CHAPTER 14: FAMILY
The new contract came from the capital, sealed in red wax with the king's own sigil. Captain Rhen delivered it personally, face tight.
Contract 17-D-35
Task: Escort Lady Seris Valcour (noble, fire-blood) to the border fort at Thornpass. Protect from "interested parties."
Threat: D+ (assassins, possible mage support)
Reward: 1,200 silver + favor with House Valcour
Note: Do not let her bleed on anything important.
Torven read the pay and whistled. "That's B-rank money for a D+ tag."
Lysa frowned. "Nobles don't hire D-ranks unless they want plausible deniability."
Dren just counted the zeros.
Kael took the tag. 'Fire-blood. Related to Hollis? Or something older?'
He felt the wing-shard at his belt pulse, warm.
Lady Seris waited in the guild yard, cloaked in gray, hood up. Mid-twenties, sharp cheekbones, eyes the color of fresh embers. A single guard, C-rank, silent, hand never far from sword.
She looked at Kael's D++ band and smiled like a cat who'd found the cream.
"You're the one who broke the mirror," she said. "Good. I hate reflections."
They left at dusk.
The road to Thornpass cut through pine forest and bandit country. Three days if nothing went wrong.
Nothing ever did.
First night, camp was quiet. Seris sat apart, sketching runes in the dirt with a gloved finger. The lines glowed faint orange, then sank into the soil.
Kael watched from the fire's edge. 'Fire-blood. I wonder if their blood is quite literally...'
Torven cleaned his axe. "She's drawing wards. Old ones. My gran would call them devil marks."
Lysa strung her bow. "Nobles pay for protection, not conversation. Keep it simple."
Dren slept with one eye open.
Second night, the ambush finally came.
Six riders in black, no colors, horses silent as ghosts. Crossbows first, bolts tipped with something that smoked.
Kael heard the twang before the bolts left the strings. He moved.
First bolt took him in the shoulder, punched through gambeson, lodged in bone. Poison burned cold.
'Mmm, new flavor. Let's taste it.'
He counted heartbeats while the toxin spread. Five. Ten. His veins blackened, then flushed clean. The bolt fell out.
The riders were already on them.
Torven caught a sword on his shield, staggered. Lysa loosed three arrows, dropped two horses. Dren vanished into shadow.
Seris stood untouched, gloved hands glowing. She spoke one word in a language that tasted like ash.
The ground erupted. Pillars of fire speared upward, caught three riders mid-charge. Armor melted. Horses screamed. The smell of cooked meat filled the night.
The last rider broke left, sword aimed at Seris's throat.
Kael stepped in.
He let the blade bite his neck, shallow, testing. Steel parted skin, scraped bone. He felt the edge, the balance, the tremor in the rider's wrist.
'That was sloppy. He's scared.'
He grabbed the wrist, twisted. Bone snapped. The rider flew off the saddle, hit the ground hard.
Kael knelt, pressed the rider's own sword to his throat.
"Who sent you?"
The man spat blood. "Valcour pays. Valcour dies."
Kael looked at Seris.
She was pale, gloves smoking. "Not my house," she said. "My uncle wants the bloodline pruned."
The rider laughed until Kael's boot took his teeth.
They tied the survivor, looted the dead, burned the bodies.
Seris watched the flames. "You let him cut you."
"Faster than dodging," Kael said.
She studied him. "You're not afraid of pain."
"Pain's honest," he said. "People lie."
Third day, Thornpass fort rose against the sky, stone teeth, banners snapping. The gate opened before they knocked.
The commander met them with twenty guards and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Lady Seris. Your uncle sends regrets. The fort is… overcrowded."
Seris stepped forward. "I have safe passage."
"Passage revoked," the commander said. "Orders from the capital."
Kael felt the trap close.
Torven's hand went to his axe. Lysa nocked an arrow. Dren melted into the shadows.
Kael looked at the commander's men, twenty, well-armed, positioned to funnel them into the courtyard.
'Twenty is quite the number. I bet they are expecting fear. I can't help but be a tiny bit excited for that though,' Kael thought amusedly.
He stepped forward.
"Orders change," he said. "New plan. We walk in. You live."
The commander laughed. "D-rank trash—"
Kael moved.
He walked straight at the line. The first spear thrust came high. He leaned into it, let the point pierce his cheek, exit the other side. Blood filled his mouth.
'Angle's off. Wrist's weak.'
He grabbed the spear, yanked the soldier forward, head-butted him into unconsciousness.
The second soldier swung a mace. Kael caught it on the forearm. Bone cracked, his, then the mace. He twisted, took the weapon, used it to shatter the man's knee.
Third soldier fired a crossbow point-blank. Bolt took Kael in the gut.
He looked down. 'Deeper this time. Good. I want always be able to enhance my adaptation so easily.'
He pulled it out, used the shaft to club the shooter across the temple.
The line broke.
Torven roared, charged. Lysa's arrows found throats. Dren appeared behind the commander, knife at kidney.
Seris raised her hands. Fire coiled around her like a living thing.
Kael raised a hand. "Wait."
He walked to the commander, mace dangling.
"Open the gate," he said. "Or we open you."
The commander looked at the bodies, at Kael's gut wound already closing, at the fire dancing in Seris's palms.
The gate opened.
They walked through.
Inside, the fort was a tomb. No soldiers. No banners. Just a single table with a letter.
Seris read it aloud, voice flat.
> Niece,
> The bloodline ends with you.
> —Uncle
She burned the letter, then the table.
Kael watched the flames. 'Family. Always messy, especially these types.'
They left the fort at dawn. No pay. No favor. Just a story and a noble who owed them her life.
On the road back, Lysa rode beside him.
"You let them hit you," she said. "Every time."
"It's for a good cause." he said. "They teach me what they know. It's like a wash cloth, you ring it until it's complete dry."
She was quiet a long time.
"You're going to get us killed one day," she said. "Running to catch up."
Kael looked at her. 'She's not wrong.'
"I'll try to slow down," he said.
She laughed, short and sharp. "Liar."
That night, camp was quiet again.
Kael sat apart, wing-shard in one hand, stolen mace in the other.
'Not tonight.'
Tomorrow the guild would argue about pay, about ranks, about what to do with a D++ who just walked through a fort like it was paper.
Tonight he sharpened the mace on a rock and listened to his friends breathe.
The ladder was still there.
He was still climbing.
But for the first time, he felt the weight of the people climbing with him.
And that weight, at least for now, wasn't something he could adapt away.