Chapter 4
Lillia's POV
A few seconds pass. He's clearly too hungry to hold out any longer. He gives in and starts to chew.
He drops his gaze and bites off the piece of jerky right from my fingers, his tongue grazing my fingertip in the process.
The warmth shoots up my arm like a current and hits me straight in the chest.
I pull my hand back fast. My face feels weirdly hot.
For someone who looks that hostile, he's got a surprisingly soft tongue.
He finishes the jerky. Those dark gold eyes settle back on me, and some of the aggression in them shifts into something closer to curiosity.
"What's your name?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.
He's quiet for so long I'm half-expecting another "back off." Then, finally: "Raze." Low. Unhurried.
"Raze. Good name." I stand up. "Get some rest. If you need anything, tell the golem servants outside. Starting today, you're with me — and anyone who messes with you is going to have a problem."
I don't wait to see his reaction. I turn and walk out.
The next morning.
I'm up early. I call in a few golem servants and we get to work.
"Toss the wolf fur mat. I don't want to look at it."
"The bear bone cup too. Smash it."
"All the custom armor and clothes in the wardrobe — bag it up and throw it out front."
I go through every room, and anything that belonged to Vex or Brom gets cleared out without a second thought. In under an hour, there's nothing left of either of them in my space.
The last bag is barely out the door when Vex and Brom come limping in, leaning on each other.
They're still wrapped in bandages, the burns across their backs raw and dark from the thunder whips. Vex is clutching a scraggly, barely-glowing low-grade Moonlight Herb. Brom has a stuffed pack on his back full of cheap herbs.
Vex spots the garbage bags. He freezes. He recognizes the silver armor poking out of the top — the one I had custom-made for his birthday.
"Master…" His face goes white. "What is this?"
Brom drops his pack. "We know we messed up, okay? We went straight to the Mist Forest after the punishment last night and searched till morning. It's not the same as your herb, we know that — but we were trying to fix it. Please don't do this. You threw out all our stuff. Where are we even supposed to sleep?"
"Sleep wherever you want," I say, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed. "Not really my problem."
[LMAO they really thought Lillia was just throwing a tantrum. She already threw them out with the trash!]
[You think one low-grade herb is gonna buy back a top-tier contract? These two are delusional.]
Vex pushes through the pain and drops to one knee, holding the herb up with both hands.
"I know it's not as good as yours. But Brom and I fought a magical beast for it. We've been with you for years. That has to count for something. Just give us one more chance — it won't happen again."
"Loyal." I let out a short laugh. I walk up, nudge the herb with my toe, and grind it into the dirt.
"I don't keep dogs with divided loyalties. You care about Ivy that much? Go be hers."
Vex stares at what's left of the herb. Something wounded flashes through his eyes, and then it hardens into anger. He looks up at me. "Do you have to be this cold about it? We made one mistake. Ivy needed help and we helped her. Why are you making it into such a big deal?"
One mistake.
I almost laugh again, except nothing about this is funny. These are the companions I've poured years into, and in their heads, abandoning their post and destroying the one thing that could've fixed my mana core is just one mistake.
"I'm done talking." I turn my back on them.
"I've already got a new companion. Tomorrow morning, we're dissolving the contract."
"Dissolving the— what?!"
They both say it at the same time.
Once a master-servant contract is in place, companions share a portion of their master's mana and resources. Dissolve it, and they lose all of that — and with their average abilities, no one else would take them on. Worse, a dissolved contract signals that a companion did something unforgivable. The standard outcome is getting returned to the shelter, where they'd be used as expendable labor or breeders.
They genuinely don't believe I'd walk away from everything I've put into them over something this "small."
Brom straightens up too fast, pulls at the wounds on his back, and winces. But he keeps his chin up.
"You're joking, right?"
