A Familiar Face Among the Flames
Each of the Swordfighter leaders from both groups only sent one forward—just in case an emergency arose.
Naturally, this had been planned well ahead of the ceremony; everything in the Fireheart clan was precision-run.
Ryan Fireheart approved the nod as the Swordfighters took position in rigorously disciplined formation, their armor shining under the reddish light of lanterns that festooned the grand hall of the Eternal Market.
"For the civilians and the Swordfighters of the Fireheart clan…" Ryan started, his deep, authoritative voice echoing through the room.
Whatever came next, I didn't listen closely.
Short and sweet, it was the same old thing—thanks for all your hard work, thanks for the work you will keep doing, and don't worry, your loyalty will pay off.
The payoff was significant enough: precious medicine and a fat pouch of gold coins, more than double their monthly wages.
But from where I was standing, I saw something unusual.
The Swordfighters were not so much moved by the prizes themselves, and more so by the words of their elder. His voice held weight—not authority, but emotion. Something within it awakened pride deep in their chests.
That sort of power… I did not comprehend.
I and Mio Fireheart stood silently at the side of the Elder, a conscious decision—our presence indicated the respect of the Fireheart lineage towards its fighters.
A small thing, but one that did wonders for spirits.
"…I appreciate your diligence," Ryan finally completed, his voice relaxing.
Thunderous and living, applause swept through the hall.
Dozens and dozens of clapping hands formed a wave of sound that rolled forward and echoed off the stone pillars of the Eternal Market.
When I looked upward, the sky above the open arches was shadowed. The sun's last light fell away into deep violet.
The first day of the Nine Day of the Flames ceremony was drawing to a close.
'Thank goodness nothing irritating occurred,' I breathed softly.
Even though the Fireheart clan's Swordfighters kept strict watch, I'd been wary. Accidents were rare, but never impossible.
The truth was—I couldn't remember everything. My mind, for all its precision, was full of holes.
I remembered some major events, yes. But not every small detail of this point in time.
Perhaps it was because I had been too young and scattered then… or perhaps, in my past life, I had deliberately forgotten all that hurt too much to recall.
Either one of these things—
'Nothing, I don't think anything happens during this Nine Day of the Flames.'
The winter would have its own turmoil—that much I was sure of. But spring? Spring ought to sneak by quietly.
Once the applause finally died down, I descended from the stage with Mio and went along with the other Fireheart representatives out of the hall.
________________________________________
The night festival started shortly after.
Lanterns bloomed like scattered stars on the Eternal Market. Music wafted through the streets, soft strings and drums mixing with the laughter of Swordfighters finally permitted to release their tension.
Long tables were laden with food—spiced meats, sweet syrup pastries, and steaming bowls of noodles.
Cups of rice wine passed from hand to hand.
The Second Elder himself had given permission.
Normally, the Swordfighters were bound by strict codes, no alcohol or indulgence while on duty. But tonight—tonight was different.
A reward. A celebration.
At first, the captains and their deputies resisted, keeping their formality intact. But once Ryan Fireheart's laughter broke through—"Drink! You've earned it!"—their restraint crumbled. The night erupted in joy.
"What a mess," I grumbled, observing the mayhem.
Swordfighters who'd been well-disciplined for years were now arm-wrestling over chicken legs and singing battle ballads off-key.
But I really couldn't fault them. They were human, too—yearning for warmth, laughter, and temporary reprieve from constant vigilance.
I rose, smoothing the creases in my robe. "I'll get some fresh air."
Kevin stood up from a nearby chair at once, as if he was waiting for that signal.
"Hmm?" I stared at him. "Why are you tailing me? Why aren't you drinking with the others?"
He shook his head firmly. "How can an escort drink, young master? The festival is not for me, but for the Swordfighters."
"Huh. Don't you serve as a Swordfighter too?" I teased half-seriously.
He was taken aback. He stopped halfway through the step.
Fireheart clan escorts were actually numbered among the Swordfighters. They were trained, graded, and sworn by the same vows.
Which made him technically included.
"Uh… I…" Kevin stuttered, rubbing his neck awkwardly.
"Well, whatever," I said, dismissing it. "Want to go walking around the streets instead?"
His relief was nearly palpable. "Yes, young master."
The two of us left the Eternal Market behind and entered the festival's outer streets.
The night air was alive—torches dancing against banners emblazoned with the Fireheart sigil, vendors shouting their goods with cheerful voices.
Kids darted between stands with wooden dragons clutched in their fists, their giggles ringing across the night.
"The Eternal Market truly is huge," I remarked, looking around. "You read about its scale, but to see it up close… it's something else."
In comparison to the inner courtyards of Fireheart clan, these streets were a whirlwind of color and life.
Light spilled over polished stone streets, and the smell of roasting meat and sugary syrup wafted through the air. It was difficult to think anything bad could ever befall a place so alive.
I caught Kevin's eye trailing behind me—he was on high alert, ready to push away any threat.
I felt guilty for getting him into this, but… the tranquility of the moment was difficult to resist.
It was like a glimpse of the world before all hell broke loose in my previous life.
"Should I get some steam pockets?" I whispered.
Kevin cocked his head. "For that servant, huh?"
I smiled weakly. "Not her alone. The others will appreciate them as well."
He nodded in contentment. "Young master is certainly not as the rumors depict him. They always instruct us not to judge people by hearsay, and it is true—I still have a lot to learn."
I sighed. "It's just steam pockets, Kevin. You sound like I'm selling a fortune. Wait—how long have you even been my escort?"
"A little less than fifteen days."
"Fifteen days…" I grumbled.
That was right before my resurrection. Only natural. That's why I hardly remembered him.
Anyway, he had been faithful enough to stick with me everywhere after that. Perhaps he was fortunate. Perhaps I was, too.
"Young master, look!" Kevin gestured toward a stall in the vicinity. "They're selling steam pockets there."
The aroma struck me before I had even looked—steamed dough, fresh meat, and herbs. My stomach growled against my will.
"That one seems fine," I commented. "Let's proceed."
Coming closer, we could hear voices filtering through the crowd.
"Madam, it's unsafe for you to roam about like this," spoke a concerned guard.
"You fret too much," came a soft voice. "It's the Nine Day of the Flames. What can possibly go wrong with so many Fireheart Swordfighters in attendance?"
"That's why I am concerned," the guard growled. "Suppose you encounter the young master of the Fireheart clan—"
"There's no way to do that. There are just too many persons around here."
Shit.
She shouldn't have spoken.
The instant our eyes locked across the road, her words ceased.
Her face froze—shock at first, then terror.
Her bodyguard behind her paled as well.
The girl in front of me possessed hair that dropped just to her shoulders, silky smooth, and glowed with the lanternlight like liquid ink. Dark, deep-set, and piercing as obsidian, her eyes locked onto mine with a recognized strain.
And on her finger the black ring.
The symbol was muted in the darkness, but I did not need it in clear view. I already knew what that crest implied.
The Blackfist Clan of Vellore.
A name which I shall never forget.
The woman who once held a sword sharper than her tongue, who was from one of the Four Noble Houses—
The Young Lady of the Blackfist House.
And my former fiancée.