It was late in the night when he encountered her.

  Eri couldn’t sleep, so he was planning to go to the training yard and practice with his dagger. When he arrived, however, he found someone else already there.

  Dulcina slashed and struck at the training dummy relentlessly, barely pausing for breath as she weaved complicated footwork into her assault. The dance was repetitive, yet intensely demanding, and breathtaking to behold in its elegant ferocity.

  The Heiress’s drills were unlike those of regular fencers — more aggressive and brutal by far, trading defence for near-reckless offence. This was her own style, or a style unique to House Elathion, at least.

  Eri watched her for a while. Illuminated under moonlight, he found her striking. He soon realised how creepy it was for him to just watch her from the shadows, however, and he turned away to leave.

  “You don’t have to go. I do not mind.”

  Her voice cut through the night and froze him in place.

  He turned around, guilty. “You can sense me?”

  “Barely. Do not worry, your stealth is nearly impeccable. I only noticed because my Fencer Artes allowed me to detect when and where a gaze is placed on me. It helps me read my opponent’s moves,” Dulcina explained. She had stopped her lethal dance and turned to face him. “Can we talk?”

  Eri’s first instinct was to run. He did not feel remotely equipped for a conversation with her.

  But Dulcina’s silver gaze felt dimmer and sadder than he last remembered, and so when he faced her, rather than a refusal, Eri instead offered: “Have you eaten yet? I can make us supper.”

  Moments later, the two were alone in the castle’s kitchen. Eri prepared a simple meal, his arms going through the motions automatically, calming him down.

  “You are good at this,” Dulcina noted.

  “I helped out a lot when I was in the orphanage,” he murmured, using [Enduring Firefist] to light the stove with his hands.

  “Did you have family before? Parents, siblings?” Dulcina asked gently.

  Eri paused in his work. He forced himself to resume after a second’s pause. “They’re dead. But my time with them was… good. Even if it was short.”

  “... I’m sorry for asking. It was an insensitive question.”

  “It’s fine. What did you want to talk about?”

  They were already together. He might as well get it over with.

  Dulcina sat at a nearby table, her arms folded and her head resting on them. Eri could feel her sharp eyes studying him.

  “You are disgusted by me,” she stated plainly.

  “Not disgusted. Just unsettled,” he replied, keeping his nervousness at bay as he simmered a stew of beans and lentils. “You frightened me a little the other day. I wasn’t sure how to handle your words. I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

  “No. It’s my fault. Perhaps I was too forward,” she murmured. “I never wish to imply anything untoward. I merely wanted to convey the depth of my gratitude.”

  “Is it gratitude, or were you trying to manipulate me to join your House?” Eri asked, his tone slightly bitter.

  “Both. I will not insult your intelligence. House Elathion has little to offer you, so I sought to improve the bargain.”

  “But giving up yourself?” His fists tightened, irrationally angered. “That is loathsome.”

  “For the sake of my House, I will endure much. For the sake of finding my sister, I will endure far more.” The tone in Dulcina’s voice sent a chill down his spine. “And besides… You make it sound as if I sacrifice much by ensnaring myself to you. It is the opposite.”

  Despite himself, Eri blushed slightly. He forced the words out. “I’m not interested in that.”

  “For now,” she murmured. Though quietly spoken, it felt as if a heated promise lurked in those words.

  This time, the blush was stronger.

  Minutes passed in silence. Soon, the smell of delicious stew filled the room, and Dulcina rose from her sleepy position by the table.

  Simmering herbs and roasting chunks of meat stirred within a small cookpot as Eri stoked the hearth’s embers. A few handfuls of pre-soaked lentils, diced onions, leeks, a few scraps of salted pork, and a pinch of thyme brought the pottage to a finish.

  Eri poured a bowl and passed it over to her on the table. “Here.”

  She hummed her appreciation and began eating. Eri took a seat and poured himself a bowl as well before storing the leftover within the cookpot into his inventory.

  “I don’t like the way you do things. The intensity of it is… unsettling. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like you,” Eri admitted. “You are strong, both in your blade and your will. I admire that. And you are… lovely, even if that isn’t something I should admit.”

  “I am happy to hear that. There are many things I like about you as well.” Dulcina smiled gently, his eyes low and distant as she stirred her bowl. “Your kindness makes you a person of quality in my eyes, especially with your strength. I would have assumed either arrogance or malice in the company of such power, but there is none in you at all.”

  “There are people far more powerful than me. I am nothing special.”

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “You are humble. You help others, be they peasant or noble; be their problems large or small. I have heard of your deeds in Kaldreach, and I’ve seen your selflessness in person. You have done so much for my House, not out of greed, but an obligation to what you ascribe as heroic values. There is no doubt in my mind that you are special. Is it any wonder I want you to myself, before others inevitably seek to ensnare you?”

  “... Like I said, I’m no one special. Just an orphan child.”

  “We both know that is not remotely true. And if you insist on that point, well… You wouldn’t be a child forever. Your fate is one destined for great things, and I wish to see them with you.”

  There was little conversation after that point. Dulcina finished her stew, thanked him for the meal, and then left the kitchen without another word.

  Eri stayed for a while.

  A few minutes later, Elen casually walked in and sat across from him.

  “Pass me a bowl, brat,” the matron grumbled.

  Eri prepared one and slipped it over, not even surprised. “Still looking out for me this late?”

  “Someone has to, lest you get swayed by feminine wiles. I was ready to barge in with a hammer if she offered to take you to her room or something,” Elen scoffed.

  “It’s not like that,” Eri sighed.

  “Yeah, I know. Girl was like ice. Didn’t even flinch when she saw me waiting outside the door. Thanks for the cookies, by the way. But you should have given it to me personally. The girl, Julie, ate about half of them before they even reached me.”

  “Goddamnit… I’ll make you another batch tomorrow. I just… I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

  “You don’t have to appease my sweet tooth to get me to forgive you, brat,” Elen sighed. “It doesn’t work like that, anyway. Not with me, at least. And not with something like this.”

  Eri exhaled tiredly. “Women are too complicated.”

  “Wait till you grow up. That’s when the real problems start,” the matron chuckled.

  The two continued their lighthearted conversation, and Eri went to bed with his worries lessened.

  [Dulcina Elathion Bond Level raised!]

  [You are now Bond Level 3!]

  [You have unlocked the Companion Bond Level Shop!]

  ~~~

  Days later, Joarris’s party stood at the castle gates, their belongings in hand.

  “I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Joarris said as he watched the dawn rise.

  “Thank the Goddess. I was getting sick of watching that fire burning day and night,” Bori complained. “Do you know my room has a window that faces the port? It’s so bright, I can barely sleep!”

  “We know. You’ve been whining about it every day,” Raharim groaned.

  The five were not leaving alone. A small contingent of House Elathion’s knights was accompanying them, along with Lord Draevan himself.

  “First time we’re travelling with a Lord. Except with your father, I mean,” Alvine noted.

  “It’s only for a short while. Castle Dervaine is still in Kaldreach after all, even if it is on the other side of the city,” Julie yawned. “Won’t take us more than a half-day travel to get there with a group this big.”

  The negotiations between the noble houses of Elathion and Dervaine were too important to be settled through intermediaries or messages. Lord Draevan would meet with the Head of House Dervaine — Joarris’s father — and deliver the Ruby Core personally after all agreements were finalised.

  Eri shuffled awkwardly. “I might be staying in Kaldreach for a while. Maybe for the next few years, even. Since you guys aren’t far, maybe we can meet up again sometime?”

  “Oh, no,” Bori spoke up immediately. “Between the explosions and the near-death experiences, I had enough of your company in the last two weeks to last a lifetime! No, thank— Gah!”

  Julie shut the Swordfighter up with a slap to the back of his head. “Of course, we’ll visit! Joarris’s dad probably will want us to come to Castle Elathion every so often anyway. ‘Build diplomatic relations’ or whatnot.”

  “If you’re staying in Kaldreach, I doubt this will be the last time we will meet,” Joarris added. “We will come visit when we can. Perhaps you might join us for an expedition or two if it suits your purposes.”

  “I would like that,” Eri nodded. “Take care.”

  Eri watched the group leave through the gates and down the cobbled streets towards the main highways of Kaldreach. He stayed there for a while after, watching the empty roads with forlorn feelings.

  “Look at you. Finally made a few friends.” Elen came up from behind and patted him on the back. “Guess something good came from this debacle. Never thought I would see the day you’ll overcome your crippling social skills.”

  “It’s a choice, not a curse,” Eri protested. “I had to min-max my Attributes, and Charisma was the most useless stat out of the five!”

  “You’ll come to sorely regret that one day, if you haven’t already,” Elen snorted. “Though perhaps I shouldn’t needle you too much. You did manage to befriend those five weirdos, after all.”

  “They are not weird. And I think you’re giving me too much credit. Only Joarris and Julie like me. Alvine hates my guts. Bori’s… weird. He complains about me a lot, but it doesn’t feel like he means it. And Raharim is… um…”

  “A fanboy. Weird for a Priest, considering he saw your true abilities.” Elen huffed, her tone guarded. “But he hasn’t told the Church officials despite having ample chances, so hopefully it won’t come to bite us in the ass.”

  “It was nice having them around. Exercising, talking, training with them… It was fun,” Eri admitted. “They weren’t scared of me, even after I showed them the ‘true’ me.”

  “You only showed them a fraction. They don’t know the whole truth yet,” Elen warned. “Besides, they are young, and you saved their lives. Naivety and gratitude gave you leeway this time. You got lucky.”

  “Is it really luck, though? Maybe it won’t be so bad if we told people like Lord Draevan, or—”

  “It is. It was luck, and nothing more,” Elen stressed. “Even then, your decision to save them may have consequences down the line. Don’t be stupid about this. Next time, when you ‘accidentally’ showcase your abilities, you may not be so fortunate as to walk away with your secret intact. At least not without leaving a few human corpses behind.”

  Eri flinched. After a moment, he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

  Looking back at it all, he truly had been fortunate.

  The aftermath of his Demon King abilities — the Bloodflames weapons left in Gunther, or even the enormous blood-burning effigy at the port — would not rouse much suspicion unless the witness were well-versed in the history of Demonic Arcana.

  The use or knowledge of the Bloodflame Arts likely died out centuries ago, as Erizen was the only true user of the self-destructive school of magic. Those few curious students whom he had taught quickly learnt there was little use in wielding his magic, as it was just as likely to kill them as it was to eliminate their opponent.

  His scant teachings would not have survived the last five centuries. Save for the most obscure of recordkeepers within the depths of the Church's inquisitorial archives, there was likely no one who could guess at his origins from the aftermath of his Bloodflame Arts alone.

  The world held myriad mysteries and powers, and so the mana-inert evidence of his demonic rampage could be disregarded as another facet of Eri’s many unique quirks.

  However, it was a different story if someone saw him using his abilities in person. There was no masking the infernal aura of mana corruption when he set himself alight or performed Demonic Artes.

  “I won’t use it again,” Eri promised. “I’m strong enough to stand on my own now. I don’t need my old abilities anymore to become a real hero.”

  “You say that,” Elen exhaled. “But somehow, I get the sinking feeling that promise won’t last. Just do me a favour and try to keep yourself out of trouble for the next few years, at least. I had enough excitement for quite a while.”

  “I’ll do my best.”