romuald’s gaze lingered there a moment, before he clasped his hands behind his back and walked on.

  Edden kept pace at his side, shoulders stooped, his voice pitched low so as not to carry. “My lord… Was it truly wise to make such a spectacle of them? Some whisper it was cruelty for cruelty’s sake.”

  Romuald’s stride faltered for the briefest moment. “It was necessity,” he replied. “The people must understand the stakes. I will not bow to the coming storm, and I cannot afford a weak-willed populace.”

  His advisor bowed his head, though his sigh betrayed his doubt.

  He knew that he had acted rashly—He had pursued revenge and satisfaction, rather than calculate the best approach.

  I am merely human. He scoffed, as the memory of weeks prior burned in his mind. His only son’s dominant arm… useless and torn, beyond the help of healing potions. The memory still burned, and for a moment he felt again the helpless rage. He forced it down, smoothing his features into calm.

  Ahead, the golem set its cornerstone into place with a ponderous grace. Workmen crowded around, preparing to raise walls upon it, unaware of the power buried within.

  Romuald’s eyes narrowed, just briefly. The rebels’ tantrum, or whatever one could call the desperate attack on his home, had been a wake-up call–-The council could do much worse whenever he eventually opposed them.

  “Next time,” he murmured under Edden’s worried gaze, “we will be ready.”

  And all around him, his city was being rebuilt to withstand anything that might come.

  The lesson of the day after dragged on. Mr Rafiel was doing his best to drill the runic language into the heads of teenagers, but David’s mind kept wandering.

  He rolled the inkless quill in his fingers, a sheet of parchment covered in runes on his lap. He was already done with the current exercises and all that remained behind his eyes was Aura’s face. Her disappointment, her anger.

  I should have told her sooner. Or not lied at all.

  Eventually, Mr Rafiel left them to their practice, but David hardly noticed the steady stream of students filing out, chatting in low groups as they went.

  He wasn’t in a rush to join them. Not before he figured out what to do about his current situation. His gaze drifted, until it caught a potion beneath one of the benches on the opposite side to him.

  Curious, He approached and pulled it out: a vial of sensing potion, from their first lesson. Polbran’s, no doubt. Instinctively he focused on his mana sight and frowned.

  Why is it so… different?

  This particular potion was much closer to what he remembered from his childhood, as opposed to the super-charged one he had received on their first lesson. Had there been some mistake?

  He still had his own potion at home, hoping to sell it, but maybe he could experiment on it instead?

  He didn’t get the chance to think longer about it.

  “Marco!”

  David straightened, startled, and found Olen standing at the door. The boy’s arms were full of folded fabric—robes, plain and black like the rest, but clean and new.

  “These are for you,” Olen said, a little breathless. “Lady Diana asked me to bring them.”

  David blinked at the bundle. “From Diana?” She had just been here, in the classroom. How long did I stare at the damn potion!?

  “Yours are well… a bit torn.” Olen shifted a bit impatiently, “Not that I mind giving the lady a hand, but… I am not doing too well with these runes and need all the time I can get to practice. Take these off my hands and let me go. Please?”

  David took the robes, and Olen immediately bolted out of the room.

  His first instinct was gratitude. His second, unease.

  And here I thought I stitched my robes well. Not well enough to fool a noble.

  David stood alone, his fingers digging into the smooth cloth. It must have been so easy for her to arrange that too. Maybe Diana could help Aura find work, or smooth the way into a good workshop? It would fix what he had broken, at the price of something as ephemeral as allegiance.

  He shook his head slowly.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Not only would it be a direct repetition of Viera’s fiasco, but Aura would hate it. She wanted respect and recognition, not just a well paying job.

  David thought of the ritual he’d transcribed from the ruins, still tucked away under some unassuming floorboards. Maybe that was how he would fix the sword situation? With an ancient ritual?

  Yes, that would do better than any favor from Diana… But he would have to come clean.

  About almost everything.

  He exhaled, tucking the robes into his pouch carefully, and steeled himself.

  I need to start unravelling all these messes I’ve piled up.

  David found Diana in the gardens by the academy entrance to the noble quarter. She sat on the edge of the stone bench, her posture perfectly poised, but there was something off about her.

  He drew in a breath, sharply. There were probably many ways to describe how she looked in the moment, but only one battered at his mind.

  She seems so inexplicably sad.

  She noticed him before he could steel himself further. Just like that, the situation changed. Diana addressed him as though she had been expecting him all along.

  “Marco,” her voice was light, “You got my gift, I presume.”

  “I did,” he said, sitting down at a respectful distance on the bench. “I wanted to tell you something directly, before this goes too far.”

  “How dramatic.” Diana arched an eyebrow. “And here I thought you came to say thanks.”

  He shook his head. “I am grateful for the robes, really… But I cannot enter this… whatever this arrangement was meant to be.”

  The words left his mouth firmly, but even as he said them, something inside him hesitated. Diana’s expression didn’t change in any way that he could describe. Instead, that silent sadness around her returned.

  In their conversation, Diana had the upper hand and she dictated the rules, and yet… Why did it suddenly feel as if he kicked a puppy?

  She looked away first, folding her hands together. “I see.”

  David should have left it there. Instead, the words slipped, looking for some way to break the awkwardness. “…Why the mask?”

  Diana scoffed, the sound sharp and practiced. “Curiosity, coming from you, Marco? Beyond hypocritical.”

  They stared at one another silently for just a brief while. Led by his instinct, David just waited. Despite it all, it felt like she wanted to share it.

  “My family thought to lock me away. Wed me away to be locked in some manor. I… disagreed. Vehemently.” Her smile was thin, bitter, as she finally elaborated.

  “Did you–” He stopped himself mid-question. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “Don’t.” She glared at him fiercely. “Shouldn’t you be going, anyway?”

  Despite Diana turning almost hostile to him, David felt more at ease now than he ever did before. As if a switch was flipped in his brain–Suddenly, Diana wasn’t a second coming of Viera, there to rob him blind. Frankly, she reminded him of Aura, and not just through the blond hair they shared.

  A version of Aura that had chosen to stand against her family rather than silently elope.

  It wasn’t enough to throw his caution to the wind, but it earned at least a token attempt from him.

  David inhaled, slow and steady. His voice surprised even him with its clarity. “I want to get to know you better.”

  For the first time since he had met her, Diana was taken aback. Her lips parted, then closed again.

  “What are you trying to achieve here?”

  “I am not opposed to helping people. I just know that I hate being in debt.”

  “Big words coming from a boy.” She raised her brow. “You’re not trying to court me, are you?”

  “Goddess, no.” David almost guffawed. “That’s one scary thought.”

  David stopped for a second, worried that he might have overdid it with the familiarity… But Diana simply turned her gaze toward the garden, ignoring his comment.

  “You have quite the weird taste for humour.” she sighed. “Anyway, I’m not in a rush. Sooner or later you’ll realize my intentions are pure. Let’s leave it at that, for now.”

  Was it because I feel guilty about Aura?

  David thought about the masked lady situation as he went up and down the refugee district looking for Sophie.

  He found her at the edge of a newly cleared lot, surrounded by half a dozen workers, no doubt motivating them or resolving some dispute. Hito lingered close, and though he looked relaxed, his hand never left his sword’s scabbard.

  David kept back, leaning against a fencepost, waiting for her to finish. He wasn’t sure if she’d ignore him, or worse, scold him in front of all these people, but eventually the workers dispersed and continued their work.

  Sophie caught sight of him then, brushing her hands on her apron. “You’ve come crawling back?” she asked, raising a brow.

  David felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “Sorry. About yesterday. And everything else, too.”

  She scrunched her brows. “Let me guess, you need something from me.”

  Hito looked at him curiously, a slight grin on his face, but he didn’t fail to position himself between them.

  The accusation cut David’s heart, even more so because it was true. “I—I do. I want to apologize to Aura. Her alone, if you get what I mean.”

  Sophie groaned. “It’s always like this! You annoy me to no end and then you come back like nothing happened!” Then she shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Eh, fine. I wanted Bert’s opinion on the new smithing shop anyway. I’ll get him in like fifteen minutes.”

  David let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I really am sorry.” He looked at the ground, unable to bear the weight of her eyes. “Would you forgive me?”

  She turned away, and David’s heart almost split in two. Until she looked back at him with a smirk. “You're an idiot. We’ll talk later.”

  And just like that, she walked away, Hito following close behind her.

  David stood there for goddess knows how long, just staring after her.

  That’s it? I am having a crisis here, and she’s just messing with me?

  But despite the brief outburst of annoyance, some weight left his shoulders.

  He smiled for just a second, before he turned toward their home.

  The hardest part still awaits.

  David took his time walking, and not only because he wanted to wait for Bert to be gone.

  He was used to being hurt. Cruelty of the world was becoming less and less impressive to him by the day… But the heartbreak he saw in Aura’s heart haunted him.

  What would she do? How would she react?

  If the roles were reversed, he would never even consider trusting himself again.

  Would she?

  There was, unfortunately, only one way to find out.

  With those, and worse, thoughts, he trod on.