Nara's small, whispered request to stay with me, her tiny voice trembling with the fear of being alone, cut through the heavy, political tension like a knife. The dark, complex mystery of the Neutral Sector, the question of its decay and the city's hidden social structure, all of it evaporated in the face of this one, simple, immediate reality.
Erina's expression, which had been a mask of grim, worldly-wise frustration, softened instantly. She looked at Nara, then at me, then let out a long, slow breath.
"I…" she began, then glanced at a glowing rune that had just lit up on her wrist—some kind of Faction-issued timer. She cursed under her breath. "My break's over, Kael. I'm late for my patrol rendezvous."
She looked torn, her gaze flickering between her duty and the child I had just dragged into the middle of the plaza. "Look," she said, her voice dropping back into that low, urgent tone. "We have to finish this conversation. What you walked into, what that place is… it's important. But I can't do it now."
Her gaze, hard and serious, locked onto mine. "For now, just... do what you did. Keep her safe. Don't, under any circumstances, take her back to the Neutral Sector. Do you understand me? It's not safe for you, and it's definitely not safe for her."
I nodded, the unspoken questions burning in my throat. But I understood. Her duty was her duty.
"Go," I said. "I'll handle this."
Erina gave me a final, grateful but worried look. She knelt, gave Nara a quick, reassuring ruffle of her hair, and then, with a final "We'll talk tonight!" she was gone, a flash of orange and scarlet disappearing into the dense Merchant crowd.
I was alone again. Well, almost.
I was alone with a map I didn't understand, a mission I had abandoned, and a small, terrified child who was now looking up at me with a pair of wide, trusting eyes, as if I had all the answers. I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. What now?
My mission was to inspect the city. But Erina was right. Nara's safety was the new, non-negotiable priority. I couldn't very well drag a seven-year-old girl on a structural integrity survey of the entire city. And I definitely couldn't take her back to her "home" in the Neutral Sector, not after what I'd seen.
That left only one option. One place where I knew, with absolute certainty, she would be safe. A place built of solid stone, run by unfeeling logic, and protected by the most powerful beings I knew.
It was time to go home.
"Come on, Nara," I said, forcing a reassuring smile. "I'm going to take you to my place. It's safe there. I promise."
Her small hand found mine again, her grip tight, and we began the walk back to the city's core. The journey was a silent, nervous one on my part. What was I supposed to say? How did I explain to Lyra, the perfect, logical, and emotionally unreadable attendant, that I had not only failed to complete my first assignment as a scout, but I had also brought back a stray, undocumented child from the most dangerous sector in the city? I braced myself for a lecture, for a cold, logical refusal. 'Housing non-faction personnel is a violation of protocol 7-Delta.' I could practically hear it.
We arrived at the massive, plain stone door of the Builder's headquarters. It felt, as it always did, like entering a fortress. I pushed it open, the heavy wood groaning in the quiet hall.
Just as I had half-expected, Lyra was there, standing in the main workshop, meticulously polishing a data-slate. She looked up, her internal clock no doubt registering my arrival as several hours ahead of schedule.
"Kael-sama," she greeted, her voice the usual, calm monotone. "You have returned early. Have you completed the full structural survey of all four sectors? That is remarkably efficient."
A hot, embarrassed flush crept up my neck. I rubbed the back of my head, a nervous habit I couldn't seem to shake. "Ah, no. Not exactly, Lyra," I stammered. "I... I ran into a situation. The mission isn't completed."
I stepped aside, revealing the small, half-hidden form of Nara, who was clinging to the back of my cloak, her eyes wide with fear at the new, imposing surroundings.
Lyra's hand, the one polishing the slate, stopped mid-wipe. Her amber eyes didn't widen, her expression didn't change, but her focus became absolute. She stared at Nara for a long, silent, analytical moment.
"I see," she said, her voice perfectly level. "Who is this child? And what, precisely, is the connection between her presence and your failure to complete your assigned task?"
I winced. "Failure to complete" was such a harsh, administrative way of putting it. But it was, technically, the truth.
I quickly explained everything. The state of the Neutral Sector. The crumbling buildings, the pervasive, cold despair. The alley. The three men, their predatory intent. The fight, my use of the non-lethal enchant. And my final, unavoidable conclusion that I couldn't just leave her there, a target for every other thug in that lawless place. I finished my story, my voice trailing off, bracing myself for the inevitable, logical reprimand.
Lyra remained perfectly still for a long, agonizing minute. She was processing. I could almost see the data-streams flowing behind her placid eyes, weighing my dereliction of duty against the moral imperative I had followed.
Finally, she gave a single, small, definitive nod.
"I understand the parameters of the situation," she stated. "Your decision, while a deviation from the assigned mission, was a logical response to an unforeseen variable involving the protection of a non-combatant. The Builder Faction does not abandon those in need." She stepped aside, gesturing into the hall. "Please, come in. Both of you."
The wave of relief was so profound, I felt light-headed. I hadn't been turned away. She understood.
I led Nara into the vast, quiet dining hall. It was empty, the long table a silent, polished landscape. I sat Nara down on one of the heavy wooden benches, and she looked around, her small form dwarfed by the scale of the room. She looked terrified, her eyes darting to the empty chairs as if expecting new monsters to appear.
Lyra vanished into the kitchens, her movements as silent as ever.
"It's okay," I whispered to Nara. "The people here are… well, they're a little weird. But they're good. This is the safest place in the whole city."
Lyra returned, a small, silver tray in her hands. On it was a plate of delicate, sweet-smelling biscuits and a tall, frosted glass of some kind of bright, orange-colored soft drink that fizzled cheerfully. She placed the tray on the table, not in the middle, but directly in front of Nara.
"Your energy reserves are likely low," Lyra said, her voice soft, almost gentle. "Please, replenish them."
Nara looked from the food to Lyra, and then to me, her eyes asking a silent question. I smiled. "Go on. It's for you."
She shyly, tentatively, took a biscuit and took a tiny, nibbling bite. Her eyes widened slightly at the sweet flavor.
My own stomach chose that moment to let out a loud, traitorous growl. I realized I had skipped lunch entirely, the day's events having driven all thoughts of food from my mind. "Wow, that looks amazing, Lyra," I said, giving her my most charming smile. "I'm actually starving. Where's my portion?"
Lyra turned her head, fixing me with her perfectly placid, unblinking amber gaze. "My apologies, Kael-sama. Refreshments are provided for our guest, as is proper."
"Right," I said, confused. "And... for the scout who just saved her from three violent thugs and brought her to safety?"
"A man who does not complete his assigned duties does not require a mid-day snack," Lyra stated, her voice the epitome of calm, unassailable logic. "Perhaps the resulting hunger will serve as a physiological motivation to be more efficient in your tasks tomorrow."
I sputtered, my jaw dropping. Was she... was she joking? I stared at her, searching her face for any sign, any crack in the perfect, android-like facade. And I saw it. It was tiny. Infinitesimally small. A tiny, almost invisible flicker of amusement in the very corner of her amber eyes.
She was teasing me.
A slow smile spread across my face. She wasn't a cold, unfeeling machine. She understood completely. She had immediately, without question, taken Nara in, provided for her, and made her feel safe. And, at the same time, she was playfully, logically, upholding the "rules" of the faction by "punishing" me for my incomplete work. It was the most Lyra-way-of-handling-things imaginable.
I sank into the bench opposite Nara, defeated but... happy. "You're serious, aren't you?" I asked, a weak laugh escaping me.
Lyra was already calmly wiping down the pristine table, her attention apparently elsewhere. "I am always serious, Kael-sama. This faction runs on efficiency."
I looked at the plate of biscuits, just out of my reach. I looked at Nara, who was now cautiously taking a sip of the orange drink.
I whispered to myself, "She's... she's really not going to give me one."
The realization was both hilarious and deeply comforting. I was part of the strangest, most dysfunctional, and most caring family in this entire broken world.