After finishing the paperwork for Storm and helping him settle into his new room, Ezra made his way back to his own quarters. The familiar scent of polished wood and faint herbs greeted him as he opened the door. Serena was already there, sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
"So, Ezra," she began, tilting her head as she watched him remove his armor and set his sword against the wall, "how has the mercenary life been treating you so far? Although..." Her smirk shifted into a teasing grin. "I thought for sure you'd have taken that royal guard position when they offered it. Big palace, shiny armor, endless compliments from noblewomen—it seemed right up your alley."
Ezra snorted, shaking his head as he collapsed into the chair by the window. "You make it sound so glamorous," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you know me better than that, Serena. Standing around in gilded armor, bowing to spoiled nobles, and pretending to care about their squabbles isn't my style."
Serena leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Still, it would've been a stable life. Less blood, fewer risks. And you could've used your influence to help people in a different way."
Ezra ran a hand through his dreadlocks, sighing. "Stability isn't everything. I wanted to carve out something that's mine—on my terms. The rebellion taught me enough about following orders from people who don't see the bigger picture. At least as a mercenary, I get to choose my battles and protect those who actually need it."
Serena watched him for a moment, her teasing demeanor softening. "And that's why I respect you," she said quietly. "But I've got to admit, I was surprised when I heard about the Shadow Panther Mercenary Corps. Starting your own group, —it's ambitious."
Ezra smirked. "Ambitious? Maybe. But it's necessary. The world's too chaotic for lone wolves. We need people we can trust, people with skills to match." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the window. "Besides, I've spent enough time being someone else's pawn. It's time to move the pieces myself."
Serena smiled faintly, her expression a mix of admiration and mischief. "And here I thought you just wanted an excuse to boss people around."
Ezra chuckled. "That's just a bonus."
She leaned back on the bed, her arms stretched behind her as she gazed at the ceiling. "Still, I can't help but wonder—if you had taken that royal guard position, would you have been happy?"
Ezra's expression turned serious for a moment. "Maybe. But it wouldn't have been me. The rebellion shaped who I am, for better or worse. This path... it feels right, even with all the challenges."
Serena nodded, her playful tone returning. "Fair enough. Just promise me one thing, Ezra—don't get too famous. I'd hate to have to fight off flocks of admirers just to have a conversation with you."
Ezra laughed, the tension in the room dissolving. "I'll do my best, but no promises."
The two shared a quiet moment, the weight of their pasts momentarily forgotten. The city outside hummed with life, but within the walls of the room, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a bond forged through battles, shared losses, and the pursuit of something greater.
Ezra sat on the bed next to Serena and let out a long, deep breath. As he leaned back, the exhaustion he hadn't realized he was carrying finally hit him. The weight of his second job—the battles, the travel, the tension—came crashing down all at once. It wasn't until now, sitting on a proper bed in a familiar room, that he allowed himself to feel it.
Without much thought, he let his body sink into the mattress. It was softer and more welcoming than the lumpy beds of roadside inns or the hard ground of campsites. The warm, quiet atmosphere wrapped around him like a blanket, and before he knew it, sleep began to claim him. He let it, deciding he had earned a moment of real rest.
Serena watched as Ezra drifted off, his features softening in a way she rarely got to see. A small smile touched her lips as she shifted closer, careful not to wake him. Reaching out, she gently ran her fingers through his dreadlocks, smoothing them with an almost absent-minded tenderness.
"You really push yourself too hard," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her fingers lingered in his hair for a moment longer before she leaned back, still smiling. Seeing him at peace, even for a little while, was enough for now.
Ezra woke the next morning to the soft sounds of Serena's quiet snores. He turned his head slightly to see her sprawled across his bed, her red hair a tangled mess against the pillow. A small smile crept onto his face, a mix of amusement and relief. He hadn't done anything unbecoming, and the version of himself fresh out of military service might not have been able to say the same. Growth, he thought to himself.
He slid out of bed carefully, doing his best not to disturb her, and gently pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Watching her for another brief moment, he shook his head with a quiet chuckle, grabbed his bag containing the evidence he'd gathered, and retrieved the royal mark he'd been given.
Sitting at the desk in his room, Ezra pulled out a pen and paper and began drafting his report. His handwriting was sharp and deliberate as he detailed everything that had occurred during the mission. Every event, no matter how small, found its way onto the page: the Wanderers, the demon royal family, and most importantly, the threat of the looming demon invasion.
He took extra care when outlining the urgency of the situation. The demons were no small threat, and if Tavelon failed to repel them, Stellaris would undoubtedly be their next target. Ezra's tone was firm, almost pleading, as he wrote about the preparations that needed to be made. This wasn't just a report; it was a warning.
Finishing the letter, he set the pen down and read it over, ensuring every detail was accounted for. Satisfied, he folded the papers neatly, sealed them with his mark, and tucked them safely into his bag. Rising from the desk, he glanced once more at Serena, still peacefully sleeping, and muttered to himself, "No time to waste."
Ezra stood from his seat, strapped on his armor with practiced ease, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He didn't have the connections to secure an audience with the king directly, but he knew the Mercenary Guild's higher-ups worked closely with the government. They could make it happen. Without hesitation, he set off for the guild.
Walking through the bustling streets of Stellaris, Ezra's determined pace drew curious glances from passersby. His armored figure and the urgency in his stride were hard to miss, but he paid no mind. He had a mission, and nothing else mattered.
Arriving at the guild, he pushed the heavy wooden doors open and stepped inside. As expected, the line of mercenaries waiting for assignments stretched to the entrance. Ezra's eyes scanned the room, but he had no time for formalities. Ignoring the grumbles and protests of those waiting, he strode to the front of the line, drawing more than a few annoyed glares.
Lianne, the guild's receptionist, glanced up from her desk. Her expression shifted from confusion to recognition, her brow furrowing as she realized who had just barged to the front. "Ezra, what are you doing? You can't just skip the whole line!" she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and familiarity.
Ezra didn't bother with pleasantries. He reached into his bag and pulled out the sealed report, setting it firmly on the counter. "Read this," he said, his voice low but insistent. "I've got evidence, and it's important. Meet me in private after you've gone through it."
Lianne's eyes darted between Ezra and the report, sensing the gravity in his tone. Her usual rebuttals died in her throat as she picked up the papers. "Alright," she said, nodding slowly. "Give me a moment."
Ezra stepped aside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching as Lianne broke the seal and began scanning the document. The noise of the guild faded into the background as he waited, his focus unwavering. Whatever happened next would set the course for the battles to come.
Fear and frustration flashed across Lianne's face as she read through the report. Her hands trembled slightly as she folded the papers back up. Without a word, she grabbed Ezra's arm and pulled him to a private room at the back of the guild. Shoving him into a chair, she leaned forward, her voice low and urgent.
"Are you absolutely sure about this, Ezra? Are you sure it's not a misunderstanding?"
Ezra met her gaze steadily, his expression firm. Without a word, he opened his bag and began pulling out evidence. First, he produced the Royal Mark of Tavelon, placing it on the table. Next came the Chaos Paladin's armor, its dark design radiating menace, followed by a collection of items he had confiscated from the cultists: ritual tools, scrolls with cryptic symbols, and fragments of demon-related relics.
Lianne picked up the Royal Mark, inspecting it carefully. She ran her fingers over the emblem, verifying its authenticity. After a moment, she set it down and nodded, her face pale.
"This is solid," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. "You've done more than most would've managed. The royal mark alone backs up your claims, but with all of this..."
"I don't know exactly when the demons will attack," Ezra said, his voice grim. "But they will. Especially if the Wanderers are involved. They're making their moves. And if Tavelon falls, Stellaris is next in their sights."
Lianne bit her lip as tears threatened to spill from her eyes, not from fear but from sheer frustration. The enormity of the threat weighed heavily on her. She wiped at her eyes briskly, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
"We'll do what we can," she said, her voice resolute. "I'll get this to the higher-ups immediately. They'll need to act fast to secure the city and prepare the defenses. You did the right thing bringing this to us, Ezra."
She managed a shaky smile as she reached into her desk drawer, pulling out a pouch of gold. "As a token of appreciation—and an additional reward for the critical information—you're getting 100 gold. Also..." She hesitated before continuing. "I'll recommend your company for priority jobs. People need capable hands now more than ever."
Ezra gave her a small nod of thanks, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Make sure they take this seriously, Lianne. This isn't just about Stellaris. It's the whole damn continent."
"I will," Lianne promised, gripping the edge of the table tightly. "Take care of yourself, Ezra. We're all going to need people like you in the days ahead."
Ezra turned and left the room, his mind already racing with the next steps. The city might be on edge soon, but there was still much to be done—and he had no intention of sitting idly by while the world burned.