That night, Keyla carefully packed her belongings. Each item was folded and placed in its proper spot, her weapons wrapped meticulously, and her clothes stacked by size.
The forest had taught her the value of order, and even in this small act, she treated her possessions as carefully as she treated her training. She arranged everything so she could leave in the morning without delay.
Don quietly stepped into the room, clearing his throat. "Uhh… Keyla, dear?"
"Yes, Father?" she asked, looking up from her neatly folded clothes.
"Well… uhm," Don hesitated, scratching his head. "Tomorrow, before we reach the mansion, we'll stop to get you some proper clothes. Things women typically need. I don't… I don't have any of those in my house."
Keyla's lips curled into a small smile. "Sure, no problem. Make sure to rest your old bones tonight, and… get a wife soon, old man. Good night."
"Good night, little lad," Don replied with a chuckle, blowing out the candle. The room sank into darkness, leaving only the quiet rustle of leaves outside.
By the time they entered the city the next morning, the streets were alive with the usual bustle: merchants shouting over carts of goods, children running past, and the distant clatter of hoofbeats echoing on cobblestone.
Yet, as they walked, an audible hush fell over the crowd. Whispers turned to murmurs, murmurs to exclamations.
Two figures drew attention immediately. One was a man of at least fifty, his long blonde hair reaching his temples, broad shoulders, and a muscular frame that betrayed years of work and battle.
People recognized him instantly: Don, the legendary blacksmith who had once served the palace. Beside him strode a young woman, nineteen, with sky-blue eyes and hair as black as night cascading down her back.
A sword hung across her back, and a bundle of supplies weighed on her shoulders.
The crowd couldn't help but stare. Mothers nudged their children. Merchants paused mid-sale.
Nobles whispered to their attendants. "Who is she?" "She looks like she stepped out of a storybook!" "Her presence… it's commanding. And yet… graceful."
Even those familiar with the city's noble families could not place her. She moved with confidence, each step deliberate, as if she owned every inch of the street.
Her posture spoke of years of discipline, her eyes alert and sharp, scanning the environment with ease.
Keyla and Don walked steadily amidst the stares. They didn't ride horses; Keyla insisted on walking.
She wanted to see the changes the city had undergone over the past ten years, to witness how buildings had grown taller, streets wider, and marketplaces more vibrant.
Even the air seemed cleaner, the city thriving after years of careful rebuilding.
They entered a high-end clothing shop. The soft murmur of customers and the rustle of silk contrasted sharply with the clamor outside.
Keyla's eyes swept over the rows of gowns, jeweled and embroidered, but she frowned slightly.
"I can't really wear these," she murmured. Her practical attire over the years—plain tunics and trousers designed for movement and combat—had shaped her perception of what clothing should do.
Yet, after a moment, she selected three dresses, careful to choose ones appropriate for formal occasions or public appearances.
Don watched her with a small smile. "Good choices. You won't regret dressing properly once in a while."
Keyla rolled her eyes playfully. "I suppose. But I still prefer clothes that don't get in the way of training."
"Ah, yes. A warrior's mind first," Don said, chuckling. "I see no change there."
They left the shop and crossed the street to a high-end men's clothing store. Don had insisted on refreshing his wardrobe as well, though his tastes were simpler.
Keyla, ever considerate, picked out several outfits for him, balancing comfort with dignity. The clothes, she realized, were more than fabric—they were symbols of a new chapter in their lives.
Outside the store, the city seemed even livelier. Street performers juggled flaming torches, merchants called out prices, and children ran past chasing small wooden toys.
Keyla paused, letting the sounds wash over her. She had spent the last ten years in the forest, training relentlessly. This city, once familiar, now seemed entirely new.
"Father, look at all this," she said, gesturing at the market stalls. "I never realized how much had changed."
Don smiled, adjusting his bundle. "The world keeps moving, Keyla. Even when you're gone, life continues. Cities rebuild. People adapt. You'll see more change in the mansion. But for now… enjoy it."
A few curious onlookers whispered as she passed, noting the sword on her back and her confident stride.
One young boy trailed behind them, tugging at his mother's sleeve. "Mama, who is that girl? She's… amazing!"
"She's someone important, child," the mother whispered, equally curious. "Look at how she carries herself. Like a trained soldier, not just a noble."
Keyla caught the tail end of the remark and smirked faintly, though she didn't break her stride.
They continued to walk, observing the city's rebirth. New fountains adorned the main square, their waters sparkling under the morning sun.
Shops gleamed with freshly polished wood, and the smell of baked bread and roasting meats filled the air. Children played along the streets, laughter ringing out. Keyla paused at a fountain, watching her reflection ripple across the water.
Her long black hair, tied in a simple braid, swayed gently in the breeze. The warrior in her looked out from her eyes, but so did the young woman who had lived under the trees.
"You've grown into yourself," Don said softly, standing behind her. "Proud of you, Keyla."
"Thanks, Father," she replied, smiling faintly. "I couldn't have done it without you."
They finally arrived at the mansion's district. Its high walls and grand gates loomed over the street, gleaming in polished stone and carved wood.
Keyla's heart swelled slightly at the sight—it was a world away from the forest, yet it would now be her home.
Before entering, Don turned to her. "Remember, Keyla… life in the mansion will be different. People are not all warriors, and there are rules beyond the forest's freedom. Observe, learn, and stay true to yourself."
"I understand, Father. And don't worry—I won't let anyone push me around. I've trained for years for this."
With that, they passed through the gates. Servants and guards bowed as they entered, their gazes lingering on Keyla, the young warrior with hair like midnight and eyes of the clearest sky.
The mansion itself was vast, with high ceilings, marble floors, and tapestries depicting the Empire's history.
Keyla took a deep breath, letting the grandeur sink in. She thought of the forest, her long years of training, and the quiet mornings spent under Don's watchful eye. Those years had forged her into who she was, and now… a new chapter awaited.
"Tomorrow, we start arranging your quarters properly," Don said with a grin. "And your lessons will continue, but now with the palace's instructors. You'll learn things that even the forest couldn't teach you."
"I can't wait," she said, her eyes sparkling. For the first time in years, she felt a different kind of excitement—a blend of anticipation, pride, and readiness for what was to come.