Mira looked at him.

Slowly, she placed the pen on the book.

She closed the book.

She rested her hands on the counter.

And, with the distinctly serious expression of someone who had just switched from professional to personal mode in the blink of an eye, she said:

"Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

----

Dawn arrived in Greywall with a sky much clearer than the previous day’s.

Selene’s back courtyard was lit by the pale gray light preceding the sun.

A medium-sized chestnut horse—smaller than Roen’s gray but visibly sturdier—waited hitched to a light two-wheeled cart covered with a dark green canvas.

The cart was different from the one used in the previous departure. Smaller. Faster. Designed specifically for two people traveling light.

Nathan checked the provisions one last time.

Four days of carefully packed dried food. Two waterskins.

A thick double blanket.

A small collapsible tent.

A medical kit with substances Selene had labeled with a color code Nathan had memorized overnight.

A pouch of mixed coins for road expenses.

A sealed letter addressed to House Sael’thoryn, signed by Selene.

A detailed map with the Veil Route marked in red ink.

And, in a hidden compartment at the cart’s bottom, a second Restoration Core Selene had handed him that very morning without saying where she’d gotten it.

Liaraen was already in the cart.

She wore the travel clothes Selene had adjusted during the night.

Dark green tunic, matching trousers, new boots that fit considerably better than the previous attempt’s, a hooded cloak, and a small personal bag over her shoulder that Nathan suspected contained the few belongings Liaraen had kept from before the box: the dagger, a simple wooden comb, and probably a small vial of something he hadn’t asked about.

Roen stood at the courtyard entrance.

He was standing without support, which was already significant progress compared to the previous day. The Sareth healer had an arm around his shoulder to stabilize him.

Roen didn’t strictly need it.

But he’d accepted it, probably because he knew rejecting the gesture would offend the woman who’d saved him.

Liaraen stepped down from the cart when she saw Roen.

She walked to him with perfect aristocratic posture.

Stopped a step away.

And then, without preamble, she performed the complete formal elven bow—the one reserved for nobles of major houses.

Head descending twenty degrees, shoulders aligned, right hand over her heart.

Roen went very still for a moment.

"My lady," the guide said, his voice weak but clear. "That’s too much. I only did my job."

"Your job," Liaraen said, still bowed, "included offering your life to preserve mine when none of your contracts required you to. In the formal elven system, that is a gesture that requires equivalent recognition. I am giving it now, in the only way I can while far from my home. When I reach House Sael’thoryn, I will request additional formal recognition, and I will insist until it is approved."

Roen looked at her for a full moment.

"My lady. It’s a quiet old age I need. Not decorations."

"You will receive both."

"My lady."

"The discussion is not open, Roen. This is elven formality, and I am the second daughter of a major house. I will do what corresponds to my rank."

Roen smiled weakly.

"Very well, my lady."

Liaraen straightened. Looked at the healer beside Roen.

"Healer. Your name."

"Halena."

"Halena. Your care of Roen will be recognized as well. House Sael’thoryn deeply appreciates your intervention."

Halena inclined her head with the specific calm of someone who had received formal acknowledgments before in her life and knew how to accept them without performing humility or pride.

"It is my vocation, my lady. It requires no additional recognition."

"And yet you will receive it."

"Understood, my lady."

Liaraen turned to Nathan.

"We can leave whenever you’re ready."

Nathan nodded.

He turned to Selene, who had been watching the entire scene from the threshold of the house’s back door. Selene looked at him with the specifically neutral expression he’d learned to interpret as silent approval.

"Selene."

"Hunter Voss."

"Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet. Come back alive first."

"I’ll try."

"Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"The favor we discussed."

"Yes."

"You have no deadline to repay it. But when the moment comes, you won’t be able to refuse without cutting the relationship completely. Remember that."

"I remember."

"Good. Good luck."

Nathan climbed onto the cart. Took the chestnut horse’s reins. Looked one last time at Roen, who gave him a small nod. Halena did the same. Selene simply watched without moving.

Nathan moved the reins.

The horse began to walk.

The cart crossed the courtyard’s back gate, turned right into the narrow alley, and began its way through Greywall’s still-silent streets toward the city’s south gate.

Nathan drove the cart for the first twenty minutes without speaking.

Liaraen respected the silence.

She sat beside him on the driver’s seat, her hood covering her hair to avoid identification as they crossed the city, looking forward with the specific attention of someone who’d learned to move through hostile urban spaces without drawing attention.

They left Greywall through the south gate.

The gate guard—an older man with Korrak’s Seal visible on his forearm—checked Nathan’s Hunter card, verified the temporary exit permit Selene had prepared for him, and waved them through without further questions.

Behind them, Greywall’s walls gradually grew smaller as the cart emerged onto the southern district roads.

When the city was about two kilometers behind them, Nathan finally exhaled.

*Good.*

*We’re out.*

*The journey has begun.*

He looked back once.

Greywall was a gray silhouette against the rising dawn light. Its walls, its guild towers, the rooftops of buildings distinct by district. The city where he’d arrived five days ago without a Seal, without money, without hope.

The city where he’d received a Class he was only beginning to understand. The city where he’d killed for the first time, protected for the first time, lied for the first time from his new position.