In a twist of irony, the part of the city that lay most devastated was the one nestled furthest from the protective walls. Every building there had been struck by the Seraph, every rooftop had caved in, and every house was four stone walls with smoldering insides. The rain doused whatever flames remained and carried off the soot into the sea.

In the darkness of the night, Sinco was pockmarked by red embers.

Rick’s “lab” had been the one worst off, orcwood was sturdy, but not the sort that could stand against a Seraph’s wrath. Everything had been reduced to half-burnt chunks, though he had caught a glimpse of the compressor. The metal structure had been punctured straight through by something hot enough to leave glowing red circles.

Rick could only stare in a mix of begrudging awe and regret. All of this had been done by a lone maiden within the span of minutes. And most of it was just collateral.

It almost felt like he was seeing the collateral out of some superhero movie. Except there were no grand speeches, no tight spandex, no grandiose poise. Just three maidens sitting on the half-torn walkway that was Sinco’s pier. He didn’t need the bond to feel the exhaustion pouring through them.

Monica sat crossed-legged, nude and hunched over, both arms hanging limply at either side. Her claws twitched sporadically, the usual snowy fur that crawled its way up her arms was torn and burnt into an irregular black. Even without the familiarity he had with her body, Rick could spot the deep gouged areas that ran like canyons from her knuckles to her elbow. The new scars lacked the uniform wear the rest of her had, and he could only guess at how much it had hurt.

Next to her was Dia, the maiden was kneeling next to the giant feline, mostly naked save some rags that had seen better days and were there only for modesty. The black spiky armor had been left in a pile at the start of the pier. Her pink hair clung to her solem face, illuminated by her spell.

And then there was Eva, the smallest of the trio. Her shirt and pants were burnt all over, deep holes that had left her wearing a colander of cloth. But there were no injuries, only porcelain pale skin. No doubt her regeneration was responsible for such a state. The maiden lay flat on her back, head framed by the long black hair, leaving her looking mostly unconscious.

He knew they were aware of his presence, all three maidens had little tells. Monica’s ears were pointed at him, tail still with something resembling tension. Dia’s eyes flickered over the feline’s frame and to him. Eva shifted slightly, tilting her head away as if to hide a reaction.

Monica was the one who broke the silence once he’d gotten close. “No more itchy plant,” she remarked, staring down, not meeting his gaze.

“Is… everything safe?” he asked.

“Flower-face ran,” the huntress replied, “but safe here.”

Rick didn’t know what to feel, or what he was feeling. Experiencing the deaths of the others had shaken him. Having her gone for this many days had shaken him too. What should he say? With the right words failing to form, he stepped closer, wrapping her head into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re back.” His voice trembled.

Her tail wrapped around his leg. Monica was tall enough that all she’d needed to do was lean closer, pressing her head against his stomach. Her arms twitched slightly, but did not move from her sides.

“Nerve damage,” Dia whispered, the glow of her hands stopping, purple eyes looking up at him. “I don’t know how much she’ll recover.” Guilt weighed heavily in her voice. “The parasite… there just… I couldn’t…” She swallowed heavily, lips trembling.

Rick lowered himself to his knees, leveling with her. “You did your best.” He whispered, pulling her closer with his free arm. “I’m proud of you. All of you.” He squeezed them closer.

Nodding quickly, she buried her face against his shoulder while Monica did the same on the opposite side. Eva stared from the floor, red eyes glowing, piercing into him. “You saved us.” She broke the silence, slowly sitting up. “The Seraph kept regenerating, nothing we did put her down… until we put her into the acid.”

She gestured at the barrels near the pier. Their conversation had been heard, and the entourage of people who’d trailed behind Rick were quick to jump away, then add some healthy distance.

Rick laughed, the sound that came out of him carrying an earnest edge he hadn’t expected.

“Angry fire-bush is dead dead,” Monica piped up. “Not trouble again.”

“Again?” He furrowed his brows.

Her tail bristled, shifting to look away. “I am starving and wants food.”

Rick decided he didn’t want to know. “You must be really hungry if you’re using the fancy words.” He squeezed slightly. “You should do that more often, you know. It helps you get better at it.”

She snorted. “Many words say nothing.”

“You’ve got that right.” He chuckled a little more honestly. “How about we go home? I’m sure there’s some boar meat.”

“Rick cook crispy?” She perked up.

“Yes, extra crispy.”

Monica began to purr like a chainsaw, rubbing her cheek against his face and reaching out to pull him closer. Her arms, which typically felt like solid iron, were shaking slightly as she hugged him. Rick swallowed the lump on his throat and said nothing.

“I should go help,” Dia muttered lamely into his shoulder.

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His head turned to her. “No,” he said without hesitation. “The Politas are well trained and helping enough. You need rest.”

“They can barely get a basic spell working.” She didn’t make any moves to separate herself from him.

“By the looks of it, you’re not much better,” he replied flatly, fingers caressing her hair. “Please, just rest.”

She paused, then conceded. "If that is my lord's command..."

"It is."

Dia let out a soft sigh. "You should avoid standing out in this cold rain. You'll catch a fever." She looked towards Monica. "Help?"

The larger maiden’s grip tightened a little, tugging Rick and carefully sitting him on her lap. Every move of her arms had a slow hesitation to it, but even at her weakest, it was clear she could still outpower him. There was no desire to test it though, instead he took the spot and looked up to her blue eyes. There was no discomfort in her gaze, only a soft smile.

Dia, now free from Rick’s hug, moved over to Eva and picked her up bridal-style. The Fledgling let out some feeble complaints that became far more animated when the healer dropped her on Rick’s lap.

“What’s this?” He asked, wrapping an arm around the shorter maiden.

She stopped moving, glaring at Dia.

“A lap warmer.” She replied with a chuckle, taking a spot on Monica’s thigh. It was a very cramped fit, though the larger one didn’t shove her off.

It was hard to imagine the trio had gotten this close. “Something happened with you lot?” His question came from the certainty that Dia and Monica had wanted Eva gutted not more than a month or so ago.

“Let’s say we found a common ground.” The pink haired maiden replied, leaning closer, hugging his neck against her chest.

The only one that made some disapproving sound was Eva, but kept it at that. Rick just stayed there, enjoying the shared warmth for a minute. “As much as I enjoy being surrounded by mostly-naked pretty women, I think we should go home.”

Dia gave him a weird look, then smiled a little. “You’ll have to convince the big one.”

“I thought she was convinced?” Rick looked upwards. “Food?”

“Food.”

That was how the trio got shoved off. Monica didn’t bother to wait, taking the lead while the rest scrambled to their feet. As soon as Rick had caught up, her tail snaked around his waist, tethering him to her side. It was a little awkward, but he’d manage.

As much as Rick would’ve preferred the city to be empty, it was as if everyone had poured out to the cobblestone roads. Unlike the southern edge, the central and northern ones were a hive of activity, alive with the sound of hammers and movement and voices. Material was being ferried from one place to the next, maidens one and all, uncaring for the weather. Some had small fires lighting their way, others just weren’t bothered by the darkness.

Rick’s procession of four drew silence as it went. Work slowed, then stopped, and every pair of eyes would linger on them. Rick couldn’t read their expressions properly. Apathy? Exhaustion? Nervousness? How would the city respond to having so many of their homes destroyed like this?

He wished Kiara was back in good health just so he could throw her at the crowd. This was her element, not his.

A lone figure shuffled from one of the homes, a slightly bent back and a frail body. Floating within her bony fingers was a small magelight, its glow reflected from her milky white eyes. Her chin was raised, showing off a golden collar on her neck. Rick was mostly certain that it was the highest symbol of status a maiden could hope for while still being property. She was a Doggirl. But something about the woman demanded attention, as even Monica had hesitated, slowing to stare as the matron had moved to block their path.

Behind the matron was a far younger Doggirl that looked just about ready to jump out of her skin.

The elder woman stepped towards Rick, offering a hand.

The city seemed to hold their breath as he took it. Her grip was firm, steady, devoid of the frailty he would’ve associated with old age.

“My Lord.” Slowly, she descended to a knee, pressing her forehead against his knuckles. “Thank you.”

It was like she’d put the weight of the whole city behind those words, a pressure upon his shoulders and lungs that drove the air right out of him. Dia softly nudged his side, probably reminding him to breathe.

He awkwardly coughed. “Rise,” he managed, not sure what else he should’ve said, what was expected. He could feel Dia swelling like a balloon that was about to pop. This must be normal in some way, because there was not an ounce of surprise in the bond. Only pride.

The elderly woman let go of his hand and rose, bowing once more as she returned to her anxious family member.

“Miss Dana has eight grand-daughters in the militia,” Dia whispered to him when they began walking again. The smugness in her voice was palpable. “You kept your promise, Rick, you kept them safe.”

There were a few choice words he wanted to hiss at her, but none he’d dare speak out where every other person in the city would hear.

“Rick strong,” Monica acknowledged with a firm nod.

As they moved further down the road, another elder stepped into their path. This time a woman with mousy ears that had been tattered and a face sporting a scar that had claimed an eye. She too knelt, thanked him, and walked away without another word.

The eyes that were upon him had multiplied, as if the entire city had gathered in the shadows just to witness this moment.

It was hard to tell with the darkness, but every couple blocks someone would step up. All of them in the later years of their life. Rick wanted to ask what was going on, but he mostly felt overwhelmed. No small part of it being the bond, thrusting a tidal wave of emotion towards him as more and more gathered.

There was so much of it that it felt like the city should’ve been in an uproar. But it was a quiet ritual, repeated a few dozen times, that had left him weak in the knees.

Their approach to the house was blocked by one last figure. This one they knew, three meters tall and green all over. Urtha stood there with two mangled arms that she’d insisted ‘looks worse than it is.’ “Father, Chieftess,” she greeted with a nod of acknowledgement. Then fidgeted, glancing over at the house. “The tribe did a quick patch-up. It’ll do for the night.”

He shook his head, trying to ignore the burnt roof. “Want to stay the night?”

Urtha’s face lit up. “Of course!” She declared, then coughed, nodding. “I mean, if it’s not a bother.”

“Come on, inside everyone.” He made a gesture at the house. “I’ve got enough drenching for the month, I want to get dry for a change.”

The maidens stepped inside single-file ahead of him, though it was Dia who made a point to stay back and wait for him. As soon as Monica had ducked through the door, Dia reached out to Rick’s hand and squeezed.

“I’ll get the fire ready. Don’t get cold.” She dimpled, leaning closer to steal a kiss. “Welcome home.”

Rick stood there, looking on as the maiden hummed a little tune.

Further inside, the four maidens were talking. Urtha hovered over Monica’s new scars, exchanging details about her fight while trying to draw out ones from the feline. Dia fussed over the firewood and the chimney. She and Eva were disagreeing about how the wood should be laid out for the fire.

He blinked a little, closing the door behind him, eyes shifting to the table with an empty chair.

“There’s just one thing missing,” he whispered under his breath.

It wasn’t hard to imagine a certain blue haired maiden lounging on the seat.