Chapter 521: Refuge for the Dethroned, Glory for the Named (3)
Beside the forge three barefoot children balanced on a toppled barrel, each trying to outscream the other as they belted a tavern ditty newly minted by some clever busker:
"The lightning man came with a storm in his fist,
He kissed the Queen’s ghost and vanished in mist!"
Their voices cracked on the high note; the smallest boy flung his arms wide in an exaggerated swoop, nearly pitching into the quench bucket. His friends yanked him back, laughing. Ash gleamed on their cheeks like war paint. Lyan winced—part amusement, part sting of recognition.
Lilith will love that verse, he thought, and sure enough her velvet chortle fluttered inside his skull.
(I might commission sheet music,) she purred.
(Absolutely not,) Arturia huffed, flustered.
(Do the lyrics specify which kiss? Asking for accuracy,) Cynthia teased, halo bright with mischief.
Lyan turned away before the children noticed the flush climbing his neck. Half a block on, a priest in simple flax robes addressed a cluster of laborers resting on overturned crates. The priest held a rough-forged dagger—edge dulled—displaying it to the group like a lesson prop.
"Steel remembers the fire," he intoned, voice carrying. "But if it does not break, it becomes a blade. So must we." He bent, planted the dagger upright in the soil at his feet, and let it stand wobbling in the morning breeze. Several heads nodded—black-haired dockhands, a mother with an infant slung across her back, an elderly potter with clay still under her nails. They might not quote the sermon tomorrow, but Lyan knew the image would linger: a blade, point down, roots seeking earth.
He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and slipped down a side alley where damp moss mottled the walls and dripping gutters sang a hollow percussion. A crooked wooden sign creaked above a door barely wide enough for one man—Mara’s Remedies painted in flaking indigo letters. The smell of dried lavender greeted him before the bell above the lintel finished its tired jingle.