Valeria’s gaze didn’t falter.
But inwardly—just beneath the polished stillness—her thoughts shifted.
To Rackenshore.
The air was different there. Salt-bitten. Brushed with fog and smoke from old torches. It wasn’t a place where nas carried weight—only steel did. And that was exactly why she had gone.
To verify rumors. To see for herself whether the man who had slain Korvan—Korvan, a bandit-lord with a bounty older than most nobles’ titles—was truly worth the breath behind his na.
What she found?
Was him.
Lucavion.
Unruly. Rough around the edges. Worn like a half-unsheathed weapon.
He didn’t bow.
Didn’t flatter.
Didn’t even seem to care that she wore the crest of Olarion.
But when they crossed swords—
That was where she saw it.
The legitimacy. The precision. The reason Korvan fell.
He didn’t best her easily. No. She would never grant that to anyone.
But he did win.
And for the first ti, Valeria had t soone who didn’t wield skill like a showpiece—but like breath.
He didn’t chase glory. He wasn’t refined.
But he was real.
She hadn’t seen him again until Andelheim.
By then, she’d chosen to travel alone—left behind the shield-bearers and retainers and the always-watching eyes of court. She hadn’t expected to see him again. She didn’t intend to.
But he was there.
And this ti, he didn’t just pass through.
He stayed.
Not by force.
Not exactly.
But Lucavion had a way of folding himself into things. Not loud. Not possessive. Just present. Unapologetically.
She should’ve sent him away.
She didn’t.
Maybe because she was tired of silence. Maybe because there was a comfort in how little he asked of her. How little he needed her to be anyone but herself.
He was infuriating at tis—wandering off, challenging strangers to bouts in the early fog, rarely speaking unless it was necessary.
But when he was there—beside her at the hill’s edge, or matching her pace down the vendor trails, or silently offering her half of a stolen al like it was the most natural thing in the world—those monts had been...
Not soft.
Not gentle.
But hers.
And now, Jesse stood in front of her, voice laced with heat, asking a question that neither of them were truly prepared to answer.
Valeria took a breath. asured. Quiet.
And she answered.
Valeria’s voice ca smooth and deliberate, each word steady as a polished blade.
"When I first t him," she began, "it was in Rackenshore."
A murmur ran through the gathered circle—half recognition, mostly irrelevance. After all, most nobles didn’t know where that was.
"A small town," Valeria continued, "toward the empire’s outer skirts. Harsh winters. Empty trade roads. Not exactly the kind of place one visits unless they have reason."
"And you had reason?" one of the Arcanis girls asked, brows raised.
Valeria’s lips curved, faintly. "There were reports of bandits. A resurgence. And one na in particular—Korvan."
That na drew more than murmurs. So froze outright. Korvan wasn’t just another na in the Empire’s criminal ledger—he was an old nightmare, a symbol of what happened when the Empire looked away too long.
"I went to see if the reports were true," she said. "To assess. To act, if necessary."
"And?" soone asked, leaning in. "Did you?"
Valeria paused.
"When I arrived... it was already over. The bandits were dead. Korvan among them."
"And Lucavion?" another asked.
Her eyes flicked across the group once before returning to Jesse.
"He was the one who’d done it."
A few gasps. A stilled breath or two.
"He didn’t brag," Valeria went on. "Didn’t even admit it, at first. Just stood there in the ash of what had been a bandit stronghold. No house sigil. No authority. Just..." Her voice slowed. "Presence."
"Oh?" Jesse said then, voice low and almost amused. "So you t him there."
"But how did that translate?" a nobleman asked. "Surely you couldn’t just... accept so naless swordsman’s word on sothing like that."
Valeria exhaled through her nose. A slow, poised breath.
"Even from the start," she said, "he was insufferable."
A ripple of surprise moved through the circle. Valeria’s tone hadn’t changed. But the word landed with weight.
"He didn’t respect my title. My na. My station. Not even my presence as a noble, let alone as a knight."
A chuckle here and there. But they were tentative.
"I was—" Valeria paused, as if choosing the exact weight of the next word. "—considering prosecuting him for that."
"Prosecuting him?" one of the girls echoed, wide-eyed.
Jesse, however, narrowed her eyes. Her tone was sharper now—precise.
"For just that?" she asked.
Valeria turned her head slightly, eting her gaze directly.
"As a knight," she said, calm but firm, "it’s my duty to uphold the laws."
A beat of silence.
The response was airtight. Unapologetic.
But Jesse didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.
For sothing unspoken.
But Valeria didn’t give it.
She held her ground, the way only soone who’d already fought that mory could.
And decided which parts to keep.
Valeria’s voice remained composed.
But in her chest, sothing tightened.
"When I went to Andelheim," she continued, "I didn’t register under my na."
That drew attention—real attention. A few nobles leaned in, not out of decorum, but surprise.
"I didn’t use the Olarion title. I wanted to prove sothing... without the shield of lineage. So I went through the sa process as everyone else."
She could still rember the morning air—dusty, crisp with the scent of horses and spiced grains from the rchant stalls. The vendor square had been crowded, the line coiled past the courtyard and around two gates. Even though it was the last day of registration, the queue stretched endlessly.
"I stood in line," Valeria said plainly. "Four hours."
Soft murmurs spread—disbelief, mostly. Four hours? For them, even a four-minute wait was an indignity. But Valeria wasn’t recounting it for sympathy.
She was laying down facts.
"I was two away from the front," she said, "when he arrived."
Her gaze drifted slightly—not far, but just enough to conjure the mory more vividly. Lucavion’s silhouette cutting through the crowd. Lazy posture. Dust on his collar. Confidence like it cost him nothing.
"He joined the queue."
A pause.
"And then bribed the officer."
Small gasps—amused, half-stifled laughter.
"He stepped past like I wasn’t there. Walked straight in."
"And you knew him already," soone noted.
"Yes," Valeria said simply.
"And he knew you?" ca another voice.
Jesse, however, was the one who leaned in.
"And he taunted you, didn’t he?"
Valeria’s lips pressed into the thinnest line.
"Yes."
She didn’t elaborate. But her eyes said enough. Jesse’s own gaze sparked.
"And you couldn’t do anything?"
"I didn’t go as Lady Olarion. I’d have undermined the whole reason I was there if I invoked it."
"But you could’ve challenged him," soone offered, grinning. "Beat him one-on-one, right?"
Valeria didn’t answer.
Because she didn’t need to.
The silence itself was the answer.
She hadn’t thought she could win.
Not then.
Not yet.
Instead—
"He followed ," she said.
Her tone was almost bemused now. As if she still couldn’t quite believe it.
"Ca to my side afterward. As though nothing had happened. As though we were..."
She stopped.
The word didn’t co.
Not because she didn’t know it—but because she didn’t know if it was true.
"...Were you?" Jesse asked.
Her voice was soft. But her eyes were anything but.
Valeria’s breath caught—just slightly.
She looked at Jesse.
And didn’t speak.
Because for the first ti in this conversation—perhaps in any conversation about him—she realized she didn’t have the answer.
Friends?
Is that what they were?
Two weeks. That was all. A brief window of strange mornings, shared silences, infuriating detours, and passing glances that said more than they should.
They hadn’t sworn allegiance. Hadn’t fought back-to-back in war. Hadn’t confessed anything.
But there had been monts.
Monts that lingered.
And yet—
Was that enough to call it friendship?
Companionship?
She could call many people companions. Fellow knights. Commanders. Strategists.
But with Lucavion, it hadn’t been forged in duty.
It had been...
Unclear.
And the more she thought about it—
The more uncomfortable the word friend felt in her mouth.
Not because it was wrong.
But because it felt too simple.
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