[House Veyrath — Training Ground — Continuation]
"Seyra."
Vaerun’s voice carried across the training ground as he approached the guardian pillar.
Seyra turned at once. The moment she spotted him, her entire face brightened.
"PAPAAAA!"
She scrambled to her feet and charged toward him with all the enthusiasm of a child who had been separated from her favorite person for an entire century rather than a few minutes.
Vaerun stopped walking and opened his arms.
"Slowly—"
PLOP!
Seyra’s feet were tangled together, and the next moment, she was face-first in the sand.
. . .
. . .
Silence fell over the training ground.
The knights stopped mid-conversation. Mira’s hand flew to her mouth. Even the white leopard, who had been lounging beside the guardian pillar, lifted his head and stared.
Vaerun remained where he was, his arms still open, and for a moment, he simply looked at the tiny figure sprawled at his feet.
Seyra slowly lifted her head. Her nose was red, her cheeks were covered in sand, and a small clump of dirt had somehow found its way into her hair.
She blinked up at him. Vaerun blinked back; his expression remained perfectly composed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Once, twice, and that was all it took.
"WAAAAAAAH!" Seyra burst into tears. "WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?! WHY?!"
Vaerun immediately lowered his arms and picked her up, holding her securely beneath them before settling her against his chest.
"I didn’t laugh."
"LIAR!"
"I merely observed what happened."
"YOUR FACE WAS LAUGHING!"
"My face was doing nothing of the sort."
"YOUR MOUTH BETRAYED YOU!"
Captain Kharzen, Ishtar, and Darian abruptly turned away; their shoulders began shaking. Vaerun glanced in their direction; everyone straightened so quickly that he nearly injured himself.
"I was coughing, my lord," Kharzan said.
"Were you?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Then I suggest you find a physician. Your cough appears remarkably similar to laughter."
Everyone went pale.
Seyra sniffled against Vaerun’s chest, temporarily distracted by the prospect of someone else being in trouble. Then she remembered her own humiliation and immediately resumed pounding his chest with her little fists.
"Put me down! I don’t want to be carried by a mean father!"
"Very well."
Vaerun loosened his hold by approximately one inch. Seyra’s eyes widened.
"NO! NOT LIKE THAT! HOLD ME PROPERLY!"
He looked down at her.
"You’ve just declared that you don’t want to be carried."
"I changed my mind!"
"Already? Remarkable. I shall inform the scholars that your opinions have a shorter lifespan than a mayfly."
"I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS!"
"Something that lives longer than your dignity, apparently."
Mira made a strangled sound behind them. Seyra gasped as though he had personally betrayed her entire bloodline.
"PAPA! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME!"
"I do."
"THEN WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN?!"
"Because I love you enough to tell you the truth."
"What truth?!"
"That the ground has defeated you."
The training ground erupted into poorly concealed laughter. Seyra stared at Vaerun in absolute disbelief. Then she buried her face against his shoulder, mortified beyond words.
"I hate this family."
"You’ve been here for less than a month."
"And already I have suffered so much!"
"Tragic. Shall I have the ground executed?"
She lifted her head immediately. "Can you?"
"No."
"Then what’s the point of being a Azram?!"
This time, Vaerun actually laughed. It was brief and quiet, but unmistakable. Seyra’s jaw dropped, and Vaerun adjusted her against his chest before she could wriggle herself into another disaster.
"You laughed when I fell!"
"After I warned you not to run."
Seyra opened her mouth; her eyes shifted to the side. Vaerun raised an eyebrow. "Have you suddenly forgotten how to speak?"
"I was thinking."
"How unusual."
Seyra looked down at the front of his tunic, her small fingers curling into the fabric. Her voice grew quieter.
"I wanted to hug you quickly; that’s why I ran."
For a moment, Vaerun said nothing, then he shifted her into the crook of one arm and brushed the sand from her hair with his free hand.
"I was gone for only a short while, little lizard."
"It was a very long while."
"Then I must apologize for abandoning you for so long."
"You should!"
"I shall try not to repeat this terrible mistake."
She nodded solemnly, accepting his apology as though she were an empress granting mercy to a defeated king.
Vaerun reached for the edge of his cloak and gently wiped the dirt from her cheeks. He cleaned the tip of her nose last, rubbing it carefully while Seyra scrunched up her face in protest.
"Hold still."
"It’s cold!"
"Would you prefer to keep the sand?"
"No!"
"Then endure it."
"Papa, you’re supposed to be gentle!"
"I am being gentle. If I weren’t, you would have been washed in a barrel by now."
Seyra stared at him, horrified. "A BARREL?!"
"A very small one."
The maid, who had been watching with a fond smile, immediately looked away. "I’m afraid His Lordship is correct, little miss."
Seyra’s betrayal was complete; she slumped against Vaerun’s chest as though the entire household had conspired against her.
"Now, let me see. Did you hurt yourself?"
Seyra sniffed. "No."
"Your knees?"
"No."
"Your hands?"
"No."
"Your nose?"
She hesitated. Vaerun inspected the reddened tip of it with exaggerated seriousness. "Hmm. It appears to have survived."
"Of course it survived! My nose is very strong!"
"An impressive achievement."
"And next time, I won’t fall!"
"Next time, I would like to see you break your nose."
. . .
. . .
Seyra went utterly still, then she threw her head back and screamed, "AAAAAH! SOMEBODY SAVE ME! MY OWN FATHER WANTS TO BREAK MY NOSE!"
The knights lost their composure. Even Mira had to cover her face, while the white leopard lowered his head and flicked his tail as if he, too, had reached the conclusion that humans were an absurd species.
Vaerun, however, looked entirely untroubled.
"I said I would like to see it. I never said I would help."
"THAT’S WORSE!"
"Then I shall be more specific next time."
"THERE MUST NOT BE A NEXT TIME!"
"Excellent. Perhaps you should stop running."
Seyra stared at him, struggling to find a suitable response. Unfortunately, her four-year-old brain had run out of arguments, and her dignity had already been buried somewhere beneath the sand. She finally gave up and buried her face in his chest.
Vaerun’s expression softened. He wrapped his cloak around her shoulders, shielding her from the cool breeze sweeping through the training ground, and rested a hand against the back of her head.
Vaerun continued stroking her hair, removing the last traces of sand from the strands. The laughter around them gradually faded, leaving the familiar sounds of practice swords striking one another and the wind moving through the banners above the training ground.
Then his voice changed.
"Seyra."
She hummed sleepily.
"You cannot always run toward me without looking where you’re going."
"Why not?"
"Because I will not always be close enough to catch you before you fall."
Her fingers tightened around his collar.
Vaerun looked down at her. "I will protect you whenever I can. That is my responsibility as your father. But you must also learn to protect yourself when I am not there."
Seyra grew quiet.
For a child who had spent so much of her life alone, the thought of being left without him was not an unfamiliar fear. She knew what it meant to have no one waiting for her, no one to notice when she was hurt, and no one who would come looking when she disappeared.
But Vaerun had come looking for her.
He had held her when she was frightened, stayed beside her when she was ill, and chosen her even when he did not understand the mysteries surrounding her.
She did not want to lose that.
Seyra nestled against his chest, her little arms wrapped securely around his neck.
"I’ll learn," she whispered.
Vaerun brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Good."
She remained quiet for a moment before lifting her head.
"But, Papa?"
"Yes?"
"If someone hurts me..." She hesitated, her violet eyes fixed on his silver ones. "Can I kill them?"
Vaerun looked down at her.
There was no immediate scolding, no horrified lecture about the value of human life. He simply regarded her with the same calm expression he wore when discussing matters of state.
"Except Malik, you may kill anyone else."
Seyra blinked.
"Provided you have a reason. I will not tolerate you killing someone merely because they ate the last honey cake."
Her expression changed, and Vaerun narrowed his eyes. "Seyra."
"I wasn’t thinking about anyone!"
"Your face is remarkably dishonest for someone who has not yet learned to lie convincingly."
She hurriedly buried her face against his shoulder, hiding her grin.
"I’m a good girl, Papa."
"Of course. A perfectly innocent little girl who was discussing murder less than a minute ago."
"I’m talking about self-defense!"
"Then I suggest you learn to defend yourself before considering the murder."
She hummed, apparently satisfied with this arrangement, and hugged him more tightly. Vaerun shook his head, but a faint smile touched his lips. He had adopted a child, not summoned a miniature warlord. The distinction was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.
After a moment, however, his expression grew serious.
"Seyra, there is something we need to discuss."
She lifted her head. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Not this time. We received a report concerning the orphanage."
The smile faded from her face.
Vaerun continued, his voice even. "An illegal human auction has been uncovered, as you said. Several children may have been taken from the orphanage and sold through underground networks."
For a few seconds, Seyra did not move; the warmth in her expression disappeared so completely that Vaerun felt the change even before she spoke.
"The children?"
"We are searching for them. My men are tracing the buyers, the merchants, and everyone involved in transporting them. I intend to bring every surviving child home."
Seyra’s fingers curled into his tunic.
"Every child?"
"Every one we can find."
She lowered her eyes. Her small face had become strangely still.
For a four-year-old, she had seen too much cruelty. She remembered the cold rooms, the empty stomach, the adults who looked through beggar children as though they were stains on the street. She knew how easily the helpless could disappear when nobody important cared enough to look for them and now someone had taken children who had nowhere else to go.
Her violet eyes darkened.
"Did the teachers know?"
"We are investigating their involvement. The director’s accounts contain irregularities, and several records appear to have been altered. I will not make a final judgment until I have the evidence."
Vaerun’s voice remained calm, but there was a coldness beneath it that would have made even experienced generals reconsider their next words.
"However, I want you to decide what should happen to the director and the teachers responsible for your treatment."
Seyra blinked at him.
"Me?"
"You lived among them. You know how they behaved when they believed no one was watching. I want to hear what you think."
For a moment, she stared at him as if he had handed her the keys to the imperial treasury.
Then she slowly raised her head.
"Papa..."
"Yes?"
"Do I have permission to be a little mean?"
Vaerun studied her face.
"How little?"
Seyra’s lips curved.
It was not the bright, mischievous smile she wore when plotting to steal an extra dessert. Nor was it the innocent grin that usually preceded one of her outrageous questions.
This smile was different.
It was small, deliberate, and deeply unsettling on a child whose feet could barely reach the floor when seated.
"Oh," she murmured. "I have a very nice idea."
Vaerun stopped walking.
Across the courtyard, a pair of guards exchanged a cautious glance.
They had seen their lord face enemy armies without changing his expression, yet, as he looked at the tiny girl in his arms, Vaerun found himself wondering whether he had made a terrible mistake by asking her that question.
"What sort of idea?" he asked.
Seyra rested her chin on his shoulder and smiled sweetly.
"The kind where bad people learn to be good."
Vaerun’s silver eyes narrowed.
"That sounds suspiciously vague."
"It’s a surprise, Papa."
She giggled, then leaned close to his ear and whispered something. Vaerun listened without interrupting, his expression did not change but by the time she finished, the faint smile had vanished from his face, replaced by a long, thoughtful silence.
Seyra pulled back to study him, he looked at her.
"Are you certain this is what you want?"
She nodded with a grin.
House Veyrath would find the missing children. The guilty would face judgment, and no title, fortune, or influential connection would shield them from the consequences.
And somewhere in the manor, the director of an orphanage was still unaware that the child he had once considered worthless had finally acquired something far more dangerous than a powerful Aether Core.
She had acquired a father who would stand behind her and an imagination of her own.