Chapter 65: The Noble Brats
Kaku's dismissal was a clean, surgical cut. Stay out of the way. Recover. It left me with nothing to do but watch the city stitch itself back together, a process I was apparently too much of a liability to be part of. So, I did the only thing that made sense with thirty-two hours still ticking down in my vision: I followed my primary objective.
Freya was not amused.
"Do you have nothing better to do than dog my steps?" she snapped, not even turning to look at me as she marched through the bustling, repair-focused streets toward the City Lord's mansion. Her silver armor was clean for the first time in days, but the tension in her shoulders was a permanent fixture.
"Not really," I said, matching her pace with ease that was new. The potions had done their job. The pain was a distant memory, my body a well-tuned instrument of survival once more. "Kaku told me to rest. This is restful. Very scenic." I gestured to a pile of rubble that used to be a bakery.
She shot me a glare that could freeze lava. "You are insufferable."
"And you're stuck with me. For now." I gave her a flat smile. "Just give up. Let me do what I want. I'll back off soon enough, and you'll have all the freedom and personal space you could ever want. Think of me as a particularly persistent rash. Annoying, but temporary."
She didn't dignify that with a response, just picked up her pace.
The City Lord's mansion was an island of grim order in a sea of controlled chaos. The relief in the air was palpable, a stark contrast to the desperate tension of the war room just a day ago. Guards stood at their posts with a weary pride instead of frantic fear. Inside, the atmosphere was less of a victory party and more of a somber stocktake.
We hadn't made it ten steps into the main hall before Freya was intercepted.
"Freya!"
A young woman with bouncing chestnut curls and a dress too fine for the surroundings practically skipped over, grabbing Freya's armored hands. "You're alive! I heard you were on the wall the whole time! You must tell me everything!"
A young man followed at a more measured pace. He was handsome in a polished, noble way, with sharp features and well-tailored clothes that couldn't hide a fighter's build. His eyes, the same shade of blue as the girl's, were fixed on Freya with a familiar, possessive warmth that set my teeth on edge.
"Neralia. Lashley," Freya said, her tone softening a fraction. It was the first time I'd heard her sound anything close to fond. "I'm glad to see you both safe."
"As are we," Lashley said, his voice a smooth baritone. His gaze finally slid from Freya to me, and the warmth vanished, replaced by a look of distaste, as if he'd just found something unpleasant on his boot. "And who is this… individual?"
"This is Kaizen," Freya said, her voice flattening back to its usual business-like tone. "He assisted in the defense."
Neralia looked me up and down with open, unimpressed curiosity. "He looks like a street brawler. Is that blood still on his collar?"
"It's a fashion statement," I said. "You should try it. Might add some much-needed character."
Lashley's eyes narrowed. "You will watch your tongue in the presence of the City Lord's children."
Ah. That explained the attitude. A little prince and princess playing at being important while others bled for their walls. The hopeful, lovestruck look Lashley kept shooting Freya painted a clear picture of their past. Probably thought the brave, common-born adventurer was his for the taking.
"My apologies," I said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "I didn't realize whose daddy I was supposed to be impressed by."
Lashley took a sharp step forward, his hand twitching toward the decorative sword at his hip. "You insolent cur-"
"That's enough."
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried the same weight of authority I remembered from the war room. The City Lord stood in a doorway, his broad frame filling it. Erik was at his shoulder, his lanky height making him look like a worried stork next to a bear.
"Lashley. Neralia. My study. Now," the City Lord said, his gaze sweeping over the scene and understanding it instantly. His eyes then moved to me. "And you. I recall your… directness. Causing trouble already?"
Erik stepped forward, his face a mask of paternal exasperation. "Kaizen, my boy, what did I tell you about picking fights you can't win?"
"He started it," I said, nodding toward Lashley.
"I don't care who started it," the Erik rumbled. He looked at Freya. "And you. You let this fester."
Freya shrugged, a gesture of supreme indifference. "It has nothing to do with me."
That stung more than I wanted to admit. Erik sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The City Lord just shook his head, a man too tired for petty squabbles.
"Enough," he declared, his voice final. "Lashley, Neralia, with me. Freya, you as well. Erik, I'd value your counsel. We have a city to rebuild and tasks to assign." His eyes landed on me one last time. "As for you… try not to break anything while you wait."
He turned and strode away, his children falling in behind him with a last, disdainful look in my direction. Erik gave me a look that was half-warning, half-plea, before following.
Freya moved to join them without a backward glance.
I was left standing alone in the grand hall, the uninvited guest, the dismissed shadow. The primary objective was walking away, but the command had been clear: wait.
So I waited. The clock in my vision continued its silent countdown. I had time. And I was very, very good at waiting for the right moment to cause trouble.
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