The tea had gone cold by the time I realized I’d stopped drinking it.

  I sat outside my usual café in the Inner Rim, one of the little spots tucked between cobbled streets and polished glass storefronts. The sort of place where even the air smelled expensive - roasted beans, rainwater, and faint traces of perfume.

  The sun was warm for once, not burning, just enough to make the brass railings glint. From where I sat, I could see children chasing each other along the promenade, the slow roll of carriages, a violinist playing near the corner fountain.

  For a city that thrived on blood and secrecy, it looked almost… gentle.

  I found the whole thing a bit jarring.

  I sipped the last of my tea and leaned back, letting the quiet blur together. That’s when I heard them - the couple seated at the table beside mine.

  The man’s voice was low and smug, the kind that carried self-assured authority. “Says here Heretics attempted to infiltrate the Northern Forest last night, and were exterminated completely.” he muttered, folding his newspaper like a prize.

  The woman gasped. “That must be why the curfew was imposed. Why would those heretics try attacking our city after the great purge of the Northern Forest?”

  He shook his head, eyes stern with thinly hidden pride. “It matters not. His Highness the Regent and Lord Arthur are keeping the city safe. The heretics will be purged, one after another, just like before.”

  The woman’s hand went to her neck, brushing against a small white-masked pendant - the kind you only saw on the devout. She whispered a quick prayer under her breath.

  “May the Emperor and the Almighty watch over them and protect them.”

  The man grunted in agreement.

  I kept my eyes on the street, pretending not to listen.

  The sound of porcelain broke my eavesdropping. The waitress - the same one who always served me - smiled shyly as she picked up my empty cup.

  “Another refill, sir?”

  I smiled back, shaking my head. “No, thank you. Just the check.”

  She nodded, returning a moment later with the bill. I slipped a note under the saucer. “Keep the change. Consider it your tip.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh - thank you, sir!”

  She hurried back inside.

  I sighed, setting my cap back on my head. “Right,” I muttered, staring into the light blue sky. “I probably created a misunderstanding.”

  Or maybe I was just too lazy to wait for the change.

  Either way, I had somewhere else to be.

  ---

  Arthur’s mansion stood at the far edge of the Inner Rim - less opulent than most, but no less intimidating. Columns and banners, all in that same austere military style. Every inch of the place looked like it had been built to command, not to comfort.

  The insides were no different. A lack of decadence mixed with an obsession of militaristic grandeur.

  I glanced at the guards flanking Arthur's office door and thought, not for the first time, that Arthur had just enough soldier in him to be brilliant, and just enough stubbornness to be unbearable.

  They recognized me immediately. One knocked twice on the great oak door.

  “Lord Damian,” he said formally.

  “Let him in,” came Arthur’s voice from inside.

  I stepped through.

  Arthur stood by the window, pipe in hand, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. The smell of tobacco mixed with the faint scent of old parchment and steel polish.

  “Smoking’s bad for you,” I said.

  He didn’t turn around. “Says who?”

  I thought for a second, before I shrugged. “Never mind.”

  He set the pipe down and gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

  I did.

  For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Arthur broke the silence, eyes still fixed on the gray clouds outside.

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  “I assume you’re here for answers.”

  I nodded once.

  He studied me for a heartbeat. “Are you angry?”

  I blinked. “Angry for what?”

  His jaw tightened. “My flames slew those children.”

  The words hung between us, sharp and heavy.

  “Did you know they were there?” I asked quietly.

  “It was assumed,” he said. “We didn’t see them. The tunnels collapsed before any of us could. But… yes. We knew what it meant.”

  “Did you have a choice?”

  Arthur finally turned from the window, meeting my gaze. “Everyone has a choice, Damian. Mine was simple - burn them, or risk another wave of heretics crawling out to slaughter more innocents later. I chose what I had to.”

  He rubbed his eyes, exhaling while glancing down at the street.

  "Or maybe that's just an excuse I told myself. Who knows at this point."

  He looked at me with tired, weary eyes. “Those deaths bought peace. Yet, the fact remains they were innocent, and they died horrible deaths. Are yet you seem... unbothered by the fact. Are you not angry?”

  I stared at the floor for a long moment before answering. “I wish I could be angry. To throw reason aside and hate you for it. But you’re right. The logic’s sound.”

  I felt my eyes dim a bit as I looked at Arthur. Not from pain or sorrow - but exhaustion.

  "And in all honesty, I'm too tired at this point. I don't have the time or energy to be angry anymore - not when nothing of substance will come from it. My anger won't change the fact that they're dead."

  Arthur’s eyes softened, though his voice didn’t. “Sometimes I wish you'd look at me with eyes that betrayed some form of emotion. It would have been easier if you had been angry.”

  He stepped closer, resting a hand on the back of his chair. “When the Regent found you, you’d already reached the surface. The shadows protected you, even then. He entrusted me with your secret - and I… volunteered to take you in. To raise you.”

  I looked up, unsure whether I should correct him or not.

  Maybe not. I'm already on the Regents bad side. And I doubt he wants Arthur knowing.

  Arthur smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Call it guilt. Or penance. Maybe I thought raising you would redeem something. I was wrong, of course. Nothing can redeem that day.”

  He sat down opposite me, the light from the window catching the silver in his hair.

  “I faced scorn from the other nobles for taking in a so-called ‘dirty orphan', one tainted by the Nameless Ones and thrown away,” he said, “but if it meant you’d have a life beyond the Empire’s experiments, then it was worth it. I didn’t do it for forgiveness, Damian. I wouldn't accept your forgiveness even if you offered it. I did it because you reminded me of myself - once. A man of conviction trying to make sense of a broken world.”

  He smiled again, softer this time. “I only hope you grow into something better than me - in spite of such an awful world.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t say anything. Then I leaned back, sighing. “If you want to play father so badly,” I said dryly, “you should hurry up and get married first.”

  Arthur laughed, a deep, tired sound that filled the room. “Ah, you sound more like me every day. Or rather, how young me used to sound.”

  I glanced at the ceiling, struggling to keep my heavy eyelids open.

  Maybe he's right.

  Or maybe that's the problem.

  I pushed my chair back and stood while yawning, my limbs already half dead from exhaustion. “If that’s all, I think I’ll sleep the rest of the day away. So, I’ll bid you adieu, my lord.”

  Arthur gave a short laugh, reaching again for his pipe. “Before you do, visit Adrian. He’s in the training quarters.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Training already? He was half-dead yesterday.”

  Arthur nodded, almost impressed. “Persistent, that one. More than I thought possible - and that’s saying something.”

  I sighed, tugging on my coat. “Persistent or suicidal. Guess I’ll find out.”

  ---

  The indoor training hall smelled of steel, sweat, and fresh sawdust. The rhythmic thud of fists meeting dummies echoed across the space.

  Adrian was there - shirtless, muscles tense, hair damp with sweat. He was mid-pushup when I arrived, his arms trembling slightly from fatigue but his expression locked in focus.

  I leaned against the door-frame, waiting until he finished. When he pushed up for the last time, I clapped slowly.

  He turned, breathing hard but smiling. “Didn’t expect you to show up.”

  “I had to make sure you weren’t trying to kill yourself with training,” I said, shaking my head. “But clearly, I’m too late.”

  He chuckled, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his face before pulling on a plain white shirt. “No rest for the wicked.”

  I laughed softly. “If you’re wicked, then I must be downright evil.”

  He raised an eyebrow, giving a mocking smile. “You’d be surprised.”

  For a moment, the easy silence between us felt… normal.

  Then I asked, “So what’s got you training this hard? You trying to impress someone? Exercise can't fix your facial genetics, you know?”

  His expression shifted - still calm, but there was something heavier behind it. “I’m applying to the Aurelian War College.”

  I blinked. “The one in the Saint Magdalene Academy? Now? Of all times?”

  He nodded, sitting on the bench beside the rack of wooden practice swords. “I need to leave Morren. I’ve had enough of this city. The smell of burnt rubber from the factory district and sea salt off the Valga River… it’s starting to get under my skin.”

  I didn’t say anything. He looked away, eyes distant.

  “Getting torn up like that last week - it made me realize something. I’m strong, sure. But not strong enough. And that night only reiterated the fact.”

  I crossed my arms. “And here I thought you were perfectly content spending your days drinking and beating up recruits.”

  Adrian laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish. But at that rate, I’d be dead in a month. Arthur’s already given me his blessing - as long as I accompany you.”

  “Accompany me? Your applying at the same time as me?” I raised a brow.

  “Apparently, we’re both headed in the same direction,” he said with a half-smile. “And besides, my family... well, what little I’ve got left, are in the capital. I’d rather be there than rotting here.”

  I smirked. “So, what you’re saying is I’ll have my own personal lapdog.”

  Adrian laughed, picking up his sword belt. “I’d punch you for that if you weren’t technically right.”

  I shrugged, smiling faintly. “Then I’ll take the win.”

  He slung the sword across his back. “You heading out?”

  “Yeah,” I said, glancing toward the exit. “I’ve got one more peaceful night before I’m dragged into the next disaster. I'd rather spend that time catching up on lost sleep.”

  Adrian grinned. “Then I’ll see you later, Young Master Damian.”

  I rolled my eyes, turning toward the hall. “Try not to die before then.”

  As I stepped outside, the late afternoon light cut through the training yard, bathing the cracked tiles in orange.

  For once, the city felt quiet.

  I adjusted my cap, letting the breeze carry away the smell of smoke and sweat.

  At least I wouldn’t be facing the next mess alone.

  And knowing my luck, there’d be plenty of that waiting.

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