*Janus*
It drives me mad, the way she keeps throwing herself into danger as if she’s made of something unbreakable. The first time I heard about her standing alone at the breach in Rosedorn’s wall, holding back the ibasans, I felt so small and useless, wishing I could have been there to shield her. But even now, with me right beside her, she still rushes headlong into trouble. It’s always been like this—at the breach, when she captured Rodrick, when she brought me back from the edge, with that poor kid who lost his hand in the teleporter, when the Solar Knights appeared, and now, even with a dragon looming over us, she doesn’t flinch. She keeps telling me she’s a coward, repeating it so often I think she’s started to believe it herself. But I know better. She’s anything but, and I almost wish she was, for my own sake.
She’s braver than anyone I’ve ever known, no matter how much she insists she just wants to keep her head down. I can’t help but admire her for it, even if, deep down, I wish she’d let herself be a little more afraid—just enough to stay safe, just enough to let me worry a little less.
Beside me, the guardsman finally began to stir, only to catch sight of the dragon. He went pale as milk and promptly fainted again.
I let out a sigh and fumbled the borrowed sword back into its scabbard, feeling strangely out of place. No matter how many times she tells me she doesn’t need my protection, I can’t just stand by and watch her walk into danger alone.
As I hurried after her, snatches of conversation drifted to me from where the dragon and the elf stood, their voices oddly calm in the chaos.
“...The old man asked me for a favor, so I came all the way here expecting a warm welcome, and then all they do is scream at me and raise their pointy sticks.”
“Sigh!” Did you at least try to tell them who you were? I mean, even if they struck you, Calcifer the fire dragon, you wouldn’t even be able to feel it.”
“Why are you angry at me, Kethryl? I just defended myself and also…”
The elves kept trying to reason with the dragon, their words gentle but hopeless, like trying to soothe a storm with a lullaby. It didn’t seem to be working.
When I finally caught up to Ruby, she was already halfway through lifting one side of the fallen gate. The thing was massive—five meters tall, white lacquered wood and gold-plated steel, gleaming even in the dust. She hoisted it above her head as if it weighed nothing, drawing every eye in the courtyard. I knew she was strong, stronger than she looked, but watching her slender arms bear all that weight made my stomach twist with worry. It was like watching someone walk a tightrope over a bottomless chasm, and all I could do was hope she wouldn’t fall.
Without even looking back, she said.
“Ah, Janus! Perfect timing. Could you give me a hand and pull them out while I hold it up?”
It was only then that I noticed the woman and child trapped beneath the rubble. I knelt down and gently pulled them free. The boy was lucky—barely a scratch on him—but his mother was in a far worse state. Blood, dark and thick, seeped through her light brown hair, and both her arms hung at odd angles, broken, just like her back. She must have shielded him when the gate came down, taking the worst of it so he wouldn’t have to.
Looking closer, something about them tugged at my memory. Then I saw the boy’s hand, or rather, the place where it had once been missing. Of course—it was the mother and son from our first day here, the boy who’d lost his hand. If I’m remembering right, she’s Joel’s cousin, Lieselotte Bodman, and her son is Friedolin Bodman. House Bodman owns the kingdom’s largest lake, so vast that people whisper about a hidden tribe of freshwater mermen living somewhere in its depths.
The boy just stared, silent and wide-eyed, lost in shock. Ruby set the gate down with care, then placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and another on his mother’s. A soft green light flickered, and suddenly the woman’s eyes fluttered open. The boy broke down, sobbing like a stray left out in the rain. It took them a moment to realize his hand had returned, whole and perfect. He started laughing, spinning in circles and flexing his fingers as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His mother just stared, stunned, until her gaze found Ruby—who was already moving on to the next patient, not waiting for thanks or praise.
Ruby moved quietly from one patient to the next, her touch gentle, her magic almost an afterthought. The miracles she left behind didn’t go unnoticed. Most people here already knew she was a healing mage, and had seen how the solar knights had first taken her and then let her go. If not for that, I’m sure some of the priests would have started whispering about witchcraft. Instead, they just trailed after her, watching for anything out of the ordinary. I stayed close, unwilling to let her out of my sight, and I wasn’t the only one. Some of those she healed followed too, their eyes full of awe, as if they were watching a saint walk among them.
Ruby might see them differently, but I wanted nothing to do with those stares. The way they looked at her sent a chill down my spine. Before anything stranger could happen, I swept her up in my arms as soon as she finished with the last patient and headed straight for the exit.
“Whoa! Janus, what?”
“I’m sorry, everyone, but my wife is very tired after taking care of so many people and has to retire for the night. If you want to ask her something, you will have to write a letter or make an appointment.”
“Janus, what are you talking about? I’m not…”
But before she could protest and spoil our escape, I slipped us both out through the shattered remains of the gate. A few people shot us dirty looks, some even called after us, but I was already gathering mana in my legs. In less than a minute, we reached our carriage, startling poor Collin so badly he nearly leapt from the driver’s seat when we appeared out of nowhere.
