For a moment, the alley was silent—quiet in that sacred way only children can create when they do something bold and terrifying and wondrous. Zen's tiny hand gripped Selene's, his grip firm for someone so young. The girl stared at him as if trying to understand something impossible.
"You really are crazy," she repeated, brushing dirt from her dress with a scowl.
Zen, his cheek already starting to swell, just smiled. "Maybe. But I don't like bullies."
Selene said nothing at first. Then, with a huff, she wiped her nose and added, "You hit like a wild boar. One of them tripped into a barrel."
"That's his fault, not mine," Zen said proudly.
They both stood awkwardly in the narrow alley, surrounded by broken crates and discarded fruit. Despite her scuffed appearance and torn ribbon, Selene still held herself with a strange sort of dignity, one far beyond her years. Zen didn't notice—it didn't matter to him. She was someone who needed help. That was all.
"What's your name?" she asked after a pause.
"Zen. Zen Von Emberhart," he replied, puffing out his chest like he'd heard his brothers do.
She blinked. "Emberhart? As in Marquis Leo's house?"
Zen tilted his head. "That's my papa."
Selene fell quiet, lips parting in surprise. For a moment, a flicker of calculation crossed her young face, then melted away as quickly as it had come. "I'm Selene," she said finally. "Selene Albrecht."
Zen's head tilted again, this time with no recognition. "That sounds important."
"It is," she replied with the solemn pride only a noble child could muster. Then, seeing he wasn't impressed, she added, "My papa's a Duke."
Zen blinked. "Is that more important than a marquis?"
Selene gave a tiny smirk. "A little."
They laughed, the tension slipping from the air like morning mist. Then, wordlessly, Zen turned and held out his hand again. "C'mon. Let's find your papa before someone else gets lost."
Selene hesitated, then took his hand once more. Together, the two small children walked out of the alley and back toward the heart of the academy district, stepping between towering buildings of glass and stone. The crowd thickened as they approached the central promenade near the Solaris Hall, a massive structure where noble families gathered for events, council meetings, and dueling exhibitions.
It was there—beneath the towering golden banners of the Empire—that Zen saw a group of armored knights and richly dressed nobles gathering near a fountain. Among them stood a tall man with dark auburn hair, clad in elegant layers of black and silver, speaking sternly with several guards. His aura radiated authority and calm fury—the unmistakable presence of a man used to being obeyed.
The moment Selene broke through the crowd, his expression shifted. His composure cracked as he rushed forward and knelt, embracing his daughter.
"Selene," he said with a voice like thunder wrapped in velvet. "Are you harmed?"
"I'm fine, Papa," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "Zen helped me. The boys ran away."
The Duke turned slowly. His gaze settled on the small boy standing beside his daughter, his face bruised, shirt untucked, and eyes defiantly calm.
"And who," the Duke asked, "is Zen?"
Before Zen could answer, another voice called out across the crowd: "Zen!"
Leo Von Emberhart stepped forward, boots clicking sharply against the stone. His cloak flowed behind him like a banner, and his expression—though calm—carried the weight of purpose. When he reached his son, he gently rested a hand on Zen's head and looked toward the Duke.
"Duke Albrecht," Leo said with a respectful bow. "I see my son has caused another disturbance."
The Duke raised a brow, the edge of his mouth quirking. "Your son, Marquis?"
"Yes," Leo replied, a note of pride in his voice. "Zen Von Emberhart. My youngest."
Selene tugged on her father's coat. "He fought three older boys. Just like that. They were making fun of me."
The Duke was silent for a moment, then knelt before Zen. "You defended my daughter?"
Zen shrugged. "She was crying. I didn't like that."
A deep chuckle rumbled from the Duke's chest. "Bravery and simplicity. A rare combination."
Leo stepped beside them. "My son has a habit of stepping where he shouldn't. But today... it seems the gods smiled on it."
The Duke rose, extending a hand toward Leo. "You have my gratitude, Lord Emberhart. My daughter is dear to me."
Leo shook it firmly. "As mine are to me."
The crowd began to disperse, but the conversation lingered. The Duke looked down once more at Zen—thoughtful now. Curious.
"You have my thanks, Zen Von Emberhart. Perhaps... one day you will visit our estate. Selene will no doubt wish to repay your bravery."
Zen simply smiled. "As long as there's food."
The Duke laughed, a deep, genuine sound. Beside him, Selene crossed her arms and muttered, "You're such a weird noble."
Zen scratched his cheek. "Thanks."
As they parted ways, Leo glanced down at his son, his mind racing. That simple encounter—unplanned, unscripted—had forged a bond, not just between children... but between houses. And Leo, ever the strategist, felt the wind shift ever so slightly.
The Duke of Elarion was intrigued.
And somewhere within Zen, faint and far away, the Architect stirred—though he still remembered nothing.