Chapter Twelve: A Quiet Patrol
Evening settled gently over the city, the golden glow of the setting sun stretching long shadows across the streets as the noise of daily life began to soften into something calmer, something slower. The doors of Lucien's house opened with a quiet creak as he stepped inside, his presence as composed as ever, though the faint dust along his sleeves and the subtle tension in his shoulders hinted at a long day behind him.
The house was… quiet.
Too quiet.
Lucien paused just a step in, his gaze shifting slightly as he took in the stillness. No movement. No sound. No trace of the two he had left behind earlier.
"…Vael. Lyra."
His voice carried through the house—calm, but firm enough to reach every corner.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
Footsteps.
Two sets.
Vael appeared first, descending the stairs with a casual slouch, one hand resting lazily on the railing. Lyra followed shortly after, posture straight as always, her expression unreadable, fans resting lightly in her grip.
They stopped before him.
Lucien looked at them.
Once.
Then again.
"…you two don't look like you got along."
Lyra answered immediately.
"I don't get along with weaklings."
The words landed without hesitation.
Vael's brow twitched slightly. His mouth opened—just barely—as if ready to fire something back, something sharp enough to match her tone.
But he stopped.
Closed it.
Exhaled quietly instead.
Lucien watched the exchange, then sighed—soft, almost tired.
"...this will be troublesome."
His gaze shifted slightly as he thought for a brief moment, weighing options, considering what would force cooperation without breaking either of them.
Then—
"You two will patrol the eastern district tomorrow."
Vael blinked.
Lyra didn't react outwardly, but her eyes sharpened slightly.
"Observe," Lucien continued. "Don't rush into unnecessary fights. Let the Holy Knights handle most situations."
A pause.
"Watch. Learn."
Silence followed.
Vael glanced at Lyra.
Lyra glanced at Vael.
Neither said a word.
Lucien turned away slightly, rubbing his temple once.
"…this is starting to feel like babysitting."
—
Morning came faster than expected.
The quiet of dawn hadn't fully settled before the rhythmic sound of exertion filled one of the rooms upstairs.
Breath.
Movement.
Impact.
Vael's body rose and fell steadily against the wooden floor, arms trembling slightly under the repeated strain of push-ups. Sweat formed lightly along his skin, his breathing controlled but heavy.
"...ninety-eight… ninety-nine…"
He pushed again.
"One hundred."
He dropped flat on his back, staring at the ceiling for a second before letting out a breath.
"…not bad."
A faint flicker appeared before him.
[Strength +2%]
[Endurance +2%]
Vael smirked slightly.
"…guess I'll be doing this more often."
The pain in his body was still there—but it was different now. Less like damage, more like resistance being shaped into something stronger.
He stood up slowly, stretching his arms before making his way downstairs.
Lyra was already there.
Of course she was.
Standing near the center of the room, adjusting her robe with precise movements, her posture flawless as always. Her fans rested at her side, her presence calm, composed.
Lucien stood nearby, already speaking.
"…patrol routes are active this morning," he said. "You'll be moving through the eastern district."
Vael stepped closer, listening.
"Watch how the Holy Knights operate. Their coordination, their structure."
Lucien's gaze shifted between them.
"The city is always full of small disturbances. Learn to identify which ones matter."
Neither of them interrupted.
Then—
"Go."
No delay.
They stepped out.
—
The city was alive again.
Vendors called out to passing customers, their voices layered over one another in a familiar rhythm. Children ran through the streets with laughter trailing behind them, weaving between people who barely noticed. The scent of food filled the air once more, warm and inviting, as if nothing had happened the day before.
But Vael noticed it.
Subtle.
Beneath the surface.
People were watching more.
Speaking quieter.
Something had shifted.
"I don't want you slowing me down," Lyra said suddenly, her voice cutting cleanly through the noise.
Vael glanced at her.
"…I'll try not to disappoint you."
She didn't respond.
Instead—
She moved.
One step onto a crate—
Then—
She leapt.
Her body lifted effortlessly onto the rooftop above, landing with precision before immediately moving again.
Vael blinked.
"…seriously?"
He followed.
Jumping up, grabbing the edge—
Pulling himself up.
Not as smooth, not as fast but he made it.
[Strength +1%]
"…huh."
Lyra was already moving.
Roof to roof.
Clean, fast and controlled.
Vael pushed forward after her, his steps heavier, less refined—but improving.
"Hey—wait up, will you?" he called.
"I knew you'd slow me down," Lyra replied without looking back.
Vael's expression tightened slightly.
But he didn't stop.
[Speed +2%]
"…okay…"
He exhaled.
"…I see how this works."
They continued like that for several minutes—movement across rooftops, the city stretching beneath them—until Lyra suddenly stopped.
Her hand lifted slightly.
Her fan snapped open.
Then—
Behind her—
It appeared.
An eye.
Floating, watching and Vael felt it immediately. "…that thing again…"
The presence was strange—not overwhelming, but sharp. Focused. Like something was observing everything at once.
The eye opened wider.
Lifted.
Scanning.
Lyra's gaze shifted.
"…there."
She pointed ahead.
"I sense movement. Human."
And then she was gone.
Vael sighed.
"…at least warn me first—"
But he followed anyway.
—
They arrived at the edge of a district.
Below them—
Chaos.
Not large-scale.
But enough.
A group of men—rough, armed, clearly unorganized—were causing trouble, shouting, pushing civilians aside, attempting to break into a merchant's storage wagon.
And then—
Holy Knights.
Six of them.
Already present.
Vael leaned slightly forward from the rooftop, watching.
"…so this is what he meant…"
The Knights moved as one.
One stepped forward—shield raised, drawing attention.
Two flanked from the sides.
Another remained back—bow drawn, arrow steady.
The last two circled.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
A thief lunged—
The shield user blocked instantly.
A spear followed from the side—
Precise.
Disarming.
Another thief tried to run—
An arrow struck the ground in front of him, stopping him cold.
They weren't just strong.
They were coordinated.
Perfectly.
Within minutes—
It was over.
All of them subdued.
No excessive force.
No chaos.
Just control.
Vael exhaled.
"…they're good."
Lyra didn't deny it.
"…they are."
A short silence followed.
Then Vael spoke again.
"See how they work together?"
Lyra glanced at him.
"They get along."
A pause.
"…we don't."
Lyra looked away slightly.
"…true."
Another pause.
"I respect Lucien," she added. "And I intend to follow his guidance."
Vael scratched the back of his head slightly.
"…so how do we do that?"
Lyra looked at him again.
"…how do you suggest we bond?"
Vael stared for a second.
Then—
"…I don't know."
A beat.
"…we haven't eaten."
Lyra blinked.
"…what?"
"Let's get food."
He shrugged.
"At least try."
Lyra frowned slightly.
"…eat together?"
"…yeah."
"…that's your idea?"
"…it's an idea."
A pause.
"…fine."
—
The restaurant wasn't large.
But it was busy.
Warm light filled the space, the sound of conversation rising and falling naturally as people ate and talked, unaware—or pretending to be unaware—of the world beyond their tables.
Vael and Lyra sat across from each other.
Food between them.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
Church robes weren't subtle.
Eyes lingered.
Whispers followed.
Vael shifted slightly.
"…this is uncomfortable."
Lyra didn't react.
"…you'll get used to it."
He glanced at her.
"…you're fine with this?"
"The Church is respected."
A pause.
"And feared."
Vael nodded slowly.
"…yeah. I can see that."
They ate.
Quiet at first.
Then—
"You fight recklessly," Lyra said.
Vael blinked.
"…and you talk too much."
She clicked her tongue.
"You rely on instinct."
"You rely on attitude."
"…at least mine works."
"…mine does too."
They stared at each other for a second.
Then—
A voice broke through.
"Please—!"
A man stumbled toward them, breathing heavily, panic written all over his face.
"Please—you're from the Church, right?"
Lyra stood immediately.
"What happened?"
The man's hands trembled.
"My family—!"
His voice cracked.
"Something's wrong—something's taken them—!"
Vael frowned.
"…taken?"
"They're not themselves!" the man continued. "Their eyes—the way they're moving—please—you have to help them—!"
A pause.
Lyra's expression shifted.
Not annoyance.
Not pride.
Something sharper.
Focused.
"…demonic influence," she muttered.
Vael's gaze narrowed.
"…possessed?"
Lyra smiled slightly.
Not soft.
Not kind.
But confident.
"I guess…"
She snapped her fan open.
"…it's my time to shine."
And without waiting—
She moved.
Out the door.
The man followed.
Vael stood there for half a second.
Then sighed.
"…yeah, of course."
And followed after her.