Roderic was there.

He stood near the furnace, sleeve pinned and tied where his left arm used to be, the linen bandage still stark white against his dark tunic. His skin was pale, but there was fire in his eyes.

When he saw Auren, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Well," Roderic said gruffly, "I see you're finally using that fancy toothpick."

Auren stared at him, words catching in his throat.

Roderic clapped him on the shoulder with his remaining hand. "Don't look so grim. You're carrying this sword now, whether you like it or not."

Auren swallowed hard, gripping the rapier at his hip. "...Partner."

"Partner," Roderic echoed.

Outside, the forge's smoke curled into the brightening sky. Though the path ahead was uncertain, the two stood side by side, ready to face whatever waited in the shadows.

The forge's glow had dimmed to embers by the time the last hammer fall echoed into silence. Outside, the night was a velvet curtain draped over Northbound, the streets glistening from an earlier mist.

Roderic sat on a low bench, a mug of something steaming clasped in his single hand. The sleeve pinned neatly against his side was a cruel reminder of the assassin's blade. Auren stood a few feet away, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes darting anywhere but at the empty space where Roderic's left arm used to be.

The silence felt stretched taut between them, like a blade waiting to snap.

Roderic finally cleared his throat, voice gruff as wagon wheels over gravel. "Did you kill him?"

Auren blinked, startled. "What?"

Roderic leaned back, balancing the mug on his knee. "You came home later than I did that night. So either you went off on a romantic stroll, or you went back out to finish the bastard."

Auren hesitated, pulse thumping in his temples. A breath fogged from his lips in the cool air. "I did."

Roderic held his stare for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged one shoulder. "Alright."

Auren's brow furrowed. "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say? Write you a poem? Put up a plaque in your name?" Roderic sipped his drink. "The bastard cut off my arm. I'd have done the same if I could. So... good job, I guess."

"I thought you'd be... I don't know... angry?"

Roderic gave a bark of laughter. "Boy, if I got angry every time someone got stabbed in this town, I'd have died of apoplexy years ago."

Auren let out a shaky laugh, the tension slipping from his shoulders. "You're impossible."

"And you're predictable," Roderic shot back. He leaned forward, squinting at Auren. "You planning on disappearing again?"

Auren hesitated. "I apologise, but there's someone I need to meet."

Roderic rolled his eyes and waved his mug as though shooing a fly. "At least let me pack you something to eat on the way. And sleep here tonight, would ya?"

Auren opened his mouth to protest. Then shut it. "All right."

"Good. You're useless on an empty stomach."

Later that night, Auren lay on a straw mattress tucked into the forge's loft, staring at the wooden beams above. Threads of moonlight fell through the cracks in the walls, laying silver stripes over his chest. From below, he heard the faint clinking of metal and Roderic's voice muttering curses.

"Bloody apples... can't slice them worth a damn... bet the damn assassin could've done it neater..."

Auren stifled a laugh and rolled onto his side, closing his eyes.

By dawn, pale sunlight spilled through the forge windows, catching floating motes of ash like tiny stars.

Roderic slammed a battered leather pouch into Auren's chest. "Here. Apple slices. Try not to choke on them."

Auren peered into the bag. Thin slices of apple, sprinkled with cinnamon, glistened faintly with juice. "These look... surprisingly edible."

Roderic scoffed. "Don't get soft on me. They're just apples."

Auren held up the pouch, grinning. "This might be the nicest thing you've ever done for me."

"Shut up and take your coins," Roderic growled, thrusting a larger leather satchel into his hands. "Four silver coins and ninety-three bronze. Don't lose it gambling on street knife-throwers or some idiotic duel."

Auren laughed. "No promises."

Roderic adjusted the scarf around Auren's neck, the same one Ryvek had given him. He was gentle despite his gruffness, the motion precise even with one hand.

"Good luck out there. You're always welcome here," he murmured, the words thickening his voice ever so slightly.

Auren swallowed hard, throat tight. He wanted to say something to repay Roderic for everything—for the training, the roof over his head, the constant scolding—but all he could manage was a faint nod.

Roderic gave his shoulder a shove. "Go on. Get lost. And don't die. I'm not hammering out your gravestone."

Outside, Northbound woke slowly under a pale blue sky streaked with gold. Merchants called half-hearted greetings while they swept rainwater from their stalls. Smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the scent of charred wood and warm bread.

Auren moved through it all, scarf tight around his neck, the new steel rapier swaying at his hip with each step. The satchel bounced lightly on his back, a comforting weight.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes lingering on the forge until it disappeared around a bend. His chest ached. Regret clawed at him like a stray cat.

He shook himself. Keep going.

He reached the south gate just as the guards were trading shifts. The gate creaked open, its iron hinges squealing like protesting geese.

"Hey, you!"

A voice sliced through the morning, sharp and feminine. Auren spun, hand half-reaching for the rapier hilt.

Marching toward him was a figure wrapped in a black cloak, the fabric rippling like spilled ink. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face sharp as a sculptor's chisel. A gleaming chestplate hugged her torso, and a spear jutted over one shoulder, the steel tip catching flashes of sun.

She stopped right in front of him and planted one fist on her hip.

Auren blinked. "Uh... do I know you?"

She tilted her head, giving him a look that seemed both amused and annoyed. "No. But I'm pretty sure I'm about to."

Auren stared. "Well... that's... ominous."

She glanced him up and down as if measuring him for a coffin. "You're Auren, right?"

He stiffened, gripping the strap of his satchel. "...Maybe."

She arched a dark brow. "Good. Because if you weren't, this would be really embarrassing."

Auren blinked again. "Is it too late for me to pretend I'm not me?"

The woman snorted. "Yes. My name's Kaela. And you and I need to have a little chat."

Auren groaned. "Can it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of running away from my problems."

Kaela gave him a faint smirk. "Tough luck, pretty boy. Your problems just caught up."

And so, under the growing warmth of a new sun, Auren found himself staring at a mysterious woman in black, wondering whether he should draw his sword or simply turn around and run.

He let out a long, despairing sigh. "Gods... I really should've stayed in bed."

Kaela folded her arms and leaned forward, nose almost touching his. "Roderic sent me to stay with you. 'It'll be a good learning opportunity,' he said."

Auren recoiled slightly, eyes wide. "Learning opportunity? For who, you or me?"

Kaela rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out of her head. "For me, obviously. Though judging by the look on your face, I'm starting to think you might need a few lessons too."

Auren threw up his hands. "Lessons in what? How to yell at people before sunrise?"

Kaela stabbed a finger into his chest. "Who are you calling loud, scarf-boy?"

He swatted her hand away. "Don't poke me."

"Then don't act pokeable," she snapped back.

Auren paused, blinking. "...What does that even mean?"

Kaela smirked. "It means you look like a scrawny cat who'd knock over a cup just to watch it fall."

Auren gave her a look of utter exasperation. "Okay. One more question. Who exactly are you to Roderic?"

Kaela tilted her chin high and puffed out her chestplate as if it might explode. "I'm his daughter. Heh."

She punctuated it with a cocky little scoff, like she expected trumpets to play in the background.

Auren's jaw dropped. "Wait. Roderic has a daughter? That can talk?"

Kaela glared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! I just assumed if he had kids, they'd come out speaking only in grunts and insults."

Kaela planted her hands on her hips. "Careful, or I'll tell him you said that."

Auren pointed at her spear. "And what's that for? In case I try to run?"

Kaela gave him a feral grin. "In case you try anything. Now shut up. We've got traveling to do."

Auren groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands. "Vysria's above... I'm cursed."

Kaela was already marching toward the road, calling over her shoulder, "You'll get used to it, scarf-boy!"

And so, with the sun creeping higher over Northbound's rooftops, Auren found himself stumbling after a spear-wielding black-cloaked woman who might be the only person on earth more annoying than Roderic himself.