A cool evening breeze swept through the town square, carrying the scent of dust and victory. The sky was painted in deep shades of violet and red as dusk settled over Kirsk.

  ?A guard captain, clad in red-and-gold chainmail, approached them with a grateful smile.

  ?“So, they were all here. Thank you for your assistance. These criminals have been plaguing our roads for months.”

  ?“Don’t mention it,” Zaek said, waving a hand dismissively. “They just happened to attack us. Bad luck for them.” He glanced at the two unconscious drivers being loaded onto a cart. “More importantly—do you know where I can find replacements? Ours are out of commission.”

  ?The captain followed his gaze to the massive, snorting Nightmares. The beasts pawed the ground, their red eyes glowing in the twilight.

  ?“Those horses...” The captain grimaced. “For creatures like that, you need drivers with significant mana. We don’t have anyone like that in a backwater town like Kirsk. I could send a request to the nearest city, but it would take days.”

  ?“Days?” Zaek clicked his tongue. “That’s too long.”

  ?“I’m afraid so.”

  ?“No need,” Zaek said abruptly. He turned and walked back to Aelira, who was watching the guards haul Clara away. The maid didn’t struggle. She didn’t look back.

  ?Zaek sighed, scratching his head.

  ?“Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit until those drivers wake up. Might as well get something to eat. I bet you’re hungry.”

  ?“I’m not—” Aelira started to protest.

  ?Grrrroooooowl.

  ?Her stomach betrayed her with a sound that rivaled the Nightmares.

  ?Zaek grinned. “Your stomach is more honest than you are. Come on.”

  ?Aelira blushed and lowered her head. “...”

  ?They walked back through the town gates.

  ?The streets were thinning out as night approached, but the smell of cooking food filled the air.

  ?Zaek looked around, calculating.

  ?Is this my third time entering this town today? Or fourth? I’ve lost count.

  ?He glanced down at Aelira. She was walking silently beside him, her shoulders slumped. The weight of Clara’s betrayal still hung over her like a dark cloud.

  ?“You see those walls?” Zaek asked, pointing to the crumbling stone fortifications. “There aren’t many guards. Actually, if you look closely, there are fewer guards in this entire town than in your family’s garden.”

  ?Aelira glanced up, uninterested. She stared blankly at the road ahead.

  ?Then, a savory scent hit Zaek’s nose.

  ?“Oh? Is that... chicken skewers?”

  ?Growl.

  ?Aelira’s stomach answered for her again.

  ?“Yep. That sounds delicious.”

  ?They approached a street vendor grilling meat over an open fire. The smell was intoxicating—spices, fat, and charcoal.

  ?“Give me four,” Zaek ordered.

  ?“Coming right up!” The vendor, a cheerful man with soot on his face, rotated the skewers deftly.

  ?Zaek handed two to Aelira.

  ?“Here. Eat.”

  ?Aelira took them hesitantly. The warmth seeped into her cold hands. “Thanks.”

  ?“How much?”

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  ?“Four dalmas1, sir.”

  ?Zaek tossed the coins and took a bite of his own.

  ?“Mmh!” His eyes widened. “This is actually tasty. Way better than the fancy stuff at the mansion.” He looked at Aelira. “What do you think?”

  ?Aelira took a small bite. She chewed slowly.

  ?“It’s... good.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  ?Zaek sighed. He swallowed his bite and looked at her seriously.

  ?“Are you still thinking about Clara?”

  ?“...”

  ?“Look, kid. There was nothing you could do. You don’t have to blame yourself.”

  ?“I know...”

  ?“You don’t.”

  ?“Yes. I don’t.” She gripped the skewer tighter. “But... why? Why did she do that? Why did she say those things? Did she hate us that much?”

  ?Zaek looked at her small, confused face.

  ?“Kid, this is the world we live in. The poor suffer while the rich live in castles. Her hatred didn’t come out of nowhere. It’s an accumulation. Years of resentment, stacked like bricks.”

  ?“Accumulation...” Aelira whispered the word, tasting its bitterness.

  ?“We don’t know anything about her life,” Zaek continued softly. “I don’t know where she came from or what she’s been through. Maybe she thought stealing those horses was her ticket out of hell. We don’t know. But what we do know is that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  ?“Still... there should be something...”

  ?“Sorry to say it, but there’s not much you can do.”

  ?He spread his arms, gesturing to the street around them.

  ?“Look around. Really look.”

  ?Aelira lifted her head. She saw the people passing by. Their clothes were patched and worn. Their faces were gaunt, eyes sunken with exhaustion. They walked through the mud as if carrying invisible weights on their shoulders.

  ?“This is the difference between the ‘above’ and the ‘below’,” Zaek said.

  ?Aelira fell silent. The contrast between this and the marble halls of her home was stark. Painful.

  ?“Is there anything a Hero can do about it?” she asked quietly.

  ?“No.”

  ?“No?”

  ?“The Hero is someone who protects people’s lives,” Zaek said firmly. “Not their wallets. Not their comfort. We stop monsters. We stop wars. But we can’t stop poverty.”

  ?Aelira wanted to argue. She wanted to reject that idea.

  ?But he’s right.

  ?It wasn’t a Hero’s job to fix the economy. It was to ensure there were people left alive to have an economy.

  ?Accepting the harsh truth, she took another bite of her skewer. The food tasted a little less delicious now.

  ?Seeing her mood dip even lower, Zaek nudged her shoulder.

  ?“How about we look around a little more? Might find something interesting.”

  ?“Okay, I guess.”

  ?They wandered through the market stalls.

  ?As they walked, Aelira couldn’t help but compare Kirsk to Isenvale.

  ?Isenvale smelled of salt and fish and cold stone. Kirsk smelled of mud, wood, and animals.

  ?The weather here was warmer, brighter. The town was small—so small she could see the end of the main street from where she stood.

  ?It was a different world.

  ?She stopped at a stall filled with trinkets and old junk.

  ?One item caught her eye.

  ?It was a wooden necklace, carved with intricate detail. In its center was a two-headed eagle. One wing was painted a faded red, the other a chipped blue.

  ?She reached out, brushing her fingers against the worn wood.

  ?“Miss, are you perhaps interested in that one?”

  ?Aelira looked up. The stall owner, a man with curly hair and a friendly face, leaned on the counter.

  ?“What is it?” she asked, holding the necklace up.

  ?“Oho! You’ve got a good eye. That piece is supposedly from five hundred years ago. It’s a necklace that Sir Niklas gave his soldiers after the Ghoul Incident here.”

  ?Aelira tilted her head. She wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson, but curiosity tugged at her.

  ?“Sir Niklas?”

  ?“Yes! Sir Niklas—the Governor of Kirsk, a Baron. Legend says he was tough as nails. Survived a dozen wars and still died of old age in his bed.”

  ?He spread his arms wide. “Can you believe that?”

  ?When Aelira didn’t react, the man cleared his throat.

  ?“Alright, let me tell you the story. Do you know what a Ghoul is?”

  ?Aelira shook her head.

  ?“Ghouls are walking corpses. Rotting flesh, endless hunger. They say whenever a High Demon appears, ghouls swarm like locusts. Long ago, Kirsk was surrounded by them. An ocean of death.”

  ?He leaned closer, lowering his voice for dramatic effect.

  ?“Imagine it. Everywhere you look—ghouls. No hope. No escape. But Sir Niklas stood tall on the walls. He shouted to his men: ‘Are you afraid of death? Or are you afraid of dying as cowards?!’”

  ?The man clenched his fist.

  ?“They fought for hours. They were on the brink of annihilation. And then... at the last moment... the first Hero of Viremont arrived.”

  ?Aelira’s eyes widened.

  ?“Hero of Viremont...”

  ?“Yes! He descended like a storm of ice and saved them all.”

  ?Saved them.

  ?Zaek was right. The Hero didn’t make them rich. He didn’t fix the mud on the streets. But he ensured they lived to tell the tale.

  ?“But what about this necklace?” Aelira asked.

  ?“Well, after the battle, Sir Niklas gave these to the survivors. The red wing symbolizes the fallen. The blue wing symbolizes the living. Those who survived carried the weight of both. Here—look.”

  ?He flipped the necklace over. On the back, a name was carved in crude letters:

  ?Alphonso.

  ?“So this belonged to Alphonso?” Aelira traced the name. “Why don’t his family have it?”

  ?“That, I don’t know. Found it in a box of junk I bought from a traveler. Probably lost to time.”

  ?“I see...”

  ?She stared at the eagle. It felt... heavy. Important.

  ?“You know what? Just take it.”

  ?“What? Really?”

  ?“Yeah. Truth is, no one buys this old junk anymore. Kids want shiny swords, not wooden charms. Consider it a gift.”

  ?“Thanks, mister.”

  ?“Don’t mention it.” He waved her off. “Now go on—don’t keep your grandpa waiting.”

  ?Aelira turned. Zaek was leaning against a post nearby, watching her.

  ?“Finished? Not bad getting a freebie.”

  ?His eyes flicked to the necklace. His brow furrowed slightly.

  ?For something 500 years old... that wood is in remarkably good condition. Almost too good.

  ?But he kept the thought to himself.

  ?“Yes.” Aelira clutched the necklace tight.

  ?“The Hero... really does have a meaning,” she whispered.

  ?Zaek smiled softly.

  ?“Glad you found your answer. Now, let’s go.”