Chương 43: The Savior's First Day Off

Morning sun spilled over Rose Boulevard — the busiest, most expensive shopping district in the capital of Solaris. Row after row of crystal-glass boutiques lined the street, the air thick with herbal perfume and the smell of fresh-baked pastries. Astra stood rooted to the marble sidewalk. Her calloused hands fumbled awkwardly with the small soft-leather handbag Sylvia had just pushed into them, her worn, dust-caked boots planted stiffly amid the flow of well-dressed passersby.

Lucian walked beside her, one hand holding a discount mineral-ore liquidation catalog from that morning's market, eyes scanning the numbers.

"Sylvia, take her in and get her two decent outfits. She's fighting in the Semifinals this afternoon — she shows up in that patched rag, and people are going to think Vance Commerce is stiffing its staff on their clothing allowance."

"Understood," Sylvia said, tugging Astra by the wrist through the glass doors of the largest luxury boutique on the street. Inside, mannequins draped in snow-silk gowns, velvet cloaks, and gold-threaded ribbon trim filled the shop. Sylvia pointed toward the racks.

"Pick whatever you like." Astra scanned the room. She walked past the soft pleated dresses and headed straight for the women's knight-gear section, stopping in front of a thirty-catty set of barbed steel chainmail. She reached out and rapped a knuckle against the thick plating.

"This one... three layers of interlocking links, good beveling on the edges. It could disperse the force of a greatsword strike." Sylvia looked at the chainmail, then at Astra.

"You already own armor." Astra paused. Sylvia pointed toward the rest of the shop.

"Pick something because you like it. Not because it can stop a sword." That apparently required much more thought. Fifteen minutes and a fitting room later, the three of them sat down at a wooden outdoor table at a roadside ice cream shop. The server came over with a menu and asked, smiling, "What flavor would you like?" Astra stared at the menu, her expression as serious as if she were studying a battle map.

"Which flavor has the highest sugar and fat content — enough to sustain high-intensity physical activity for three straight days without needing additional rations?" Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The server's smile froze in place. Thump. Lucian closed the mineral catalog and gave Astra a light knock on the head.

"Three strawberry cones. Pick what you actually like when you're eating ice cream. Stop thinking like a war machine for five minutes." The server let out a relieved breath and hurried back inside. A pale pink strawberry ice cream, drizzled with sweet syrup and topped with a fresh strawberry, was set down in front of Astra. She carefully picked up the small silver spoon — no bending it this time, thanks to Lucian's shock-absorbing mana — and scooped up a small bite.

The cold melted instantly on her tongue, releasing a clean sweetness and the soft, delicate scent of strawberry through her mouth. Astra froze. Her eyes went wide, staring at the ice cream, then at the plump red strawberry on top.

"Good?" Sylvia asked gently from across the table.

"Good..." Astra whispered, her lashes trembling faintly.

"This is the first time I've known... food could taste this sweet." She looked down at the ivory floral dress she was wearing. The silk was soft and weightless, with no iron studs, no smell of dried blood or the sour sweat of years of ascetic training in the Church's basements.

"For sixteen years..." Astra hesitated, her voice trailing off under the noise of the street.

"The High Priests always told me: someone carrying a sacred destiny isn't allowed to want ordinary things. Wearing a pretty dress, eating something sweet, or stopping to look at flowers — all of it was wasting time that belonged to humanity." Sylvia took a sip of iced tea, her silver ears drooping slightly, her voice flat and calm as still water.

"Three years ago, I was locked in an iron cage. The traffickers told me the only value I had was the ancient-language bloodline in my veins — that outside of that, I was nothing but merchandise." Sylvia glanced sideways at Lucian, who was busy calculating iron-ore prices beside them.

"But this merchant threw an employment contract in my face and said, 'You work, I pay you.' The world out there loves handing us titles — slave, holy maiden, savior. But who we are, what we wear, what we eat... that's ours to decide." Astra looked at Sylvia, then at Lucian. Lucian didn't bother looking up from his notebook. He reached into his coat, pulled out three gold coins, and set them on the table to cover the ice cream and the dress.

"Enough talk. Eat fast, we've got to head back and get ready." Twenty meters away, a patrol of Royal knights passed by. The knight captain spotted Lucian Vance — the ten-year-old who'd caused chaos on the arena floor the day before — now sitting leisurely, sipping tea between two beautiful young women, paying for a new dress and three ice creams without bothering to check the bill. The knight immediately pulled out a scroll of arcane message-paper and began scribbling furiously.

'Urgent report to Her Highness Eleanor: The young master of House Vance is shopping with two Vance employees hours before the Semifinal. Demeanor: completely relaxed. Shows absolutely no sign of pressure ahead of this afternoon's Semifinal.' Under the sunlit awning of the ice cream shop, Astra stood up. She turned a small circle on her brand-new leather boots, the hem of her white floral dress flaring out like butterfly wings in the morning breeze.

Her ash-grey eyes shone with a bright, clear light as she looked straight at Lucian.

"Lucian... does this dress really belong to me?" Lucian tucked the boutique's receipt into his coat pocket, stood, and straightened his traveling cloak.

"Coming out of next month's pay. Now let's get back to the arena. Time to get ready to fight."