Kaiser went to see Brinn at his office.
Brinn sat behind a heavy oak desk, quill in hand, scribbling something onto a piece of parchment. He looked up as Kaiser entered, and a slow smile spread across his weathered face.
"Well, well," Brinn said, setting down his quill and leaning back in his chair. "The black magis has arrived. How is your beloved white partner? Awake yet?"
Kaiser's face scrunched—a brief, involuntary flicker of irritation. But he paid the comment no heed. He stepped forward and tossed a medium sized bag onto Brinn's desk.
The bag landed with a heavy clank, the sound of metal striking wood. Coins shifted inside, grinding against each other with a muffled chime.
Brinn's eyebrows rose. He reached out, pulled the bag toward him, and loosened the drawstring. He tilted the bag and let the contents spill slightly into his palm.
A sizeable pile of gold coins gleamed in the sunlight.
Even when it is old, ancient gold, it had not lost its glisten. Unusual carvings adorned each coin. These symbols were recognized by Brinn.
Paititian gold.
Brinn's fingers closed around a coin, and he turned it over slowly, his eyes tracing the familiar markings. "Are you sure you want to give this to me?" He looked up at Kaiser, his expression caught between surprise and suspicion. "I did say that treatment would be expensive, but this is…"
"Think of it also as part payment for your information." Kaiser's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "We have taken our share."
He did not let his expression betray the truth: that this bag of gold was minuscule compared to the amount they had found and already sent back to Epsos. But this amount alone could help build the small village many new infrastructures—a well, perhaps, or a new meeting hall, or better roads. And Brinn was a man of the people. The gold would not sit idle in a chest.
Brinn laughed—a low, genuine sound that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Well, I would not say no to such a grand tip." He pulled the bag closer to him, cradling it against his chest for a moment before setting it on the desk. "My people will benefit from this. You have my thanks."
Kaiser inclined his head slightly. "We will leave by tomorrow. We will need horses and supplies. That can be separate payments to your people who provide them."
Brinn just nodded, his fingers already straying back to the gold, running over the ancient carvings.
Kaiser turned to leave.
His hand was on the door frame when Brinn's voice stopped him.
"Just tell me one thing, Mr. Black Magis."
Kaiser looked back over his shoulder. His red eyes were unreadable.
Brinn's playful demeanor had faded. His face was quieter now, almost solemn. "Is the djinn dead?"
Kaiser held his gaze.
"You can never kill a djinn," he said. "It is a being born of shadow and darkness. But think of it simply as… that it has returned to where it belongs."
Brinn was silent for a moment, processing the words. Then he laughed—softly, a sound of relief more than humor.
"Well, whatever that means," he said, "it is no longer a problem for us. The forest is also less dangerous to enter now. My people benefit from that." He looked down at the bag of gold, then back up at Kaiser. "So… again... thank you. To you and your group."
Kaiser did not say anything.
He gave one short nod and stepped through the doorway. The door closed behind him.
Brinn sat alone in his office, the sunlight warming the pile of ancient gold on his desk. He picked up a coin and turned it over in his fingers, watching the light dance across its unfamiliar carvings.
He laughed to himself.
What an odd bunch of people, he thought.
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The next day came.
The group moved quietly through the inn's stables, preparing their horses for the long journey ahead.
Ayumu was still not awake.
Her body remained limp and peaceful on the bed, her white hair spread across the pillow like spilled milk. But they could not wait any longer. The journey back to Epsos would take time.
They decided that the time Ayumu needed to heal, is time they needed to spend on the road.
They lifted her gently and carried her outside.
On horseback, Ayumu rode with Kaiser.
She was seated in front of him, her body leaning back against his chest, her head lolling gently with the horse's movements. A linen cloth had been tied around her chest and Kaiser's upper-waist, securing her in place so she would not fall. Her white robes draped over the horse's flank like a second blanket.
Kaiser held the reins with one hand. The other rested lightly on Ayumu's shoulder—steadying her, protecting her.
Rhea did not protest.
Kaiser had given his word to take care of Ayumu. He was capable of doing so, that she knows. So she let them be.
They departed at dawn.
The road wound through forest and field, past farms and small homesteads. The sun climbed higher, then began its slow descent. By midday, they reached the port where fishing boats bobbed beside a larger vessel meant to carry them and their horses across the channel.
They arranged for the horses to be brought aboard, then settled in for the boat ride.
After the boat, more roads. More forest. More days of travel.
At every inn they stopped at, Rhea cared for Ayumu—light feeding with broth and watered-down porridge, gentle bathing with warm cloths, careful resting in whatever bed they could find. Kaiser was the one who carried Ayumu from horse to room, from room to horse, his arms always steady, his movements always gentle.
The whole journey back took them two weeks.
And Ayumu never woke up. She was asleep all the way.
They began to worry. Every morning, Rhea would check her friend's energy—pressing her palm to Ayumu's belly button. Every time, she found her energy to be increasing. But very slowly.
On the fifteenth night, they were close.
They had crossed into Epsos territory two days ago. The capital—Rodh—was only half a day's ride away. But the sun was already sinking toward the horizon, and the nearest town was much farther than they wanted to travel in the dark. So, they decided to camp in the forest.
A small clearing, sheltered by old oaks, with a stream running nearby. They set up two tents—one for Ayumu and Rhea, one for the men. A fire was built, crackling and warm, casting dancing shadows across the surrounding trees.
Rhea made sure Ayumu was comfortable in the tent. Blankets tucked around her, a small pillow beneath her head, before joining the others around the fire.
A pot of stew bubbled over the flames. The group sat in a loose circle, their faces tired, their shoulders heavy with the weight of the journey. For a long while, no one spoke.
Levain, who was the cook for today, broke the silence first.
"I hope the gold reached the emperor safely."
Fifi waved a hand dismissively. "Are you doubting our inventions? The orbs have been used for hundreds of years by the charoite people—and by the magis community too." He paused, frowning. "But…"
"But what?" Drobar asked, tearing off a piece of bread.
Fifi's frown deepened. "You all remember how much gold there was, right? Imagine if the emperor was… smashed by the amount of gold."
They all went silent, imagining it.
Kaiser spoke from across the fire, his red eyes fixed on the flames. "The emperor I know is not such a weak man. I am sure he is fine." A pause. "But I can anticipate that we will have much to report to him. Especially… with Lady Ayumu's situation."
Drobar groaned, running a hand through his thick hair. "Argh, Lady Ayumu. I know she saved us all, but what will the emperor say seeing her limp and unmoving like that? He will kill us. I cant die yet...I am still young!"
Rhea hugged her knees to her chest. "She will receive treatment at the hospital. We should not worry so much. She is recovering… just slowly because of my limited supplies."
Levain stirred the stew, the wooden ladle scraping against the bottom of the pot. "Well, we can worry about all that tomorrow." He lifted the ladle, letting the broth drip back into the pot. "The stew is ready."
Suddenly, a soft and gentle voice.
"May I have some?"
A pale, white hand extended toward Levain, holding a bowl.
Without thinking, Levain scooped some stew into the bowl and handed it back.
"Thank you," the voice said. "I am a bit hungry."
Silence. Everyone froze.
Heads turned, one by one, toward the source of the voice.
It was Ayumu, she was awake.
She sat between Rhea and Fifi, cross-legged on the forest floor, her white robes slightly rumpled, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders. Her golden eyes were tired, but open—and she was eating her stew hungrily, spoon after spoon, as if she had not eaten in days.
Drobar's jaw dropped and exclaimed. "Ahhh! Lady Ayumu! You were awake?!"
Fifi nearly choked on water he was drinking. "Since when was she here- cough?!"
Levain had his hand pressed to his heart, to calm his erratic heartbeat. "You… you just appeared. I did not even sense you."
Rhea's expression shifted from shock to exasperation. She crossed her arms and fixed Ayumu with a stern look.
"Ayumu, you cannot do that. At least make a noise—clear your throat or say something to let us know you are there."
Ayumu looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
Her lower lip pushed out slightly. Her brows drew together.
"I am sorry, Rhea," she said softly. "I was just… hungry."
Rhea stared at her for a long moment.
The pout. The eyes. The small, apologetic voice. She could not resist.
With a sigh, Rhea scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Ayumu's shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug.
"Eat more," she said, her voice softening. "Eat."
Ayumu smiled and returned to her stew.
Kaiser watched her eat for a moment, his red eyes soft in the firelight. Then he asked, his voice low and careful, "…How are you feeling, Lady Ayumu?"
Ayumu chewed, swallowed, and looked up at him with those golden eyes. "I am feeling better, Lord Kaiser." She smiled gently, then turned back to her stew.
Drobar leaned back on his hands, staring up at the darkening sky. "She has this habit of scaring people to death." He shook his head, but there was no real annoyance in his voice—only relief. "Well… now that she is awake and fine, that is one less thing to worry about."
Levain, however, was staring at the pot of stew with a strange expression. His brow furrowed. His lips parted.
"…I might need to make another batch of food for us," he said slowly.
Without any of them noticing, Ayumu had eaten half the stew in the pot already.
The group stared at the pot, then at Ayumu's slim figure, then back at the pot. They wondered, when did she even refill her stew? They knew she was starving, after two weeks of nothing but broth. But where had all that food gone in that slender body of hers?
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As the fire burned low and the others began to retreat to their tents, Ayumu remained outside.
She sat on a flat rock near the edge of the clearing, her knees drawn up to her chest, her face tilted toward the sky. The stars were out—countless pinpricks of light scattered across the velvet darkness.
She was at peace. The forest was quiet around her. The stream murmured in the distance. An owl called somewhere in the trees.
Though… she was still a little hungry.
Soft footsteps approached from behind.
Ayumu did not turn. She knew who it was before he even spoke. There was a particular weight to his presence.
Kaiser stopped beside her. Then he extended his hand.
In his palm were two apples—red and ripe, still dusted with the faint shimmer of dew. He must have plucked them from a nearby tree while the others were settling in.
Ayumu's eyes shone. She loved fruits.
"Thank you, Lord Kaiser!"
She took the apples gladly, cradling them in both hands like precious gems, and bit into the first one with a satisfying crunch. Juice ran down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her hand and smiled.
Kaiser smiled a small, almost shy curve of his lips. Watching her eat the apples with such pure, uncomplicated contentment.
He sat down next to her. With a gap of respect for her.
Then he spoke.
"Tomorrow… the emperor may give you an earful."
Ayumu's face soured.
She had been mid-bite, her teeth sunk into the second apple, and at his words, her entire expression crumbled into something resembling a child who had been told there would be no dessert. She thought of her brother's nagging—his sharp voice, his worried eyes, the way he would pace back and forth and wave his hands and demand to know what had she been thinking.
She knew she was at fault. She had disappeared without permission. She had left a note and a mop on her chair, then vanished for weeks.
Her brother had every right to be angry. But still...
"But…" she said slowly, her voice small, "we found the gold, Lord Kaiser. He should be… less angry… right?"
Kaiser chuckled—a soft, low sound that seemed to surprise even him.
"Perhaps," he said. Then, more quietly: "But he cares for you, Lady Ayumu. And I think…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "…perhaps, at times, you need to care for yourself a bit more as well."
Ayumu turned to stare at him.
Her face was not happy. Her golden eyes narrowed slightly. Her lips pressed together.
"…Is Lord Kaiser trying to give me an earful too?"
Kaiser laughed—a short but genuine laugh, surprised out of him by her deadpan expression.
"Haha… I would not dream of it." He shook his head. "We all owe our lives to you, Lady Ayumu."
Ayumu's expression softened. She looked back up at the stars and bit into her apple again.
"I owe my life to all of you as well," she said quietly. "It was nothing."
She continued crunching on her second apple, completely unbothered by the weight of what she had done. To her, it was simply what needed to be done.
Kaiser watched her.
The firelight flickered across her pale face, casting shadows that danced and shifted. Her hair blew gently in the night breeze. She looked small, sitting there on that rock, eating her apple like a child on a summer evening.
She is not bothered, he thought. Not by what happened. Not by what could have happened.
Her carefree and selfless attitude did not sit well with him. But it also made him determined.
From now on, he would care for her better. He would protect her—not because she was weak, but because she was too strong for her own good. Because she would give and give and give until there was nothing left, and someone needed to be there to catch her before she fell.
He rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his trousers.
"Let us rest, Lady Ayumu," he said. "Tomorrow, I anticipate we will have a long, long day ahead of us."
Ayumu looked up at him, apple core in hand, and nodded with a smile.
"Yes, Lord Kaiser."