Chapter 30: Some Recon
There she was.
Still wearing that armor like it was stitched into her skin. I'd seen her walk this same route nearly every day now for a month. She was predictable, in a way. Clockwork routine, always in uniform, always upright, always pissed off. But she was impressive. Strong, fast, serious. Scary. Like an ancient statue that could draw its sword and cut your head off if you blinked wrong.
I leaned against the corner of a stone building, keeping my head low beneath the shade of my hood as I watched her march into that massive cathedral-looking building that doubled as the city guard headquarters. Or maybe tripled. I swear I saw a courtroom and training yard out back once. Point is… Freya Mikaelson was doing her duty, and I was out here… doing mine, apparently.
Now, before we go any further, I know what you're thinking.
'Hey, Kaizen, where the hell is Dux? The big fancy sword from before, the one with the edgy cool name?'
Yeah. That one.
I still have it.
Technically.
See, I had a little chat with the S.A. (System Admin for you new folks) during that one-month timeskip. And let me tell you, dude's not exactly chatty unless you're dying, glitching, or really pissing him off. But I asked, okay, begged, him to hold onto the sword for me until I could actually wield it without snapping my wrists or, y'know, cleaving myself in two.
He agreed. Said he'd "store it" until I was ready. Probably tucked it away in some floating folder labeled "OP crap he's not ready for yet."
So for now, I've got this standard sword I haggled for weeks ago. It's decent, sharp enough, but nowhere near the monster that is Dux. That sword practically hums with power. When I first held it, it felt like the thing was going to rip out of my hand and go off on a murder spree without me. I wasn't ready then. Maybe I'm not ready now either.
But soon.
Anyway, where were we?
Right… Freya.
She had left the city guard HQ now, her boots echoing down the stone steps as she crossed the square, heading straight back toward the merchant district.
I ducked back around the corner, keeping my distance. She hadn't seen me. Good.
Not because I was being sneaky, okay, maybe a little. But mostly because I still didn't know what the hell this mission was going to make me do. And something told me that having her aware of me shadowing her every step wouldn't help whatever "Keep Freya alive for 90 hours" required.
I glanced up toward the sky, still a few too many hours before the first day was over.
Eighty-something hours to go.
And if that mission screen was right, I was already on borrowed time.
I was done waiting.
Sure, watching Freya from a distance had its charm. Her graceful stride, that flowing black hair, and the way her armor caught the sunlight like it was made for a goddess of war… yeah, I get it, she's annoying as hell, but she's still annoyingly beautiful.
Also, there's the whole "If she dies, I die" thing. Minor detail.
So I decided to actually approach her. And by "approach," I mean pretend I had something important to say while really just trying to crack that icy shell of hers. A little recon. All part of the mission, I swear.
She was making her way down the cobbled street, toward what looked like a garrison checkpoint near the eastern gate, probably heading to her usual patrol. I quickened my pace, caught up, and called out:
"Hey! Freya!"
She paused mid-step, half-turning to me with a look that suggested she was deciding between acknowledging my presence or ignoring it completely.
Unfortunately, she chose the former.
"What do you want, rookie?"
"That's a little cold, even for a lady wearing a hundred pounds of plate armor. I was just wondering if you always look this… intimidating."
Her eyes narrowed. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"It depends. Did it make you smile?"
She didn't. Not even close. But she didn't punch me either, so, progress?
"Is there a reason you're talking to me, or is this just your attempt at flirting?"
"Can't it be both?" I shrugged. "I mean, technically you're the only person I know in this city who hasn't tried to rob me, beat me up, or lecture me about quest etiquette."
She turned to face me fully now, arms crossed. "You're wasting your time."
"Not really. You're kind of hard to ignore. You've got this 'knight from a holy order with unresolved trauma' thing going for you."
She exhaled sharply through her nose. I'm choosing to believe that was a laugh.
"You don't know anything about me."
"That's why I'm talking to you. Call it curiosity." I offered a small grin. "And maybe because I like women who can throw me across a tavern."
"I'm not impressed," she said, starting to walk again. I followed.
"Didn't think you would be. But I'm persistent, if nothing else."
She gave me a sidelong glance. "What's your angle? You working with someone? A noble? The city lord?"
"Please. I'm barely qualified to shine noble boots, let alone work with them."
"Then what do you want?"
"I told you. Curiosity. Honestly because I want to fuck you but before that, there are some other things. Maybe a drink later. Maybe a story. Something to make me think this city isn't just crowded and full of bad smells."
She scoffed. "You're a strange one. You know I am engaged to be wed."
"Comes with the territory."
"What territory?"
"Far, far away." I kept it vague, letting her wonder. "Where the sun burns hotter and people don't wear armor just to go grocery shopping."
Freya's brow arched, but she didn't press.
"Fine," she said. "You've got five minutes. Say what you want."
"Well, now I'm under pressure." I rubbed my chin dramatically. "I was going to ask where someone like you learned to fight like that. You don't just wake up one day and swing that oversized toothpick like a pro."
"I trained in the Holy Order of Valen. Years of it. I was practically raised by the blade."
"Explains a lot."
"Like what?"
"Like why you never smile."
She didn't smile at that either.
"But I'm guessing there's more to you than just training and duty," I continued, softer this time. "That sword of yours… it's got a story, doesn't it?"
Her gaze dropped briefly to her side. "It's named Aetherfang. And no, I'm not telling you how I got it."
I held up my hands. "Fair enough. But thanks for not slicing me with it yet."
She actually paused.
"…You really don't have anything better to do?"
"Nope," I said. "And I figure if I'm going to die in the next three days, I might as well get to know the person whose life mine depends on."
"What?"
Shit.
I quickly coughed, waving it off. "I mean, if there's another goblin incident or something. This city's got all kinds of surprises, right?"
She eyed me suspiciously. "You're hiding something."
"You'd be amazed how often I hear that."
"Just don't get in my way."
"I'm rooting for you," I said. "And if you ever want that drink or that other thing, just say the word."
She turned and walked away without responding, her plate armor clinking with each step, leaving me standing there with a grin on my face.
Okay. So I didn't get punched. Or arrested. That's a win.
And hey, if I keep this up, I might just figure her out… before I die.