CH1062 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1062: Wildflame’s Information

Inside the city, the crowd thickened.

People glanced at them — at the tattoos, the bearing, the desert-worn clothes — but only briefly, and without hostility. Simple curiosity. Everyone was somewhere, moving with purpose, and whatever lay at the end of their errands was clearly more pressing than two Mojin strangers on the street.

“Father, this…” Rohan said, turning slowly as he walked.

Guelz gave a short nod. “Yes.”

He had visited many cities in the Northern Kingdom. The impression they had always left him was prosperity — the Northern Kingdom’s advantage in land and resources showed itself in that way, each city slightly more impressive than the last. He had expected the Great Chief’s capital to be more of the same: richer, grander, more elaborately appointed.

What stopped him was not the flat black-stone road underfoot, or the orderly rows of houses. It was the people.

Every city had its underside — the stray wanderers, the beggars, the Rats who gathered in alleys and doorways like sediment. They were part of a city’s texture, as permanent and unremarkable as the walls.

In Neverwinter, they were absent.

More striking still were the faces. The people here carried themselves with something Guelz had only ever seen among newly elevated warriors, and only on their best days. This wasn’t the careful dignity of people performing confidence — it came from somewhere inside, as reliable as breath.

He had long held a quiet contempt for Northern Kingdom people: too comfortable, too soft, their courage eroded by abundance. The Sand Nation, shaped by a harder environment, had the better spirit.

He was less certain of that now.

This kind of pride couldn’t be faked. A city of citizens like these would be dangerous to make an enemy of, even without firearms.

“Father.” Rohan pulled his attention back. “Do we look for Lorgar first, or go to the castle to deliver the document?”

“Don’t be hasty.” Guelz looked at him. “If the Great Chief puts us in the Castle District, how do we verify his promise? We stay a few days and learn what we can about this city first.”

“But—”

“I’ve decided.” He paused. “Hmm? What are those people doing?”

A crowd had gathered in a square nearby, buzzing with noise.

Rohan followed his gaze. “Merchants selling discounted goods?”

“Go find out,” Guelz told him.

“Yes, Father.”

Rohan pulled up his hood and used his height to push through. Guelz watched him go.

In terms of build, Rohan should have been the Wildflame clan’s finest warrior. But combat had never called to him. It was Lorgar — slight and barely standing when she was born — who had become the pride of the clan, the obvious successor in every warrior’s eyes. Which left Rohan with nowhere to stand inside his own family. Brother and sister shared a bloodline and almost nothing else. Two concentric circles that never overlapped.

Guelz felt the familiar disappointment settle in him.

Even when Lorgar received every honor, Rohan had never once protested. That passivity troubled him more than any failure in the ring would have. The Mojins respected strength, but an unyielding will counted for something too — more than surrender without a fight.

That was why he had brought Rohan along.

The world outside Iron Sand City might do what years of his own instruction hadn’t.

Fifteen minutes later, Rohan shouldered back out of the crowd, his expression strange.

“Father. They’re registering for a sports meeting.”

“Sports meeting?” Guelz turned the words over. “What is it?”

“A race. The Great Chief organized it to find the fastest person in the kingdom. First place gets a hundred gold royals. That’s why there’s such a crowd.”

Guelz laughed. “Ha — a holy duel without the blood. Looks like the Great Chief learned something from the Sand Nation. What are the entry requirements? If it’s about who’s fastest, we have as much right to enter as anyone.”

Rohan blinked. “Us? Father, you want to compete?”

“Of course. I was once among those elite warriors who could walk half the desert without breaking stride, leaving camels behind me. When it comes to leg stamina, I never lost to anyone.” He stroked his beard. “What, do you think I’ve gone old? Take me to register. Quickly.”

Rohan looked at him, clearly calculating how many ways this could go wrong, and then gave up. “There are too many people. I’ll go alone and queue for both of us.”

“Fine.”

“Father—” Rohan hesitated.

“Huh?” Guelz narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

“I…” He dropped his voice. “I saw Third Sister.”

“In the crowd?”

Rohan shook his head slowly. “On a picture. She was wearing clothes that don’t cover her completely. People were gathered around it, pointing.”

What.

Guelz’s expression hardened instantly. He had written to Lorgar and received quick replies; he had assumed the Great Chief was treating her well. If she was being mocked, displayed like something shameful, then all the green mountains and rivers the Wildflame clan had gained were worth nothing.

He was already moving.

The painting Rohan had described was hung on the square’s outer wall — large, unmissable. Guelz stopped when he saw it.

Was that Lorgar?

He had never seen his daughter like this. She stood in the center of a winter scene, white yarn and brocade rippling in the wind — a palace ceremony dress he had never seen her wear, because in Iron Sand City she always dressed for battle: short clothes, wrapping at the chest and arms, perpetually marked with dirt or blood. When she didn’t have to fight, she covered herself deliberately, hiding her inhuman features under fabric.

This was what Rohan had meant.

Her ears were fully exposed, tall and full. Her tail swept out behind her. She wore a crystal red earring in one long ear, its color vivid enough to pull the eye straight to it. She looked as if she had chosen every detail herself. As if she wanted to be seen.

The crowd around her wasn’t sneering.

They were admiring.

Through the chatter, Guelz caught a new word: magic movie.

So that was it.

In the Kingdom of Graycastle, everyone is the same. Was this the Great Chief’s way of making it real?

He turned and delivered a slap to the back of Rohan’s head. “Don’t look so shocked. Your sister isn’t a monster. She just showed her half-wolf form.”

“I didn’t say she was—” Rohan winced, rubbing his head.

“Go register us for the holy duel. Sports meeting.” Guelz corrected himself. “Then find out where to buy tickets for the magic movie. Cost doesn’t matter. Understood?”

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