The golden light of the setting sun cast long shadows across Andelheim’s cobbled streets. The air hummed with the lingering energy of the day’s battles, chatter from spectators and competitors blending with the rhythmic clatter of carts and the distant notes of street musicians.
Valeria trudged beside Lucavion, her posture taut with weariness. Her breathing was steady but deep, a testament to the taxing nature of her latest duel. Sweat matted a few stray strands of hair to her temple, though she held her head high, refusing to let her exhaustion show beyond what was unavoidable.
Lucavion, on the other hand, strolled with an easy grace, as if the day had been a leisurely jaunt rather than a series of grueling fights. He glanced sidelong at Valeria, noting her slightly slower pace with a faint smirk. “You look like you just wrestled a wyvern and lived to tell the tale,” he remarked, his voice teasing but edged with a touch of genuine observation.
Valeria shot him a sharp glance, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Some of us don’t toy with our opponents like it’s a game,” she countered, though the bite in her words was dulled by fatigue.
Lucavion chuckled, sidestepping a street performer juggling flaming torches with an ease that made him seem almost untouchable. “Ah, but isn’t that the beauty of it? If it’s not fun, why bother?” His gaze lingered on her for a beat, his tone shifting slightly. “Though, I suppose not everyone gets to fight for fun.”
She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes fixed ahead as they navigated through the thickening crowd. Vendors hawked roasted nuts, fragrant spices, and small trinkets along the roadside. The lively scene was a stark contrast to the battlefield they’d left behind just hours ago.
“Not everyone has your luxury,” she said finally, her voice quieter. There was no venom in her words this time, only a faint trace of something unspoken—resentment or perhaps envy.
Lucavion’s smirk softened, and he glanced at her sidelong. “You’re too hard on yourself, Valeria,” he said, his tone gentler now. “Even knights need to breathe sometimes.”
The bustling streets fell into a comfortable rhythm around them. A group of children darted past, laughing as they chased a rolling hoop. Valeria slowed her steps, watching them for a moment, her expression unreadable.
Lucavion noticed, his grin returning. “See? Not everything’s a battle,” he said, motioning toward the kids. “Sometimes it’s just life.”
“…”
She huffed lightly but said nothing, her pace steadying as they moved deeper into the heart of the city. A faint smile ghosted her lips, unnoticed by Lucavion as he veered toward a vendor selling skewered meats.
The crowd thickened as they passed through the central marketplace, where the warm glow of lanterns bathed the cobblestones in golden light. The air smelled of roasted meats, spiced cider, and the faint tang of smoke from nearby forges. Valeria walked with a steady pace beside Lucavion, her thoughts a storm beneath her composed exterior.
Her mind kept drifting back to the battles earlier in the day, replaying the clash with the Silver Flame Sect’s champion in vivid detail. His movements had been fluid, his strikes unrelenting—a true test of her skill. Yet, she had won, carving her way into the top eight of the tournament. The memory of the crowd’s roar still lingered in her ears, faint and distant but impossible to forget.
She had heard her name—her
family’s
name—shouted with fervor.
Valeria Olarion.
Not just a competitor, but the pride of the Olarion household, the noble knight who had defied expectations and risen to the top. It wasn’t something she had actively sought. She hadn’t hidden her identity, but she hadn’t flaunted it, either. It had simply… happened. The city of Andelheim had pieced her story together on its own, and now, her name was on everyone’s lips.
A surreal feeling settled over her. Pride and unease intertwined, forming a knot in her chest. She was proud—of course, she was proud. Defeating a fighter of the Silver Flame Sect, a warrior widely regarded as one of the strongest contenders, was no small feat. But as she walked the streets of Andelheim, the hum of the tournament’s aftermath all around her, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered that it wasn’t enough.
You could have done better.
Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, the weight of it grounding her. The fight had been fierce, but she couldn’t shake the thought of the mistakes she had made. The missed timing on a parry. The moment she had been forced back into a defensive stance, ceding control of the fight for precious seconds. Those moments haunted her, small imperfections in what should have been a flawless victory.
Lucavion, meanwhile, ambled a few steps ahead, his skewered meat in hand, as relaxed as ever. He turned his head slightly, as though sensing her thoughts. “So, top eight,” he said casually, his voice breaking through the din of the street. “Not bad for a ‘knight with too much honor to fight dirty,’ huh?”
Valeria arched a brow at his backhanded compliment, but her lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as praise.”
He grinned, glancing back at her. “Oh, it is. Though, you’re awfully quiet for someone who just earned themselves a seat among the best. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”
“Should I?” she replied, her voice measured. “I advanced, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m satisfied.”
Lucavion stopped abruptly, his relaxed stride halting mid-step. Valeria barely had time to notice before he turned to face her fully, a spark of mischief in his eyes. Without warning, his hand shot out, his thumb and index finger gently grazing her cheek and the corner of her lips.
She froze, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, her eyes widening. The sensation of his touch was fleeting but unmistakable, and the audacity of the gesture sent a jolt through her chest.
“You’re awfully smiley for someone who isn’t celebrating,” he said, his smirk widening as he leaned back slightly, clearly reveling in her stunned reaction.
The warmth rising to her cheeks turned into a sudden rush of heat as she slapped her hand toward his wrist, her expression hardening into a glare. But Lucavion was already a step ahead. His hand had withdrawn before hers could connect, the motion so fluid it was as though he had anticipated her every move.
“Don’t touch me like that!” she snapped, her voice sharp as steel, her composure barely masking her irritation—and something else she couldn’t quite name.
He chuckled, unbothered, his smirk now a full-blown grin. “Relax, Valeria. It was just an observation,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Though I can’t help but notice… you’re not denying it.”
Her glare sharpened, her fingers tightening around her sword’s hilt as though she was debating whether to draw it just to make a point. “Deny what? That you’re insufferable?” she shot back, her voice cold, though the flush on her cheeks betrayed her otherwise composed demeanor.
“Touchy,” Lucavion teased, taking a leisurely bite of his skewer as he resumed walking. “But fine, I’ll drop it. For now.”
Valeria exhaled sharply, her irritation simmering as she fell into step behind him. She refused to let his antics linger in her mind—there were more important things to focus on, like her performance in the tournament and the battles yet to come. But even as she tried to push the moment aside, she caught herself brushing her cheek absently with her fingers, her brow furrowing in annoyance.
What is his problem?
she thought, her mind churning.
Why does he always have to get under my skin?
But in the end, all of that ended abruptly.
Since the din of the bustling streets seemed to shift suddenly, subtle but distinct. Valeria’s steps faltered, her senses sharpening as a faint prickle ran down her spine. Her eyes darted to the corners of the alley they were passing through, noting shadowy figures lingering just beyond the reach of the lantern light. The air felt heavier now, oppressive with the presence of multiple auras. She counted at least five—no, six—and one of them radiated a force that stood out, stronger than the rest.
Her hand instinctively moved to her sword, her grip tightening as her muscles coiled in preparation. “Lucavion,” she said lowly, her voice laced with urgency. “We’re being followed. There are at least six of them.” Continue your adventure at
Lucavion, still a step ahead, turned to glance over his shoulder. His smirk was firmly in place, though his sharp eyes flicked briefly around their surroundings. “Only six?” he said, his tone light and teasing. “You’re slipping, Valeria. Took you long enough to notice.”
Her glare could have cut through steel. “This isn’t the time to joke,” she snapped, her voice tense. “Stay sharp.”
But Lucavion didn’t seem the least bit concerned. He slowed his pace just enough to fall in beside her, biting off another piece of his skewer as though they were on a casual stroll. “Relax,” he said, his voice calm and casual. “We’re already in safe waters.”
Valeria’s brows knit in confusion, but then she realized what he meant. As she scanned their surroundings again, her narrowed eyes caught the familiar shape of the Iron Matron’s inn just ahead. Its sturdy, weathered facade stood out even in the dim light, its golden lanterns casting a welcoming glow across the cobblestones.
Her steps slowed as she processed his words, but her unease didn’t fade. “You knew?” she asked, her tone sharp with disbelief. “You knew they were there, and you just—what? Walked us straight into a trap?”
Lucavion shrugged, his smirk tilting into something sharper. “Trap? Hardly. They wouldn’t dare make a move this close to the Iron Matron. Even fools know where the lines are drawn.”
Valeria’s eyes flicked back toward the shadowed figures, who had stopped at the edge of the alley. They lingered there, their auras still present but hesitant. It was as though an invisible boundary kept them at bay, one they weren’t willing to cross.
She turned back to Lucavion, her expression still guarded. “And if they
had
crossed that line?”
He grinned, his confidence maddeningly unshaken. “Then I’d have let you handle them, of course. You need the practice, after all.”
Her glare could have melted stone, but she chose not to respond, instead brushing past him and striding toward the inn’s entrance. The Iron Matron loomed like a sanctuary, its warmth and noise spilling out into the cool night air. Whatever game Lucavion was playing, she wasn’t in the mood to entertain it—not when her instincts were still screaming that this wasn’t over.
But well, at this point she was already dragged into it.
And, though she did not know, she was not being honest with herself at all.
As they stepped inside, Valeria cast one last glance over her shoulder and she saw that five people in blue robes were approaching them slowly.
They were not even hiding their intent at all.
‘Sigh…..’
She could only sigh to herself.