Verus and Sora followed the blue-haired ponytail girl into the mansion.
She led them to a study where a woman with waist-length cyan hair awaited.
Dismissing maids and guards, the ponytail girl introduced: "Sister Asiya, this is Miss Ruth."
The woman eyed Verus's feminine attire impassively.
Then her cold gaze shifted to Sora.
"Servants don't belong here. Out."
Sora glanced at Verus. Verus shook his head slightly.
"Asiya, Aaliyah — he's trustworthy," Verus said.
"Your identity?" Asiya asked.
"He knows."
"Very well. If Verus vouches, stay." Asiya's tone remained cool.
She fixed Verus with an icy stare.
"Verus — why return now? Albion hunts you. Hand you over, and one hundred million gold coins go to the Grunts."
"Sister!!" Aaliyah flushed anxious. "How can you... Verus, he... you..."
Sora watched coldly. Verus trusted the Grunts; he had reasons. Worst case, Sora could extract him.
Verus smiled radiantly: "You won't, Asiya. You know which holds more value: a captured, soon-executed Verus — or a living one."
Asiya settled behind the desk, fingers steepled under chin, appraising him like merchandise.
"Not seeking shelter, then? You mean to reclaim the throne?"
"Really? Your Highness Verus — that's wonderful! I never understood the rebellion. Uncle King treated everyone so kindly." Aaliyah beamed innocently.
Sora stifled a laugh, lips quirking.
"Quiet, Aaliyah," Asiya chided softly.
"Huh? But..." Aaliyah pouted, aggrieved under her sister's stern gaze, falling silent. This formidable elder sister had raised her since Mother's death; managed Grunt affairs flawlessly; dissuaded Father from bucking the rebellion's tide. Grunts and Megans supplied arms to the victors.
Verus stated flatly: "Albion is mine — I'll reclaim it. But first, traitors pay. House, Pace, Mani, Megan — worthless."
Asiya replied indifferently: "And the Grunts' place?"
Verus lowered his eyes slowly: "Albion's king comes only from the royal line. Its queen — only from Grunts. Together, Albion's royals."
Asiya's impassive mask cracked. "Aaliyah — take the guard out. Verus and I talk alone."
"Huh?" Aaliyah bristled, curiosity piqued.
Sister's glare quelled her. Aaliyah eyed Sora reluctantly.
"Fine — come on, scary-looking guard man."
Sora checked Verus once more. Verus nodded.
Sora exited with Aaliyah.
The study conversation would reshape Albion.
En route, Aaliyah couldn't resist: "Hey — what'll Sister and Willus discuss?"
Sora shrugged casually: "Your sister's already agreed to Verus's proposal. Now it's negotiations." Noting her finger-wringing anxiety, he added slyly: "Queen can only be a Grunt girl. So — after Verus reclaims the throne, Sister or you?"
"Huh? Ahh!! No way — me or Sister, that's..." Aaliyah blushed furiously, halting. Exaggeratedly, steam might've poured from her ears.
"You like Verus?!" Sora pressed abruptly.
"Ah!! Y-yes, n-no, no! I-I..."
Aaliyah flailed in panic, denial tumbling out. Cheeks aflame, eyes tearing.
Then her face blanked, head drooping.
"Scary guard man — I really want to punch you."
A small, silver-armored fist rocketed toward Sora's face.
Sora tilted aside; the gust grazed a thin cut across his cheek.
"Huh?" Sora puzzled — her strength no joke, yet no magic.
"Huh?" Aaliyah blinked — he'd dodged.
"As expected of Verus's favored guard — capable. But I won't forgive teasing a girl's heart." Fools say such things naturally, she thought.
Sora peered down into her clear lake-green eyes: "Well? What now, little girl?"
"Fight me!" Aaliyah whipped off her gauntlet, hurling it at his face.
Sora caught it casually.
"Perfect — courtyard duel, then." Aaliyah beamed slightly.
Sora eyed the silver gauntlet: "You call these 'white gloves'?"
"Huh? Aren't they hand-wear?" Aaliyah.
"...Never mind. Got time — I'll humor you."
"Hmph — won't talk big soon."
They veered to the side yard.
..
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