Boundaries

The silence hummed again. Outside the private room, the faint clatter of utensils and muffled laughter of guests reminded them of the world still turning. But inside, it felt like time had paused between two sharp edges.

Yasha leaned back, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she shifted the petal between her teeth.

"Before we go further," she said, tone cool but firm, "I should offer a gentle warning."

Kazel raised a brow, but said nothing.

"You've made quite the entrance into the Land of the Wolf. Killed three from the Punctured, threw a head at the feet of the Second Moon's young master, walked into Duskwind like you owned it." She gestured around the elegant chamber. "All without a single escort. Bold."

"I don't recall needing one," Kazel smirked.

Yasha matched his expression. "And I'm not saying you do. In fact, I admire it."

She leaned forward now, elbows resting on her knees, voice dipping lower—not threatening, but not soft either.

"You're free to do as you please here, Kazel. Kill who you want. Tear down whatever you can reach." Her gaze sharpened. "But don't step in the way of the Five Ladies Sect."

Durandal stiffened.

Kazel's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

Yasha continued, "Be it trade routes, alliances, or important clientele—we built our web with care. You touch one thread, and you won't just meet resistance. You'll make enemies that don't show their fangs… until they're already in your throat."

She smiled again, lazy and unbothered. "So do what you must. But know where our hands are."

Kazel studied her. "I'm not here to pick a fight with your sect."

"That's good," Yasha replied, tapping her knee lightly. "Because if you were, I'd have already left this room."

Kazel chuckled under his breath. "You're not as lazy as you act, petal-chewer."

"And you're not as reckless as the world believes, Sect Slayer."

Their eyes locked a moment longer.

Durandal finally exhaled.

Yasha stood, brushing invisible dust from her leggings as the petal in her mouth turned lazily between her lips. "You may stay here, Kazel, for as long as you have Spirit Stones. But once they run dry…" she tilted her head slightly, "the Duskwind Inn will no longer host you."

Kazel leaned back against the cushion, arms spread along the low rest behind him. "Is it safe to assume that while I'm under this roof… no other powers would dare harm me?"

Yasha's lips twitched. "It's safe to assume they'll think more than twice before trying." Her tone sharpened like a needle beneath silk. "They never underestimate my sect."

Kazel's gaze lingered. "Can I pry further… into the Five Ladies?"

She didn't sit back down. "What do you want to know?"

"How far does your 'hand' reach?" he asked, eyes narrow.

Durandal blinked. (Why is he asking how long her arm is?)

Yasha smirked, her fingers brushing the thick leather belts at her waist. "Far enough."

"And the other four?"

Yasha turned to the door. "That's for you to find out."

She paused in the doorway, head tilted just enough to show part of her smile. "But tread carefully, Sect Slayer. Curiosity, while sharp… tends to cut deepest when it turns back on the one holding it."

Then she left, her steps light, deliberate, petal still dancing between her teeth.

Kazel exhaled softly, lips curling. "Sharp, that one."

Durandal slouched in his seat. "I still don't get the arm thing."

"Durandal, I have a task for you. An important one," said Kazel, motioning for him to sit.

Durandal obeyed without hesitation, taking his seat across from Kazel. His palms pressed to his knees, posture straight, eyes fixed with quiet alertness.

"I need you to go to the Immortal Sect," Kazel said calmly. "In the Land of the Lamb."

"I—Immortal Sect?" Durandal blinked. "That's your—?"

"My home," Kazel nodded. Then smirked. "And I need them to... have a little vacation. Indefinitely."

"W-What?" Durandal blinked rapidly.

"They'll go to the Ironhide Sect," Kazel continued smoothly. "That sect owes me a favor. They won't turn my people away."

"W-Wait—who exactly?" Durandal's confusion deepened.

"That's your first task—find out," Kazel replied as he reached for the pen and paper laid neatly on the low table between them. "I'll write something. My mother should recognize the handwriting."

Durandal leaned in as Kazel scribbled swiftly.

"If she still hesitates," Kazel said while writing, "tell her this: 'the day I came home bloodied from my sect slaying—when blood poured from my eyes and ears—she was the one who wiped it off my face.' She'll remember."

Durandal fell silent, the weight of that image rooting him in place. (What kind of pain did he endure that day…?)

"You don't need to convince my father," Kazel added, folding the paper. "Just my mother. She'll move mountains once her heart is stirred."

He handed Durandal the folded message. "This is the last thing I took from a stray bandit who tried charging me tariff on the road here. If it's not enough... be resourceful."

Durandal's hands closed around the letter. "Yes, young master."

"Is the task too daunting?" Kazel asked, his voice relaxed but edged.

Durandal shook his head. "No, young master. I'll handle it."

"Good." Kazel reclined, one leg crossed over the other, arms resting over the couch's ledge. "Once that's done, stay with them at Ironhide for a while. I'll come visit eventually. When I do, you'll receive your next task."

Durandal nodded again.

"Oh—and while you're there, train," Kazel said with a glance. "Ask for someone named Batu. Tell him I personally asked him to help you."

Durandal's eyes widened. He was connecting the dots now. (This... this is about retaliation. The Second Moon Sect? The Punctured? He's expecting a blowback.)

"I know how the powerful think," Kazel said flatly. "This move... fits like a glove."

A pause.

"Soon, my home will become a target."

Durandal clenched his fists. "But... young master—don't you want to protect your home?"

Kazel looked at him, then raised a finger, pointing directly at Durandal's chest.

"The home is not the building."

Durandal's lips quivered slightly, then drew tight in resolve. Those words struck him to the bone.

He bowed his head deeply. "I understand, young master."

Durandal stood just outside the private room, the folded letter tucked carefully into his inner sleeve. The hallway of the Duskwind Inn was quiet, lit only by the muted glow of soul lamps.

Kazel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, gaze distant.

"You're not the boy I picked up from that dark alley anymore," Kazel said quietly.

Durandal lowered his head. "That boy died the day he met you, young master."

Kazel smirked. "Good. Make sure no one brings him back."

Durandal clenched a fist over his chest. "I'll bring them to safety. I'll train. And I'll wait for your call."

Kazel nodded, then tilted his head slightly. "You've been given freedom. That doesn't mean you can act like a fool."

Durandal allowed himself a rare smile. "I won't."

"Then go."

Durandal bowed once, deeply. "Until we meet again, young master."

With that, he turned and walked down the corridor, his steps steady, purpose forged into every stride. Kazel watched him go, eyes narrowed just slightly—not out of doubt, but focus.

Kazel approached the counter where Madam Yi was leafing through a ledger, her half-moon spectacles perched low on her nose.

"Madam Yi," he said with a casual tone, "is there any job that could keep my Spirit Stones afloat?"

Madam Yi sighed without looking up. "I never thought you'd be so brazen."

"I'm broke again," Kazel admitted with a smirk. "Figured there might be an expedition or something."

Before she could reply, a new voice cut through the air.

"There you are, Kazel."

Both of them turned. Saya stood in the doorway, her brows slightly furrowed, breath uneven like she had been searching.

"Hm?" Kazel tilted his head.

"I've been looking for you," she said, stepping closer. "Never thought I'd find you loitering here."

Kazel turned fully toward her, casually leaning back against the reception desk. "Saya."

"Do you have time now?"

"Now? I suppose."

"Good. We're going to my sect."

Before he could respond, Saya closed the distance and grabbed his wrist, tugging him with her. The speed of her steps left no room for negotiation.

"Wait, what's this about—?"

"No time," she said over her shoulder.

As the two disappeared down the hall, Madam Yi watched with an exasperated shake of her head. She returned to her paperwork with a dry chuckle.

"That girl... This little brat. Is he lucky or unlucky to know such people?"