Chapter 74: Winds of Reckoning

“So……

What do you plan to do?”

The girl huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees, enveloped in a gloomy low pressure.

Nolan watched this helplessly, softening his voice to probe.

“I don’t know……”

Claire pouted high, face buried deep in her knees, voice muffled through fabric.

“But……

You can’t hide in this little room forever, right?”

Nolan said soothingly, trying to lighten the mood.

“And don’t forget— your teacher’s a mage.

If she gets impatient, casts a spell, summons a gale to rip the roof off— then we’re nowhere to hide.

That’d be awful.”

“I……

I have my ways……”

Claire’s gaze darted, hands unconsciously pressing her skirt, eyes sneaking a tentative glance at Nolan.

He merely shrugged, tone even.

“Fine……

Suppose you do.

But dragging it out like this, wasting time— solves nothing, does it?”

“I……

I just want them to worry for once……”

Claire dipped her head lower, voice soft with grievance and stubbornness.

“I want to see if I vanish too……

Will they brush me aside easy, like sister……”

“Er, but I think……

This might just hurt those who truly care, who worry for you.”

Nolan weighed his words.

“And those who don’t— won’t be touched at all, right?”

“That’s not caring!”

Claire snapped her head up, voice rising with agitation.

“He’s just……

Just embarrassed!”

“Even if that’s part— surely some truly care for you?”

Nolan listed haltingly.

“For starters, your teacher earlier— rushed here in a frenzy, dropped from the sky right there.

That panic’s no act.”

“She…… Really flew here?”

Claire fell quiet a moment, then asked an offhand question.

“Yeah……”

Nolan recalled the scene, tone still awed.

“First time seeing someone fly for real……”

“Teacher’s flight’s flashy…… But she’s got acrophobia.”

Claire’s mood seemed to settle sudden, no longer so riled; her eyes stared distant, voice low.

“Once, nearly screamed the whole way down.”

Her tone softened a touch, laced with tangled fondness.

“Actually, Sera Teacher’s always been good to me……”

“Since sister’s gone missing, Father’s expectations all on her shifted to me……

I used to think sister just busy, no time to play— never knew how hard she had it……”

“Sera Teacher…… She always mediated for me with Father, using magic lessons to dodge needless duties.”

“This trip too……

Surface-wise, study at the Royal Magic Academy, but I know— Teacher just wanted an excuse to take me out, clear my head……”

“But—”

Claire said, voice turning stubborn again.

“Things reached this point; I did this— can’t just drop it……

Can’t pretend nothing happened.”

Nolan found it odd— just a runaway stunt, yet the girl’s tone weighed like some heinous crime.

“Usually, an apology gets you off with a scold at worst— then forgiveness, right?”

“I…… This……”

Claire pondered low, fingers twisting hem absently, stammering.

“If possible…… Trouble you to tell her…… Forget it— tell her, I……”

Nolan nodded at her words.

“Got it.”

He turned then, easing the door open and stepping out.

Wood shut behind; he leaned on the second-floor rail, peering down.

At a round table in the ground-floor hall sat two.

One: pointed-hatted, in indigo velvet-embroidered robe— Witch Sera Bron.

Her posture ramrod straight, even now exuding mage poise.

Opposite: a scarred warrior, warhammer at hip.

He wore a casual linen surcoat, but Nolan noted keenly the hard metal outlines beneath, rising faint with breath.

Outside the station, clear rhythmic hoof clops rang, mingled with occasional harness jingles— without doubt, Duke Airandil’s convoy they’d brushed earlier.

“It’s armor……”

A chill bloomed in the boy’s chest.

He eyed the downstairs duo— guests plainly no ordinaries— then recalled the past two days’ oddities with this witch, unease stirring vague.

“I……”

“Nolan!”

Claire’s voice sounded behind; Nolan turned.

“Claire……

You……”

“Nolan, a favor……”

Claire looked up at him.

“Can you help me?”

***

The unyielding figure seemed bottomless, inscrutable.

But— he stood here now because Tiya had entrusted him: help that black-haired girl, no matter what.

Nolan’s mind flickered hazy threads, clues near linking yet slippery.

For now, he quashed the unease, tending first to Kritiya’s charge.

“Mage lady— your young miss wants a word alone.”

Nolan cleared his throat, announcing clear.

Sera at that, gracefully tucked stray brown curls behind her shoulder.

She raised her eyes, gaze steady on Nolan; the scrutiny lingered moments, silent.

Then, she lightly hiked her robe’s hem, turning to mount the stairs to the second floor.

Nolan tracked her form sidelong till she pushed into the room.

Almost as the door clicked shut, an icy, piercing stare nailed his back like tangible spikes.

The scarred warrior.

“Boy……”

A low, oppressive voice came.

“Once miss’s matter settles, you’d best explain straight—

That line you yelled— where’d you learn it?”

Nolan inwardly groaned.

That line— “drawing teacher and black mage”— Kritiya’s hasty cram for him.

Seeing mage drop from sky, fierce cavalry charging— on his own, he’d lack guts to block.

But blurting that head-scratch inducer sparked doubt instant; else, no chance to stall here.

Even Nolan himself puzzled still why two plain words held such weight.

“I don’t quite get it either,”

Nolan kept face steady, improvising.

“Your miss in that room told me— said to shout it……”

Before he finished, it earned a scornful snort.

“Heh— miss still young, world-naive.

Who knows your tricks?”

The warrior’s fingers grazed the hammer’s rough grip, hawk-nose lips curling a sinister arc.

“Me, I’d say Bron lady’s too soft.

If up to me— storm in, snatch miss safe……”

“Your words— a bit disrespectful to her?”

Nolan, fresh from Claire talk, couldn’t hold back rebuttal.

“In my eyes—”

“Call me Rolgen Knight, boy!

Voice snapped stern.

“Such rude tone to me— where’s your upbringing?”

He rapped knuckles deliberate on the hard mail under linen, thudding dull “clang-clang,” reminding Nolan their chasm vast.

Only then did Nolan grasp clear: by the man’s claim, a knight with fief, noble standing.

“My apologies for rudeness, Knight sir.

But……”

Nolan parted lips, meaning to argue on.

Yet Rolgen seemed spent of last patience, face baring undisguised contempt, head twisting aside irritable, cutting talk dead.

Outside Nolan’s room, like a statue he stood sentinel at the second-floor door, awaiting the chamber’s outcome.

Time crawled in quiet, each second stretching eternal.

As Nolan strained ear for inner stirrings, a shrill cry pierced the hush, bursting door-seam:

“You— how dare you sneak that thing!

Put it down quick!

No— stay back!

One more step, I’ll smash it now!”

“Miss, calm— hear me out.

Wait— who’s that?

Who hides up there!”

Things soured sudden; Rolgen gripped hammer rising, eyes fixed above.

In this tensed draw, Nolan felt a weird pull sudden from the room—

Like air-born force, threading seams layered, tugging his hem, unsteadied his feet, body swaying light as if to lift groundward.

The draw halted abrupt; before Nolan reacted, brief quiet after— first crashing ears was a teeth-grating, wood-rending screech of violent tear.

Next instant, that pull flipped fierce, like solid hammer slamming his chest and face; skin stung raw from bone-flecked gusts.

Strong wind magic!

In a flash, floorboards and walls splintered in the gale, collapsing downward scatter.

Ears thrummed roar, save his thundering pulse and raging blast, naught heard; Nolan craned desperate, glimpsing mage and black-haired girl in standoff, a red shadow tumbling from the flipped roof.