With Alfred dead, the remnants of the demon army scattered quickly. Many deserted, apparently disillusioned with Alfred's leadership even before the battle ended.
Kundor wasted no time celebrating. Rebuilding began immediately. Workers cleared rubble from the streets, and medics combed through the carnage, searching for any signs of life among the still bodies.
Laura, now with the medics, busied herself tending to the wounded survivors. Her absence left me on my own for the day. I was lucky enough to escape the battle unscathed, and though I was given a day off to rest, the quiet was unnerving.
David had already rushed home to his family, leaving me without my usual companion. It was strange—I never thought I'd feel lonely again.
Families are seen gathered around the laying corpses. As feared, this victory is not without losses. I better occupy myself with something; I don't want to be alone with my thoughts—not after everything that happened.
The keep is in ruins. The stone floors remain partially melted from Henrik's flames, and jagged shards of red ice still protrude from the walls, stubbornly refusing to thaw.
After wandering aimlessly for a while, I find myself in the library. I grab a book at random and head back to my room. It's been so long since I've read anything—since escaping the cathedral, in fact. Hopefully, I still remember the alphabet well enough to make sense of the text.
My thoughts inevitably drift back to Henrik. I can't forget how he lay motionless on the ground after the battle. I've been told he's alive but severely injured. Unconscious ever since. For now, the best thing I can do is let him recover in peace.
Dusk arrives quickly, and I drift into an uneasy sleep. At some point, without my noticing, Laura climbs into bed beside me. By morning, I wake to find her snuggled against my side, her arms holding onto mine as she sleeps soundly.
Unable to ignore the growing concern gnawing at me, I quietly slip out of bed. I have to check on Henrik.
Reaching the room where he's being cared for, I gently open the door. The room is quiet except for his steady, shallow breaths. Henrik lies motionless, his body wrapped in thick bandages. I approach and hesitantly lift the edge of the blanket. His injuries are extensive, and I can't tell whether they're from Alfred's Red Frost or the overwhelming heat of his own Blue Flame.
My chest tightens. I silently will him to wake up soon—or to wake up at all.
I brought the book along, settling into the chair beside Henrik's bed. The hours pass in silence as I read, occasionally glancing at him to see if there's any sign of movement. Each glance feels like a futile wish.
The quiet is broken by the soft creak of the door. I look up to see Laura peeking in. Her expression is soft, a mixture of concern and understanding.
"I thought I'd find you here," she says quietly, stepping inside.
"I just had to know he's okay. But seeing him like this... I'm not sure," I answer quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Laura takes a chair from the other side of the bed, pulling it close to sit beside me. Her hands tremble slightly as she clasps them in her lap, her gaze fixed downward.
"I never knew magic could be so terrifying," she says, her voice tinged with unease.
"I hear you," I reply, glancing at Henrik's still form. "But I hope you learned something from watching them."
"I think I did," she says after a moment of thought. Her brows furrow as she reflects. "The way Alfred moved—I don't think I have the confidence to replicate it. His magic was so... How should I say it?" She pauses, searching for the right word. "Loud."
"That makes sense," I say, nodding. "Alfred was extremely unapologetic in the way he did everything. I guess it extends to his magic as well."
"How would you describe Henrik's magic then?" I ask, curious about her perspective.
She looks up at the ceiling, her gaze distant as she ponders for a few moments. Finally, she answers, "Warm and soothing, but strict and commanding at the same time, if that makes sense."
"Tough love?" I suggest as I raise an eyebrow.
"Something like that," she says with a faint smile.
Her instincts are fascinating. It seems that magic mirrors the user, which brings me to my next question.
"What about my Red Water?" I ask, my curiosity growing.
"Hm," she ponders, her expression thoughtful. Then, almost instinctively, she waves her hands as if to dispel any tension. "This has nothing to do with the clergy," she reassures me quickly. "But... I find it unnerving."
"That so?" I say, my tone neutral, though her words sting slightly.
"I'm sorry," she adds, her voice sincere. "But I can't find any other words for it."
"You got that right, lass," groans a familiar voice from our left.
Both Laura and I turn to see Henrik, his eyes now open. I can't help but smile at the sight of him awake.
"You're alive!" The words spill out of me before I can think.
"Of course I'm alive, idiot; the deceased don't speak," he retorts, his voice carrying that familiar gruffness.
The three of us laugh, but Henrik's chuckle is short-lived, cut off by a grimace of pain.
"How are you feeling?" Laura asks, her voice gentle.
"Terrible," Henrik answers flatly, his tone laced with both pain and stubbornness. "Broken bones, frostbitten skin—I feel lucky to be alive, though." His lips twitch into a faint smirk despite his condition.
I hesitate, glancing at Laura, then decide to seize the moment. Henrik, lying there unable to escape or brush off questions as he usually does, presents a rare opportunity. His vulnerability makes him more approachable than ever.
"Who are you, Henrik?" I ask, my voice steady and direct.
Henrik's eyes narrow slightly, and a deep sigh escapes his lips. For a moment, the only sound in the room is the faint rustle of fabric as Laura shifts in her chair.
"Henrik Blueclaw, a blacksmith from the outskirts of Kundor and the former leader of the Blue Claw mercenary group," he says, his voice steady despite his weakened state.
I lean forward, curiosity driving me. "Me and Laura—it was our first time witnessing a battle between two mages. I need to know: how strong are you? Is your power commonplace, or is it something rare?"
Henrik sighs, his expression distant as if reflecting on a lifetime of battles. "Decades ago, back when I was in my prime, I was among the top five Blue Flame mages in the world," he says, a hint of pride slipping into his voice before it softens. "But now? I'd say there are about twenty humans who could best me."
"What about Laura? How high is her potential?" I ask, genuinely curious.
Henrik chuckles softly, wincing at the effort, then glances at her. "She needs to fix her attitude toward her power first," he says with a smirk. "But after that? I'd say her potential is pretty high."
I turn to Laura, catching the forced smile tugging at her lips. She knows as well as I do that she has a long way to go.
After a brief pause, Henrik speaks again, his tone more serious. "We need to buy Hubbert back. Blue Claw has no leader at the moment. When I'm healthy, I'll take the company over once more—at least until we can get him back."
Laura suddenly speaks up, her voice steady and full of conviction. "Let us join you."
I blink and turn to her, surprised. Her expression is determined, her eyes resolute. While I admire her proactiveness, this is the kind of decision you discuss first. Still, I can't deny—I agree with her.
As the medics enter the room, they gently but firmly shoo us away, their hands already moving to tend to Henrik's wounds. Laura and I exchange glances before stepping outside into the hall.
The next chapter of our journey is clear. We'll join the Blue Claw mercenaries. It won't be easy, but nothing has been since the day I was summoned. Somehow, though, it feels like the right path.