Henry remained at the wagons, coordinating with other rchants who'd begun gathering to discuss road conditions and recent bandit activity.
Vanessia shifted Anya higher on her hip and began walking. "Co on. It's not far."
Anya twisted in her mother's arms to look back at Alaric. "Big bro Azra! Are you coming?"
The na still felt strange. But Alaric nodded. "Right behind you."
They moved through Ashfeld's streets. The rchant quarter gradually transitioned into residential areas, buildings becoming more refined, streets cleaner, the crowds thinning to sothing more manageable.
Anya kept up constant chatter. Pointing at things. Asking questions. "Mama, can we get sweet bread tomorrow? Big bro Azra, do you like sweet bread? I love sweet bread. Papa says I eat too much but—"
"Anya, sweetheart, let big brother Azra breathe," Vanessia said gently. But she was smiling.
"Where do you co from?" Vanessia asked, glancing back at Alaric. "What's your hotown?"
Alaric kept his expression neutral. "Still foggy. The head injury..." He gestured vaguely. "mories aren't clear yet."
She nodded sympathetically. "That must be frightening. Not knowing where ho is."
You have no idea.
As they walked, Alaric noticed sothing peculiar. The rchants at their stalls... there were mostly won. The guards patrolling streets were also won.
Not exclusively. There were n. But the ratio was... off. Inverted from what he'd expect.
Is this normal?
He filed the observation away. Sothing to investigate later.
Vanessia stopped in front of a house that made Alaric reassess exactly how successful her rchant business was.
Not mansion. But substantial. Three stories of well-maintained stone and timber. Large windows with actual glass rather than shutters. A small garden visible through an iron gate with well-tended flowers, a fountain in the center.
"This is our place in Ashfeld," Vanessia said, pushing the gate open.
Alaric studied the building. Then followed her.
They walked up the path. The front door opened before they reached it, servants already aware of their arrival.
Two won in house staff uniforms bowed. "Lady Vanessia. Welco ho."
Vanessia set Anya down gently. The girl imdiately took off running through the entrance hall toward what was presumably the garden, her small voice echoing as she called for soone nad "Nanny Kess!"
The servants' eyes tracked to Alaric. Curious but professional.
"This is Azra," Vanessia said smoothly. "He'll be staying with us as our guest while he recovers from injuries. Please prepare the blue guest room and bring proper dical supplies."
"Of course, my lady." The servants bowed again and moved to fulfill orders with practiced efficiency.
Vanessia led Alaric through the entrance hall, polished wood floors, tapestries on walls, furniture that suggested comfort and use rather than just display. The sll of cooking wafted from sowhere deeper in the house.
Feels lived-in. Not just property for show.
They climbed stairs to the second floor. Down a corridor with several doors. Vanessia stopped at one near the end.
"The guest room." She opened it.
The space beyond was... nice. Large bed with clean linens. Wardrobe. Desk and chair. Window overlooking the garden. Simple but comfortable.
"You said 'your staying place in Ashfeld,'" Alaric said, stepping inside. "So you're not from here originally?"
Vanessia smiled. Leaned against the doorfra. "No. We're from Silverpeak, northern region, near the mountains. But we maintain hos in several cities. Ashfeld is... convenient. Good for trade."
"Multiple hos." Alaric's tone was neutral. "That's impressive."
"My family has been in rchant trade for generations." She said it without arrogance. Just fact. "We've built connections. Established routes. It's steady work if you're smart about it."
Eventually, a servant appeared, carrying a tray with bottles, clean bandages, and various dical implents.
Vanessia took the tray. "Thank you."
The servant bowed and retreated.
Vanessia set the tray on the desk. Turned to Alaric. "Now. Let actually treat those wounds properly. That field dressing last night was... adequate. But you need proper care."
She gestured to his shirt. "You'll need to remove that so I can apply the salve and re-bandage everything."
Alaric hesitated. His hand moved to the hem of his blood-stained shirt.
Then pulled the shirt off. Winced as fabric dragged across the shoulder wound.
Vanessia's expression didn't change. "Sit."
He sat on the edge of the bed. She moved closer with the dical supplies.
Her hands were gentle but efficient as she peeled away the old bandages. Examined each wound with practiced eye.
Applied new salve, this one better quality, essence-enhanced, warmth spreading through damaged tissue almost imdiately.
"This town is interesting," she said conversationally while working. "Ashfeld's always been a trade hub, but in the last decade it's really grown. Empress Thiaman's policies have been... favorable to rchants." She wrapped fresh bandage around his shoulder.
"Though the recent bandit problems are concerning. They're getting bolder."
"I noticed." Alaric kept still while she worked. "Seed pretty coordinated last night."
"Exactly." She moved to his side wound. "It's not random raids anymore. Soone's organizing them. Which ans..." She secured the bandage. "There's bigger problems brewing."
Then, she stepped back. Surveyed her work. Nodded with satisfaction. "That should hold. The salve will accelerate healing, you should be recovered in a few days."
"Thank you."
Vanessia gathered the dical supplies. "Rest. Eat. Recover. If you need anything, just call for a servant. They'll help."
She moved toward the door. Paused at the threshold and looked back.
"You saved my daughter's life, Azra. Whatever you're running from, whatever you're trying to rember or forget..." Her copper eyes were serious. "You're safe here. For as long as you need."
Then she left. The door closed softly behind her.
Alaric sat alone in the comfortable guest room. The afternoon light slanted through the window, warm and golden.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
So much happening...
Then looked down at his pack. At the items he'd retrieved from the dungeon.
"Umbral Inferno."
He pulled the crystal from his pack. Held it in his palm. It was black in color with crimson veins pulsed slowly, like heartbeat.
Should I do this now? My channels are still damaged. Absorbing a new technique when I'm not at full capacity could—
But he needed power. Needed to get stronger. Because being thrown across kingdoms required more than what he currently possessed.
Then without much further delay, Alaric closed his fist around the crystal.
And crushed it.
The crystal shattered.
The essence contained within flooded into him through every point of contact between his skin and the fragnting structure.
Knowledge. Understanding. All of it pouring directly into his mind like water through a broken dam.
Alaric's eyes slamd shut. His breathing deepened. His body went rigid as the information integrated.
Images. Sensations. The feeling. The ntal frawork required to maintain fusion without one essence overwhelming the other.
Black flas. That burn matter and essence. That cannot be extinguished by conventional ans because they exist in dual states simultaneously.
It hurt.
As new neural pathways ford. His damaged channels screaming protest as foreign knowledge forced them to change.
But Alaric held on. Gritted his teeth and endured.
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