The sky had grown overcast.
By the time Philip had coaxed the wild dog into behaving with kind words and gentle persuasion, more than an hour had passed.
But in the end, Eris did cool down.
What convinced her that Philip and "Allen" might actually be telling the truth was something else entirely.
"Rudeus" had a girl's voice—and he was wearing a skirt, just like her.
Granted, she had seen boys in skirts before during visits to the capital.
But the way this one had collapsed on the ground, looking utterly bewildered, reminded her too much of those frail girls she'd regularly knocked around back at noble school.
Still…
Those weren't the real reasons.
The biggest one?
She was just… tired of punching.
The wild dog was still just a cub. Though her nature was just as violent, her body had yet to catch up. She wasn't anywhere close to the future Mad Dog Swordswoman in strength or stamina.
Even more absurd was the fact that Rudeus, after a few failed protests and realizing nothing he said would sway this wild young lady—and that she couldn't actually break through his magical defenses—had just… laid down.
Flat on the ground.
And started vibing.
From Allen's perspective, the guy even looked content.
A little unhinged, honestly.
...
Now, inside the Greyrat household, the light had dimmed as dark clouds rolled in on the wind, blotting out the sun.
A few candles had been lit to help with the gloom.
The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the table and stirred a matching turbulence in everyone's hearts.
Eris was seated—utterly unladylike—on her stool, legs swinging, arms crossed, glaring at the person across from her like a lion cub daring them to blink first.
"What are you looking at?! If you've got guts, fight me without magic!"
"You're the one who hit the wrong person, okay?! And why did you go straight to violence in the first place?" Rudeus snapped back. His wounds had long since been healed by healing magic, and now that he knew she couldn't really hurt him, he wasn't holding back.
"Are you trying to lecture me?!" Eris growled.
Rudeus gave a dismissive smirk. At this point, he'd figured her out. She was the full package—temper, entitlement, and obliviousness. And odds were, she didn't even know Allen was her brother. Even if she did, she'd probably react the same way.
She was, without a doubt, a true noble's daughter.
Spoiled rotten by someone, no doubt. Her mother, maybe? Judging from earlier, Philip clearly doesn't have any control over her.
Eris, pleased to see Rudeus finally shut up, gave a proud sniff. But then her vivid red eyes flickered. She didn't turn her head, but she tilted her gaze sideways.
To her right sat Sylphy, seated properly on a stool, staring dazedly into her teacup.
Her white dress was thoroughly smudged and dirty.
Eris's mouth twitched—barely noticeable—and she looked back ahead, still speaking as if addressing the air in front of her.
"You're called… Rudi? No—Syl… something, right?!"
Sylphy blinked, confused, turning to the side to see Eris's profile.
"My name is Sylphiette."
Eris blinked back at the air.
"Sylphiette! I hereby allow you to be Eris's… um…"
She snuck a glance at the beastkin maid beside her, who wore a helpless smile, ears drooping with unease, seemingly struggling not to sigh.
"Miss Eris, did you mean to say 'maid'? That's not right. The word you're looking for is 'friend.'"
Eris raised an eyebrow.
"Friend?"
Of course she knew the word. She'd heard it before, even used it when punching kids at noble school. But she couldn't quite match the term with the current situation.
So she instinctively turned to the maid—her default in all vaguely "close" relationships.
She blinked again, crossed her arms firmly, and repeated herself with utmost seriousness and volume.
"Then I allow you to be Eris's friend!"
Still speaking to the air, of course.
Only the subtle flicker of her eyes hinted that the statement was actually meant for Sylphy.
The cat-eared maid quickly tried to smooth things over.
"No no—Miss Eris! You don't allow someone to be your friend. Friendship is mutual. You should say, 'I want to be your friend.' That's much better."
Eris opened her mouth and let out a loud, confused "Huh?"
Having been doted on by Sauros since childhood, and used to copying the people she felt close to, Eris had grown into someone who approached all new relationships from a position of command.
Which, incidentally, was also why she'd never managed to make friends at school.
No child could really handle that kind of overbearing "kindness."
But Sylphy noticed.
Because she'd endured enough malice in her life to recognize genuine kindness when it appeared.
Malice stood out to her like ink dropped into clear water.
But kindness—kindness shone like spring sunlight through melting snow. Easy to feel. Easy to absorb.
Unlike the young lady of House Boreas, raised in a manor like a castle and blazing with bold, fiery colors—
She was just a blade of wild grass, sprouting through the cracks in Buena Village's dusty paths.
Sylphy cast a quick glance across the table at Allen, who was completely failing to suppress his Greyrat instincts and kept sneaking peeks at the beastmaid's twitching ears. She turned back to Eris, gathering her nerves, and replied softly—but with surprising steadiness:
"It's okay. I'd like to be your friend too."
Eris's eyes exploded with color. She whipped around so fast it was a wonder her neck didn't snap, a bright, delighted grin on her face.
"Okay!!"
SLAP!!
Everyone turned toward the sound.
Allen had just smacked himself in the face.
He slowly peeled his eyes off the maid's ears and looked toward Paul and Zenith, who jumped at the sound. He forced a smile.
"Don't mind me. Continue your conversation. There was… a mosquito."
Then he turned back to Philip.
Who, in turn, gave him a look of blazing insight—as if everything had clicked into place.
Another goddamn variable. You were testing my leadership potential with this one?! You bastard!
Philip looked at Allen, whose expression was twitching and whose face screamed "I-haven't-seen-a-beastmaid-in-forever", and laughed cheerfully.
"There are plenty of maids like her at the Boreas estate. If you're interested—"
"I'm not. Thanks."
"Got it."
Philip smiled even wider and turned to Paul.
"Back to the earlier matter—you've no objections to Rudeus coming to Roa as a tutor, do you?"
Paul exchanged a glance with Zenith and Lilia, then looked toward Allen.
"I don't object. Rudeus is a boy—he should be out getting experience. And with Allen at his side, we're not worried. I'd originally planned to send them out as adventurers in a couple years anyway. Your offer works as a perfect transitional stage."
"And as long as it really is about tutoring, and you won't restrict their future, then yes—I support the proposal."
Philip clapped his hands and smiled.
"Perfect. That makes it simple."
"But—"
Paul turned to him, expression serious.
"Rudeus is Rudeus. Allen is Allen. We can't make that decision for him. You'll need to ask for his consent directly. If he refuses, I'm not letting you take him out of Buena Village."
Rudeus: Wait, what about asking me?
"Of course," Philip said smoothly.
Even as he spoke, he stood up—much to Paul's surprise—and walked over to the front door.
He opened it.
Outside, the wind surged like the onset of a spring storm, battering his clothes and whipping through the entryway.
He turned his head slightly, that same calm, easy smile on his face, and met Allen's gaze as the boy slowly rose to his feet.
"Shall we take a walk?"