Leon had called it.
At that very moment, the man behind the Tulip Trading Company was losing his mind.
"You useless pieces of garbage!"
An ashtray sailed across the room and cracked against the skull of the man kneeling on the floor. The fat nobleman jabbed a finger at him, spittle flying with every word.
"I spend a fortune on you people every year and for what? Feeding stray dogs would've been a better investment! You had one job! Guard the damn dungeon! And you couldn't even manage that? Who the hell said you could drink on duty? And that's not even the worst of it! You hired prostitutes? Are you out of your goddamn minds? Every last one of you is a waste of skin! Beat them! Beat them until they can't stand!"
"AHHH! Please, my lord! Mercy! Have mercy!"
The screams echoed through the hall.
Guards laid into the kneeling men with leather whips. Skin split. Blood ran. The shrieking didn't stop.
The man they called "the Count" was enormous, draped in gaudy finery, his bloated gut heaving with every furious breath.
Cursing wasn't enough. He snatched a whip from one of the guards and went at them himself, lashing and lashing until he was too winded to lift his arm.
His eyes were bloodshot. The fat on his body quivered with rage, his face twisted into something barely human.
"Worthless! Every last one of you!"
A tall, hard-faced man in a butler's uniform leaned close to the nobleman's ear and spoke in a measured tone.
"My lord, what's our next move? The two products escaped. It won't be long before word reaches the military police and the Guild. Perhaps we should make preparations."
The words "military police" and "Guild" hit the Count like ice water. He flinched, eyes darting around the opulent parlor, suddenly seeing enemies in every shadow.
"Damn the Guild! And damn those meddling military police!" His voice dropped to a hiss, too frightened to shout now. "It's just slave trading! What business is it of theirs? Half the countries in the world do it! Only Orario has to make such a fuss!"
"I don't understand. It's such a profitable business. Why won't they allow it?"
Bold words, but only behind closed doors. He was a minor noble from a minor country. He didn't have the spine to challenge the divine Familias.
After venting his frustration, he gritted his teeth and snapped out orders.
"Pack everything. We're leaving Orario. Now."
The butler bowed. "Understood, my lord. However... your meeting with the other party?"
The Count's jowls trembled. He glared.
"Meeting? To hell with the meeting! Can they protect us from the military police? They can barely protect themselves! A bunch of rabid dogs the Order Faction already has on the run! You think they can shield us? They can't. They don't have the power and we both know it. Pack up. We run. Once the heat dies down, we'll reach out again."
"Ah... yes, my lord."
The butler blinked, then bowed and left to carry out the order.
The Count drifted to the window. Beyond the glass, rain fell as if the sky itself were collapsing. His expression shifted between fury and dread, the relentless drumming of water against stone grinding his already frayed nerves into something worse.
...
...
Meanwhile, at Leon's cottage.
The man himself was enjoying a leisurely shower. If he'd known the grey-market boss had panicked and bolted at the first whiff of trouble, he'd have laughed out loud. Might've even given the man a thumbs-up for decisive action.
Too bad for the Count, though. Leon had zero intention of reporting any of this.
The calculus was simple. The moment word reached the Guild that two elf girls had been captured by slavers, every Familia in Orario would know by sundown. And if the Familias knew, the gods would come sniffing.
At that point, his chances of keeping them in the Hart Familia? Gone.
There were no real secrets in this city, least of all inside the Guild, which leaked like a sieve. The Order Faction, Evilus, the merchant syndicates, the grey-market operators, the Goddess Alliance, the Academy district... everyone and their mother had informants planted in the Guild. You couldn't operate without them. How else would you get first-hand intelligence?
Just look at the crowd permanently camped in front of the Guild Hall's notice board. Sure, some of them were Adventurers checking for the latest updates. The rest? Information brokers representing every faction inside and outside the city walls.
And the instant those factions learned he had two talented elf girls under his roof... the gods would descend like vultures.
Some of those shameless deities, in their desperation to recruit a beautiful elf into their Familia, would drop to their knees and lick her boots on the spot if that's what it took. Without a shred of hesitation.
Worse, a few of the truly unscrupulous ones would skip the pleasantries entirely, send their Familia members to snatch the girls in the night, perform the Falna ritual on the spot, and present him with a fait accompli. It had happened before. And when it did, you could argue yourself hoarse with eight mouths and it wouldn't matter. Everyone would point fingers, nobody would take responsibility, and the whole thing would fizzle into nothing. What were you going to do about it? Throw a tantrum? Invoke a War Game?
And that wasn't even counting the ones at the top. If Freya or Loki decided to get involved personally, it wouldn't be a negotiation. It would be a notice. They'd come to collect, Ottar and Finn would be standing behind them, and you could either smile and hand the girls over or... well. You'd still be handing them over.
So after weighing every angle, Leon decided to keep his mouth shut. He knew which battles to pick.
The Familia's still too small. No leverage, no voice.
He turned off the shower, wiped his face, and muttered to himself as he toweled off.
He changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and a t-shirt, boiled water for a pot of black tea, and settled into the hanging chair beneath the eaves. The rain had softened to a steady patter. He listened to it, letting his thoughts drift into nothing.
By the time he came back to himself, it was past midnight.
The living room was dark. Only the guest room still glowed with lamplight.
Jeanne, tending to the two elves. As a man, barging in right now would be inappropriate, especially while they were still barely conscious.
He exchanged a few quiet words with Jeanne through the door, then retreated to his own room and fell asleep to the sound of rain.
...
...
The next morning, Leon's internal clock woke him on schedule.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain that still hadn't stopped. A calm settled over him, unhurried and complete.
He lay there a while longer before finally wrestling himself free from the warm cocoon of blankets.
A full-body stretch sent a cascade of pops rippling through his joints.
He caught his reflection in the mirror. Clean lines of muscle, a physique that looked carved from stone. A satisfied grin spread across his face.
God, I look good.
Getting those Basic Abilities up really shows. Even my whole vibe is different. This is what confidence backed by real strength looks like.
After a moment of shameless self-admiration, he crossed to the window and pushed the lattice panes open, resting his arms on the sill and closing his eyes.
Cool, rain-washed air flooded in, carrying the rich scent of wet earth.
I love rainy days.
He opened his eyes and watched the grey curtain of water in silence, savoring it.
A gentle knock broke the spell.
The only people in the house besides himself and two resting guests were him and Jeanne. The answer was obvious.
He left the window with a twinge of reluctance and opened the door.
Like him, Jeanne had changed into comfortable house clothes. Her golden hair hung loose down her back.
"Good morning, Leon. May I come in?"
"Morning, Jeanne." He smiled and stepped aside. "One night apart and we're being formal? Since when do you knock? Sounds like our dear saint needs a refresher course in manners."
Color bloomed across Jeanne's cheeks. She knew exactly what he was implying.
She shot him a withering look, walked past him, and sat on the edge of his bed as naturally as if it were her own.
Leon pulled the desk chair over and sat facing her. He'd barely settled in when she spoke.
"Those two girls are awake."
"Already?"
That caught him off guard.
Good news, though. Given the state they'd been in last night, starving, exhausted, running on pure adrenaline, the sudden relief of being rescued should have knocked them out for a full day and night at minimum. Recovering this fast was impressive.
So the rumors were true.
Some elves underwent rigorous combat training in their home settlements before ever setting foot in the outside world, precisely to protect themselves on the road.
Even without Falna, a trained elf's combat ability and physical resilience were nothing to scoff at. And elves like that weren't rare.
Take the Freya Familia's Hildrsleif and Dainsleif, the White and Black Knights. Or the Astraea Familia's Gale Wind. Or the Loki Familia's Pristine Garden.
The list went on.
"No Falna and they've still got endurance and recovery like that. They're way ahead of where I was starting out."
Leon chuckled, then asked Jeanne for the details. She gave him the summary.
"Let's go meet our new family." He stood.
Jeanne's lips curved. "You're that certain they'll join us?"
"Of course." Not a flicker of doubt.
...
The two of them padded through the living room in the cute animal slippers Jeanne had picked out, stopping outside the guest room door.
This was where Jeanne had brought the elves the night before.
Leon knocked politely, glanced at Jeanne, and she called through the door in a soft voice: "We're coming in."
"Please."
They opened the door and stepped inside.
Leon's breath caught the moment he saw them.
The lingering fragility of their recovery lent both elf girls an almost heartbreaking delicacy. Paired with faces so striking they bordered on unreal, the effect was devastating.
His gaze passed over the silver-haired girl, still unconscious, eyes closed, and came to rest on the golden-haired elf sitting propped against the headboard.
"Hello. I'm Leon. Leon Hart. Miss d'Arc here and I belong to the same Familia." He gestured toward the wooden chair beside the bed, the one Jeanne had clearly spent the night in. "Mind if I sit?"
It was worth noting that everything from the night before, bathing them, changing them into clean clothes, had been Jeanne's doing entirely.
The golden-haired girl, still pale, managed a thin smile and nodded.
"Hello. My name is Laurier. Laurier Swall. I owe you and Miss d'Arc my life."
"Don't mention it." Leon waved it off, then turned his attention to the white-haired elf with a measured curiosity. "And her?"
"Her name is Aura. Aura Moriel. As you can see, we're elves. We met on the road and traveled to Orario together."
Leon and Jeanne exchanged a glance. The subtext was clear. Newcomers, just as he'd guessed.
"Can you tell me what happened before we found you?" His voice was gentle. "If you'd rather not, that's fine."
The question hit like a slap. What little color remained in Laurier's face vanished.
Her hands clenched the blanket in a white-knuckled grip. Her narrow shoulders trembled. For this young elf, the ordeal had been nothing short of a waking nightmare.
Leon started to reach out, instinct pushing his hand forward to comfort her, but stopped halfway.
He remembered the quirk.
Everyone knew that elves were stubborn creatures with their share of peculiarities, chief among them a deep aversion to being touched by anyone who hadn't earned their trust.
Male elves were more relaxed about it. His friend Luvis Lilix was proof enough of that.
Female elves, though, took it to another level entirely.
Leon wasn't the type to take offense. He didn't fully understand the tradition, but he respected it.