Chapter 64: Rebuilding the City
I didn't have to go to her. She found me. As the organized cleanup began and the adrenaline finally bled from the air, her eyes scanned the wall until they landed on my perch. She climbed the rubble-strewn slope with a weary grace, coming to a stop a few feet away.
"You look less like a corpse," she noted, her voice raspy. The cut on her cheek had been cleaned, a stark red line against her pale skin.
"The potions are earning their keep," I said, pushing myself up. The movement was smooth, no longer the pained hobble from before. "You look like you could sleep for a week."
"A month," she corrected, a flicker of a real smile touching her lips before fading. "But there's no time. We're needed at the guild hall. The Iron Fangs are debriefing, and my father... he'll want a report."
I fell into step beside her as we began the slow trek away from the wall, back into the heart of the shattered city. The mood was different now. The frantic energy was gone, replaced by a somber, determined stillness. People moved with purpose, but their faces were etched with the memory of the long night.
"We held," Freya said, more to herself than to me. "Somehow, we held." She glanced at me. "Your plan... it worked. Cutting off the head."
"Don't sound so surprised. I have my moments." I kicked a piece of broken tile out of our path. "So, what now? A parade? The key to the city?"
"Rebuilding," she said, her tone turning practical, almost grim. "The north wall is a ruin. The western district was hit hard. The city's coffers are drained, and we've lost... we've lost too many." She squared her shoulders, a leader's mantle settling back onto them. "I'll need to lead the charge on the repairs. Organize the work crews, secure what funds we can from the merchants' guild, petition the City Lord for aid."
It was a massive undertaking. The kind of thing that would take months, maybe years. And she was talking about it like it was her next patrol duty.
"After that," she continued, her gaze drifting towards the distant, brooding line of the Edelmere forest. "After the city is stable, I'm going to speak to the guild. I want to put a party together. A proper one. We're going back to that cave system. The one on the forest's edge where you and Rorden..." She trailed off, but the meaning was clear.
My steps faltered for a second. "You're going back? Why?"
"To find his body," she said, her voice low and steady. "To give him a proper pyre. And to see if there's anything left. A sign of what happened to him and how he ended up being captured by those little green freaks. Something… anything that will tell help me understand." She finally looked at me. "You know the way. You were there."
There it was. The ask. The one I knew was coming.
"I'm not going," I said, the words coming out flat and final.
She stopped walking, turning to face me fully. The exhaustion in her eyes was replaced by a flash of confusion and something colder. "What? Why not? He saved your life. This is about honoring that debt you're so fond of invoking."
I met her stare, not backing down. "Seeing the Iron Fangs in action back there... it wasn't a fight, Freya. It was a demonstration. It showed me the chasm between where I am and where I need to be. I got lucky. I'm good at not dying. But I'm not strong. Not like them. If I go charging back into that cave with you, I'm not an asset. I'm a liability. A distraction you'd have to protect." I shook my head. "I need training. Real training. Not just running and lifting. I need to understand what I am."
It was the most honest I'd been with her. It wasn't about cowardice. It was about a cold, brutal assessment of my own capabilities.
Her jaw tightened. "So that's it? You'll use his memory as a shield to stick to my side when it's convenient, but when it comes to actually facing the place he died, you retreat? You talk about a debt, but you won't help me bring him home." She took a step closer, her voice dropping, sharp as a dagger. "You keep saying you're not the hero type. I'm starting to think you're not any type at all. Just a man who hides behind convenient excuses."
The words stung because they held a kernel of truth. From her perspective, it looked exactly like that. A hypocrite and a coward.
"I told you," I said, my own voice low, "the debt was about keeping you alive. It's not about chasing ghosts. Going into a known dangerous area, one that already almost killed me once, for sentimental reasons? That's a good way to get both of us killed. And that would make his sacrifice, and mine, completely meaningless." I started walking again, forcing her to follow. "I'm not going, this is only the beginning for me Freya. Training. Getting stronger. So the next time a house-sized lion shows up, I can actually do more than just throw myself in front of the magic."
We walked the rest of the way in a heavy, charged silence. The gulf between us wasn't just one of power; it was one of purpose. She was driven by honor, by grief, by a need for closure. I was driven by a timer in my head and the desperate need to survive the next ninety-eight missions. We were walking the same streets, but we were in completely different worlds.
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The guild hall was a different kind of chaos. The frantic, bloody triage of the infirmary had been replaced by the loud, bureaucratic chaos of aftermath. Messengers weaved through the crowd, clutching scrolls and reports. Clerks like Gwen, shouted names, ticking them off lists of survivors and the deceased. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, ink, and anxiety. She was a little too busy to pay any attention to me. Not that I wasn't busy following Freya around like a shadow for the next 32 hours.
At the center of the storm, standing on a table to be seen over the crowd, was Kaku. The massive demihuman looked less like a warrior and more like a grim-faced foreman. The dark red symbols on his skin were gone, his immense axe nowhere in sight. He was just a mountain of fur and muscle, his voice a gravelly boom that cut through the din without him needing to shout.
"…looting will be met with summary execution. The City Lord has authorized it," Kaku declared, his yellow eyes sweeping the room. "Priority one is clearing the main thoroughfares for supply carts. All available adventurers not on wall-watch are to report to Sergeant Gerric at the north gate. He needs muscle, not moaning. Supplies and men"
A wave of acknowledgments rippled through the crowd.
We stood near the entrance, watching the machine at work. Sheyla and Trent were at a smaller table nearby, quietly but efficiently directing a line of adventurers, assigning them to patrol sectors or cleanup details. Kail was leaning against a far wall, looking profoundly bored, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.
"He's taken charge," Freya murmured, a note of respect in her voice.
"Seems like it," I agreed. It made sense. The City Guard was stretched thin, and the regular guild staff was overwhelmed. The Iron Fangs were the only ones with the authority and the clear-headedness to impose order.
Kaku's gaze landed on us. He gave a short, sharp nod, a clear command to approach. We pushed our way through the crowd until we stood before his makeshift podium.
"Silver-Blade. Kaizen," he acknowledged. "Your reports are noted. The Beast Tamer is dead. The primary threat is neutralized. Good." His praise was as efficient as everything else about him. He looked at Freya. "Your father is coordinating with the merchant's guild and the remaining city officials at the mansion. Your presence is requested."
Freya nodded. "Understood."
Then Kaku's eyes shifted to me. "You. The healers said you discharged yourself against orders."
"The bed was uncomfortable," I said with a shrug. "And I had a pressing appointment to not be dead."
A flicker of what might have been amusement passed through his predatory gaze. "Your own funeral. We will speak later about your methods." It wasn't a request. Before I could respond, he moved on, addressing the room again.
"A final point of order," he boomed. "Do not expect guidance from Guild Master Valerius. He remains in the capital, Dotarua, entangled in the king's negotiations with the Vermillion Empire." A murmur went through the crowd. "The last message reported his return is still 96 hours out, perhaps more. Until then, we manage this ourselves. Understood?"
A chorus of "Aye, Sir!" and "Understood!" echoed back.
Ninety-six hours. Three more days, maybe even more. It was a stark reminder that our little city-siege was just a blip on the radar of this world's larger politics. While we were fighting for our lives, the guild master was busy with empires.
Kaku dismissed the crowd with a final wave, and the hall erupted into a flurry of organized motion. He stepped down from the table, his full height once again imposing as he stood before us.
"The city is secure, but fragile," he said to Freya, his tone now more conversational. "Talk with the City Lord for further details. Your leadership in the reconstruction will be critical." He then turned his yellow eyes back to me. "And you. Stay out of people's way and recover from those injuries."
It was an offer. A very good offer. Taking the time to recover would be perfect but not at least for a full day. This time tomorrow, hopefully I will be alive but until then. I can't let my guard down for even a single second.
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