Super.Dawg
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Chapter 93.5
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 10:12:01 +0000 UTCIt was dawn when the work was mostly done, the last of the smoke rising from smoldering hearths and the scent of damp earth still clinging to the air. The chief’s house, normally quiet at this hour, pulsed with murmurs and shuffling boots. Inside, less than two dozen adults had gathered, their faces weathered by years of labor.
The chief cleared his throat, his presence enough to still the voices. “As we’ve all agreed,” he said, voice firm, “Lily, Shar, and Aldo will take employment in the capital. The orphanage institution will be managed by Duke Stark… and by Kana herself.”
At the mention of her name, a ripple passed through the room. Some nodded with pride, others with faint unease. A girl from their village, barely grown, now tied to dukes and nobles—it was a thought that carried both honor and worry.
“So…” the chief continued, a rare twinkle softening his eyes. “We’ll have a little celebration before sending them off.”
With a practiced gesture, he pulled the woolen blanket from the center of the table, revealing three squat barrels and a set of clay mugs. The aroma filled the room immediately, rich and bitter, unmistakable.
“Ale,” someone whispered, then the room erupted.
Hands clapped, cheers filled the air, and men and women crowded around the table, laughter bubbling up louder than the crackle of the hearthfire. It wasn’t just any ale—this was the chief’s most prized brew, something he’d guarded for years like treasure.
It was rare for the village to celebrate with such abandon. The promise of steady contracts with the orphanage in the capital—security unlike any they’d known—meant more coin and less hunger. Yet it also meant letting go. Lily, their best teacher; Shar, whose laughter kept the hearths alive; Aldo, whose bow had defended them for years. The village would feel emptier without them.
Still, as mugs clinked and voices rose in song, no one spoke of the ache. Not tonight. Tonight was for joy, for pride, for sending them off with more warmth than sorrow.
The night stretched long, filled with dancing, half-remembered songs, and the thud of mugs on wood. By midnight, the house was thick with snores. Adults slumped against the walls, sprawled across benches, or collapsed beside the hearth, cheeks flushed red from drink. Even the chief himself lay snoring at the head of the table, his hand still loosely gripping an empty mug.
It was their last night of celebration, their last moment before the road to the capital began. Upcoming days would bring change.
…..
Adam, Roy, and Toby had been keeping a quiet watch on the trio ever since that night—the night they’d stumbled upon the fake Boris in his boarding room.
Leo had once been part of their little investigative squad, but he’d left not long after, muttering that it wasn’t worth it. Adam suspected Leo just didn’t like being wrong. Still, the mystery of Boris was too juicy to let go.
They’d tested it a few times. Splashing water on Boris while he slept had seemed clever—until the real Boris woke, smacked their heads together, and sentenced them to meat tax. For three days, their lunch trays had been one slab lighter, while Boris grinned over his extra helpings.
Another time, Adam had boldly leapt onto Boris’s back in the hallway, expecting him to vanish or shimmer like an illusion. Instead, he’d landed on solid muscle and was promptly tossed to the floor. Definitely the real Boris.
So, was someone copying him? A [Spearman] skill? Some strange doppelganger? No one knew. And Boris certainly wasn’t explaining. They’d asked him—repeatedly. Each time he’d waved it off, changing the topic in ways so clumsy that it was so obvious. Which meant one thing: Boris knew.
Adam was now certain, after witnessing Kana, Suri, and Boris in actual combat against the kidnappers. There hadn’t been an ounce of panic in them. Kana’s eyes had been sharp and unshaken, Suri’s illusions flowed with precision—no, it was better than they’d witnessed before, and Boris fought like a seasoned soldier.
It was the same composure Adam felt in himself. The kind that came only from real battles, not practice drills.
“The three of them must have a secret,” Adam muttered, scratching the back of his head as he leaned against one of the marble pillars overlooking the courtyard. Beyond them, the buffet tables stretched out, laden with roasted meats, and steaming breads. Students wandered between the tables, laughing and gossiping.
But Adam’s eyes weren’t on the feast. They were on the three villagers sitting at one corner, plates in hand.
“I agree,” Toby said, arms crossed. “They all came from the same village. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Then we keep watching,” Roy whispered. “Share anything strange. Outside the norm.” He shifted uneasily, tugging at his collar as if the polished nobility nearby might hear his scheming.
Just then, Kana paused mid-bite. Her ear twitched, almost imperceptibly. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, scanning the crowd—until her red eyes landed squarely on them.
Roy froze. The air seemed to leave his lungs. “She… she didn’t hear us, right?” His voice was a squeak, barely audible.
“She’s too far,” Adam said quickly, though he didn’t sound convinced. His voice trembled against the sound of clinking goblets and murmured conversation.
Kana didn’t look away. Then, she smiled.
Roy nearly dropped his goblet, fumbling to keep it from spilling juice all over his shirt. He slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling a panicked yelp.
Toby hissed, “Calm down. Just act normal.”
“Normal?! She’s staring straight at us!” Roy whispered frantically, eyes darting like a trapped rabbit.
Adam sighed, leaning heavier against the pillar. Kana had already turned back to Suri, as if nothing had happened. Yet Adam couldn’t shake the weight of that smile—too calm.
“She knows,” Adam muttered. “She definitely knows. Should we.. lay low for now?”
Post note:
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kreiverin
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