Back in Thaeloria, Myrelion's home stood near the quiet district reserved for high-ranking adventurers. It was modest, clean, and fortified with spells and traps designed to deter spies or assassins.
The girl—bandaged, dressed in soft cotton robes, and now washed—sat on a couch before the hearth, a warm drink cradled in her trembling hands.
"…I never got your name," Myrelion said, kneeling before her, gaze steady.
The girl flinched slightly, then looked up.
"…I don't have one," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I mean… I was never given a last name. I'm just… Lira."
Myrelion nodded slowly. "What happened, Lira?"
She began to cry.
Tears fell silently at first, but then her body shuddered as everything spilled out.
"My husband—Ren—he… we were just trying to get to a safer village. He was a kind man. We didn't have much, but he protected me. Until—" her voice cracked, "—until those men came. They wanted me because of the baby. He… he fought them off while I ran. I didn't want to leave him, I swear, I didn't—!"
Myrelion placed a hand on her shoulder.
She blinked.
"Enough," he said. "You survived. That's what he wanted."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, he added, "I have no use for slaves or servants. But you… you can stay here. As long as you need. I'll make sure you're safe. You and your child."
Her eyes widened. "Wh… what?"
"I'm not merciful," he said plainly. "But you… deserve peace."
Her lip trembled. "But I… I have nothing to give…"
"Then live," he said. "And smile. That's enough."
Lira broke down, falling to her knees and bowing her head, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I… I'll do my best! I swear! I'll repay your kindness! Even if it takes the rest of my life—thank you, thank you…!"
Myrelion looked away.
His blades had killed kings and monsters alike.
But tonight, he had saved someone from despair.
And somehow…
…that felt heavier than any war.