The square quieted again after Elira's departure, leaving only the sound of the fountain and the distant hum of Lions Gate beyond. Thal stood unmoving, his shadow stretching long in the afternoon light. His golden eyes lingered on the water a moment more, unreadable as ever.
Neo shifted beside him, the tension in his shoulders easing only when Thal's hand brushed lightly against his back steadying, grounding, silent. Tar huffed softly through his nose, the sound more like a stone rolling than breath. Alinda leaned lazily against the fountain's edge, watching the Nephilim with her crimson eyes narrowed in a half-smile that said she understood far more than she let on.
No one pressed him for words. They had learned by now that silence was its own answer.
Then Valen clapped his hands together with a grin that shattered the stillness. "Right," he said, his voice bright with mischief. "Enough brooding. We're not going to march around the city with a giant dressed in what looks like a burnt curtain."
Nyra arched a brow, unimpressed. "Valen…"
"No, no, I mean it," Valen cut in, stepping forward and gesturing at Thal with a flourish. "I told you, I know a tailor. Best in Lions Gate. Cuts cloth sharp enough to shame a noble and if anyone can stitch something worthy of…" His eyes swept Thal's massive frame with a mock-serious squint. "…that, it's him."
Alinda chuckled, folding her arms. "Oh, this I have to see. A man who thinks he can measure this one without trembling? I'll pay to watch him try."
Neo groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. "Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?"
"Because you don't know how to have fun," Valen shot back, already waving for them to follow as he set off down the street. "Come on. Drinks after, if we survive the fitting."
Nyra muttered something under her breath but fell into step, her crimson eyes flicking toward Thal with a mixture of suspicion and faint amusement. Luken nodded, shouldered his staff, and followed without complaint.
Thal lingered a moment longer by the fountain, gaze still steady on the water, before finally turning away. His stride carried no haste but his presence was enough to make space as the group fell in around him.
And so, with Valen leading like a man on a mission, they left the shadow of the cathedral behind, heading into the beating heart of Lions Gate.
Valen strode ahead with the confidence of a man who thought every street belonged to him, one hand waving dramatically as he cut through the crowd. "This way," he called back, grinning over his shoulder. "You're about to meet the finest hands in Lions Gate though I'll admit he's got a temper. Still owes me for a favor or two."
The others followed at an easier pace. Thal's long strides kept him at the rear, each step parting the flow of people around them like a tide against stone. Tar walked at his side, his horns gleaming in the sun, while Neo stayed close to the minotaur's shadow. Alinda drifted between them, cloak brushing the cobbles, her crimson eyes drinking in the sights with a smile that never quite lost its edge.
The city stretched wide before them. Beyond the rooftops, the Palace of Lions Gate rose in the distance, its towers piercing the sky like spears of stone and steel. Sunlight caught on its gilded windows, throwing back sparks that looked almost like fire.
Closer at hand, food stalls lined the main road. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced stews that sent Neo's stomach growling before he could stop it. Vendors called out in singsong voices, waving skewers of sizzling lamb or baskets of sugared fruit.
People slowed as they passed, eyes widening when they recognized the Hero's Triad among them. Nyra walked with her head high, crimson eyes sharp as ever but Valen basked in the attention, flashing easy smiles, even throwing a wink or two at the bold enough to call his name. Luken, staff in hand, kept his gaze straight ahead, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips whenever Valen preened too much.
Children darted closer, whispering and pointing, only to be pulled back by their parents' cautious hands. Their stares shifted quickly from the Triad to Thal, widening at the sight of the giant who loomed above the crowd. Some whispered his name others simply stared in hushed awe.
Valen thrived on it. "See?" he called, gesturing broadly. "Heroes in the flesh! Lions Gate couldn't ask for a finer parade."
Nyra cuffed him lightly on the arm, muttering something sharp but he only laughed.
At last, Valen slowed, sweeping his arm toward a broad stone building wedged between two taller neighbors. The scent of smoke and hot iron rolled from one side where a blacksmith hammered furiously at his anvil, sparks leaping with each strike. On the other side, the sharp tang of herbs and tinctures drifted from the open shutters of an alchemist's shop, its windows cluttered with glass vials and bubbling mixtures.
And nestled squarely between them, with a painted sign creaking gently above the door, was the tailor's shop. Bolts of cloth in deep blues, reds, and golds hung from the windows like banners, their edges embroidered with intricate patterns. The door itself stood open, the faint smell of dyes and fresh linen spilling into the street.
Valen turned to the group with a flourish. "There it is. Merek's Stitchery. The best tailor in Lions Gate or so he'll tell you himself, and loud enough that you'll believe it."
Alinda arched a brow, her smile curling. "Between fire and fumes. Fitting."
Neo shifted uneasily, tugging at his sleeve. "Do you really think he'll… have anything in Thal's size?"
Valen grinned wider, clearly delighted. "Oh, that's the neat part. He won't."
Before anyone could argue, he pushed the door open and strolled in as if the shop were his own.
The bell above the door gave a cheerful ring. For a heartbeat, the air smelled of cloth and dye, spools of thread stacked in neat rows, sunlight catching the sheen of silks draped along the walls.
Then a pair of scissors whistled through the air and buried themselves in the doorframe, inches from Valen's head.
Neo yelped and stumbled back against Nyra, who caught his arm before he could hit the ground.
"Merek!" Valen laughed, entirely unfazed, tugging the scissors free as if they'd been tossed for his amusement. "Still throwing things, I see."
From behind the counter, a stocky man with ink-stained fingers and a wild mane of grey hair straightened, his scowl deep enough to sour milk. "Valen!" he barked, his voice booming through the shop. "You've got the gall to walk in here owing me a full purse and smiling?"
Nyra's crimson eyes narrowed. "You owe him money?"
Valen twirled the scissors in his hand before setting them neatly on a shelf. "It's a… minor misunderstanding," he said breezily. "Hardly worth all this fuss."
"Minor?" Merek roared, slamming a heavy ledger shut on the counter. "You vanished with half my stock in repairs and left me with nothing but empty promises and unpaid accounts!"
Neo winced, glancing nervously between the tailor and Valen. "Maybe we should "
But Valen only leaned an elbow on the counter, flashing his most disarming grin. "Come now, Merek. Would I really leave you high and dry? Look at me have I ever let you down?"
Merek's hand twitched toward the scissors again.
Neo swallowed. "I think he's about to say yes."
Nyra's jaw tightened, though there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth. "You'd better fix this, Valen. Quickly."
Outside, the others lingered just beyond the threshold. Alinda leaned against the doorframe, smirking at the exchange inside, while Tar stood like a carved statue beside Thal. The Nephilim's golden eyes flicked toward the sound of raised voices but he made no move to enter.
Valen raised his hands in a placating gesture, still grinning as if nothing in the world could dent his confidence. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I owe you. Haven't forgotten." He leaned a little closer over the counter, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. "But what if I told you I've got a project for you? One that'll make the debt vanish and then some."
Merek's scowl deepened. "The last time you said that, my best coat ended up in a gutter brawl and my banner work got singed by firewine."
"That was marketing," Valen said, unbothered. He spread his arms wide, flashing a smile at Neo and Nyra as if they were part of his pitch. "Think bigger this time. This isn't just any order it's the order. A living advertisement, walking through the streets of Lions Gate, turning every head and who will people ask made it?" He tapped the counter with two fingers. "Merek. That's who."
Neo blinked. "Wait… are you saying "
Nyra groaned softly, already piecing it together. "Valen…"
But Merek's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What kind of project?"
Spreading his arms as if unveiling something grand. "See, the problem is he's too big to fit through your door."
Merek blinked again, clearly not following. "What?"
Valen's grin widened even further. He spun on his heel, hooked an arm through the tailor's, and before Merek could protest, dragged him bodily toward the door. The tailor sputtered, his protests muffled as Valen pushed him into the sunlight.
"Voilà!" Valen declared, sweeping his arm toward the street like a showman revealing his prize.
And there stood Thal.
The Nephilim loomed in the afternoon sun, his shadow long across the cobbles, clad in nothing but the makeshift kilt torn from a burnt cloak. Tar towered silently at his side, Alinda smirking from her lean against the doorway. Golden eyes fixed on Merek as the man froze in the street, his mouth falling open wordlessly.
Valen clapped the tailor on the shoulder, grinning like a wolf. "Tell me, Merek. Do you see the problem?"
Merek tore his eyes off Thal, rounded on Valen, and spat, "What the fuck do you think I could do for this? He's twice the size of a warhorse and wearing rags like some mountain savage!"
Valen clapped his hands together, as if Merek had just confirmed his brilliance. "Exactly!" he said brightly. "That's why it has to be you. Who else in Lions Gate could even attempt it? You'll be the talk of the city no, the realm. The man who dressed the giant."
"I… what… no!" Merek spluttered, waving his hands. "That's not tailoring, that's… that's siege engineering!"
Valen leaned in, dropping his voice low and quick, words flowing like a con. "Think, Merek. Nobles will whisper your name. Soldiers will swear by your seams. The palace itself might come knocking. You'll be the tailor who tamed a legend with needle and thread." He tapped the ledger still tucked under Merek's arm. "Your debts? Gone. You'll be swimming in orders before you even finish his first shirt."
Merek blinked, his face caught between outrage and reluctant calculation. "I no, damn it, this is madness."
Valen slid an arm around his shoulders, steering him closer to Thal despite the tailor's stiff resistance. "Madness? No, my friend. This is destiny. You've been waiting your whole life for a commission like this, and the gods themselves dropped it in your lap."
Merek's lips worked soundlessly, eyes darting up to Thal again. The Nephilim hadn't moved, only stood there, calm as stone, golden gaze fixed on the tailor like he could see every frantic thought racing behind his eyes.
Neo leaned toward Nyra, whispering in disbelief, "Is… is Valen actually winning this?"
Nyra pinched the bridge of her nose, crimson eyes closing briefly as if bracing for divine punishment. "Gods help us," she muttered. "I think he is."
Alinda chuckled from her lean against the doorway, her crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, this is delightful," she purred. "Valen spinning gold from nothing while poor Merek forgets how to breathe."
Luken, staff resting against his shoulder, gave the faintest smirk, shaking his head. "Somehow, I almost feel sorry for him." His hazel eyes flicked toward Thal, then back to Merek, as if wondering whether the man had the faintest idea what he was stepping into.
Valen clapped Merek on the back before the tailor could find his footing again. "So it's settled then! You'll take the commission, make your name echo through every hall in the city, and finally be paid back in full with interest because nothing sells like a legend draped in silk."
Merek's lips worked soundlessly, his gaze flicking once more to Thal, who stood silent, golden eyes fixed on him like an unmoving mountain.
And though no answer left the tailor's mouth yet, the look on his face said Valen's words had already snared him.
Merek dragged a hand down his face, muttering curses under his breath. "This is madness. Absolute madness. Do you have any idea how much fabric it would take just to cover one of his shoulders? It'd bleed me dry!"
Valen spread his arms wide, as if welcoming applause. "Which is why it's perfect! Think of it every noble will be talking about you. Merek, the man who clothed the Nephilim! You'll have more work than you know what to do with and you'll charge double for every stitch because no one else will ever match you."
Neo whispered, voice tight with disbelief, "He's not even offering him coin. Just… promises."
Nyra groaned, pressing her palm against her eyes. "And the worst part is it's working."
Alinda's laughter rolled soft and amused, crimson eyes sparkling. "He's a menace," she said with mock affection. "A glorious, incorrigible menace. Poor Merek hasn't realized yet that he lost the battle before it began."
Luken leaned on his staff, lips twitching in the faintest smirk. "You'd think a man who throws scissors at debtors would be harder to fool."
Inside the circle of their words, Merek sputtered again, trying to summon some resistance. "No. No! You think you can just walk in here after months of debt and dump this mountain on me?"
Valen clapped his hands together, ignoring the fury in the tailor's voice. "Exactly! That's the spirit. Bold words, strong hands perfect foundation for genius. You're the only one who could pull this off, Merek. Anyone else would crumble under the weight of it but you " He gestured grandly, as if unveiling a hero's statue. "You'll rise."
Merek opened his mouth closed it again. His eyes darted once more to Thal, whose calm stare met him with the weight of stone.
Valen leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, think of the story. A giant draped in your cloth, marching through the city, all eyes on him. Everyone will ask the same thing 'Who crafted this?' And your name will be on every tongue."
Neo whispered again, incredulous, "Is he… selling this to him like it's theater?"
Nyra sighed heavily. "Worse. He's convincing him it is theater."
Alinda smirked, tilting her head as she studied Valen. "I'll give him this he's got a silver tongue sharp enough to cut silk."
Luken's chuckle was low, dry. "And poor Merek doesn't even realize he's already stitched into Valen's tale."
Merek finally planted his fists on his hips, his face red as a forge. "Enough, Valen! You want me to clothe this… this mountain?" He jabbed a finger toward Thal without daring to look him directly in the eye. "Then you settle your debt. Every coin. Here and now."
For the first time, Valen's grin faltered. Just slightly. A twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. His shoulders stiffened, and for a fleeting moment the others saw what looked like fury cross his features.
Neo blinked. "Oh… he's caught."
Nyra's crimson eyes narrowed, lips curving in a thin smile. "About time."
But then, in the space of a heartbeat, Valen's expression snapped back into place. Smooth, effortless. He reached into his cloak with a flourish and dropped a heavy pouch of coin straight into Merek's stunned hands.
The jingle of silver rang sharp in the square.
Everyone froze.
Neo's jaw dropped. "Wait you had it? All this time?"
Valen dusted off his hands with mock indignation. "Of course I had it. I just didn't feel like paying him yet." He gave Merek a sharp grin. "Nothing wrong with keeping a man hungry. Makes him work harder."
Nyra pinched the bridge of her nose again, muttering under her breath, "I will kill him one of these days."
Alinda burst out laughing, the sound rich and delighted. "Oh, gods. You absolute bastard." She tilted her head toward Valen, crimson eyes glinting. "You were stringing him along just to watch him squirm."
Even Luken chuckled, shaking his head. "He's incorrigible."
Merek stared at the pouch in his hand as if it might bite him. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Finally, he growled low in his throat, glaring daggers at Valen. "You smug little… Fine. Fine! You win." He jabbed the pouch against Valen's chest before shoving it into his own belt. "I'll do it. I'll make the clothes. Saints help me, I'll clothe your giant."
Valen bowed with exaggerated grace. "Knew you'd come around."
Neo was still staring at him, completely bewildered. "You actually paid him…"
Thal, who had stood silent through the entire exchange, finally let out the faintest breath. His golden eyes softened, and his lips tugged in the barest flicker of a smile. Tar gave a low rumble that might have been a laugh, the sound rolling like distant thunder.
Merek caught both their reactions and paled, realization sinking in. Not only had he agreed he had agreed in front of the giant himself and now there was no way out.
The tailor rubbed a hand over his face, muttering, "Saints above, what have I gotten myself into?"
Thal finally stepped forward, his shadow falling long across the cobbles. Merek stiffened as the Nephilim's golden eyes settled on him but the words that followed were not sharp or mocking.
"My apologies," Thal said, voice steady, deep as stone. "Valen enjoys testing patience more than he should. You've borne the worst of it."
The tailor blinked, stunned. For a moment, all the bluster drained from him. His shoulders eased, and he bowed his head not a deep bend but respectful all the same. "No apology needed, my lord," Merek said, voice lower now. "If you want clothes, you'll have them. I'll see to it myself."
Valen let out a laugh, sharp and amused. "Gods, look at you. You throw scissors at me, and then one word from him and suddenly you're bowing like he's royalty."
Merek's head snapped toward Valen, his eyes narrowing. "Because he shows respect," he snapped back. "Unlike some freeloading peacock who struts in here owing coin and spinning words."
Valen's grin faltered for the briefest heartbeat. "Freeloading ? Peacock ?"
Merek folded his arms, his respect directed entirely toward Thal now, as though Valen were nothing more than a buzzing fly. "At least the giant has manners. You could learn a thing or two, Valen."
Nyra smirked, crimson eyes gleaming as she muttered under her breath, "Finally, someone says it."
Neo bit his lip to keep from laughing outright but Alinda didn't bother hiding her amusement. A soft, velvet chuckle slipped past her lips. "Oh, this is glorious. You've lost your pet tailor, Valen. He's traded you for a giant."
Luken gave a quiet snort, leaning on his staff. "I'd call that an upgrade."
Valen groaned, dragging a hand down his face as Merek all but ignored him now, his attention fixed on Thal with newfound reverence.
Merek turned back to Thal, his irritation with Valen slipping away as he studied the Nephilim properly for the first time. He circled once, slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, gaze running from the giant's bare shoulders to the rough kilt clinging at his waist. His lips moved faintly, whispering numbers, as though he were already calculating bolts of fabric and seams in his head.
Thal stood still, unbothered by the scrutiny, his golden eyes calm.
"Saints above…" Merek muttered under his breath. "I'll need an entire roll of canvas just for the lining and thread thick enough to stitch sails." He glanced briefly at Thal's massive frame again, eyes narrowing, the professional instinct in him already overtaking his disbelief. "Trousers, tunic, cloak no, a mantle, maybe. Boots Gods help me, I'll need a blacksmith just to shape the soles."
Valen leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "There it is. The fire in his eyes. That's the Merek I know already planning, already plotting. He loves it."
"Shut it," Merek snapped without looking at him, eyes still fixed on Thal. "This is the most impossible commission I've ever had but if I can pull it off…" His voice trailed into a thoughtful hum, as though picturing the finished result.
Neo leaned closer to Nyra, whispering, "He's… he's not even measuring. Just looking at him."
Nyra tilted her head, watching the tailor's gaze trace Thal's form. "That's how good craftsmen start. They see the shape before they cut the cloth."
Alinda's lips curled in a sly smile, her crimson eyes glinting. "Or maybe he's just deciding which part of him will bankrupt him first."
Tar gave a low rumble, neither laugh nor growl, just a sound that made Merek glance up nervously before returning to his muttering.
Thal finally broke the silence, his voice calm. "Will it be possible?"
Merek straightened, meeting his golden eyes with a slow, reluctant nod. "Possible? Yes. Practical? Saints forbid but I'll do it."
Joren's awe faded quickly, his brows knitting into a thunderous scowl. His gaze tore from Thal and snapped to Valen, sharp as a thrown axe.
"What," Joren growled, voice low and heavy, "did you drag my brother into this time?"
Valen's grin never faltered. If anything, it widened. He spread his arms innocently. "Me? Nothing! Just an opportunity. A chance to etch the Merek and Joren name into history. Giants don't walk into your city every day, you know."
Joren's glare deepened, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "I've seen you spin lies before, Valen and every time, Merek ends up broke, burned, or begging me to clean up after your schemes."
Merek bristled at that, throwing his hands up. "I didn't ask for this! He barged into my shop, owed me coin, and dumped a mountain on my doorstep and now " he jabbed a finger at Joren " now I need your help, because if I'm doing this, so are you."
Joren turned slowly, his eyes narrowing at his brother. "Oh no. No, no, no. You're not dragging me into another of Valen's grand tales."
But Merek only jabbed the finger harder, his voice rising. "Oh yes I am! You're the only one in this whole cursed city who could forge boots that won't snap under his weight. Unless you want me to tell everyone that the great Joren the Smith was too afraid to shoe a giant?"
Joren froze, the insult hanging in the air like a hammer ready to fall.
Valen chuckled darkly, clapping his hands together. "Ah, brothers. Nothing like a little pride to sweeten the deal."
Neo whispered to Nyra, "Is this… actually working again?"
Nyra groaned, dragging her hand down her face. "Saints help us. Valen just weaponized sibling rivalry."
Alinda's crimson eyes glimmered with delight. "Oh, this keeps getting better. Soon the entire city will be drafted into Valen's 'project.'"
Even Luken chuckled low, shaking his head. "And somehow, I think he'll make them all believe it was their idea."
The silence held for a moment, heavy as a forge cooling after the hammer's last strike. Then, almost as one, Joren and Merek both turned on their heels to face Valen.
"You're paying for it," Joren said flatly.
"Every stitch. Every nail. Every bolt of fabric," Merek added, his voice sharp as shears. "You dragged us into this, Valen, so you're footing the bill."
Valen blinked, his grin faltering. He gave a quick laugh, spreading his hands in mock disbelief. "Me? Paying? Oh, come now. You can't put a price on destiny! On legend! You'll be repaid in renown, in fortune, in "
"Paying," Joren interrupted, his voice a growl.
Valen's smile twitched, his eyes darting from one brother to the other. "I'm offering you more than coin. Think of the nobles, think of the "
"Paying," Merek snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest.
Valen threw his head back with a dramatic groan, as if the gods themselves had betrayed him. "Really? After all my eloquence, after spinning gold from nothing, you reduce me to mere currency?" He pressed a hand to his heart, feigning a wound. "I thought we were building history together!"
"Paying," they said in unison, their glares cutting through his theatrics like blades.
Neo snorted, covering his mouth with a hand but his shoulders shook with laughter. Nyra didn't bother hiding her smirk this time, crimson eyes bright with amusement. "Looks like the legend just ran out of silver," she said dryly.
Alinda leaned against the wall, her lips curling in wicked delight. "I could watch this all day. The mighty Valen, undone by two angry shopkeepers."
Luken tilted his staff slightly, his hazel eyes glinting. "Took longer than I expected, honestly."
Valen groaned again but the fire was gone from his grin. For once, he had no retort, no golden words to spin the situation back in his favor. He rubbed the back of his neck, glaring at the ground as if the cobblestones had conspired against him.
Tar gave a low, rumbling huff that might have been laughter, and even Thal, standing silent and steady as stone, let the faintest trace of amusement touch his golden eyes.
For the first time in the whole exchange, Valen looked truly caught.
Valen straightened suddenly, clapping his hands together as if inspiration itself had struck him. The glimmer of his grin returned, though it was frayed at the edges. "Wait wait, hold on. Before we reduce this grand endeavor to something so… pedestrian as coin, hear me out." He stepped forward, gesturing broadly to the brothers, to Thal, even to the street around them.
"Picture it: a tale sung through taverns for generations. 'The Brothers of Lions Gate' tailor and smith, united to clothe a Nephilim and at the centre of it all, not coin, not ledgers but legacy. Your names stitched into history, your crafts eternal. No one remembers the man who was paid. They remember the man who dared. The man who "
"Paying," Merek cut in, his voice like a snapped thread.
Valen faltered but caught himself quickly, spreading his arms wider. "No, no, you don't understand. Legends aren't forged in silver they're forged in deeds and this deed this moment "
"Paying," Joren growled, his voice rolling like thunder.
Valen winced, trying again, faster now, the rhythm of his words more desperate than grand. "Think of it! Nobles will flock to you, your shops bursting with "
"Paying," Merek said again, louder this time.
Valen's grin twitched, the sweat just beginning to bead at his temple. He threw out his arms like a man about to embrace the crowd. "No great hero ever stopped to count coins! What matters is "
"Paying," the brothers said together, voices sharp enough to silence the street.
For a moment, the entire group went quiet. Valen froze mid-gesture, arms still outstretched, his jaw hanging open as if he'd been struck.
Neo leaned toward Nyra, whispering, "Is this what defeat looks like?"
Nyra's crimson eyes glittered with open satisfaction. "It's beautiful."
Alinda laughed softly into her hand, crimson eyes glinting. "Like watching a jester juggle daggers, only to cut off his own applause."
Even Luken allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "For once, I think they've beaten him at his own game."
Tar rumbled low, a sound of amusement that rolled like distant thunder. Thal's golden gaze lingered on Valen, and though the Nephilim's expression remained calm, the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed a trace of quiet satisfaction.
Valen finally let his arms drop with a groan, his voice thick with exasperation. "Fine. Fine! Saints curse the lot of you. I'll pay."
Joren and Merek shared a glance, satisfied at last.
And just like that, Valen's last tale collapsed under the one word that had bested him from the start.
Merek exhaled through his nose, the fire in his eyes cooling into something harder. He turned to his brother, gave a short nod, and together they faced Valen.
"Fine," Merek said, his voice clipped. "Installments."
Valen's grin snapped back into place like a fox catching the scent of a henhouse. "Knew you'd see reason."
Joren leaned forward, his voice heavy as the anvil he worked. "But hear this, Valen. The moment those installments stop, so does the work. Not a stitch, not a rivet, not a scrap of leather more until the coin's in hand. Understood?"
Valen's smile faltered for half a second but he recovered quickly, sweeping into an exaggerated bow. "Crystal clear. You'll have your coin steady as sunrise, reliable as the tide. You'll see."
"Installments stop," Merek repeated, "the project stops."
"Then starts again only when you've paid what's owed," Joren added firmly.
Neo blinked, whispering to Nyra, "They're really giving him a leash."
Nyra smirked faintly, crimson eyes gleaming. "Not a leash. A noose. He just hasn't noticed yet."
Alinda chuckled softly, crimson eyes sliding toward Valen with wicked amusement. "Oh, he's noticed. He just thinks he can wriggle out before it tightens."
Luken tilted his head, leaning lightly on his staff. "Either way, it'll be entertaining."
Thal stood silent through it all, golden eyes calm, unreadable but the faintest flicker at the corner of his lips betrayed what might have been the rarest thing of all his quiet amusement at watching Valen so thoroughly trapped.
Valen clapped his hands together, refusing to let his grin die. "Excellent! Now that we're all in agreement, let's get to the fun part cloth, steel, vision! History in the making!"
The brothers only stared at him, their expressions flat and unconvinced but the deal was struck. Valen had won at the cost of chaining himself to the very debt he'd tried so long to escape.
The tension between the brothers and Valen lingered like smoke after a forge fire but the deal was sealed. Merek still clutched the pouch of coin at his belt, Joren's scowl hadn't softened, and Valen despite all his bluster looked just a little smaller than usual under their combined glare.
Nyra was the first to break the moment. She turned on her heel, crimson eyes catching Valen's for just a second before she muttered, "I've had enough of this circus." Her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she strode off.
Neo glanced at Thal, hesitation in his eyes, then back at the brothers. The thought of staying made his stomach twist. He tugged lightly at Tar's arm. "We should… give them space," he murmured.
Tar let out a low huff, the sound rumbling like distant thunder but he followed without question, his hulking frame moving beside Neo.
Alinda lingered the longest. She leaned against the wall, crimson eyes fixed on Thal, her smirk faint but knowing. "Try not to break them too badly," she said lightly, her voice silken with amusement. Then she slipped away, her cloak trailing like smoke as she vanished into the crowd.
Valen, ever the last to quit the stage, gave Thal a playful salute. "You'll be fine. Don't worry Merek and Joren are professionals. Best in the city! And hey, if they try to stab you with scissors, just duck." His grin returned, lopsided but defiant, before Nyra's sharp voice from up the street barked his name, and he scurried after her with exaggerated flourish.
That left only Thal.
The square felt quieter now. He turned back to the brothers, his golden eyes steady, unreadable as ever. Merek rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at the giant as though trying to size him up all over again, while Joren crossed his arms, the weight of his stare like iron.
"Well," Merek muttered, his voice dry as dust. "Guess it's just us."
Joren grunted, already moving toward his forge. "Let's get to work."
Thal remained still, calm as stone, waiting for them to begin.
Thal's gaze lingered on the two brothers, golden eyes steady beneath the spill of afternoon light. For a long breath he said nothing, the silence pressing as heavily as his shadow across the cobblestones. Then, at last, he inclined his head ever so slightly.
"I'll be in your care," he said.
The words were simple but they carried a weight that made both Merek and Joren stiffen. To hear a giant something out of half-whispered legends speak with such calm deference struck them harder than any boast or threat could have.
Merek blinked, caught off guard. "Saints… you talk like we're not about to drive ourselves mad figuring out how to clothe you."
Joren grunted but there was no mockery in it this time, only a quiet respect. "Care or not, you're a mountain but fine we'll see it done."
Thal's expression didn't shift, though a faint ripple of acknowledgment passed in his golden eyes. He stood as still as stone, waiting, as though the matter were already decided.
The brothers exchanged a glance half weariness, half something else. A recognition that, somehow, they had just been entrusted with a task far greater than stitching cloth or hammering soles.