The guard at the gate snapped to attention the moment he saw them.
But his eyes lingered.
Arthur's armor was streaked with dried blood, dark and crusted at the edges. Clad's horse was being led by a worker, reins out of his hands entirely. Leo sat at the front of the carriage with the reins steady — but the exhaustion on his face was impossible to miss.
The guard didn't hesitate.
He rang the bell. Once. Hard.
The sound had barely faded before a small armed unit appeared from the sides, moving as if they had always been there. Without a word, they surrounded the caravan and began to escort it forward.
The road ahead cleared.
People stepped aside. Shopkeepers, passersby, children — all of them moved without being asked. All of them bowed. Some eyes lingered on the blood, the exhaustion, the silence.
But no one spoke.
---
The caravan stopped before a grand manor.
High walls. Elegant stonework. Gardens that were quiet and well-kept without trying to be impressive. No excess — just a deep, settled dignity that didn't need to announce itself.
Two guards at the front gate saw the carriage and bowed immediately, pushing it open without a word.
The carriage rolled inside and stopped in the courtyard.
A man stepped out to meet them.
He was around the same age as the merchant, but his body was something else entirely. Broad shoulders. Not an ounce of softness anywhere. A neatly trimmed beard framing a face that had seen its share of hard years. His eyes were sharp in the way that only came from decades of use.
The merchant stepped down.
The man looked at him. "Welcome, My Lord."
The merchant gave a quiet smile. "Thank you, Jorald."
The carriage door opened again. Clad stepped out carefully, both arms occupied. The unconscious child was cradled against his chest.
Jorald's eyes moved to the child immediately. Narrowed, just slightly.
"So..." His voice was calm. Measured. "Who is this child?" He glanced around. "And where is Young Master?"
The merchant reached back into the carriage and lifted his son — still caught somewhere between sleep and waking — and carried him toward the manor entrance without a word.
Arthur, Jack, and Leo stepped forward.
"Greetings, Master."
Jorald looked at them. Arthur's bloodstained armor. Jack's face, still carrying the weight of everything he had seen through the night. Leo's eyes, quiet and worn.
He said nothing. But his gaze dropped — just for a moment — to the merchant's hands. Then to the child in Clad's arms.
Something moved behind his eyes.
Everyone went inside.
---
The merchant's son, still hovering at the edge of sleep, murmured in a small, half-conscious voice —
"...I'm hungry."
His eyes were still closed.
The merchant pressed down a quiet smile. He called for a servant. "Take him to his room. If he wakes, give him a bath and something to eat."
The servant nodded and carried the boy away.
---
Clad had already laid the child carefully on a bed and was standing beside him when the merchant and Jorald entered. Jorald looked down at the boy for a moment.
"We should call a healer."
"No." Clad said it immediately.
He was exhausted — that much was obvious. But there was no hesitation in his voice.
"The bones in his hands and feet were broken. They've already healed on their own. Outside magic now could interfere with his growth."
"Understood," the merchant said. He turned to Clad. "Rest. Clean up. Same as the others."
"But—"
"He's safe here. That's enough."
Jorald added quietly, "Go."
Clad looked at the child one last time. Then he gave a small nod, and walked out.
---
The room was quiet.
Just the merchant and Jorald.
Jorald cleared his throat. "Ahem."
The merchant looked at him.
Jorald reached up and stroked his beard slowly, eyes drifting back to the child on the bed.
"What exactly did you run into out there..." he said. "That was enough to make someone like you draw that blade."
A pause.
"And this boy." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Something doesn't feel right about him."
The merchant took a long, slow breath.
"It's a long story. Let me clean up first. Then we'll talk."
He turned toward the door. Stopped.
"And Jorald."
"Mm?"
"You've trained them well."
Jorald said nothing.
But the faintest trace of a smile crossed his face.
---
**[Chapter 6 — End]**