After a hearty greeting, Chrystoph and Orson appraised each other like a mongoose and badger would size up an encroaching creature. One was grumpy beyond compare, the other fluid and curious. The group made their way back to the house, offering Chrystoph refreshments. He accepted, his sapphire eyes boring down Asura’s back. 

Asura felt a small chill run down her spine. 

In the kitchen of their home, Nan hummed joyfully as pots and pans clattered busily. Leila assisted Orson as he led the way to the sitting room, a small but cozy place to sit and converse.

“Well, I’ll say this, Orson. You sure have a talented daughter.” Not one for extended pleasantries, Chrystoph got straight to the point. 

“What are your plans to train her?” He prompted, grunting as older folks do when they sit down in chairs. Leila sat down gracefully next to Orson, placing her hand on his in a show of support. This was also how she gauged the room, depending on the pressure of the squeeze she received. It was their unspoken language. 

Orson was settling into his chair himself, but he glanced at Asura, seated next to Chrystoph with the flicker of a question on his face. If he was surprised, he was doing a fantastic job at hiding it. 

They hadn’t had a chance to discuss the events of that night- what he saw paralyzed on the floor of his own bedroom. The chunks of flesh Asura gouged out with an unknown force he could only describe as a phantom power, quick and stealthy. 

“Asura turns nine in four months. She’ll be my apprentice then. Goddess willing, I’ll be back on my feet and good as new by then.” Orson twiddled with the tip of his cane, flashing a smile at Chrystoph from the opposite chair across the long coffee table between them. The finish on it had long since worn down, but Nan took such good care of it, it still reflected the faces of those who sat before it. 

“It’s not like you to be bested. I’d say moving out of so far away from the capital has dulled you.” Chrystoph chided Orson regretfully, tapping a finger against his leg. 

“I’d like to see you best two of Brough’s top assassins.” Leila challenged, her beautiful face smeared with a gentle anger. 

“Two? You don’t mean…” Chrystoph questioned incredulously. 

“And you escaped with your life, at that.” He pursed his lips together and whistled, his kind blue eyes wide in shock and disbelief. 

Brough’s was a well known underground assassin’s network. It was so notorious, the crown had used them to get rid of a particularly difficult spy from a neighboring kingdom. Not that any of the royal family would admit to it. Brough’s was full of talented fighters from all over, some with martial arts, others with sword skills like Orson, and even more with exotic talents, like what Asura’s family had encountered just a few nights prior. 

Orson leveled his eyes to Asura. His eyes held both pride and sorrow. 

“Only because of my clever daughter.”

Asura could tell he held a plethora of emotions in his emerald eyes as he beheld her. She too, returned the gaze in which a small, wordless conversation was exchanged. 

There was nothing you could do, Papa. 

He nodded his head sullenly.

Nan then came out with four mugs, each holding a different liquid. Coffee for Chrystoph, tea for Leila, a tonic for Orson, and milk for Asura. She and Orson frowned at the liquid gently swaying in their cups, wishing it was something stronger. 

“It must be fate then.” Chrystoph took a sip from his coffee, bringing one ankle up to rest on his knee comfortably. 

“Bring your family to live with me.” He declared, so casually, as if he was telling them all the weather outside. 

Asura’s father almost spit out his tonic. Leila patted his back, listening intently to their conversation. Asura couldn’t hold her cough in as well as he did and sputtered her milk on the table. Nan was quick to wipe it up, giving her an odd look. 

“Chrystoph… ahem… Goddess, why?” 

“Your daughter has a gift. And I’m not talking about the sword.” A pointed look was thrown at her before he leaned forward, digging his finger into the table.

“You are also on the path to recovery, in a house that has already been identified as a target. Nan can’t protect you. Leila, as Talented as she is, cannot defend or attack.”

He leaned back in his chair, setting down his cup with a clunk. 

“Let me take you all in. I have guards, access to dieticians and physical therapists as well as magical devices to assist in your recovery. The castle is close so Leila won’t have to teleport from the next town over. And most of all, I can train Asura in swordsmanship and provide her a tutor in magic.”

Chrystoph ticked off all his fingers, presenting a very enticing offer to everyone in the room. All except Asura, it seemed.

Nan nodded her head, considering all the help she would receive in Orson’s care, including the fields of medicine she wasn’t adept in. It would be very helpful to have someone stronger than her help Orson around, or help him up if he were to fall. And physical therapy most of all was something she wouldn’t be able to do even if she started learning this instant. 

Leila looked hesitant, but Asura already knew that she would follow Orson’s decision. Her hand clasped Orson’s questioningly, trying to gauge the feel in the room. Asura was sure that her parents had already began to talk about what to do with the Talent Asura had awoken during the attack. With Leila blind and Orson having zero magic of his own, they would have had to bring in a teacher for her anyway. 

“And of course, good company!” Chrystoph gave a hearty chuckle, his blue eyes crinkling shut as laughter shook his whole body. 

Asura looked around the room at Nan, then her parents. Orson’s face didn’t move an inch, indicating serious consideration. 

“Come on, old friend. Lean on me for a bit.” His tone softened, holding his coffee cup right before his lips. A little nudge to his old rival to take the offer. 

Placing his head in his free hand, Orson let out a tired sigh. After a few moments, he drug his hand across his face, uncovering eyes that were directly focused on Asura. 

“What say you, little one? There would be no better protection for you and your mother.” His hand rested on his chin, one of his fingers brushing his lips and his eyebrows high. 

Asura looked down at the mug of milk in her hands. She didn’t like Chrystoph, for the sole purpose of his overly friendly demeanor with her mother. But if she was thinking solely on skill, Chrystoph very much rivaled Orson. If her parents hadn’t moved somewhere secluded, she would have most likely grown up on his teachings. 

WIth the thought of her past life looming over her, she was dedicated to never letting her family fall to Duke Pontius again. This just might be a step in the right direction. 

She may not like Chrystoph, but she can still learn from him. With her decision settling in her stomach, it felt like a butterfly, swooping and flipping with excitement. For the unknown, the new. 

“If you think it’s best, Papa.” She said resolutely. 

“I never want to see you in those light eating cuffs ever again.” And she truly didn’t. They ate away at you unnaturally, like the metallic taste on your tongue when an jolt of electricity bolts through you.

“Orson.” A solemn tone.

Steely blue eyes glint with a ferocious presence. It’s as if his eyes finally match the rest of him, and Asura can imagine what kind of rival Chrystoph was for her father when they were young. 

“The lightless cuffs… is it our old friend?” Asura did not want to be on the receiving end of Chrystoph’s interrogation, for the intensity of the syllables that emitted from his mouth were veiled with a feral rage. Her battle senses flared up in full, alerting her to danger. 

In a vulnerable moment, Orson’s face fell slightly. 

“I have strong reason to believe so.” Asura didn’t like the look on his face, haggard and tired, like an animal that had been on the run for ages that finally fell to its pursuer. 

Defeated. 

A heat permeated the room, and Asura’s muscles tensed, because all the heat was coming from right beside her on the sofa. She didn’t need to look at him to hear his teeth grinding like strained rope. To feel the animalistic bloodlust that escaped in controlled breaths. Her clothes felt like they were being bathed in sunlight, and soon felt sweltering, suffocating any remaining comfort. 

She slowly scooted herself a few inches away. 

Goddess, help me. 

“I’m looking forward to our reunion with the little duke.” 

Little duke. Could they really have identified the attacker as Duke Pontius?

A small relief fed with hope bloomed on her shoulders. This meant she didn’t have to find a way to link the knowledge of her past with a moment in her present. Now she could focus on her goal.

She looked into her cup once more, her reflection just a little more clear in its milky waves.