The towering stone barrier loomed high, guards stationed along the top. Their plain armor glinted in the afternoon sunlight, bows in hand, arrows ready. Even from afar, their rigid posture and restless movements gave off a tense, disciplined vibe.
Axel's gaze dropped to the gate—massive, iron-banded, opened just enough to let people through one by one. A long line had formed in front of it. Travelers, merchants, and farmers all waited patiently, each presenting a parchment stamped with an official-looking seal to the guards.
Everyone had a paper. Everyone… except him, obviously.
Well, now this is extremely troubling, he thought, turning to the noble group he had been escorting—the Converella family, if he had the name right—and said, "You all go on ahead. I don't have the documents I need to enter, so this is as far as I can escort you. No more steps past this point."
"Lord Axel, this city is under the Converella family," the young noble insisted, practically glowing with excitement. "We can allow you to enter without documents—it's our way of repaying you for saving our lives!"
Ah, the classic fantasy trope where grateful nobles wave the hero through the gates. 'Oh yes, you saved our lives, sir knight—come right in, no papers needed!' While pleasant on the surface, Axel knew better. Realistically, that's a gamble I'm not willing to take. If word spreads, some rival noble might assume I'm associated with the Converellas and send people after me. And if such rivals exist—and they certainly should—I've read enough stories to know noble politics can be messy.
The answer was very clear—he was not going in. If he stepped inside like this, without proper documentation or status, there was no guarantee he'd come back out in one piece. Better to return someday in the future, when circumstances favored him—or if he ever decided this city was worth the trouble at all.
He straightened his posture, forcing a polite tone into his voice as he addressed the young noble. "Forgive me, young lady, but it's a matter of principle. It wouldn't be right to bend the rules just for me, and such favoritism might reflect poorly on this city—or on your family."
"I have to agree with Lord Axel," the coachman said, nodding with firm, experienced certainty. "Even though he saved our lives, he is still a stranger—someone we know next to nothing about. And more importantly, the Head of the Converella Family may not appreciate unauthorized decisions being made in his name."
The young lady's lips parted, ready to retort—
"Sir knight!"
A small voice cut her off.
All eyes turned. Axel pivoted at the call to see a little girl no older than six or seven. Her brown hair was tied into a neat braided ponytail, though a few loose strands framed her dirt-smudged cheeks. She wore simple, worn clothing—threadbare at the seams and slightly too tight, suggesting it had been outgrown long ago. In her hands, she clutched a small basket overflowing with freshly picked flowers.
She was unmistakably a commoner—a filthy, lowborn brat. The young lady's face twisted into a look of pure disgust the moment her eyes landed on the child, her lip curling ever so slightly.
"Yes, what is it, little girl?" Axel asked, his voice steady and even.The very moment he saw her, he already had a pretty good idea why the little girl had approached him.
The way she clutched that small wicker basket so tightly that her knuckles turned white, the hopeful tilt of her chin, and the desperate glint shining in her wide eyes—it all screamed "buy my flowers."
Up close, her worn clothing told an even clearer story. The fabric was faded and frayed at the edges, stitched clumsily in places where it had torn before. Dirt smudged her cheeks and knees, as though she'd been running through fields instead of playing like a child should. No child would be out here selling flowers otherwise.
Another classic fantasy trope, Axel mused internally. There is always at least one little girl like this—tragic, fragile, clutching flowers like hope in her hands. And most of the time, these characters served as nothing more than super minor side roles. They tug at a hero's sympathy, then vanish from the narrative entirely.
He exhaled softly, watching her with narrowed eyes.
Would she be the same…?
"Sir Knight, can you please buy my flowers? My mother and sister are sick, and I need money for it. Please… please buy them," she said, her voice trembling, fear flickering in her wide, innocent eyes.
Yeap, there it is.
Any goody-two-shoes hero would've gladly bought her flowers after hearing that, but not him. He didn't give a damn about her super-duper sad story—like, how does helping her help him in any way? Sorry, kid, but your perfect little tragic-girl setup doesn't work on me.
He tilted his head slightly and said, "Why don't you sell them inside the city? Surely someone there would buy them. You could get money for your mother and sister that way."
The little girl blinked up at him, wide-eyed, her hands clutching the basket so tightly it creaked. The sunlight caught the strands of her loose brown hair, dust and grime accentuating the sharp contrast with the hopeful, pleading look in her eyes. "I can't… I don't have the money to get the proper documents to enter."
Before the conversation could further, the young noble's shrill voice cut throughout it.
"Insolent peasant! I was having an important discussion with Lord Axel here! How dare you barge in and interrupt me!" Her tone was so loud that nearby people in the line looked at them, and also several of the city guards stationed at the gate immediately approached.
"Lady Emilia!" the guards intoned, bowing deeply.
"Good, very good of you all!" Emilia said, a cruel smile spreading across her face. She jabbed a finger at the little girl—the basket lay toppled, flowers scattered across the dirt. "Arrest this girl for her insolent behavior. She disrespected me, and she deserves to be thrown in the dungeon for the rest of her pitiful life."
"No… please, no!" the girl cried, dropping to her knees and folding her small hands. "I didn't know! I just wanted to sell these herbs—flowers that can be used for potions—grown near the ruins by my village, to help my mother and sister! Please don't!"
"Hold your crocodile tears, insolent peasant!" Emilia spat, eyes narrowing. "I will have your tongue for offering such excuses!" The guards closed in, hands going to their weapons.
Well, that's sad—but it is what it is, Axel thought as he watched a guard grab the girl's wrist and haul her up like a trapped bird. And hell no, he wasn't going to intervene. Jumping in now would mean nobles, guards, and a ton of unnecessary trouble.
Besides—he wasn't a hero.
"Hold right there!"
A sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos, drawing everyone's attention. A man stood a few paces away—simple in appearance, yet striking. Blonde hair framed his face, and his red eyes glinted sharply. He had a lean but well-built frame, and in his hands, he held a broken blade—one side black, the other white, the contrast almost hypnotic.
"Who are you? And how dare you interfere?" Emilia snapped, fury twisting her features. Then, her tone hardened even further. "You know what? Forget that—guards, arrest him as well!"
A few city guards immediately moved forward, joined by some of the surviving Converella family guards from the orc fight, weapons drawn and ready.
The blonde man leapt back a few steps, keeping his stance low and balanced. Raising his broken sword, he shouted, "Whirlwind!"
In an instant, a violent gust of wind surged outward, sweeping across the ground. The guards were slammed backward, stumbling and crashing into each other, their formation shattered, some struggling to regain footing as the force of the attack rattled the area.
"Just who is this guy?! How can he have this kind of power?!" Emilia shouted, scrambling to her feet, her dress smudged and disheveled from the Whirlwind attack. The coachman and maid were also pushed roughly to the ground, dirt smearing their clothing, while Axel remained steady, almost unnervingly calm.
"Noo! My whole dress is ruined!" Emilia cried, frantically trying to wipe the dirt off her gown, to no effect.
The man then turned his piercing red eyes toward Axel. Axel swallowed hard inside his helm, though his emotion suppressor kept any trace of fear off his face.
With a casual wave of his broken blade, the man sliced through Axel's helm. It split cleanly in two, pieces clanging against the ground with a heavy thump.
"That wasn't nice," Axel said, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. He had to keep his composure—there was no way he could let them see that he was freaked out.
"That's right, Lord Axel, teach that insolent buffoon what happens when someone messes with me," Emilia said, her voice dripping with arrogance. She then turned her gaze toward the man with the broken blade. "No matter how strong you are, you can't be Lord Axel. His strength equals that of the holy knights."
"Huh? A new addition?" the man said, his red eyes narrowing. "I know all the holy knights of Valvera, and how many of them share the name Axel—but not you. Regardless, you are a disgrace to the holy knights. How can you allow that cruel noble girl to threaten to throw the little girl into a dungeon?"
His gaze swept over the guards holding the little girl. Terrified, they quickly released her and scrambled away.
"You seem to know a lot about the holy knights. Are you somehow connected to them?" Axel asked, his tone laced with suspicion.
"Sigh, me and my mouth," the man muttered, taking a stance, his hands gripping the broken sword tightly, the air around him humming with barely contained power.
Oh shit! What the hell am I going to do now? There's no fucking way I can beat this dude in a fight. Look at him—he could slice me in two. Wait, wait… maybe I can manage something, Axel thought, his pulse quickening even as his face betrayed nothing.
"Let's act like civilized people, and with reason, before coming to blows," Axel said, sliding his sword back into its scabbard, trying to mask his tension with a calm, measured tone.
"Lord Axel, what are you doing?! Strike him down!"
Axel glanced at her calmly and said, "Lady Emilia, this is an open field. If I fight this guy here with you around, I might not be able to fight at my fullest—and I don't want you to get injured."
He doesn't want me to get hurt! He cares for me so much!! Emilia's heart fluttered at the words coming from Axel's mouth. She was smitten—but, of course, Axel had no idea.
"Besides, a commoner isn't worth all this trouble, is she?" he added casually.
Now that she thought about it, Emilia couldn't argue. "Hmm… now that I think about it, it's true. Very true!" she said, trying to sound decisive, though her face betrayed a little disappointment.
Axel turned his attention back to the man. "So, how about it? You take the girl and go."
The man studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine." He walked over to the little girl, who was still sobbing softly, and gently held her close to his chest, rocking her slightly to calm her. "It's alright. I'll take you home—and I'll get the medicine for your mother and sister too."
"Thank… thank you," the little girl sobbed, her small arms wrapping around the man's neck. He lifted her carefully, carrying her away as he said, "Can you guide me to your village?"
"Yes…" she nodded, clutching his shoulder as they walked off together, slowly disappearing from view.
Axel turned back and strode toward Emilia. "You know… I think I'll take your offer and rest in the city for a bit," he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of exhaustion.
Mentally, he was drained from the entire ordeal.