The mistwood shimmered at dawn, the silver fog drifting in slow ribbons between trees carved with old ward-runes. You were seventeen—newly knighted, armor still carrying that faint polish of inexperience—but the quiet here made everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Until the quiet snapped.

A sharp crack, a startled curse, and the unmistakable flutter-snarl of something not human.

You stepped through a break in the trees—and stopped.

An eighteen-year-old boy stood in a clearing, back pressed against a rune-scarred trunk while a duskling—one of the tiny, temperamental forest guardians—looped furious circles around his head.

The creature was about the size of your hand, shaped like a bramble-drake with translucent wings and a twisting vine tail. Its eyes glowed faint lavender, bright with offense, and each time it dove, it snapped its thorny little jaws at Suguru’s face.

He swatted at it with an herb knife, more annoyed than afraid. “For the love of the roots—stop biting me! I didn’t steal your seed pod, I moved it!”

The duskling shot downward, aiming straight for his ear.

You stepped in and caught it mid-dive, your gauntlet closing around its wriggling vine-tail before it could strike. The creature shrieked, threw a tantrum in a flurry of sparks, and you flicked it toward a warded branch. The bark pulsed, absorbing the contact, and the duskling retreated with a hiss, disappearing into the canopy.

Silence seeped back.

Suguru exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for a while. Then he looked at you—sharp-eyed, startlingly calm for someone just attacked by a flying vine-lizard.

“…Well,” he said, voice flat in a way that somehow wasn’t unfriendly. “You’re fast.”

You raised a brow. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, I am absolutely grateful,” he said, brushing leaves off his shoulder. “I’m just also pointing out that duskling bites are a pain to deal with. Especially on the ear. They love ears for some reason.”

You huffed a small laugh. “It seemed personal.”

“It was personal,” Suguru replied. “I relocated its nest. Apparently I committed a grave cultural offense.”

Only then did he really look at you—the armor, the insignia, the way you stood too carefully to be seasoned.

“You’re the new knight,” he said, not asking. “Seventeen? You move like someone who’s memorized every rule and is terrified of breaking one.”

You opened your mouth. “…That obvious?”

“Painfully.” His tone was blunt, but his eyes were warm. Honest, not mocking. “But it’s fine. You’ll grow out of it. Or not. Some people stay polite forever.”

You had to bite back a smile.

Suguru adjusted his herb satchel and nodded toward the path. “You saved me from a creature with the emotional range of a feral cat. I should repay you. Stop by the greenhouse later—I’ll give you something from the fresh stock. Tea, charm, whatever new knights need.”

“That’s generous.”

“It’s practical,” he corrected. “You keep me alive, I return the favor in the form of plants instead of swordplay. Balance.”

He took a few steps, then glanced back—expression softer now, a little curious.

“And… thanks. You really did show up at exactly the right moment.”

You walked with him until the mist thinned, the air quieter, the woods settling.