Chapter 37: Echoes in the Forest

The sun had yet to crest the horizon, but Kavan's Gate City was already alive with noise—the grating creak of merchant carts, the clipped steps of patrolling guards, and the soft murmurs of haggling buyers. The air was thick with the scent of spiced bread, horse sweat, and oiled steel.

Jin stood near the stable, arms folded, expression unreadable. Behind him, two carts laden with supplies waited, and before him, over two hundred slaves were being herded into rows. Gorvan, like a stone wall in motion, barked orders while Riven moved like a shadow through the ranks, inspecting posture, gear, and faces.

Many of the freed bore bruises or carried invisible scars behind hollow eyes. But not all. Some still had defiance flickering behind their stares. Children clung to older siblings, and young men stood taller now that chains no longer bound them. Jin noted every detail.

He stepped forward, addressing the handlers with calm finality.

"Make sure the young ones are assigned to lighter work. No branding. No numbers. Those days are over."

The handlers hesitated, then nodded. Jin didn't repeat himself.

Riven tilted her head. "Merciful. Unexpected."

Jin gave her a sidelong glance. "Mercy builds loyalty. Fear just hides rebellion."

Just then, a shift in the crowd across the street caught his eye. Three robed figures, unmistakable in their garb and poise, entered a marble tea house: Lord Maelis of the Ironblade Syndicate, Lady Velessa of the Northern Frost School, and High Monk Fen of the Silent Temple. Jin's memory was flawless.

All three had once stood across from him in Valeria, offering terms that stank of cowardice and ambition.

Their eyes met his.

No words were exchanged. But the weight behind their glares was unmistakable.

Jin gave them a sarcastic bow. Nothing mocking. Just enough to say: "You lost."

"Enemies in silk," Riven muttered, adjusting her bowstring.

"Let them stare," Jin replied. "They're still looking because they're still afraid."

Later, the group gathered at the Red Lantern Inn. It was modest but well-kept, and the beds, thankfully, didn't creak with every breath.

Jin booked rooms for the night—one for the women, one for himself and Gorvan. As he handed over coin, a sharp shoulder collided with his back.

He turned.

The young noble from the gate. Mayor Siven's son. Still reeking of expensive cologne and entitlement.

"Watch where you stand, peasant," the youth snapped, barely sparing a glance.

Jin didn't flinch. His voice dropped low. "Careful where you bump, little prince. Some furniture bites."

The youth snorted and vanished up the stairs, his entourage trailing behind. Riven laughed under her breath.

"Why didn't you crush him?"

Jin exhaled slowly. "Because today, I just want a bath."

Dawn broke with silver light over the forest trail.

The caravan moved swiftly—carts filled with herbs, food, and fresh garments. Behind them walked the 200 rescued, each one given clothing, bread, and a direction.

They weren't slaves now.

They were people.

Forty kilometers in, the birds went silent.

Jin, riding near the center, stiffened.

"Ambush."

It came like a flood. Trees exploded inward. Arrows fell like hail. Dozens of attackers in dark green cloaks burst from the forest line.

Mercenaries.

Riven was airborne in a blink, releasing a triple-shot that struck three at once.

Gorvan roared, absorbing a flurry of blades against his armor before crushing his attacker with a mace swing.

Jin leapt from his horse, Fangblade already humming.

"Time to feed me," the sword whispered.

"Gladly."

Dragon Scales shimmered over his arms. Blood Demon aura flared in his chest. But he didn't lose control.

He channeled it.

Twenty agonizing minutes of chaos.

Jin tore through the flank, disarming and disabling rather than killing when possible. He knew this wasn't the true threat—just a distraction.

When the dust settled, twelve attackers lay dead. Four more fled. The rest were incapacitated.

But they had lost people.

Nine of the rescued were dead. A boy, no older than ten. An old man who had shielded two others. A woman who had thrown herself over her sister.

Jin stared at the bodies for a long moment.

Then knelt.

He closed the child's eyes gently and whispered a vow: "No more chains. Not in my lands."

Riven knelt beside him, face hard. "Still think mercy builds loyalty?"

"Yes," Jin said. "But next time, mercy wears armor."

By the time Valeria's walls loomed into view, the sun had begun to fall.

Cheers erupted from the gates. The people had been waiting. Civilians rushed to greet them. Some ran for lost family. Others bowed before Jin, tears streaming.

One old woman gripped his sleeve. "Bless you, Lord Valeria. You brought my son home."

He said nothing. Just nodded.

Inside the walls, preparations were already underway. Tents erected, food lines ready, healers waiting.

But Jin didn't rest.

He spent the evening on the central platform, sorting the new arrivals by skill and need. Healers were taken to the clinic. Builders sent to the construction sector. Teachers and scholars to the education square.

Then he came to one parchment.

"Subject 114: Female, age 18, formerly noble class, skilled in etiquette and sword dance."

He looked up.

There she stood.

Dirty hair. Hollow cheeks. Eyes full of something between hope and shame.

Alisa.

"...You," he whispered.

Her head bowed. "I had nowhere else to go."

Riven glanced between them. "You know her?"

"Princess Alisa. Once of the southern court. She vanished the same night Molana made her first move."

Alisa flinched. "I knew what was coming. I tried to stop it. They laughed. So I ran."

Jin studied her. Not just with his eyes—with his senses.

No deceit. Just pain.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You're not a slave. You're not even a refugee. You're a survivor. That matters."

She blinked fast, holding back tears.

"You'll work under the culture division. Festivals. Education. Literacy. You'll help build more than walls."

She swallowed. "You trust me?"

"No," he said with a soft grin. "But I trust the fire in your eyes."

Riven gave a low whistle. "Careful, Lord Jin. You're starting to sound like a hero."

He looked toward the torch-lit horizon.

"I'm just trying to choose the kind of world I want to protect."

That night, firelight danced in the central square. Music from string instruments rose. Children laughed. People sang.

For the first time in weeks, Valeria celebrated.

Jin sat with Arielle, Lila, Sarah, Riven, and Gorvan, a warm stew in hand. His eyes swept the crowd. Survivors danced with soldiers. Children painted stories on parchment. Lanterns floated upward.

Peace, for now.

Gorvan raised a mug. "To our dead. May their sacrifice build the future."

Everyone drank.

Jin leaned back and watched Alisa teaching a group of children how to write letters using sticks in the dirt.

Riven nudged him. "You know this peace won't last."

He nodded. "I know."

"And the next horde might be worse."

"Then we'll be stronger."

Riven smiled.

And in that moment, for the first time, Valeria did not feel like a fortress in the wild.

It felt like home.