The Balmount Kingdom stirred with unrest, its streets crowded with shouting merchants, worn travelers, and Knights whose heavy boots thudded like drums of order. Voices clashed in the square, metal clinked against leather, and the dry scent of dust and iron hung in the air. Somewhere in that tangle of noise and motion stood Lizzie's stall, nothing more than a sturdy wooden table beneath a faded awning, with sacks of flour, baskets of fruit bread, and spice pouches stacked neatly along the edges.
Sora stood nearby, arms folded, her sharp gaze skimming the crowd. Her glasses reflected the sun, but her face gave little away. Lizzie, hunched over a paper bag, filled it briskly with fruit bread and dried berries, her voice raised just enough to be heard over the clamor.
"How're Kibo and the girls?" she asked, her words carrying the weight of someone who had asked it many times before. "When'll they visit? It's been too long."
Sora didn't look at her. "They're training. Out of town. Hard to say when."
Lizzie's face fell, the corners of her smile withering into something tired. "That's a shame. They're still kids. They need warm food and warm hands."
"I make sure of it," Sora said flatly.
Lizzie gave a breathy chuckle, but her eyes were watching Sora closely. "I know you do. Still, you're always alone. When'll you find a good man, hmm? It's time."
Sora's jaw tightened. "I'm not looking."
"You could be."
Silence stretched between them. Lizzie handed over the bag slowly, but didn't let go. "Isn't there someone?"
Sora took the bag, her grip steady. "There is."
Lizzie's eyebrows rose. "He like you back?"
"Yes."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Sora exhaled, eyes scanning the street. "It's complicated."
Before Lizzie could push again, a sharp noise split the alley near them, a screeching wheel, followed by ragged crying. A prison cart turned the corner, drawn by horses with patchy manes and heavy black harnesses. Behind it, three knights dragged small children out of the shadows.
One was a boy, beastkin, his furred ears twitching with terror, arms scratched and filthy. He screamed, fighting as a knight yanked him up by the collar. "Stop it! I didn't do anything!"
"Shut it, you beast!" the knight snapped, swinging a whip down across the boy's back. The lash cracked loud enough to silence the nearby chatter. The boy crumpled, shrieking as blood welled through his tattered shirt.
Another child, smaller, sobbed behind him. No one moved.
The crowd around the stall stiffened. People glanced, winced, then looked away. A merchant nearby shifted his cart to block his own view. A woman ushered her daughter down another street.
The knight raised the whip again, sneering. "You're not a child. You're filth. Walk, or I'll drag you."
Another knight stepped in and grabbed his arm. "Enough. He's just a boy."
"You blind?" the first snapped. "They're animals. They breed like rats."
The boy trembled, his legs barely holding him up as he was shoved into the cart beside others. Dirty faces. Hollow eyes.
Sora's voice was barely a whisper, cold and razor-sharp. "Where are they taking them?"
Lizzie's eyes were hard now. "The orphanage."
Sora turned. "That's not an orphanage."
Lizzie nodded grimly. "I know. It's a pit. They say it's work and shelter. But they sell them. No one stops it. Not anymore."
Sora stared at the cart, her thoughts spiraling. "That's what Balmount is now. A kingdom cracked from the inside, and the people can't even look it in the eye. Uncle Thorn still calls it protection, but protection's nothing without presence. And he's not here."
She turned to leave.
"Wait," Lizzie said, pushing the bag into her hands. "Here. Fruit bread. I put some dried fruit and those red roots...Lily likes."
"Thanks," Sora said, her tone unreadable.
Lizzie gave a tired smile. "You asked about my offer. I'm declining. I'm staying."
"You'll be safer outside Balmount."
"But they won't," Lizzie said, nodding toward the prison cart. "I've raised too many to leave now. Some of them made it. They write me, bring coin when they visit. It's enough."
Sora hesitated. "Even if it gets worse?"
Lizzie's voice was firm. "Even then."
Sora's gaze softened, but only for a moment. "If that's your choice. I'll tell the children you said hello."
Lizzie's smile was quiet. "Take care, Sora."
Sora nodded, slipping back into the crowd as the cart rumbled away, its wheels grinding against stone. The knights rode behind it without looking back. The cries had faded, but the silence they left behind was heavier.
In her mind, a thought stirred. Heavy. Bitter.
"Balmount is crumbling…Uncle Thorn's plan was supposed to protect them."
"But the alley children still huddled under broken rooftops. The fear still hung in their eyes. And he wasn't here to see it. He couldn't carry it all. No one could. But I'm starting to wonder if he ever intended to."
She paused by the blacksmith's shop, its iron sign swaying on rusted chains. The wind made it creak like a warning. When she pushed the door open, the air inside wrapped around her like smoke, thick with soot and heat. The bell above gave a dull ring.
Bram stood inside, arms folded, beside a cloaked figure. The man turned, lowering his hood. Thorn's grin spread across his face, sharp and smug as ever.
"There she is," he said, voice warm like spiced wine. "We were just talking about you."
Sora gave a tired sigh. Her tone was flat. "Good day, Uncle."
Bram nodded. "Sora."
"Done shopping?" Thorn asked, eyes glinting.
Sora stepped closer. "I am. Just wanted to check in on Uncle Bram… and remind him not to forget my spar with Kibo."
Bram chuckled, then scowled. "Think I'd forget that?"
Thorn let out a full laugh. "She got you, Bram."
"It's not funny," Bram muttered. "I don't forget things."
Sora's lips pulled slightly, almost a smile. "Of course. Just making sure." She turned to leave. "Since you're both busy, I'll go."
But Thorn lifted a hand, the gesture casual, almost playful. "Stay. We've got things to talk about."
Her eyes flicked back, narrowed. "Like what?"
"Still cold," Bram grumbled.
Thorn didn't seem bothered. He stepped closer, watching her too carefully. "She's lonely, Bram. That's all this is."
Sora met his gaze without blinking. "Lucky you."
Thorn laughed, but something in it was sharp now, not amused. "No denial. Fair enough." His smile thinned. "Still training?"
"Always," she said. "It's nothing new."
Thorn's jaw tightened. "Same answer every time."
He took one step closer, his hand twitching like he might raise it. Bram moved faster, grabbing his arm.
"Easy," Bram said. "You know how she is."
"I know too well," Thorn said through clenched teeth. "Uptight. Needs someone to knock the weight off her shoulders."
Sora didn't move. "If my words offended, I apologize."
Bram nodded. "She said sorry."
Thorn exhaled, dragging his cloak back over one shoulder. "Fine." Then his voice shifted, just slightly. "I need your thoughts on the knights. From what you've seen, were they working as they should?"
Her jaw tensed. "If hurting innocents counts, then yes. They're doing their job."
His smile faded. Just for a second. Then he looked away, his voice distant. "I know. But what would you have me do? Pull them out? Leave the alleys bare? You think the street children survive a week without someone to keep order?"
She looked at him long. "Order or control?"
"Protection," he said. "Even if it looks cruel."
Bram cleared his throat. "It's about the summit, isn't it?"
Thorn nodded. "Yes…If I leave Balmount now, things unravel. We're one spark away from burning. The knights are the protection. I don't like it either… And skipping this summit… is not wise. Not when Subaru is going to be there."
Sora stared at him, trying to read beneath the mask. Part of her wanted to say something. Another part remembered when she was small and frightened, and Subaru shadow had been the only one over her bed at night.
"As granduncle would say…uncle thorn is not heartless."
"He's just convinced the only way to survive is through fear. And maybe…Maybe he's right.But that doesn't make it right."
Sora's lips twitched faintly. "That is true. Granduncle does like to cause a lot of trouble."
Bram let out a quiet chuckle, but Thorn's voice dropped, weight behind each word. "Yes. And I need to know what's happening. Whatever's festering in this kingdom… it's already spreading."
Bram's expression shifted. The humor faded. "So it's that serious."
Thorn turned to him, eyes dark. "Yes. It's that serious."
Then he looked back at Sora, his tone tilting just slightly. "Something might happen to my daughter soon. I'd prefer you didn't intervene."
Sora's eyes sharpened. Her voice dropped, cold and clear. "And what thing is that?"
Thorn didn't blink. "Let's just say the same people who've been tracking you will come to take Sylphira."
Sora adjusted her glasses slowly, the breath leaving her in a quiet sigh. "And as I've told you before… I can handle it."
Thorn smiled. The expression didn't reach his eyes. "Let her face them. It's time she learned. She's not alone. She's got Kibo… and that her friend…Lily isn't it."
Sora's voice was sharper now. "They won't dare strike if I'm near."
Thorn's expression darkened. "Then don't be near. Leave the cottage. Let them get a taste of what it means to fight someone besides you."
Sora's shoulders stiffened. "So now we're inviting danger?"
Bram spoke then, his voice low but heavy. "Do it, Sora. There's worse coming."
Sora didn't look away from Thorn. Her voice remained even, but the edge was sharper now. "Granduncle ordered me to protect and train Sylphira. Not you. I'll stay back. Watch from the shadows. But if they go too far… I won't hold back."
Thorn gave a low laugh. It wasn't amused. "Cold as ever. If she takes a scratch, you'll answer for it."
Sora's lips curved just slightly, though it wasn't kindness. "She won't."
Thorn's chuckle deepened. "Kidding. A scratch might do her good. Toughen her skin."
Bram shook his head. "You're both mad."
Sora turned to the door. "Uncle Bram, don't forget the spar."
Bram gave a short nod. "I heard you."
Sora pushed the door open. The chime rang out, soft and familiar, and the sounds of the alley drifted back in, faint cries, wooden wheels dragging through dirt. She stepped out without a word.
Bram exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "You both need help."
Thorn gave a sly grin. "Just a talk. She needs to loosen up."
Bram snorted. "Good luck with that." He bent down, pulling out a sheathed greatsword. The steel glinted faintly through the worn leather. "Your weapon. My best."
Thorn took it in both hands, fingers brushing along the hilt. His voice was quieter. "Thanks, Bram. I'm off."
Bram hesitated, then spoke, his voice low. "Thorn… is it truly that bad?"
Thorn didn't answer right away.
His gaze dropped to the floor, as if searching for words in the cracks. When he looked back up, the light in his eyes had dimmed to something hollow. "The rot runs deep, Bram. I can't stop it without blood. Lines have to be drawn. Sacrifices chosen. I've made plans… to save what I can."
Bram exhaled slowly through his nose. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Thorn gave a bleak smile, one without comfort. "Hope. That's all this kingdom has left."
He raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
A sound followed, not loud, but sharp, unnatural. The air beside him split open, thin as a blade's edge, glowing faintly blue. The portal cracked into being, slow and uneven, its edges crawling like veins of lightning across glass. Wind dragged at his cloak as the tear widened, its core humming with a pressure that made the forge's fire dim for a breath.
Thorn stepped forward, drawing his hood up, the flicker of light catching only the line of his mouth. "Stay safe, Bram."
Then he vanished into the rift.
The portal closed behind him with a hiss, folding in on itself until nothing remained but silence and the forge's soft breath.
Bram stood still.
Alone again.
He stared at the space where Thorn had disappeared, then muttered under his breath, his voice like gravel. "Those damned Covenant bastards…"
His hand fell to the hilt of a nearby blade, and his eyes lingered on the door. "Sigh."