The town gate came into view around sunset, ending a march that had eaten most of the afternoon.
The boy had stayed awake for the entire road, cataloguing every tree, bird, and passing cart with unblinking attention from his usual seat on Hajin's chest. Whatever hatched inside that skull was taking notes on the world, which was either adorable or deeply concerning depending on how long Hajin thought about it.
Word of their return traveled faster than they walked, because the square was already full when they came through the gate. The last time this crowd had watched him arrive, he had been holding a severed head instead of a child.
Nobody spoke, every pair of eyes bouncing between their lord, the white-haired toddler chewing on his collar, and the visible absence of a legendary monster corpse.
"My lord," an older miner's wife finally called out from the well, wringing her apron between her hands, "the mountain beast, is it truly gone?"
