Emilia was intrigued by the events of the morning, surprised as well, but mostly intrigued. And she had two reasons for that.
The first and most obvious was Asta. Her… Captain. She didn't miss the way her body reacted at the thought, a sickening feeling in her chest that she stubbornly ignored.
The second reason stemmed from the first, Darryl, the young earth mage of the Black Bulls.
He was only thirteen summers old, and yet he had killed one of her assassins.
The assassin hadn't been one of her elites, true, but he was still far above the average killer. A grown man with years of training. A professional.
And the boy had bested him.
Emilia simply couldn't understand how.
She had studied Darryl closely after Asta recruited him. At first, she assumed the Anti-Magic mage must have seen something extraordinary, some hidden potential or rare spark.
But after spending enough time observing the boy, she realized there was… nothing of the sort. His magical reserves were meager at best. His attribute, while useful, was nothing rare.
By all accounts, Darryl was just a boy with a sliver of magic.
Yet he had defeated one of her assassins, her assassins, trained directly under her order, and he had done it in his first real fight. It was completely abnormal.
Oh, Emilia was intrigued.
She needed to understand how Darryl was growing so quickly. She had been with the boy, had watched his training daily, had observed every repetition and mistake.
Was that it?
Was it truly just training?
Surely not.
Now, watching him again, she could feel his magical capacity. It had grown to more than four times what he started with. And that was without the boost from the runes she had carved into his eyes.
At best, the only thing the boy had possessed when she first evaluated him was his ability to grasp concepts quickly. Useful, certainly, but nothing rare.
Noxus was full of prodigies, geniuses who mastered techniques and magic with frightening speed. And unlike Darryl, those prodigies also carried exceptional gifts.
A certain ferromancer came to mind.
But Darryl was nothing like Rell. He had barely trained for more than three moons. His actual combat experience amounted to a few gromps and a single assassin.
And yet… at this rate, he might soon stand as a mage on par with the metal manipulator herself.
The only unaccounted variable in Darryl's sudden growth was the first thing that had intrigued her from the beginning:
Asta.
Somehow, some way, Asta had changed the boy, from someone with barely a trace of potential into someone capable of killing one of her own trained killers.
Emilia's thoughts broke as a startled squeak came from beside her. The girl who had followed them since the encounter with the assassin.
She turned to see Asta standing directly in front of the girl, who had fallen backward onto the ground in shock.
Asta scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. "Ah, sorry for scaring you."
The girl nodded meekly as she rose to her feet. She kept her gaze lowered, shoulders drawn in tight, even as she stood before the leader of the Black Bulls.
"I don't look that scary, do I?" Asta asked, tilting his head when he noticed how she refused to meet his eyes.
She shook her head so quickly it looked almost painful. "N-No… no, sir," she whispered.
Asta's smile softened. "Good. So it's not me."
The girl shrank even further, as if trying to fold into herself.
"I heard about what happened this morning," Asta said, lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the ground beside her.
She hesitated, then took the silent invitation and sat down as well, hugging her knees close.
"All those people left," Asta continued, his voice gentler now. "But you stayed." He turned his green eyes toward her. "Any particular reason why?"
The girl's fingers tightened around her legs. Slowly, she peeked toward Darryl, who was jogging back into the courtyard, sweat-covered and determined, the sack of stones bouncing against his back.
Asta followed her gaze, and a small smirk tugged at his mouth. "Ah. So it's that, huh?"
Her eyes widened in panic as she shook her head vigorously. "It's not, it's not that! Totally not!" Her voice cracked into a squeak. "He… he saved our lives. Back there."
She exhaled shakily and slumped forward, resting her chin on her knees. "I don't want to go back to that prison," she murmured, her voice trembling at the memory. "But I don't want to run away either… like Sylas and the rebels. I thought those were my only choices."
Her breathing hitched. "But then I saw him. And I… I couldn't think of being anywhere else except somewhere he was. He… he made me feel safe."
Asta raised a brow, impressed despite himself. "Heh. That kid keeps surprising me."
She glanced at him, confused, but Asta simply shrugged.
"You got a name, kid?"
The girl hesitated, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt. "M… Mira," she murmured softly. "My name is Mira."
"Mira huh?" Asta pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his pants. "Mira, you can stay here for now. Eat. Rest. No one's sending you anywhere."
Mira nodded, relief trembling through her shoulders. "Sir?"
"Just call me Asta. Don't go making me feel old." Asta chuckled, waving off the formality with an easy grin. "It's what everyone calls me. Except for these guys." he jerked a thumb toward Darryl and Emilia. "they call me Captain. But that's only for people who are part of the Black Bulls."
"I want to…" Mira whispered, her voice shrinking into nothing at the end.
"Hmmm?" Asta leaned a little closer. "What was that?"
"I want…" She swallowed, mustering courage from somewhere deep and fragile. "I want to join… the Black Bulls." She squeezed her hands together, knuckles white. "Please… please let me join."
Silence settled over the courtyard.
Asta didn't speak at first. He simply studied her, the slump of her shoulders, the fear still lingering in her posture, the stubborn spark in her eyes trying to fight against it.
"How old are you, Mira?" he finally asked.
"I… I don't know exactly," she admitted, voice barely steady. "I stopped counting days a long time ago. But I think I'm past fifteen. Yeah… I'm fifteen."
Her fingers trembled against her knees.
Asta reached out and placed his hand gently over hers. The shaking stopped almost instantly, as if his presence alone steadied her.
"Look, Mira," he said softly. "No one is going to send you away. You don't have to join the squad just to stay here."
He held her gaze, firm, but kind.
"The Black Bulls are a knight order. It's dangerous. We get thrown into danger more often than not." His voice lowered, almost a whisper. "What you need right now is rest. You need time. You need to heal."
His hand squeezed hers lightly
Mira shook her head immediately, desperation breaking through her timidness. "Please, sir. Let me join your order. I'll train hard. I'll do whatever it takes. Please… I…" Her voice cracked, and she drew a shaky breath. "I can't go back to living like I was before. I want to be strong. Strong enough to fight back. I don't want to be scared anymore."
Before she could say more, strong arms wrapped around her.
She froze.
Asta had pulled her into a firm, steady embrace, solid in a way that made the world feel less fragile around her.
"It's okay," he whispered near her ear, voice low and reassuring. "You're never going back there. No one is taking you back there."
Her breath hitched. Something inside her finally broke loose.
"It's alright now."
Mira couldn't hold back any longer. She buried her face against him as soft, trembling sobs escaped her one after another. Each breath felt like something old and rotten was being pulled out of her chest.
Asta didn't rush her.
When her crying finally softened, he leaned back enough to look her in the eyes, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.
"I won't stop you from joining," he said. "But once you do, there's no going back. You become part of this family forever... till death do us all part."
A tiny glint of humor flickered in his eye. "And even then, you might not get out."
Mira let out a tiny, wet laugh despite herself. The corners of her lips lifted into the smallest, most genuine smile she'd had in years.
"I want that," she whispered.
Asta nodded once, firmly, as if sealing an unspoken pact. "Alright then," he said. "Welcome to the Black Bulls."
Mira's breath left her in a shaky exhale, relief, disbelief, something else she didn't have a name for. Whatever it was, it settled in her chest like warmth spreading for the first time in years.
Asta turned just in time to see Darryl finally stumble to a stop, dropping the sack of stones with a grunt. He leaned over, hands on his knees, drenched in sweat. Emilia watched him with the same unreadable expression she always had.
"Captain," Darryl panted the moment he noticed Asta. Then he slowed when he spotted Mira beside him. "Uh... hi?"
Mira immediately curled in on herself again, shoulders folding tight, but she didn't hide completely.
Asta clapped a hand on Darryl's back, hard enough that the boy nearly face-planted. "Good timing," he said brightly. "We've got a new recruit."
"I-I'm sorry, what?" Darryl blinked, eyes darting between Asta and Mira like he'd misheard.
"Mira's joining us," Asta repeated, grinning. "She's one of us now."
Darryl opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. "O-Oh." His voice cracked, and he coughed to hide it. "That's… that's great. Welcome to the squad."
Mira nodded, face red as a tomato.
Asta raised an eyebrow at Darryl. "That's all you've got? Maybe you should drop the rocks and actually say something properly."
Darryl's cheeks puffed out indignantly. "Captain, I've been running for an hour with twenty pounds of stone, my legs feel like they're crying!"
Asta laughed. Emilia didn't.
Emilia stepped closer, her gaze flicking over Mira as if cataloguing every scar. "I'll arrange a room for her near mine. And clothes. And a proper bath."
Mira stiffened again, overwhelmed.
"You don't have to be afraid," Emilia added, softer now. "No one here will harm you. As long as you stay under our banner, you are one of us. Right Asta?"
"Call me captain." Asta immediately said.
"No," Emilia replied immediately, not even slowing her stride. She turned on her heel and headed back toward the mansion, her cloak brushing sharply behind her as if punctuating her refusal.
Asta pointed after her with both hands, eyebrows raised. "You didn't have to say it so quickly though," he muttered.
Mira hurried after Emilia, her steps small and quick. She kept glancing back at Asta and Darryl as if unsure whether she was actually allowed to follow.
Once the two girls disappeared through the archway into the estate, the courtyard finally fell quiet again.
Asta exhaled slowly and rolled his shoulders before turning toward the only other person left, Darryl, still red-faced and gulping air like he was on the verge of collapsing.
"Well, Darryl," Asta said, his voice dropping into something more serious, more grounded. "I think it's time we talked about what happened this morning."
The boy straightened instinctively, wiping sweat from his forehead as if that would help him look more composed. His breathing was still uneven, but the sudden shift in Asta's tone snapped his focus into place.
"Yes, Captain," Darryl said quietly, meeting his eyes.