Chapter 48: A Pure Heart

  The night in the far north came abruptly, the sky quickly turning to a deep ink, though it wasn't very late. Vivian gently poked the bonfire, and sparks suddenly burst forth, dyeing her lowered lashes with a momentary warm gold.

  She turned her head, her gaze quietly falling on Ronen—he was meticulously wiping his short sword, "Silver Radiance," in the flickering firelight, his fingertips tracing the edge of the blade with focused care.

  "Little Ronen."

  Her voice was not loud, but in the silence, it was exceptionally clear and soft.

  Ronen looked up. The firelight leaped into his eyes, bright and searing.

  Vivian smiled at him, then gestured outside the camp with her thumb. "Want to take a walk with me?"

  Ronen was just passing the time anyway, so he nodded, sheathed his sword, and stood up.

  They walked side by side into the night. The frozen earth crunched under their feet, like whispers, or heartbeats.

  The village path wound on, the silhouette of the frost-covered forest silently crawling under the dark blue sky, and beyond, it was all darkness.

  Vivian fell half a step behind, her gaze sweeping over his straight but still youthfully slender back.

  She suddenly spoke, her voice filtered by the night wind, soft and slow.

  "How are your injuries?" Vivian asked with some concern.

  "Injuries?"

  Ronen was taken aback. The day had been too long, filled with strange events. It was only now, at her mention, that he suddenly realized—the pain from the backlash of the ward this afternoon was completely gone. Even the twinge in his abdomen that used to act up whenever he saw Vivian had disappeared.

  "I'm fine!" he answered in a low voice.

  "A lot has happened today," she said, moving closer, her shoulder almost touching his arm.

  "This village is just too strange." Ronen stopped and reached out into the darkness, his five fingers spreading out in the dim light. "I've seen too many phantoms... Sister Vivian, I'm starting to doubt my own eyes."

  "You have quite large hands for your age. I can tell you train hard. You even have calluses," Vivian said, also extending her hand, her little finger touching Ronen's.

  "So, what exactly did you see in the hidden passage?" She turned to face him, the aurora flowing over her upturned face, her eyes like stars immersed in a cold pool. "You rushed out like a madman. You scared me so much I didn't even have time to stop you."

  "I saw a girl," Ronen recalled, the illusion like a dream, becoming ethereal and hard to grasp once it vanished. "She was trapped in deep ice, calling out, shouting for me to save her."

  "Do you know her?"

  "No," he shook his head, but subconsciously pressed his hand to his chest, where something seemed to be squeezing his heart, hot and tight. "But I want to save her, and I have to save her!!"

  Vivian took another half step closer.

  "So you don't know her... The way you were acting... it was like you were going to save your beloved."

  Ronen smiled. The smile spread from the corners of his lips, a boyish shyness mixed with a fervent, almost stubborn heat she had never seen before.

  "I don't have a beloved. I grew up in a mercenary group. The people I cherish are a few brothers I grew up with, my parents, and Uncle Wolf."

  "Then why—"

  "I don't know," he interrupted her, suddenly clenching his fist as if to grasp some intangible truth. "Maybe the illusion affected my mind. Maybe it's the same for Mark? I don't think it's right to let him continue his research in that hidden passage, but none of you stopped him."

  Vivian pulled her hand back and clasped it behind her.

  "Well, at least so far, he hasn't done anything too out of line... uh... except for blowing up a house."

  Vivian put a hand to her forehead and smiled awkwardly.

  "Okay, maybe that was a bit much, but it's still within a controllable range. And we do need to find a way into that secret room."

  Ronen didn't continue on that topic.

  "The illusion was too real... Through the ice, I couldn't see her clearly, but I could feel what she looked like. Very beautiful." He paused, each word seeming to be ground out from the depths of his soul. "I want to save her. And then... become a hero."

  "A hero?" Vivian was suddenly stunned, then burst out laughing, a faint sadness mixed in her laughter. "Saving one person makes you a hero?"

  "It's more than that." Ronen suddenly turned to her, his eyes ignited by both the aurora and ambition. "What I saw in the illusion... that was just the beginning. After that, I'll take on countless commissions, make a name for myself, bards will sing my stories in every tavern, and everyone will remember the name Ronen—"

  He spoke faster and faster, as if reciting a prophecy already engraved in his soul. The night wind lifted the hair on his forehead, and his usually clear and loyal eyes now churned with an unfamiliar, almost fanatical longing.

  "Well, I didn't know you had such... dreams?" Vivian chose her words carefully, her eyes reflecting the young man's face. "But in your story—what happened to the girl later?"

  Ronen's voice stopped abruptly.

  "...Later, I don't remember."

  "Hah." She shook her head gently, her hair brushing against her ear, which was slightly red from the cold night wind. "What a poor girl. Trapped in an ice cave at first, and after being saved, the meaning of her life is just to be the first footnote in someone else's legendary story."

  Vivian took a few steps forward, her hands behind her back. "So do you want to save people, or do you just want to be a hero?"

  "Is there a conflict?" Ronen frowned slightly.

  "Maybe, maybe not? Who knows," Vivian walked a few steps forward, then suddenly turned back. "I just think that saving people with the intention of becoming a hero... isn't that a bit impure? Everything such a person does is ultimately for themselves. Does he really deserve to be called a hero?"

  She suddenly leaned closer, her warm breath almost touching his chin.

  "What you want, is it to become famous and a legend—or simply, just to save her?"

  Ronen was stunned.

  Vivian looked at the confusion churning in his eyes, her tone softening slightly. "Let me put it another way. Suppose you give everything to save her, and then... there's no 'and then'. No subsequent commissions, no sung epics, the world goes on as usual, and no one knows your name. And that girl will not leave any trace in your life's path."

  She looked deep into his eyes, word by word.

  "Even so, would you still save her?"

  Ronen was silent. Wolf's words echoed in his ears: being a mercenary is a life on the edge, no profit, no action. Saving people can be a mission, but never an obligation. As long as the price is right, killing is just another line in a contract.

  The fire crackled in the distance, and the night wind blew. Time seemed to freeze, or to stretch on for a very, very long time.

  After a long while, he looked up, his gaze clear and firm.

  "I... still want to save her."

  The young, aspiring mercenary had given his answer.

  Vivian paused for a moment, then a smile spread across her lips—a genuine, warm smile.

  "Isn't that pure enough?" she said softly, patting his shoulder, the gesture as natural as if she had done it a thousand times. "That's enough."

  Her eyes shone in the night.

  "Then go be a hero."

  They continued walking, and before they knew it, they were back at the camp. The dogs were curled up together, furry gray and white balls, huddling for warmth in the rising night wind.

  Vivian stopped, her hand resting naturally on Ronen's shoulder.

  "So, little brother," she turned her head, her eyes reflecting the last embers of the campfire, her voice holding a hint of adventurous persuasion, "are you interested in going with me to see that 'legendary blizzard'?"

  Ronen didn't hesitate for a second.

  "Sure."

  The carriage had been expanded into a tent by Zoe, and now the camp vehicle was just a bare frame and a driver's seat, like a chariot, looking lonely and sharp on the snowy plains.

  Vivian took the reins, and Ronen sat down beside her, their elbows touching.

  The dogs barked softly, then started to move. The wheels rolled over the frozen earth, slowly leaving the sleeping silhouette of Dragonwood Village behind, heading south.

  Ronen looked up.

  It was snowing!

  At first, it was just a few scattered snowflakes, like someone tentatively sprinkling salt from the sky. Gradually, the snow became denser, the flakes spinning and weaving together, like countless freed feathers, layer upon layer, enveloping the world in a hazy, soft white veil.

  "I heard this is your first official mercenary mission?" Vivian's voice came through the thickening snow, a natural, casual chat.

  "It's more like an adulthood test," Ronen said, his hands behind his head, leaning back, his gaze following the falling snow. "If I pass, I can be stationed in Glory City as the liaison between the warband and the Mercenary Association."

  "That doesn't sound like a very impressive position?" Vivian's tone was light, her eyes still on the road, which was becoming faint in the snowy mist. "What, if you fail the mission, you won't be a mercenary anymore?"

  "Not really," Ronen smiled. "The Empire isn't very strict about the 'mercenary' status—basically, anyone can be one. Like this public recruitment, you all took the mission, so you're considered mercenaries too."

  He paused, his voice clear in the wind and snow.

  "This assessment is an internal test for our warband."

  "So... if you don't pass, your warband will kick you out?"

  "It's not as serious as 'kicking out'," Ronen adjusted his posture, looking at the increasingly dense snow curtain ahead. "The White Tiger's Fang is a registered warband with a seat in the Mercenary Association. The association gives us regular subsidies and quotas, like priority access to certain high-value missions, permits to enter specific areas... But in exchange, the warband has to take on some of the association's 'trash missions'."