The knock was still ringing in Lucien's ears as the door swung open.
A draft of freezing air leaked into the room, along with the pungent odor of sweat, dust, and panic.
The man waiting in the doorway appeared as if he had come running through the middle of the merchants streets without halting.
Mr. Williams.
His normally neat and tidy gray hair was disheveled and unkempt. Breathing came in shallow gasps. He held with one white-knuckled hand to the doorframe to support himself while his other shaking hand clutched his chest.
Nobody said a thing.
Then—
"Mr. Williams?" Darius asked, already moving forward. "You look like you could use a seat
The elderly vendor shook his head vehemently.
"No—no time!" he growled. "Darius, I—I need your
Lucien clenched not in fear but excitement.
Behind him, Seris's quill hesitated mid-scratch, ink forming a dot on the ledger page. Elena was already up and walking towards him.
"Come inside," she said softly. "You'll fall if you keep standing."
Mr. Williams stumbled forward as if the only thing propping him up was the suggestion.
Lucien shut the door.
That sound—so ordinary—felt heavier than it should have.
Elena guided Mr. Williams to a chair, placing a steady hand at his back while Darius pulled another stool closer.
"What happened?" Elena asked, her voice calm, deliberate.
Mr. Williams swallowed hard.
"The thugs," he whispered.
The word alone shifted the room.
Lucien straightened instinctively. Seris's expression hardened, her easy confidence replaced by sharp focus.
"New ones," Mr. Williams continued. "Not the usual petty troublemakers. These… these are organized."
Elena poured water into a cup and placed it gently into his shaking hands.
"Slowly," she encouraged. "Drink first."
He obeyed, spilling a little onto his tunic as his hands trembled.
"They came to my stall this morning," he said after a moment. "Said they were offering protection. Told me I'd be safe—for a price."
Darius leaned against the table, arms crossed.
"And you declined," he said, not as a question.
Mr. Williams let out a broken laugh.
"I told them I've been trading here for thirty years. That this district doesn't work that way." His voice cracked. "They laughed. Said things have changed."
Lucien felt his jaw tighten.
"They said if I don't pay double by sundown," Mr. Williams continued, eyes shining, "they'll smash everything. My stall. My goods." He hesitated, then whispered, "My grandsons were there."
That did it.
The air in the room shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.
Elena's fingers tightened slightly around the teapot. Seris's jaw set, eyes narrowing.
Lucien felt something hot rise in his chest.
Children…?
"You did the right thing coming here," Elena said softly.
Mr. Williams looked up at her, eyes damp.
"I didn't know where else to go."
Darius pushed off the table and knelt slightly so he was eye level with the old man.
"Are they still there?"
Mr. Williams nodded.
"They said they'd return before sundown. With more people. To make an example."
For a moment, silence filled the shop.
Then Darius sighed.
Not the sigh of a man afraid.
But the sigh of someone whose morning plans had been mildly disrupted.
"Figures," he muttered.
Lucien blinked.
Darius stood, brushing his hands together as if finishing a task.
"I'll go speak with them."
Mr. Williams stared at him.
"Y-you'll go alone?"
Darius reached for his coat.
"Yes."
Seris snorted.
"They're doomed."
Lucien turned sharply toward her. "Seris."
"What?" she said innocently. "It's true."
Lucien looked back at his father.
"Father… you're really going alone?"
Darius smiled—a calm, unhurried smile that carried no hint of bravado.
"This isn't a battle," he said. "Just a conversation."
Elena stepped forward, adjusting his coat with practiced hands, smoothing out a crease.
"No breaking stalls this time," she said coolly.
Darius chuckled. "I can't make promises."
Mr. Williams's eyes filled as Darius placed a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Come," Darius said. "Let's fix this morning."
The old man nodded, wiping his eyes quickly.
They moved toward the door together.
The bell chimed softly as it opened.
Lucien watched them step outside, sunlight spilling in behind them.
Then the door closed.
The sound felt final.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Lucien's gaze stayed fixed on the door.
Seris nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"You worry too much," she said. "Father's handled worse in his sleep."
"I know," Lucien murmured. "It's just…"
He hesitated.
Elena looked at him, one brow lifting slightly.
"It's just… I want to be like him someday."
Seris smirked.
"Then train harder," she said. "Preferably without killing another broom."
Lucien groaned.
"That broom attacked first."
Elena laughed quietly, the tension easing just a little.
"Your father will return before the tea cools," she said. "Trust him."
Lucien nodded.
The moment Darius left, peace returned—for exactly three seconds.
Then Seris smirked.
"You should've seen your face," she said, circling Lucien like a predator."You looked like a baby phoenix watching its parent fly."
Lucien flushed bright red."I did NOT."
"Oh, absolutely. Your eyes were sparkling." She mimicked him dramatically:"Father… so cool… wow…"
Lucien covered his face."Please stop."
Seris ignored him completely.
"You've been training nonstop for two years, swinging that wooden sword like your invisible Sword Spirit is judging you every morning!"
"They're stance corrections!" Lucien shouted.
Seris continued, undeterred."Uh-huh. Very heroic broom-slaying techniques."
Elena walked by with herbs."What's going on?"
"Lucien's adorable," Seris declared. "He admires Father like he's the king of the continent."
Lucien groaned."I just respect him—"
"No, no," Seris said, flicking his forehead,"You worship him."
Despite his embarrassment, Lucien couldn't hide a small smile.Seris's teasing was annoying—but warm. Familiar. Home.
"You'll get there, you know," Seris added unexpectedly, her tone softening. "One day, you'll walk with the same confidence he does."
Lucien blinked."You think so?"
Seris shrugged, hiding her smile."You work hard. That counts."
Lucien felt something spark inside him—not pride, but determination.
Maybe she was right.
Sunlight painted the shop in warm tones as Lucien swept the entrance. It was calm—still recovering from Seris's teasing—when the bell chimed again.
Jingle-jingle!