3rd person pov : Yoshiya
The morning air over Korvath carried the faint scent of ash, tempered by the freshness of newly cut timber and churned earth. The central plaza, once scarred by the Kobold King's rampage, now pulsed with quiet, purposeful activity. Yoshiya stood in the middle of it, surrounded by carved stone markers and rune anchors etched with glowing sigils. His hands moved steadily as he adjusted a set of magical circuits at the base of a newly erected obelisk, sweat glinting against the cool light of restoration wards.
"Anchor's stable," he muttered to himself, releasing a slow breath as the ward flared to life. A soft pulse of healing energy spread outward like ripples in still water, washing over the wounded being treated nearby.
Omina passed by, her short cloak fluttering lightly. "You're starting to sound like one of those old priests back in Reflynne," she teased, glancing at the magical structures with faint admiration.
Yoshiya allowed a small smile. "If it keeps people alive, I'll take the comparison."
Around them, adventurers, soldiers, and citizens worked side by side. The plaza had become a command center, clinic, and construction site all at once. Tamaki Yume, the steadfast mayor of Korvath, moved among the teams with clipboard in hand, issuing clear, sharp instructions. Even after the devastation, she carried herself with a calm authority that held the city together.
Then, like a distant trumpet on a still morning, horns echoed from the western gate.
The plaza's rhythm faltered. Heads turned. Workers paused mid-hammer and mid-spell. Yoshiya straightened, wiping his hands as he scanned the horizon. A procession approached — a convoy draped in Ostoria's royal blue banners, gleaming as though untouched by the soot of war. Horses with polished tack led the line, followed by armored carriages and ranks of soldiers in immaculate formation.
"This isn't a supply run," Omina murmured, eyes narrowing.
As the convoy entered Korvath, the contrast between its pristine order and the city's battered resilience was almost surreal. At the center rode Chancellor Valerius Montara, Prime Minister of Ostoria — a tall, composed man with silver-streaked hair, wearing layers of ceremonial attire tailored to perfection. His sharp eyes surveyed the plaza like a man inspecting a chessboard.
Tamaki quickly gathered the leading figures — Yoshiya, Omina, Rick Kaiser's remaining officers, and several guild representatives — to receive the visitor. A makeshift podium was set up before the central obelisk. Citizens and adventurers, curious yet wary, formed a semicircle around the scene.
Chancellor Valerius stepped onto the platform with a smile so polished it reflected the morning sun.
"People of Korvath," he began, his voice smooth and resonant. "In the face of unimaginable darkness, you have shown the unyielding flame of Ostoria's spirit. Your courage has not gone unnoticed."
The crowd murmured. His words were beautiful, his tone practiced. He spoke of resilience, of heroism, of the bond between Korvath and the capital. He praised the defenders, invoked the ancestors, and painted their survival as part of a grand narrative of national pride.
Yoshiya stood near the front, arms crossed loosely, listening with the detached focus of someone used to evaluating spellwork. But this wasn't magic — this was politics. And the Chancellor was a master craftsman.
After ten minutes of soaring rhetoric, Valerius announced his "gifts" — a small convoy of medical herbs, a modest sum of gold, and a ceremonial guard unit to "bolster morale." It was barely enough to sustain the city for a week.
Around Yoshiya, he felt the shift in the crowd. The polite applause. The forced smiles. The quiet disappointment under the surface.
Tamaki Yume stepped forward, thanking the Chancellor with impeccable diplomacy. Her voice was warm, but her eyes were calculating. Yoshiya could tell she had expected this — or something close to it.
As Valerius descended from the podium, he moved through the crowd with deliberate grace. His soldiers subtly fanned out, mapping the plaza's structure, counting ward stones, noting choke points. Yoshiya's gaze sharpened. This wasn't the behavior of men here to simply "support."
When Valerius finally approached him, the Chancellor extended a hand. "And you must be Yoshiya Hazeru. The White Mage of Reflynne. Your deeds have already reached the capital."
Yoshiya shook his hand. The Chancellor's grip was firm, almost rehearsed. "I only did what anyone would've," Yoshiya replied coolly.
"Perhaps," Valerius said with a thin smile. "But few could. Korvath stands because of people like you. Remember that."
Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, the practiced warmth faded, and something colder flickered behind Valerius's gaze — assessment. As if Yoshiya were not a man, but a piece on a board being weighed for value.
The Chancellor turned to Tamaki Yume. "I will remain here in Korvath for a time," he declared, loud enough for all to hear. "Ostoria's leadership must stand where its people stand. Together, we will ensure this city rises again."
Applause followed, but it was uneven.
Yoshiya watched the Chancellor stride toward the mayoral hall like a lord entering conquered territory. His stomach tightened with unease he couldn't quite name, but wouldn't ignore.
Something had just changed in Korvath. And it wasn't the wards.