Michael sat cross-legged in the sitting room of his residence. He rested one elbow on the arm of the chair, fingers lightly tapping his chin in thought.
Across from him stood three people.
Lyra, cloaked as always, her eyes half-lidded but alert.
Lia, and Ace awkwardly stood side by side.
Wisdom, of course, had perched himself directly on Michael’s shoulder. Watching. Always watching.
Michael’s gaze drifted from one boy to the other.
"I’ll be leaving for my territory tomorrow," he said evenly.
Neither Ace nor Lia responded immediately.
Michael’s voice remained calm, but firm. "Lyra will accompany me. However, you two have to make a choice."
He let the words settle before continuing.
"You can come with me. Serve under my name. In return, you’ll be fed and paid, like before but better this time.
Michael’s tone shifted slightly. "Or, you stay here. Maintain this residence, manage the property in my absence, and handle minor affairs. I’ll pay you a monthly salary either way."
Still, the boys were silent.
The silence stretched.
Lia’s hands clenched at his sides. His face was tight and conflicted. Ace’s mouth opened slightly, then shut again. He looked like he wanted to speak—but something held him back.
Michael didn’t press. He waited.
Finally, Ace scratched the back of his neck and muttered, "It’s not like we’re ungrateful, you know..."
Michael said nothing.
Ace let out a short exhale, as if bracing himself. "Back then, when we tried to rob you... when Lia pulled that knife—if it were any other noble, we’d be dead."
"And since then, you’ve treated us like people. Better than most." He glanced briefly at Lyra, then down again. "But if we follow you now... we’re yours. Truly."
Lia’s voice broke the silence next, quiet and hoarse. "No pretending. No just working for you ’cause we have nowhere else to go. We follow you now, and that’s it. We’re bound. That’s what this is, isn’t it?"
Michael nodded once. "Yes."
The boys didn’t say anything.
They remembered their little sister.
She was killed by a noble. She was the reason they entered a dojo to gain strength.
And now they stood on the edge of becoming what they hated.
The line wasn’t easy to cross.
Michael stood, tired of waiting.
"If you decide not to come," he said, "the offer to manage this home still stands."
The next morning came with clear skies and a quiet sense of finality.
Parked just outside Michael’s residence were three carriages.
All three were finely built, but their purposes were obvious at a glance.
The first was sleek, compact, and subtly elegant. Its craftsmanship whispered of wealth without shouting it. The kind of carriage you’d expect a young noble to step out from. It wasn’t grand. Just... right.
The second was larger, bulkier, and clearly meant for more people.
The third carriage was purely functional. It had no windows. Reinforced iron bars lined its underframe. It looked like it belonged to a merchant caravan, not a noble procession. But that was fine. It was for cargo.
Michael stood at the top of the short steps leading to the front door, watching the activity unfold.
The driver of the lead carriage tipped his cap upon seeing him. "Morning, Lord Mic. We’re loaded and ready."
Beside him stood Lyra, clad in a robe more refined than usual. This one fitted to her slim form. The hood was still drawn over her face, but it couldn’t hide her presence.
Then there were the boys.
Ace wore a dark green jacket, freshly pressed. His pants were tucked into polished boots, and for once, his hair was combed properly.
Lia stood beside him in a similarly styled outfit, though his clothes carried more muted tones—ash-grey and brown. He didn’t look comfortable in them. His hand kept brushing his sleeve like the fabric might bite him.
But both of them were here.
They’d chosen to follow.
Eventually, they had to accept the truth: this was a noble’s world. And they were powerless to change that.
They also had no talent to also gain power to change anything.
Though reluctant to accept, the two eventually chose a life of ease.
Michael might be a noble, but he wasn’t like the rest. And that... that was enough.
Wisdom descended from above, fluttering down from the roof’s edge to perch on Michael’s shoulder with a small hop and a rustle of wings. The owl has grown more active lately.
Michael suspected he might have been feeding it a bit too much.
Michael gave one last glance at his residence.
He exhaled once, quietly.
Then said, "Let’s go."
They stepped down as one.
Now, Michael stood and beside him was Duke Evermoon. His posture was regal but not stiff, and his hands were clasped lightly behind his back as he nodded toward the assembled formation ahead of them.
Forty men stood in neat, silent ranks.
They weren’t regular guards.
Each one wore dark green armor marked with Michael’s crest.
He was taken aback by this.
Duke Evermoon gestured toward them. "Your escort, as promised. Take it as a gift"
Michael could only nod his head helplessly. He instinctively wanted to refuse but decided against it.
Duke Evermoon had spoken about this before but he never knew they’d be given and not borrowed.
"These men are disciplined," the Duke continued, voice low but certain. "They’ll follow orders and won’t ask questions.
Michael’s gaze scanned the unit.
"Thank you, Duke Evermoon. I really appreciate your generous gesture," Michael said.
Behind him—though standing a careful distance back—were his people.
Further back, Ace and Lia stood side by side.
All watched the exchange quietly.
Michael turned his gaze to the side.
"How exactly do you plan for us to transport ourselves?" he asked quietly.
Duke Evermoon didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, a small smile tugged at the edge of his lips.
"You’ll see," he said.
Michael stood still, eyes narrowed slightly against the wind, his coat flaring behind him.
In front of him was a familiar looking vessel.