The village smelled of freshly baked bread.

  Literally.

  Walking past the bakery, the aroma hit me like a fist. Not violent. But shocking.

  When was the last time I smelled truly fresh bread?

  "Want one?" Feitan asked, already veering toward the shop.

  "Do you have money?"

  "You don't. But I do." He went in without waiting for a response.

  Two minutes later, he came out with still-warm bread wrapped in cloth.

  Threw one to me.

  I caught it. Almost dropped it because it was hot.

  "Eat while we walk. I'm not waiting all day."

  I bit into it.

  Soft. Slightly sweet. Perfect.

  I closed my eyes for a moment.

  "Good, right?" Feitan said, mouth full.

  I just nodded.

  Because if I tried to speak, I'd end up crying.

  And I'd cried enough already.

  Second village. Two days later

  "No."

  "Come on."

  "No."

  "Sekire, just—"

  "I'm not getting on the horse."

  Feitan sighed. Looked at the sky. Then at me. Then at the horse the stable offered us.

  "You're limping."

  "I'm walking."

  "You're limping. For three days. If you keep this up, your foot's gonna fall off."

  "I'd rather my foot fall off than fall off this creature."

  The horse snorted. As if offended.

  Feitan looked at the animal. Then at me again.

  "You know he's listening to you, right?"

  "Good. I want him to know I don't trust him."

  Another snort. More indignant.

  Feitan laughed. Loud. A genuine laugh.

  "Damn. You're afraid of horses but you faced a demon."

  "The horse can throw me to the ground and trample me."

  "The demon literally threw you against a wall."

  "That was different."

  "It wasn't."

  "It was."

  "It wasn't."

  We stared at each other.

  Then Feitan shook his head, still laughing.

  "Fine. But when your foot falls off, don't complain to me."

  Small town. Fifth day on the road

  The first real city I saw was different from the villages.

  Bigger. Obviously.

  But more than that. Organized.

  Paved streets. Real shops with display windows. People dressed properly. Magic knights patrolling in formation.

  And in the center, a mansion.

  "Small noble's house," Feitan explained. "Baron, count, that type. They govern small towns under the king's authority."

  "Are they good people?"

  "Depends," he shrugged. "Some are good. Some are idiots. But Haven doesn't tolerate really bad things. If someone complains too much, they investigate."

  We passed through a square. A fountain in the center. Children throwing coins.

  "Making wishes," I murmured.

  "Hm?"

  "Nothing."

  But I kept watching the children a little longer.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Laughing. Playing. Without fear.

  As it should be.

  Tavern. Night

  "No."

  "Try it."

  "Feitan, this smells like old socks."

  "It's aged cheese. It's good."

  "It smells like death."

  He tossed a piece in his mouth. Chewed. Smiled.

  "Delicious. You're just weak."

  I looked at the cheese. Then at him.

  I took a piece. A very small one.

  Put it in my mouth.

  Waited to die.

  Didn't die.

  Actually...

  "It's good."

  "I told you." He pushed the plate toward me. "Eat more. You look like a stick."

  "Thanks for the kind observation."

  "You're welcome."

  We ate in silence for a while.

  Then he said:

  "You've changed."

  I looked at him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're not so... dead." He drank his beer. "When I found you, you looked like a zombie. Now at least you complain. That's progress."

  Something warm rose in my chest.

  Not happiness. Not yet.

  But something close to it.

  "Thank you. For bringing me."

  He shrugged.

  "Wasn't gonna let you rot in that shithole."

  A pause.

  "Besides, you owe me. I saved your life. You're gonna have to put up with me for a while."

  Despite everything, I smiled.

  Small. But genuine.

  "Okay. I think I can put up with you."

  "Lucky me."

  Ursoft. Capital of Axoland

  The capital appeared on the horizon on the afternoon of the seventh day.

  And it was impressive.

  High walls. White. Gleaming under the sun.

  Towers rising behind. Flags fluttering. Each with the symbol of a winged lion.

  "Ursoft," Feitan said, pride in his voice. "The most beautiful capital on the continent. You can doubt it, but you'd be wrong."

  I didn't doubt.

  Because he was probably right.

  We passed through the gate. Guards, magic knights, looked at us. Recognized Feitan. Saluted. Fist to chest.

  "Savior Lugbres."

  He waved. Casually.

  And continued.

  The city inside was even more impressive.

  Wide streets. Clean. Paved with smooth stone that gleamed slightly under the sun.

  Shops with facades painted in bright colors. Restaurants with tables on the sidewalks where people ate peacefully. Fountains in every large square, crystal water flowing from elaborate sculptures.

  People dressed properly. Not necessarily rich. But clean. Cared for. Smiling. Talking without fear.

  Music coming from somewhere. Someone playing violin on the corner. Children dancing around.

  There was no trash in the streets. No beggars in dark corners. No empty or frightened looks.

  It reminded me of something.

  Medieval Europe, a distant voice whispered in my mind. Like in history books. But better. Cleaner. More... alive.

  I blinked.

  Europe?

  Where did that come from?

  The word was strange. Familiar but distant. Like an echo of something I shouldn't remember.

  But I remembered.

  Books. Classroom. Teacher explaining feudalism and Gothic architecture.

  Yuki.

  I was Yuki.

  Now I'm Sekire.

  But I was Yuki.

  The memory came so suddenly I almost stumbled.

  "Hey, careful." Feitan grabbed my shoulder. "Dizzy?"

  "No. Just... got distracted."

  He looked at me. Observing.

  But didn't insist.

  "Let's go. The castle is still far."

  We kept walking. Crossing streets that climbed gently. Houses getting bigger. More elaborate. Well-kept gardens.

  Noble district.

  And then we arrived.

  The castle.

  There was no other word.

  Majestic. Imposing. Elegant.

  White stone that seemed to emanate its own light. High towers reaching the sky. Stained glass windows reflecting rainbows on the walls. Navy blue slate roof. Enormous flags fluttering in the wind.

  Perfectly maintained gardens spreading around. Flowers of all colors. Trees pruned into artistic shapes. White stone paths winding between the flower beds.

  A wide stone bridge over a decorative moat. Not defensive. Just beautiful. Crystal water with goldfish swimming.

  Wrought iron gates. Elaborate. Patterns of lions and wings intertwined. Open. Magic knights in polished armor lined at the entrance. Perfect posture. Attentive gazes.

  They saw us. Recognized Feitan.

  Saluted. In sync.

  "Savior Lugbres. Welcome back."

  "Thank you," Feitan answered. Then pointed at me. "She's with me. I need to speak with royalty."

  The knights looked at me.

  Not with hostility. Just curiosity.

  "The king and queen are out. Diplomatic matters. But Princess Mabel is in the throne room."

  There was something in their tone when they said her name.

  Fear? Respect? Both?

  Feitan sighed. Loudly.

  "Of course she is. Fine. Let's go."

  We passed through the gate.

  And entered the castle.

  Castle interior

  The main hall was ridiculous.

  High ceiling. Very high. Elaborate paintings covering every part. Scenes of battles, celebrations, nature.

  Crystal chandeliers hanging. Glowing with soft magical light even during the day.

  Polished marble floor. So clean you could see the reflection.

  Red carpet with gold embroidery.

  Marble statues in the corners. Probably previous kings and queens.

  Servants passing by. Perfect uniforms. Efficient movements.

  Some stopped upon seeing Feitan.

  Smiled. Waved.

  "Savior Lugbres! Welcome back!"

  "Thanks, Martha. How are things here?"

  "As always. Always."

  Then they looked at me.

  Curiosity. Confusion. But no hostility.

  "Who's the little one?"

  "A refugee. I'm introducing her to the princess."

  "Ah, I see. Welcome, young lady."

  I didn't know what to say.

  "...Thank you."

  Feitan guided me through the hallways. Many hallways.

  Until we reached a huge double door.

  Decorative. Elaborate carvings of lions and wings.

  "Throne room," Feitan explained. "Take a deep breath. The princess is... intense."

  "Intense how?"

  "You'll find out."

  He pushed the door.

  Despite its size, it opened smoothly.

  And we entered.

  Throne room

  It was impressive.

  Not as big as the hall. But equally elaborate.

  Marble columns. Red carpet leading to the thrones. Three. A large one in the center. Two smaller ones on the sides.

  But only one was occupied.

  The one on the left.

  And there, a girl.

  About eleven years old, maybe. Long flowing silver-white hair. Bright purple eyes. Beautiful face, but the expression... bored.

  She was sitting sideways on the throne, legs hanging over the arm, head propped on her hand.

  Elegant blue dress but wrinkled. As if she'd been sitting there for hours.

  And when she saw us, her eyes lit up.

  She jumped off the throne. Literally jumped.

  "FeiPei!"

  And ran toward us.

  Didn't walk. Ran.

  Stopped in front of Feitan, breathless, smiling widely.

  "You're back! Finally! I was so bored without you! Nobody trains with me properly! My parents are still away and I'm dying of boredom!"

  She spoke fast. Very fast.

  Feitan sighed.

  "Hi, Mabel."

  "Hi?! Just a hi?! You disappear for weeks and come back with just a hi?!"

  She pushed him. Lightly. Playfully.

  "You're terrible! Left me here alone bored having to deal with all these formal people saying 'Your Highness this' and 'Your Highness that,' and you disappear without even teaching me properly!"

  "I was on a mission."

  "A boring mission you didn't take me on!"

  "Because you're eleven years old."

  "So what?! I'm stronger than half the knights!"

  "I don't doubt it. But you're still eleven."

  She snorted, crossing her arms.

  "You're impossible, FeiPei. Impossible and boring, and—"

  Then she stopped.

  The purple eyes moved.

  And found me.

  Her expression changed.

  Completely.

  The smile disappeared.

  The bright eyes became... cold.

  Not hostile. But analytical.

  Calculating.

  Intimidating.

  She turned toward me. Slowly. Deliberately.

  And all that chaotic, playful energy evaporated.

  As if it had never existed.

  She walked toward me.

  Each step careful. Controlled.

  Stopped less than a meter away.

  And looked at me.

  Directly.

  Not like a child looking at another child.

  Like a predator assessing its prey.

  The temperature of the hall dropped.

  Or was it just my imagination?

  "Who," she said, her voice completely different, low, serious, filled with authority an eleven-year-old girl shouldn't have, "is this girl?"