V2.C32. Old Friends and Old Wounds

Chapter 32: Old Friends and Old Wounds

For a long second, no one moved.

Everyone stood in the street, still damp from the bathhouse, freshly robed and relaxed, staring at Haru and Kenshiro in utter disbelief. The dust had barely settled from the street fight, and yet somehow, it felt like a different kind of battle had just begun.

"Sis?" Yogan echoed slowly, turning to Haru. "Did you just say…?"

"And baby?" Rilo added, turning sharply to Kenshiro. "You called her baby?"

"Don't call me that," the woman snapped, glaring at Kenshiro with eyes that could split stone. "Not after what you did."

"Talia, calm down," Haru said, his voice firm but pleading.

"You abandoned us, and now you want me to calm down?" she shouted, eyes wild with disbelief.

"I didn't abandon you!" Kenshiro pleaded, stepping forward.

"We didn't abandon you," Haru added quickly, but Talia raised a hand in his direction.

"You stay out of this!" she snapped at Kenshiro.

Kenshiro froze mid-step, his shoulders sagging as he backed away, hands slightly raised in surrender.

"Talia, just let me explain…" Haru tried again, reaching out.

"Save it for someone who cares," she said coldly, brushing past him with enough force to bump his shoulder. Haru didn't stop her. He turned and followed her without hesitation.

"Talia, wait… please!"

Kenshiro hesitated a moment longer, then moved to follow, but a hand clamped tightly around his wrist.

Yogan.

"Explain yourself, man," Yogan said. "What is going on?"

Kenshiro looked over at him, then at Rilo and Keru. Mariko was already turned away, arms crossed, gaze lost in the rising moonlight as if the entire scene bored her to tears.

"Look," Kenshiro said, exhaling hard. "I'll explain everything. I swear. But right now, I need to follow her."

He pulled his arm free and took off after Haru and Talia.

The others stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, that was weird," Rilo finally muttered.

"So Haru's sister dated Kenshiro?" Yogan said, still piecing it together.

"What do you mean 'dated'?" Keru asked. "We don't know that."

"He called her baby," Yogan pointed out.

"That could be a nickname," Rilo offered.

"We can't jump to conclusions without confirmation," Keru added, ever the voice of reason.

"I don't care who's dating who," Mariko said with a sigh. "Can we please find a place to sleep? The sun's kissing the horizon, and I'm not fighting off mosquitoes in another ditch."

"She has a point," Rilo agreed.

Yogan looked around, then nodded toward the western road. "I think I saw an inn with a tavern up that way."

"Lead the way," Keru said.

The group turned and began walking down the sloping street, their sandals tapping quietly against the packed dirt. The air was beginning to cool, and lanterns flickered to life behind paper windows. Shadows stretched long, and laughter echoed faintly from alleys and merchant tents packing up for the night.

None of them noticed the four soldiers from the tavern watching from a rooftop terrace nearby.

They stood partially obscured by hanging laundry and roof beams, still in their black and red uniforms, their expressions calm but observant.

"You don't see many airbenders these days," one of the tall ones said, arms crossed over his chest.

"No," another added. "And he didn't seem like just any airbender. The way he deflected that woman's attack… she wasn't exactly a slouch."

The shorter one, the one with the piercing eyes and calm demeanor, the same man who had joked with the waitress the day before, remained quiet a moment longer.

"You're right," he said eventually. "And that earthbender with him, the one who raised the dome, very clean technique. Controlled. Protective. Not just brute force."

"It would appear," said the third tall one, "that we've got some very interesting visitors in Shuihan."

The short one nodded, his gaze still following the silhouettes of Yogan and the others disappearing into the orange haze of sunset.

"I think it's best we keep an eye on them."

"I'll handle it," the first tall one said, already leaping lightly across the rooftop and dropping down onto a lower ledge.

He disappeared into the narrowing alleys, shadowing the strangers without a sound.

---

The alley was narrow and dim, tucked between two crumbling buildings where woven laundry cords hung like ghostly threads above their heads. The late sun cast gold light across the top bricks and wood, but below, it was already shadowed and still. A half-smashed clay jug lay near by, and the scent of drying herbs and soot clung to the walls.

Talia's steps were fast, sharp, each one landing with enough force to snap loose stones beneath her boots. Haru followed just a few paces behind, his hand outstretched, but never daring to touch her shoulder.

"Talia, stop," he said again.

She didn't.

"Talia, please."

She spun around so fast that he nearly tripped over himself.

"What?" she snapped. "What could you possibly say that would make any of this okay?"

Haru opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. His throat was dry. Words clawed at his tongue, but none felt right. Kenshiro stumbled up behind them, panting slightly.

"We didn't mean for things to happen like this," Haru said at last.

"You didn't mean to vanish?" she said, voice sharp with disbelief. "You didn't mean to disappear without telling your own sister goodbye? To abandon your family and your home and everything we built together?"

"It's not that simple," Kenshiro said quietly.

"Shut your mouth," she said without looking at him.

He flinched.

Haru took a slow breath, jaw tight. "I couldn't stay, alright? I couldn't just sit in that village my whole life, herding turtle ducks and trading squash with other clans. You knew I wanted more."

"More than what?" she said. "More than responsibility? More than the people who raised you? More than the family you left behind to deal with everything when you ran?"

"I wanted to find my own path," Haru said. "I wasn't meant to be some background figure living out the same dull story every man before me lived."

"And I guess I was?" she said, bitterness laced through every word. "Guess I was meant to stay and patch the roofs and bury the sick while you went out to chase your stories."

"I never asked you to stay," Haru said, the words sharper than he intended.

Talia's eyes narrowed. "No, you just left me no choice."

A silence settled, heavy and jagged.

Kenshiro stepped forward slowly. "Talia…"

She turned to him, finally, her face unreadable.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She tilted her head. "Sorry?"

"I panicked," he said. "At the altar. I wasn't ready. I thought I could do it, but then everything felt too fast and I couldn't breathe and I just—"

"You left me standing there," she said, her voice low and steady now. "In front of our whole village. Dressed in that green cloth your mother made for me. I waited for you in silence while people whispered and stared. And then I had to walk back down the aisle alone."

Kenshiro swallowed. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"But you did."

He said nothing.

She looked between the two of them.

"You both left," she said. "And I was the one who had to pick up the pieces. Bandits came three days after you were gone. I had to fight them off with the few earthbenders we had left. A second wave came two weeks later. Then again. And again. Every raid more desperate than the last."

"Talia…" Haru murmured.

"We ran out of grain halfway through the dry season," she went on, staring past them. "The storage barn collapsed in a storm and we lost nearly everything. I had to ration meals. Children went hungry. Some families left. Others blamed me. And I took it. All of it. While you were out playing swords with strangers and getting drunk off your freedom."

Talia stepped closer to Kenshiro. "You said you wanted to settle down. You proposed to me. And then you ran."

"I was scared," he whispered.

"You think I wasn't?"

They stood there, all three breathing like they had run miles uphill.

"And then came the worst part," Talia said, her voice soft now. "Father got sick."

Both men stiffened.

"Started coughing one day. Then couldn't stand. Then couldn't eat. He's dying now. They say there's nothing we can do. But one of the old women, the midwife, she said there's a healer far south. With the Water Tribes. Someone who once healed a whole village from a fever that no one could stop."

Her hands clenched at her sides.

"That's why I'm here. That's why I'm leaving. Not to chase dreams. Not to find myself. To try and save the only family I have left."

Another silence. This one louder than the rest.

"I don't hate you," she said finally. "But I won't pretend you're good men either."

She turned her back to them.

"Go wherever you want. Chase whatever you're looking for. But leave me out of it."

"Talia," Haru said softly.

She didn't stop this time. She kept walking, her boots quiet against the dirt, her braid swinging behind her, straight and defiant.

The alley swallowed her whole.

And she was gone.

---

The inn was quiet.

By the time they reached it, the sun had fully disappeared, and lanterns glowed soft orange along the windows. The common room below still buzzed with late diners and drinkers, but the group had taken a table on the upper balcony, away from the worst of the noise. From where they sat, the smell of grilled fish and peppered broth drifted up through the slats in the floor.

Their table was cluttered with empty bowls and clay cups half-filled with rice wine. The candles in the center had burned down to stubby puddles of wax.

Yogan sat with his back against the wall, one leg bent up, the other dangling loosely. He was quiet, his eyes on the dark window across from him.

"Still no sign of them," Keru said, glancing toward the stairwell.

"They'll be fine," Rilo muttered. "I mean, unless she really is planning to kill them."

"I wouldn't blame her," Mariko said, sipping from her cup without even glancing up.

Rilo gave her a look. "You really are made of sunshine, aren't you?"

She smiled faintly and sipped again.

Keru leaned forward, elbows on the table. "She was strong. Her technique was refined. Disciplined. She could have hurt them worse if she wanted to."

"She wanted to humiliate them," Yogan said softly. "Not kill. Every move she made was to shame them. And judging by their faces, it worked."

There was a short silence.

"So," Rilo said, rubbing the back of his neck, "what exactly is the plan tomorrow for you guys?"

Keru reached into his sash and pulled free a folded scrap of parchment. He laid it flat on the table, revealing a crude map of the city drawn in charcoal lines.

"We're here," he said, pointing. "Tavern district, northern edge. The City Lord's estate is just uphill. Walled compound. We have a meeting at first bell."

Yogan studied the map for a moment. "Is the lord supposed to be friendly?"

Keru gave a vague shrug. "That depends on how he feels about the King. And Mariko."

Mariko finally looked up.

"If he wants to mock me or question my father's intentions," she said, "I can handle it. I didn't come here for his approval."

"Still," Keru said, "best not to provoke him. Shuihan is technically still under the Zhen Earth Kingdom, but its loyalty is... fragile."

"You think it's dangerous?" Yogan asked.

"More unstable than dangerous," Keru replied. "The port's key to trade routes along the southern riverbanks. That means power. That means tension."

Rilo leaned back in his chair, letting it creak under his weight. "As mentioned, I have my own business to handle anyway. Might not be back until late."

"Your old friends right?" Yogan asked, his tone casual but curious.

"Something like that," Rilo answered. "I know people. People with boats."

Yogan raised a brow. "And you're confident these people won't stab us in our sleep?"

"I didn't say that," Rilo said with a grin. "But I haven't given them a reason to yet."

Yogan chuckled once under his breath, then stood up and stretched.

The candlelight threw flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the growing weariness behind his calm eyes.

"I'll head to bed," he said. "Let me know when the drama returns."

"Where do you think they are now?" Rilo asked.

Yogan paused at the stairwell, hand resting on the railing.

"Somewhere dark," he said. "Talia wasn't just angry. That was hurt. Deep, personal hurt. That doesn't go away with an apology."

He disappeared down the steps without another word.

Keru stared after him for a long time.

"He's more perceptive than he lets on."

Rilo gave a slow nod. "Yeah. He sees people. Even when he pretends not to."

Below, the tavern hummed with low voices and clinking cups. Outside, the wind rustled through the narrow streets of Shuihan.

From a shadowed rooftop across the road, the soldier who had followed them leaned against a chimney, watching the inn with patient eyes. He did not blink. He did not fidget.

He simply waited.

***

The first light of dawn filtered through the paper screens of the inn, painting golden rectangles across the worn wooden floors. Outside, the low chatter of early risers and cart wheels echoed faintly. Inside, the scent of steaming rice and broth drifted from the tavern's kitchen.

Yogan sat cross-legged at a low table near the open window, hair still slightly damp from last night's bath, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Keru was already dressed in his more formal robes, layered in clean gray and black, the collar pressed high, with the emblem of the Zhen Earth Kingdom stitched discreetly at his chest.

Mariko entered from the hallway moments later, her usual attire exchanged for something softer and more fitted, a silk tunic of soft jade green, high-collared, and cinched at the waist with a dark sash. Her hair was tied back neatly, no pins, no ornaments. Still simple, but carefully deliberate.

She sat down beside the others with a quiet sigh.

"You clean up nice," Rilo said, grinning from across the table.

Mariko offered a small glance. "This is the bare minimum of what's expected."

"Of a princess?" Rilo teased.

"Of someone representing the Earth Kingdom to a political relic clinging to a crumbling port," she said flatly.

Keru raised a brow but said nothing.

On the table sat a modest breakfast, bowls of sticky rice, boiled greens, a plate of dried fish with red paste. The pickings were slim. Their funds had taken a noticeable hit.

"You're welcome, by the way," Keru said, reaching for a portion of fish. "For bringing enough coin to keep you fed this long."

"And housed," Mariko added, reluctantly. "Yes, thank you."

"Only took twenty bowls of soup and half the city's bread to soften that tone," Rilo muttered.

Keru rolled his eyes and turned to Yogan. "I trust you two had no luck finding the others last night?"

Rilo shook his head. "No. We waited for hours. They probably checked into a different inn."

"Makes sense," Yogan said. "Wouldn't surprise me if they're already drinking again."

"I'll go looking for them," Yogan said as he leaned back. "They can't have gotten far. I know Kenshiro, he doesn't move fast when guilt's dragging behind him."

"If you don't see us again," Keru said, "then thank you. For everything. That includes getting dragged through the forest, nearly getting arrested, and helping blow up half of Daiyo."

Rilo raised a cup in mock salute. "Cheers."

Yogan smiled faintly. "Good luck. You're probably going to need it."

Mariko nodded once, formal and distant. "Same to you both. Try not to get arrested again."

"Only if you promise not to get assassinated before the sun sets," Rilo replied.

Yogan laughed, stood up, stretched, and gave them each a nod.

As he and Rilo gathered their things, Keru reached beneath the table and retrieved a small folded cloth, thick, canvas-draped, with a slight jingle of harness hooks inside.

"What's that?" Rilo asked, raising a brow.

Keru unfolded the cloth to reveal reins and a control stick.

"A rented carriage," he said proudly. "No way I'm letting the princess of Zhen Kingdom walk barefoot into the estate of a city lord."

Yogan nearly choked on his drink.

"You rented a carriage?"

"Well, yes," Keru said, confused. "I walked around the town a bit and asked around."

"You do realize we've spent the last four days watching her trip over twigs and nearly step in goat dung," Rilo said, chuckling.

"I thought she preferred the dirt," Yogan added.

Keru ignored them both and wrapped the reins back into the cloth. "Laugh all you want. Appearances matter."

"Sure," Rilo said. "Just don't let her see the sweat on your face when the Lord laughs her out of the estate."

They left the inn shortly after.

Yogan and Rilo turned toward the streets and piers respectively, while Keru led Mariko to the edge of the main road, where a sturdy earth carriage waited. It was built with lacquered wood, curved in elegant loops with bronze accents, and mounted on two wide wheels thick with clay padding. At the front was a yama-ox, a stout, horned beast with coarse shaggy fur and heavy shoulders, its tail flicking lazily as it chewed on dry grass. The creature snorted as Keru approached and snorted again when Mariko stepped inside the carriage.

Keru tied the reins with slow confidence and climbed onto the small front seat.

"You're not half bad at this," she said from inside.

"I grew up riding one of these," Keru answered. "Granted, the yama-ox back then liked me more."

The road uphill twisted between rows of older homes and outposts. By the time they reached the estate gate, the morning had begun to warm, and the first line of guards had already rotated into position. They were dressed in dull green uniforms with reinforced leather at the chest and thighs. The tallest of them had a short spear at his side and a broad scar running down his cheek.

Keru raised a hand as the carriage slowed.

"We come bearing summons," he called. "On behalf of the Zhen Kingdom. I bring with me Princess Mariko, daughter of the Earth King."

There was a sharp silence.

The guards stared.

Then chaos.

The one with the scar stiffened, cursed under his breath, and turned sharply to bark orders at the nearest man.

"You didn't tell me they'd panic," Mariko said, peeking through the carriage window.

"I expected formality," Keru muttered. "Not this."

Another soldier ran up from the side, tripped over a step, and barely caught himself before falling face-first into a crate of firewood.

"Formality," Mariko repeated flatly.

The scarred guard cleared his throat and approached more cautiously. "My deepest apologies. We were not informed of your arrival, your grace."

"Clearly," Mariko said.

"Please, please, allow us to escort you inside. The Lord will be informed immediately."

Keru climbed down as two younger soldiers arrived and offered their arms to help Mariko down from the carriage. She took them without a word and stepped onto the gravel with her usual grace, her eyes distant and unreadable.

The large gate creaked open, revealing a winding path leading up through a walled garden toward the estate's inner buildings. Decorative lanterns hung between the trees, and koi ponds lined the walkway, bubbling quietly beneath narrow stone bridges.

Keru followed at her side as their escort led them forward, toward the waiting judgment of the City Lord.

The inner gardens of the estate were hushed.

Though the city beyond its walls still rang with merchant calls and dockside haggling, this space remained serene, curated and silent. The stone paths were brushed clean. Low pines framed every walkway, and ornate lanterns swayed gently in the morning breeze.

Mariko walked with poise between two guards, her steps light, her gaze distant. Keru followed at her side, eyes alert, scanning every doorway and upper balcony as they passed. Servants stood still as statues at the edge of the courtyard. Their eyes followed the pair with quiet wonder, a princess had arrived, and word had spread like wind through paper walls.

At the steps to the main audience hall, a steward bowed deeply and opened the door.

Beyond it, the chamber was long, rectangular, and sunlit by high, curtained windows. Polished wood floors gleamed beneath their sandals. A low dais sat at the far end, upon which a wide throne-like chair stood carved from dark cedar.

Seated there, dressed in robes of burnt green and ochre, was Lord Jian Ye.

His face was weathered, lined from years beneath the southern sun, but not yet old. His posture was straight, his shoulders broad. His hands rested loosely on his knees, and his eyes were sharp as river stones.

As Mariko stepped inside, the entire room shifted.

Attendants bowed. Guards stiffened. And Lord Jian Ye leaned forward ever so slightly, surprise flickering across his features.

"Princess Mariko," he said. His voice was smooth, not unkind, but carried the tone of a man used to speaking in rooms where silence followed his words. "We were not told to expect you."

She bowed at the waist, holding the angle perfectly before rising again.

"My journey was meant to be discreet," she said. "I have been away from the court for some time. I only recently resumed my duties."

"I had heard… rumors," Jian Ye said carefully. "That the Princess of Zhen had vanished. Some said you were ill. Others that you had been taken. And some… less flattering ones, that you had simply walked away."

Mariko offered a calm smile. "You know how stories travel. I merely took a sabbatical. A time of reflection, beyond the palace walls."

Jian Ye's brow lifted, but he nodded. "And now you've returned, bearing messages from the King?"

Keru stepped forward with a shallow bow. "My lord. I am Lieutenant Commander Keru of the King's personal retinue. We bring documents prepared by the Royal Office to discuss the ongoing status of Shuihan's trade policies. A formal review and recommendations, signed under royal seal."

Jian Ye reached out as an attendant moved forward with the scrolls. He did not open them yet. Instead, his gaze returned to Mariko.

"I did not expect a diplomatic envoy," he said slowly. "Much less the King's own daughter."

"The King believes that personal engagement fosters lasting bonds," Mariko said smoothly. "He hopes Shuihan will feel honored by the gesture."

There was a pause.

Then Jian Ye smiled.

It was polite. Distant. Careful.

"Of course," he said. "Any presence from the capital is a sign of good will. And I trust you will find our city… resilient, if not polished."

"I've seen far worse in recent months," Mariko said.

Another flicker of curiosity passed across his face, but he said nothing further on it.

"I would offer you a tour of the grounds," he said. "But perhaps business should come first. You are here to speak of trade, after all."

He gestured lightly to the steward.

Servants entered from a side door, laying down a low table of lacquered wood and arranging tea sets, fruit, and simple pastries. Scrolls were brought forward. A scribe took their place to the side, brush at the ready.

Jian Ye gestured for them to be seated.

As Mariko and Keru sat across from the lord, the atmosphere shifted subtly.

Gone was the ceremonial grace.

In its place, the brittle tension of politics, sharp as drawn wire beneath silk.

"I have reviewed the requests from the capital," Jian Ye said, unrolling one of the scrolls. "And I find their expectations… optimistic."

He did not look up.

Keru folded his hands calmly.

Mariko's expression remained neutral.

Jian Ye's fingers curled around the edge of the parchment.

"We can begin," he said.

And the room cooled, as though the breeze outside had died.

Lord Jian Ye set the scroll down with a calm hand, fingers tapping once along the edge.

"Let me begin," he said, "by stating that I respect the kingdom's interest in Shuihan. We have always served the Crown loyally. We pay our taxes, maintain our own guard, and keep the waterways clean of smugglers when we can afford to do so."

Mariko folded her hands in her lap, posture perfect. "And we appreciate that, my lord. The port is vital to the region. The King wishes only to strengthen that alliance."

Jian Ye leaned slightly forward.

"By sending regulations from hundreds of miles away? Telling me how many crates I can ship per moon, how many merchants must register with royal inspectors, or how we should deal with pirates when the nearest reinforcements take weeks to arrive?"

Keru shifted in his seat, his voice measured. "The guidelines are not mandates. They are proposals built from trends across the entire southern coast. We are aware of Shuihan's unique position, and flexibility can be discussed."

"I see," Jian Ye said, his tone polite, his jaw set. "Then let me propose a question of my own. How much coin did the capital offer to assist in the rebuilding after the last pirate attack?"

Keru hesitated. "As of our departure, financial allocations were still under review."

"I thought as much," Jian Ye said, glancing back to the scroll. "Because I do not recall receiving a single silver piece. Not one extra soldier. No firebenders. No letters of support."

Mariko's lips tightened. "The Kingdom has many fronts to manage. And your report of the attack arrived later than expected."

"Because my messengers were murdered," Jian Ye snapped, finally meeting her gaze. "Torn apart by mercenaries who sail under no banner and take orders from no one. I buried twenty-eight citizens after that raid. Two of them were children."

The room fell quiet. Even the scribe stopped his writing.

"I am sorry for your losses," Mariko said, and for a moment, her voice was genuinely soft. "But this is why we've come. To find a better way to support Shuihan and ensure your people are not alone."

Jian Ye gave a tired smile.

"No offense, Princess, but arriving with folded scrolls and no soldiers does not feel like support. It feels like… performance."

Keru leaned in now, his voice firmer. "We do not wish to make promises we cannot fulfill. That is why the King sent someone he trusts, to open a dialogue rather than dictate policy."

"I am flattered," Jian Ye said. "Though I suspect His Majesty sent his daughter because he did not wish to come himself."

Mariko's eyes narrowed, but she held her tone steady.

"My father sent me because he believes there is still honor in face-to-face diplomacy. Something most lords would admire."

"I admire honesty," Jian Ye said, rising from his seat. "And what I see are good manners hiding bad news."

Keru stood as well. "You have every right to be cautious. But pushing the kingdom away won't protect this city."

"I'm not pushing the kingdom away," Jian Ye said. "The kingdom has already turned its back. You're not here to help. You're here to tie our hands and call it security."

Mariko stood, her jaw clenched now, voice rising ever so slightly. "You speak as though the throne is your enemy. Do not forget who built the roads that run to this port. Who paved the way for your trade to exist."

"And who taxes every shipment twice," Jian Ye said. "Who demands loyalty but sends none in return."

Keru stepped between them. "Please. We're here to build bridges, not set fire to them."

Jian Ye looked past him, straight at Mariko.

"You want me to bend to your rules. To let inspectors stroll through my docks and tell my people how to trade. But you've never fought beside us. You've never picked up the pieces after the last ship burns."

"I've seen blood," Mariko said, her voice now a whisper beneath the weight of restraint. "I've stood in ruins, my life on the line. Do not speak to me as if I live in a tower of silk and mirrors."

Jian Ye tilted his head, but there was no mockery in his eyes. Only disappointment.

"Then you know what it feels like to be abandoned."

Neither of them spoke.

After a long silence, he turned to one of the guards standing at the far end of the hall.

"Escort our guests to the gate."

"My lord," Keru said, his voice careful, "surely we can continue this discussion once cooler heads prevail."

"There's nothing left to discuss," Jian Ye said. "If the kingdom wants unity, it needs to remember what that word costs."

The guards moved forward.

Mariko turned without a word. Her footsteps echoed crisply as she strode down the length of the hall, her chin high.

Keru followed, but not before offering a final bow.

"My lord."

Jian Ye gave no response.

The great doors opened again, spilling morning light into the chamber, and as they closed behind them, the sound of parchment being rolled back up was the only thing that remained.

As the great doors of the estate closed behind them, Keru exhaled through his nose, sharp and silent, his jaw tight as he adjusted the collar of his robe. Mariko said nothing. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her eyes locked forward as she stepped down the stone path with clipped, controlled strides.

They passed the koi pond without looking. The fish scattered from their shadow.

"I should have said more," Keru muttered.

"You should have slapped him," Mariko growled.

They passed beneath a narrow arch where a pair of younger guards watched them approach with faint curiosity. But before either soldier could speak, a familiar voice rose from the other side of the courtyard.

"You're leaving already?" the voice asked.

Mariko and Keru both stopped mid-step.

Ahead of them stood three soldiers, the same group from the tavern. Their red and black light armor gleamed in the sun, but it was the short one, the one barely taller than Mariko, who stepped forward with a friendly grin and arms loosely crossed over his chest.

"Lieutenant Commander. Princess," he greeted smoothly. "We were told the talks might go long. Guess we were wrong."

Keru kept a straight face. "The Lord had… other priorities."

"The lord is a blowhard," Mariko said without hesitation.

One of the nearby servants flinched.

A gardener pulling weeds stopped what he was doing to stare.

Keru turned slightly, giving her a slow side glance. "Your Highness, please."

Mariko waved him off, face hot with frustration. "Sorry. But I'm not wrong."

The short soldier chuckled under his breath. "He has his moods. Been angrier than usual these past few months. Especially since the royal court started drafting new edicts. I hear he tossed three council proposals into the fireplace last week."

Keru lifted an eyebrow. "That would explain the reception."

Mariko looked at the man, really looked at him this time.

There was something familiar in the shape of his jaw, the tilt of his brow, the glint of gold-brown eyes.

"You're…" She paused. "Are you… Gan Ye?"

The man's grin widened.

"I am."

"You're… Gan Ye?" she repeated, baffled.

"I know. Not quite the round-faced boy who tripped over his own spear during drills, huh?"

"You lost… a lot of weight," Mariko said slowly. "And the height, I guess, never came."

"A few other things too," he said, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "Time does that to a man. Congratulations on your return to duties by the way. Word travels."

"Wow. Congratulations," she said, still staring at him in disbelief.

"Thank you," Gan Ye replied.

There was a brief pause.

He took a step closer, voice dropping slightly.

"I'll talk to him. He's stubborn, but he listens to me when I push. You should come back. Give it one more try."

Mariko glanced to Keru, who gave a slight nod.

Gan Ye extended his arm toward the estate entrance. "Come on. I'll escort you."

Mariko hesitated for only a heartbeat, then turned with him. Keru followed without a word.

The guards at the gate saluted as the group passed once more into the cool shadow of the hall.

And the doors closed behind them.

[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]