Chapter 17 – Blood and Honey

The streets of the lower district were quiet. The distant hum of the city had dulled to an eerie silence, save for the clinking of metal as the knight fastened the last of the bindings around Lorin's wrists. The magic-infused restraints pulsed faintly, suppressing any chance of struggle.

A beast stood beside them, its dark, sinewy form illuminated by torchlight. It was a Nighthoof, a war-trained mount with glowing violet eyes and thick, plated scales running down its neck. The creature snorted, its breath misting in the cold air, and stomped impatiently as the knight hauled Lorin onto its back like a sack of grain.

Lorin groaned. "You could've just asked, you know."

The knight didn't respond immediately. Instead, he adjusted his gauntlets and climbed into the saddle. With a flick of his reins, the Nighthoof began to move.

Only then did the knight speak.

"You haven't changed at all."

The words froze Lorin more than the cold wind. His head snapped toward the man.

"…Who the hell are you?"

The knight exhaled through his nose, then reached up with one hand, gripping the edge of his helmet. The metal hissed as it slid free, revealing a weathered face beneath.

His hair, once jet black, was now streaked with gray, and a thick scar ran down his right cheek, a reminder of battles fought long before this night. His sharp, calculating eyes locked onto Lorin's, and for the first time since their fight, the smirk vanished from the young man's face.

"…Master?" Lorin's voice was barely above a whisper.

The knight gave a small nod. "It's me, young blood."

A name escaped Lorin's lips, one he hadn't spoken in years.

"…Dante."

The Nighthoof rode steadily through the sleeping city, its hooves silent on the cobbled streets. The silence stretched between them, heavy with things unsaid.

Lorin scoffed. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Dante didn't look at him. "Didn't think I'd have to come collect you like some runaway street rat."

Lorin's jaw clenched. "Yeah? Well, you lost the right to tell me what to do years ago."

Dante sighed, rubbing his temple. "Gods, you're still as stubborn as ever."

A bitter laugh escaped Lorin. "Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't take well to being abandoned."

The knight was quiet for a moment before finally saying, "I never abandoned you."

Lorin turned his head sharply. "No? What would you call it, then?"

Dante kept his gaze forward. "I call it following orders."

They rode in silence until they reached the outskirts of the noble district. The towering iron gates of the Frex Estate loomed ahead, its golden sigil gleaming in the moonlight.

Lorin frowned. "…Why now?"

Dante inhaled deeply, as if preparing himself. "Because your father is dying."

Lorin blinked. His heart stuttered in his chest.

"…What?"

Dante kept his voice level. "Lord Eldrid Frex. He's on his deathbed. Honeyblood. It's in its final stages."

Lorin let out a sharp exhale. "So what? He ignored me for most of my life, and now, suddenly, he wants a happy little family reunion?"

Dante gave him a hard look. "He's calling for all of his children. Even you."

Lorin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Right. Because now that he's dying, he suddenly remembers I exist?" He shook his head. "He's just looking for forgiveness before he croaks."

Dante didn't argue. He just held the reins tighter. "Maybe."

Lorin stared ahead at the estate, his chest tight with emotions he wasn't ready to deal with. He had spent years carving out a life where the name Frex meant nothing to him.

And now, the past had come knocking.

Dante glanced at him. "…Are you going to see him?"

Lorin swallowed hard.

For the first time in years, he didn't have a quick answer.

Back at the Broken Fang Inn, the tension from the fight still lingered in the air, but the bar had slowly returned to its usual state. A few patrons muttered about the earlier scuffle, but most had already moved on, their focus shifting back to their drinks and half-hearted dice games.

At a table near the back, Druth sat with a grimace as Ghaz worked on his injured arm.

"Hold still," Ghaz muttered, fingers pressing firmly against the orc's swollen elbow.

Druth gritted his teeth. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one getting your arm shoved back into place."

Ghaz exhaled, adjusting his grip. "Alright. On three."

Druth tensed.

"One—"

CRACK.

The joint snapped back into place.

Druth let out a choked roar, his good hand slamming the table hard enough to rattle the tankards.

Ghaz gave him a satisfied nod. "See? Didn't even need three."

Druth glared at him, flexing his fingers with a wince. "Next time, I'm breaking your arm and seeing how you like it."

Ghaz smirked. "I'd just heal it faster than you could complain."

Druth grumbled under his breath, rolling his shoulder. The pain was still there, but the movement was back. Good enough.

Across from them, Varnock, the grizzled old innkeeper, wiped down a mug with slow, deliberate strokes. He'd been watching the fight from behind the counter, but now that the dust had settled, he made his way over.

"So," Ghaz said, leaning forward. "What do you know about that knight?"

Varnock let out a low hum. "Not much, but I recognize the armor. That was a Black Command knight from Brethus City."

Druth frowned. "Black Command?"

Varnock nodded. "They're not just any city guards. They're the personal enforcers of the Brethus noble houses. When they show up, it usually means someone important is either dying… or planning something." He gave them a knowing look. "Since he was called your drunkard friend 'young master', I'm guessing it's the latter."

Ghaz tapped his fingers against the table. Lorin hadn't just been some aimless troublemaker—he was someone's problem. Someone important.

Druth sighed. "So what now? We're still moving forward with the Iron Bone deal, right?"

Ghaz nodded. "Yeah. We iron out the details. If Gorrak wants us, he funds the clinic. No shady side jobs, no pointless grunt work."

Druth smirked. "And if he says no?"

Ghaz exhaled. "Then we figure something else out."

The two sat back, finally letting the night's exhaustion settle into their bones.

For the first time since the fight, the tension eased.