Chapter 45: Ivaline

  By the time the last man hit the ground, the fire had burned low.

  Four bodies lay groaning, tangled in dirt and ash, wrists twisted just enough to remind them not to try again. The fifth lay apart from them, unmoving save for shallow breaths consciousness abandoned, but life intact.

  Ray straightened, exhaling slowly, and rolled his shoulder once.

  It was done.

  The girl approached him without hurry, stick resting against her shoulder. She looked around at the aftermath counted, measured, accepted it.

  “You made it look easy,” she said.

  Ray blinked, then let out a small breath of surprise.

  “…Oh? You were watching?”

  “I was.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted, amused. He turned and gestured toward the distant city gate.

  “Call the guard. I’ll watch over them.”

  “Alright.”

  She ran.

  Not panicked.

  Not limping.

  Just fast enough.

  At the east gate, Brannic was mid-conversation when she appeared, breath steady but urgent.

  “They’re by the river. All five.”

  Brannic’s ears shot upright.

  “…What?”

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  He didn’t ask twice. He barked orders to the nearby guards, sending one sprinting for reinforcements, then followed her himself, only to find Edric stomping along behind them, butcher knife clenched in one hand.

  “Don’t ask,” the man growled. “Just walk.”

  When they reached the site, the scene froze them in place.

  Ray stood calmly amid the fallen, sword sheathed, one hand raised in a casual wave.

  “Evening.”

  Edric took one look at the men on the ground and nearly lunged forward with a roar.

  “I’ll gut—”

  “Edric.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Not today.”

  Brannic and Ray caught him at the same time. The butcher cursed violently but relented, stepping back with a shaking breath.

  More guards arrived moments later. Shackles clicked shut. The men were hauled up, groaning, swearing, defeated and marched away toward the station.

  When it was over, Brannic turned to the girl, his posture gentler than usual.

  “Good. All captured. From here on, you can sleep easy. No more looking over your shoulder, right… little miss?”

  “Hm.”

  She nodded.

  Ray watched her, then tilted his head slightly.

  “Wait.”

  The word wasn’t sharp. Just curious.

  “She doesn’t… have a name?”

  Brannic blinked. Edric paused.

  “Oh. Right. Mighty Brave, you might not know, but orphans not registered with an orphanage usually don’t have names. It’s… common.”

  Ray frowned.

  “But,” the girl said quietly, “I do.”

  Silence.

  “…Eh?”

  “…Huh?”

  Brannic and Edric turned to her at the same time. Ray’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he stepped closer, then lowered himself, bowing slightly to meet her eye level.

  “Then may you honor me,” he said, “by telling me your name?”

  She hesitated.

  Just for a moment.

  “Ivaline,” she said.

  A breath.

  “My name is Ivaline.”

  “Ivaline…” Ray repeated. “That’s a beautiful name.”

  “It is,” Edric muttered, nodding to himself. “Truly.”

  “So little miss’ name is Ivaline, huh…” Brannic said, tail swaying faintly.

  Around them, the guards whispered—but none interrupted.

  Brannic cleared his throat.

  “Alright, Ivaline. We’ll need a statement at the station. Can you—”

  “No.”

  Ray stepped forward.

  “Let her rest. Today was too much for a child her age. I’ll accompany you in her stead.”

  Brannic studied him, then nodded.

  “…Alright.”

  He turned back to her, voice gentler.

  “Then we won’t trouble you further. Please go home and rest, little miss… Ivaline.”

  “Thank you.”

  The crowd dispersed. The guards left. The fire died down.

  She returned alone to her half-destroyed home, the night quiet around her.

  “…Chronicle.”

  “Yes.”

  “…Why does it feel tight in my chest when someone calls my name?”

  There was a pause.

  Then—

  “Because,” Chronicle said softly,

  “they noticed that you existed now.”