Exiting the clinic from the same way they entered, Roland led a silent Claire towards the main street. The girl seemed to be in deep thought, though she still managed to elegantly float across the often uneven stones and potholes. Road maintenance was usually reserved for commercial streets and those used for transportation of goods.

Something that held true in most parts of the city, not just the backstreets. Though the streets in the noble district were said to be so even you could put a ball anywhere and it wouldn’t roll away at all. An unthinkable thing for most children. You’d be able to play twice as much with all the time saved, not having to make sure the ball doesn’t roll away before kicking it.

“Dangerous,” Claire suddenly mumbled quietly. “Easy to get lost in it.”

What?

“Does it always feel like this?” Claire asked Roland, still walking forward steadily, her gaze on the street. “Like you did something that is indisputably good?”

Stunned by the unexpected question, Roland didn’t know how to answer. He had expected something different.

Looks like I misinterpreted her earlier behavior. Maybe the disguise is making it harder. But still, indisputably good?

Thinking about what it could be she meant, Roland quickly understood.

Conformation from oneself. Of course, I wouldn’t consider something like that. Mine mostly comes from somewhere else after all. I get what she wants to say though.

What Claire had alluded to was the feeling one got from directly helping another person, with no personal gain being involved whatsoever. From noticing a problem, to seeing that it got fixed. Different than being nice to one’s friends and acquaintances, or helping out when someone asked for assistance. It felt more real.

Instead of being done out of habit or convenience, it was a conscious action. It brought a kind of certainty, one that their actions had made the situation better. Had done good.

“For the most part, yeah. The feeling stays,” Roland replied, trying to find the best way to expand the answer so Claire wouldn’t get a wrong impression. “It would however be a lie to say it always felt that way.”

“The relationships we built with the people we help will often have one person who is more invested than the other. And that’s usually us,” Roland elaborated further. An old woman shoving chicken into his face briefly flashing across his mind. One of the rare occurrences where both saw things from the same level, mostly due to special circumstances. “That leads to times when you feel unappreciated instead. Times when even though you know you did the right thing, you still won’t get that feeling.”

“I want you to be prepared for it, should it come up in the future,” Roland explained, trying to manage Claire’s expectations. “Though one point needs to be added, and I don’t mean to offend, but you will probably find people more thankful in general, compared to how the rest of us would be received. You know.” He felt awkward for stating something that, despite being true, felt rude to say out loud.

“You know, I’ve been beautiful my whole life,” Claire cheekily replied. “I’m quite aware of the difficulties it brings.” Skipping along the street with her arms behind her back, she gave Roland a toothy grin, which still felt charming despite her disguise.

Thrown of his game entirely by her reply, Roland almost stumbled in his step, having to hop ungracefully to regain his balance. That’s one way to respond. He could not say there was a lot of experience he had with woman, but he remained fairly certain not many of them could straight out say what Claire just did, even if quite a few felt the same.

“Of course, how stupid of me,” Roland remarked after regaining his composure, having to run a bit to catch up to Claire. “Like trying to lecture a priestess on the words of the scripture, truly naive of me.”

It was Claire turn to stumble, though in her case it looked like her body leaned slightly forward, before her left foot jerked forward, restoring her balance instantly. Roland became aware of the fact that her feet had not made a sound when touching the ground this entire time, the barely able to be called stumble being the first time a small tap rang out through the air.

Such fine control. I wonder if I could do something similar inside a vision?

Face slightly red, Claire sped up slightly once she recognized the area. They had reached the main road, which went from the south gate, through all of Soren, continuing past the northern gate, until finally reaching its end at the garrison.

“The Red Market is somewhere over there, isn’t it?” Claire pointed in the general direction of a good quarter of the city, changing the topic of conversation about as subtle as Thomas would have on one of his better days. “We talked about it earlier. I have never actually been there.”

Perfectly fine switching it up after he had gotten the upper hand in their previous conversation, Roland indulged Claire with some idle chatter. Of the slightly gruesome variety.

“Yep, taking any of the streets to the right would lead us there,” Roland explained. “After a few hundred meters the air would start to be filled with the smell of blood and meat, until you are literally wading through it.”

Seeing Claire’s strained expression Roland couldn’t help but chuckle.

It probably can be considered the most revolting part of town while being one of its tastiest at the same time. And quite profitable to boot.

The Red Market could actually be considered one of the most famous areas of Soren. Because an overall low population within Seasons, being mostly focused in a few big central hubs and countless little hamlets and villages, coupled with scores upon scores of untamed forests and mountains, led to an incredible amount of rare animals and the occasional Beasts throughout the region. Nowhere else in Firmament was being a hunter as profitable. By mortal standards of course.

And in order to process all these widely sought out materials you needed professionals. Simple skinning an animal without the proper procedures was a good way to destroy all of the faint laws it had accumulated during the span of its life. Special techniques and equipment were required for mortals to process these animals if one wanted to make a good profit. And when there were profits to be had, people were never far away.

Strewn throughout the Backstreets existed families, merchants, and noble factions whose entire business was the processing of Seasons’ wildlife. It created a deep web of espionage, price undercutting and stolen techniques, having been spun over centuries by countless people.

The Red Market, for all its fame, was no more than a trash heap these organizations used to disguise their less than legal operations. After all, the meat ended up being literally worthless when compared to the other materials they extracted.

So, while the average citizen could be happy over having such a wide variety of fresh meat to choose from, it would be better to never look too deep into the machinations of the market. Unless of course one enjoyed getting acquainted with pointy metal stick inside dark alleys. To each their own.

Conversation having stalled, Roland focused on dodging the incoming pedestrians, which were seemingly endless. Literal hordes of them rushed here and there as the city reached its peak hours. Furrowing his brow, Roland noticed something strange.

He was starting to get winded for some reason, sweat pealing down his face. Eyes widening, he instantly stopped, looking exasperatedly at Claire, who too stopped her advance. She still ended up a good ten meter’s ahead of him though.

“Didn’t realize you were in such a hurry, miss Claire,” Roland noted, breathing a bit heavier than normal as he approached the troublemaker.

Tottering toward Roland, Claire smiled widely, not looking the least bit concerned about her scheme being revealed. She had, without Roland noticing at all, slowly increased her speed bit by bit throughout their journey. And despite covering more ground with each step, her movements looked exactly like they did at the start.

This had made Roland subconsciously speed up alongside her, not realizing something was going on until he needed to slide past dozens of people in a row.

I did not notice whatsoever. If the streets had been empty, I might have started freaking sprinting before seeing something wrong. Should try the same on Thomas or Arthur some time. Imagining ways he could mess with his friends, Roland was truly impressed, not particularly minding being made a fool. He had, after all, more than enough time to get back at her.

“Sorry about that, Leader” Claire apologized, mimicking one of Stephan’s half-arsed salutes. “I usually don’t walk that slowly, so I must have speed up subconsciously when we reached a road I knew. I’ll make sure to slow down from now onward.”

Rubbing it in, eh? Well, I can’t compete in speed. Though I feel like trying anyway. Competitive spirit lit; Roland didn’t bother bringing further quips of his own.

“You know the Toktuam Trading Hall, further down this road in the commercial district?” Roland asked, tone slightly commanding like he would use when telling Thomas to do something.

“Yes, I do,” Claire answered, tensing slightly at the mention of the smug golden boy’s family. “Why?”

“Whoever gets there first wins,” Roland nonchalantly called back, already sprinting at full speed past a bunch of startled pedestrians.

“Wh…” Claire stammered, standing still, her mouth hanging open for a second in surprise, before her eyes started shining brightly. Lips curled into a grin she bent forward and pushed off the ground with the lightest of movements. Only to be catapulted forward at absurd speeds, turning into a blur that disappeared among the crowds.

Running as quickly as his surroundings allowed him, Roland had no delusions about winning in fair contest of speed. His belief reinforced itself when he saw an inconspicuous girl burst through the gap between two horses, onto the carriage they were pulling, before bracing herself and sailing a good ten meters though the air, landing beautifully in front of a wide-eyed group of merchants. Only to instantly flash past them, less than a second having passed after her landing.

What the hell, she is taking this pretty seriously. Instead of being discouraged by Claire’s incredible display, Roland felt even more fired up. Winning would feel all the more incredible if the odds were stacked against him.

Making sure Claire wasn’t looking backwards, Roland dashed into a side street, choosing to use the less congested alleyways he knew well, quickly accelerating, now free of the previous walking obstacles.

Though the speed he had picked up would ultimately be canceled out by the winding nature of the paths, making his journey longer than one on the straight main road. But pedestrians were not the obstacle Roland wanted to avoid in the first place.

Long before entering the Commercial District, the main street Claire was on would need to pass over the Tarna, using one of the biggest bridges of Soren. Said bridge was also the first real checkpoint foreign traders needed to pass when they came from the south, because the city gate in that direction was a lot more loosely managed than the others. Close proximity to the Backstreets often made regulations more relaxed, at the same time also introducing some new rules of its own.

Around this time of the day the bridge checkpoint would be a deathtrap, figuratively speaking. Hundreds of merchants and trader backed up endlessly, shouting in a dozen different languages while the understaffed guards tried to process them and their goods.

The closer one got to the bridge the less normal pedestrians there were, all of the locals having their own preferred ways to get towards where they needed to be, without trying to squeeze their way through the chaos at the bridge.

Now if Claire felt like skipping line, nobody would say much against it of course, many even seeing it as a matter-of-fact. The random girl that had conspicuously run all the way there from the backstreets however? She most obviously was not the City Lord’s daughter. So back of the line for her.

Or more likely, she would try to find another way across. Good luck navigating through these side streets on your own. Part of Roland felt sorry for Claire, though it was a pretty small part, the majority of him grinned evilly, imagining her frantic search for another way across the river.

Hopefully she doesn’t end up swimming through. The thought actually gave him some pause, thinking whether Claire would be competitive enough to do that, and quickly realizing it wouldn’t be surprising. Murmuring a quick prayer Roland hoped he would not end up being the one responsible for the City Lord’s daughter swimming through the Tarna.

Any further troubling thoughts of Roland’s were interrupted when he reached his target, the sketchiest looking footbridge in all of creation. Or at least in Soren.

Water splashing across the thin wooden stakes that supported the bridge, which looked to be barely holding together, Roland nonetheless confidently ran across. Despite its shabby appearance, this bridge had been staying strong for the better part of a month now, proving true ingenuity lay inside people whose needs society could not fulfill.

Easily crossing the useful smuggler’s bridge, Roland continued without pause, still having a long way ahead, and unsure about how long a certain headstrong girl would need to find a way to cross.

A good three to four hundred meters downstream said girl currently looked mighty pissed, trying to follow the river towards another bridge, unfortunately being constantly blocked by buildings and other structures she had to climb over or bypass completely.

“Stupid cheater,” Claire muttered under her breath, not about to give in. The frequently increasing looks she gave the river showed how she slowly leaned more and more towards a somewhat radical solution. Something quite scary when you consider that vaulting over carriages was considered only slightly serious for her.

“Excuse me sir,” Claire asked a man sitting in some weird looking alcove, spending his day idly fishing. “Do you know how to best cross the river from here? The main bridge is a bit too busy for me.” Giving her best smile, Claire was stumped when the man completely ignored her after a brief look.

Eyes twitching, she continued without help, annoyed at getting such a lackluster response. Something she appeared wholly unused to, made to feel even worse considering the earlier conversation she and Roland had.

Not any closer to crossing a few futile minutes later, Claire felt like kicking something. Done with half measures she approached the riverbank, determination filling her eyes.

“I need your help,” Claire said towards the invisible figure she felt on her back. The latter briefly hummed at her words, not convinced of this being the right course of action.

“Come on,” Claire called out loudly, not caring about being seen thanks to her disguise. “Father won’t find out, and I want to prove myself to Roland. Today was the first time I have been a real part of the team, I can’t let it end on a negative note.”

If sentient swords could roll their eyes, there would be a high possibility of it happening right now, what with Claire justification sounding a lot like a bullshit to anyone possessing half a brain.

Ultimately unable to refuse Claire’s pleading look, the sword floated onto the ground, dispelling its camouflage slightly.

“Yes!” Claire called out excitedly. “Thank you so much, I’ll repay you for sure.”

Moving forward slowly, Claire placed her feet on the barely visible sword. A look of concentration appeared on her face as she focused everything she had on keeping her balance. And just like that, an excited girl steadily floated across the river, leaving the few onlookers who happened to see this miraculous scene tongue tied. Definitely a good week for rumors, Claire herself having started about a dozen every day so far.

Having reached the other shore, she nonchalantly jumped off. Not waiting for the sword to return to her back, Claire rushed forward into a side street, hoping to be able to reach the main street quickly. If one listened carefully, they would be able to hear a gust of wind rush after Claire blindingly fast, almost sounding like a tired sigh.

Past closed storefronts and doors, which could lead to all kinds of places, and literal mountains of trash nobody needed, Claire finally reached the main street again. Energized and not about to let Roland win their race, she once again rushed past startled pedestrians, sometimes taking more a more liberal approach in her definition of what constituted as a road.

Once the trading hall entered her view, she scanned the surroundings like a hawk, smiling gleefully upon not seeing Roland’s figure anywhere. Another short burst of speed for the finish line, and Claire stopped explosively in front of her target, dust billowing around her, greatly annoying the surrounding merchants.

Smiling apologetically Claire walked towards the side where she wouldn’t be in the way, leaning against one of the solid stone walls of the trade hall.

Her breathing was haggard, face flushed red. The sword’s disguise being the only thing saving this place’s productivity.

Claire grinned widely, keeping an eye out for the approaching loser, when something cold touched the side of her neck making her shriek in surprise.

Jumping backwards like a startled cat she assumed an offensive position, before a dumbfounded look appeared on her face.

Holding two small bottles filled with chilled water, Roland stood there, smiling brightly.

“I got bored of waiting, so I got us some water,” Roland remarked, trying his best to speak normally. His strained breathing and flushed skin telling a tale of how quickly he apparently got bored. Offering Claire one of the bottles, Roland knew she would never buy his story, but he also didn’t need her to.

I was first after all.

“I see. Thank you,” Claire replied, pouting mightily at the cheeky boy in front of her. Which did not stop her from taking the offered bottle, drinking most of it in big gulps, before wiping her mouth using the back of hand. Ladylike behavior apparently did not triumph over strenuous physical activity. “Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m simply happy you made it at all,” Roland assured her warmly, looking relieved. “After unluckily getting lost in some side streets, I got incredibly anxious when you weren’t there even after I wasted so much time myself.” He paid back what he owed, adding enough interest to support a small country through a recession.

Spiteful look in her eyes, Claire seemed to want to ask for a rematch. Preferably somewhere far away from water and people. But she also had too much pride to be branded as a sore loser. Like Roland recently did, she too comforted herself that the future held unlimited possibilities. Surely a couple good ones could be used to mess with this new leader of hers.

“It’s still more than an hour until the training,” Claire observed as she looked at the big clock mounted atop the trading hall, letting her close defeat rest with a sigh. “What are we going to do until then?” Their high-speed game had given them something of an unexpected break after their eventful morning.

“I still need to get Arthur from home anyway. And you need to find somewhere to drop your disguise.” Roland replied, hoping wholeheartedly Claire did not consider keeping it up for the rest of the day. “I picked this spot for our race because it’s the best place for us to part.”

I also don’t think I could survive an entire day of competing against you.

The Toktuam Trading Hall was at the far west of the trading district, only a couple of streets in southwest direction and you’d see the Crescent Moon Orphanage’s main building protrude over surrounding warehouses and residential homes. On the other hand, simply following the road north would make one cross the bigger residential area, reaching Soren’s Cathedral, and ultimately the noble district shortly afterwards.

“Oh”, Claire muttered, unusually taciturn and seemingly regretful that their rather interesting activities were coming to an end. She didn’t have any chances to fool around with people her age in such an unrestrained manner ever before. Although most of what they did today would be considered work by any sane person, it had still been enjoyable. “I’ll see you and Arthur afterwards in that case.”

Bowing lightly Claire said her farewells, looking a bit like a sad puppy that while not kicked to the curb, at the very least had a door closed in front of her face, being told to play alone for a bit.

“Miss Claire,” Roland called out, feeling like he should give some praise after seeing the sad look she displayed. “I know today wasn’t all that heroic. You should be proud of yourself nonetheless. A job well done.”

Claire turned around towards Roland explosively, her whole face lighting up like the sun, surprising him greatly. It however did not seem like his praise was the reason for her behavior, seeing Claire instead looked like she had remembered something extremely important. Rushing forward like a gust of wind, she stopped right in front of Roland, looking deep into his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about how exciting or heroic our activities are, Roland,” Claire told him, displaying the most earnest look he had ever seen in her eyes, their sky-blue radiance somehow appearing to pierce through the magic disguise put on her. “We don’t have to be heroes. Being a good person is more than enough to be happy.”

The intensity she displayed showed how important this seemingly normal opinion was to her. Happiness radiating from every part of her body told everyone how pleased she was to be able to communicate something of such vital importance to Roland. The latter obviously needed to respond in kind to such sincerity.

Roland felt a calling from deep inside of him. An urge to wrap his hands around Claire’s neck. And squeeze out every last drop of life from the conceited girl.

The feeling vanished as quickly as it appeared. Nothing out of the ordinary could be gleamed from Roland’s expression, looking like one would except it to be after such a strange and earnest declaration.

“I see,” Roland said offhandedly, showing little emotion. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He managed a small, slightly strained, smile towards Claire.

The latter happily waved goodbye as she left, very content with herself. She mentally ticked off a check mark for a task well done.

Roland stood rooted on the spot, one person out of hundreds toiling in these streets. The previous destructive urge felt like a mirage. If not for the whiteness of his knuckles giving the truth away, fists clenched so hard they would start to bleed if he had longer nails.

Nothing has changed.

The Princess’ Blessing gave him a brief respite. A break full of strained laughter and jokes while his mind was wrapped in worry and fear. To the point that some would have said not taking one at all would have been the better choice. That he should have kept marching along the path. The path whose ending seemed so endlessly far away but at times appeared right next to him. A single step to the side, down into oblivion.

Moving his gaze up towards the blue sky, Roland once again saw those radiant eyes, filled with so much goodness, seemingly taking up the whole firmament. And he wanted to feel boundless rage. At his fate that somehow rejected even a pure heart like hers. Or to feel cold disdain. At the naive girl thinking it was fine to set true duty aside and only go halfway.

But he couldn’t.

His rage was caged inside a newly repaired prison. Its warden put to sleep, only the occasional growls serving as a reminder of his existence. The only thing that remained was a lost looking boy, standing there amid the endless crowds. His soul filled to the brim and empty at the same time, he did not know what to do.

So Roland did what he always did. Walk along the path, one step at a time. Until he found an end, whichever kind it was.