The place Finn had chosen could hardly be called a "canteen." It was a low, squat building on the outskirts, wedged between the blank walls of warehouses. Inside, it smelled of old wood, fried onions, and dust. Apart from Namkhai, Finn, and his loyal companions - Gaetan and Dorn, the place was deserted. The owner dozed behind the counter, paying no attention to his only visitors.
Namkhai was finishing his kebab with obvious satisfaction, washing it down with strong tea. Finn, meanwhile, had barely touched his portion. He sat upright, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword out of habit, his eyes constantly scanning the empty hall.
"Namkhai," the knight began quietly, waiting until Gaetan and Dorn had taken their positions by the entrance and the window. "I brought you here because walls don't have ears in a place like this. Tomorrow, howeve, things will be different."
Namkhai looked up, chewing a piece of juicy meat. In the dim light of the oil lamp, Finn looked unusually pale.
"Tomorrow's meeting with the Village Leader it's not just a formality," Finn continued, leaning forward. "You need to understand. Lord Eidolon's position is extremely unstable right now. One wrong step, one careless word, and the fragile peace we've been maintaining will collapse."
The knight paused, choosing his words with care. There was no command in his voice only a sincere, almost desperate plea.
"I'm asking you to be extremely cautious. Lord Eidolon is a man of complex character, and everything he does is for the sake of his people. Please, show the utmost politeness. Not for yourself, but for the future our lord is trying to build. If something goes wrong tomorrow, his situation may become impossible to salvage."
Namkhai wiped his fingers with a napkin and looked at him directly.
"You're afraid I'll say something I shouldn't?"
"I'm afraid that words can wound more deeply than a blade. Just promise me you'll follow protocol. At least until we leave the council chamber."
"And what exactly is this meeting about anyway?" Namkhai asked, tossing aside an empty skewer and reaching for another. "Eidolon didn't tell me a thing. He just mumbled something and then started asking about my grandfather again."
Finn froze for a moment, exchanging a glance with Gaetan and Dorn. The two considered it briefly, then gave a subtle nod. There was no point in hiding the truth anymore.
"I think you should know. Since you'll be there as a trusted representative. The meeting is about the protection of the Village Leader."
"Protecting him?" Namkhai raised an eyebrow, popping another piece of meat into his mouth. "From who?"
"It's no secret that this village is growing at an unprecedented rate. Back when your grandfather helped us settle here, there were no more than 150 outsider living in the village. After that, only five to ten people moved here each year. If we add our Order of the Tree to that, the total number of residents comes to about 255."
He paused, his expression darkening.
"But last year, everything changed. Five hundred outsider arrived. And this year… more than a thousand."
Gaetan, standing by the door, added grimly:
"This is a serious wake-up call for the government. When it comes to just a handful of people, they don't care. But a thousand uncontrolled outsiders in one place? That's an entire army. Sooner or later, they'll start seeing us as a direct threat that needs to be eliminated."
"Why are so many outsiders fleeing here?"
"I don't follow the news from the sectors," Finn admitted. "But rumors reach us. They say that in recent years, the control over outsiders has become brutal. Real persecution. People are running to places where they aren't on any lists. They come here because the Village Leader is the only one willing to shelter them. But that is exactly what makes him a target."
Finn looked him straight in the eyes.
"Tomorrow's meeting it's about whether Eidolon's knights will officially become the Leader's personal guard."
Namkhai froze, skewer in hand.
"Aren't you already protecting this place? You're knights, aren't you?"
"We are Eidolon's knights, Namkhai. Our loyalty is to him, not the village administration. The village is an autonomous state, but we are an autonomy within that autonomy. We have our own code, our own goals. Until now, we've simply coexisted as neighbors."
Finn leaned closer, his voice a mere whisper.
"But the Village Leader needs an army that will defend him at the cost of their own lives. And Eidolon let's just say he's not the kind of man who bows easily."
Namkhai nodded slowly, finally grasping the weight of it. This wasn't a social visit; it was a high-stakes deal between two wary warlords.
"Got it. I'll do what's needed," Namkhai said calmly, pulling another piece of meat off the skewer. "Sounds like this Village Leader is a decent guy, taking in everyone with nowhere else to go. That's rare these days."
Finn managed a thin, weary smile and nodded.
"Thank you. We'll be waiting for you at the gates tomorrow."
Finn rose to his feet. Gaetan and Dorn followed suit, giving Namkhai a brief, military-style farewell before vanishing into the night. Namkhai remained alone with his last skewer and a growing sense of unease about the coming dawn.
_____
Abaddiel stood among the piles of trash, casually wiping the wide blade of his sword on his own clothes. The fabric instantly soaked in blood, but he didn't seem to care.
"Why stain your clothes with someone else's blood?" Jeremiel asked quietly as he approached. "Don't you care about them at all?"
"I don't give a damn. I'll buy new ones later," the angel replied, not even looking up.
Jeremiel studied him closely, noticing every sharp movement.
"Why are you so irritated, brother? You won."
"Yeah, I won," Abaddiel finally sheathed his sword and glanced toward the motionless bodies of Delilah and Phobos lying in the dirt. "But I expected more. After all that whispering they did, I thought they'd show something interesting. But in the end… nothing."
Jeremiel shifted his gaze to the defeated enemies.
"It seemed to me they weren't fighting at full strength."
"Doesn't matter now," Abaddiel waved it off irritably, flicking his wing. "Take the girl and the man. Let's bring them back to base. We'll interrogate them there."
"The man is alive?"
"He should be. I clipped him, but the cut isn't deep. He'll probably survive… unless he bleeds out on the way."
Jeremiel nodded and approached Phobos. He loomed over him, studying the fallen assassin. At first glance, Phobos looked dead or unconscious. But when Jeremiel slid a hand under his shoulder to turn him over, he felt resistance.
Phobos, lying face down, was desperately pressing his hand against a wound in his abdomen. His fingers were trying to hold the blood inside.
Jeremiel paused for a moment.
Then, without a word, he flipped him onto his back, forcing his hand away from the wound.
"What are you doing?" Abaddiel snapped, turning sharply.
Jeremiel didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed the edge of his soot-covered cloak and tore off a long strip of fabric with a dry rip.
"Jeremiel! I asked what you're doing with that trash!"
"Stopping the bleeding so he doesn't suffer," Jeremiel replied calmly, already tying a tight bandage around Phobos's waist.
His movements were quick and precise, pulling the fabric so tight that Phobos jerked not from pain, but from lack of air.
Abaddiel looked at him with mild contempt, but didn't argue.
"Do whatever you want. I'll take the girl."
The angel walked over to Delilah, grabbed her by the collar without a hint of care, and dragged her along the ground, not bothering to check whether she was alive.
Jeremiel hoisted Phobos over his shoulder and followed.
_____
Meanwhile, Namkhai stood at the agreed meeting spot for hours. From time to time, he glanced into the shadows, expecting to see Phobos's familiar silhouette or Delilah's stride.
But the street remained empty.
"Damn it, where are those two? Did they seriously forget about me?"
He imagined Phobos's face that fringe-haired killer with his constant lectures.
What a bastard… spent the whole evening talking about responsibility, about how important the mission is, and where's all that 'responsibility' now? He was the one who said they'd be here.
He waited.
One hour.
Then another.
Night slowly gave way to dawn.
With the first rays of sunlight, he let out a heavy sigh, rubbed his face, and finally turned away.
"Fine.... guess they forgot."
Without wasting any more time, he headed toward the knights' district, deciding there was no point in waiting any longer.