The crowd was struck silent as the enormous stone golem rose from the earth, its jagged arms shielding the girl from the storm of thrown produce. The impact of each tomato left dull splatters across its rocky surface, but it did not flinch. Golems were not rare among the noble families—trained protectors, built from the ground up for defense—but this small town was far from the towering cities of the Ascended Continent. For many here, seeing one in person was almost mythic.
Cecilus walked through the stunned villagers at an unhurried pace, boots scraping lightly over the dirt road as his eyes flicked between faces. I don't think asking nicely will do much for the girl's image. Heh... maybe giving them a bit of hope will loosen the strain on her for a few days. Suppose I send one or two of my golems out to help with reconstruction—I'd gain their respect and explain who I am in one go. Exactly what I should've done the moment I arrived, but alas, my ability to go unnoticed in society strikes again. Maybe Father will even hop off my back if I earn some fame beyond his military circle. That's always a plus.
He stopped beside the hulking golem, still rigid and ready to intercept the next attack. The air around it smelled faintly of wet stone and dust.
"Back off. I'm going to address the situation," Cecilus commanded calmly.
The golem gave a low rumble, then sank into itself, breaking apart until it was nothing but a mound of grey dust. Marina flinched at the sudden disappearance of her protector, her breath catching.
Cecilus turned to the crowd. "Everyone, I am Cecilus Crow, son of Reymund Ascension."
A ripple of murmurs ran through the villagers—some surprised, others skeptical. The name carried weight. Cecilus spoke clearly, his tone measured and diplomatic.
"You've all been working hard to rebuild your homes after the fire. My mother, Yeldove, has decided to extend the orphanage's resources to aid your efforts, and I was sent here to assess the situation personally. Alongside the boys and girls who will arrive from the orphanage, I've brought two helpers of my own."
The ground shuddered as two stone golems materialized behind the crowd, rising like pillars from the soil. People gasped and turned, the heavy hum of their awakening filling the square.
"These golems will assist with labor-intensive work. I hope that, with their help, you'll soon find warmth beneath your own roofs again."
The murmur of awe and relief turned into applause—hesitant at first, then swelling. Lanterns swayed gently above the streets as villagers began talking in low, excited voices.
"Father! Father!" a young boy tugged at his father's coat, eyes wide.
"What is it, child?"
""At school, we learned that Ascension is the king's family name! So is that boy... a prince?"
The father gave a quiet laugh, though his tone carried more thought than amusement. "Reymund is a distant branch of the main bloodline. He's always tried to make his family relevant again. When he married Yeldove—an elf of noble standing—he put great hopes into his firstborn son. Who knows? Maybe that one there could be a future king."
He watched Cecilus closely, studying him. He looks so young... isn't he supposed to be thirteen? Why does he appear no older than ten? Must be the elf blood. His eyes narrowed slightly. He looks nothing like Yeldove's other children who play near the orphanage. He's the image of his father... and that man took his face straight from King Afner himself. If not for the unkempt hair, that boy could pass for the late king reborn. Maybe that's Reymund's scheme—to parade a living symbol of royal and elven union.
Meanwhile, Cecilus had turned his gaze away, attention settling on Marina. Bruised face, trembling hands... it'll take a week to heal. At least tomatoes aren't hard enough to scar.
He leaned in slightly, voice low. "Scram before they get angry again. Try not to show your face around here for a while. I doubt a few weeks is enough for their bitterness to fade."
Marina nodded quickly and ran off, confusion and gratitude fighting across her expression. Why the hell was he standing there smiling and clapping? If he was going to help me, he had plenty of time! Whatever... I was too stunned to move. At least he stopped them before I got hurt worse. Damn, my face stings! She rubbed her cheek and slipped down a side street toward home, avoiding the crowd's lingering eyes.
Cecilus stayed a moment longer, listening as the crowd slowly dispersed. Dust rose in faint clouds around his boots as he walked down the main street, flipping a silver coin between his fingers. Well, that's one problem sorted. Mother needed the extra help with reconstruction anyway. I'll leave the golems here for a while. I don't plan on heading out soon.
The night air was still heavy with the smell of smoke. Passing the eastern edge of town, he spotted a boy and his sister struggling to hammer wooden planks into the remains of a burnt shop. The roof sagged dangerously. Didn't see them at the gathering. Skipped it for manual labor, huh? When I was their age, I would've bolted at the first chance to get out of chores. Why did Mother even make me do them? We have over thirty servants.
A shimmer appeared beside him—a wolf, medium-sized and grey, materializing from thin air. Cecilus glanced down at it, lips twitching faintly. You appeared right when I wanted you to. Seems you're getting better at sensing me.
I scouted the entire village, the wolf replied, its voice a quiet echo in Cecilus's mind. Nothing suspicious. As for those two children—they've been working here all day.
Cecilus flicked his wrist and tossed the coin. It bounced off the boy's head before landing neatly in his palm.
"Ow... who did—?" The boy turned, ready to shout, until he saw Cecilus. Then his eyes went wide. A silver coin. Enough to feed his family for a week.
"Keep working hard," Cecilus said simply, raising a hand as he walked away. The boy bowed deeply, shouting his thanks as Cecilus turned the corner.
By the time Cecilus neared the village outskirts, the road was quiet again. The faint chirp of night insects filled the silence.
"How many were lost in the fire?" he asked. "Any major merchants or suppliers among them? And who were the direct witnesses of the incident? Also—how long to rebuild, once more manpower arrives?"
The wolf's voice came steadily. Population's about seven to eight percent smaller—roughly fourteen dead. Five children, seven young adults. The rest elderly, though that's uncertain. As for witnesses to the woman who started the fire—three. One's the village doctor. I don't know how you expect me to calculate construction times, though.
Cecilus smiled faintly. "The doctor's reliable. I used to visit him when I was studying healing magic. Seems the woman really did take her own life after failing to escape. I heard her mind had been fraying for some time... but to choose such a painful end..."
He exhaled through his nose, gaze distant. "Still, I suppose despair can make even agony seem merciful."
The wolf didn't reply. Cecilus's tone lightened a touch. "And don't worry about rebuilding estimates—I was just messing with you. You'd think after two years of service, you'd recognize when I'm teasing."
The wolf's eyes narrowed. Two years of service? You mean two years of confinement. You drag me out only to scout, then shove me back into that wretched soul space. You call that mercy? You preach about caring for that slave girl—but what about me?
Cecilus's smile sharpened. "The slave girl wasn't the one who tried to devour me, remember? You should thank me for giving you a second chance. I still haven't named you, by the way. Starting to feel like 'Puppy' suits you fine."
The wolf huffed, silent, before fading into mist.
Cecilus stared at the empty space it had occupied. Come on, take a joke. Running away from your master is insolence, you know.
He shook his head with a sigh and started the long walk home, the rhythm of his footsteps echoing against the quiet, half-rebuilt streets.