Thankfully, for the hunters, we don’t encounter any more resistance as we stop by the bar grab Nomad and then race to the guardhouse. There is a brief moment of tension as the guards gaze upon Geneva and promptly draw their weapons, but I manage to convince them that she is under my control before the first spell is flung. Then begins the explanation.

Though, rather than an explanation, it’s me hurling insults and accusations with the kind of entitled arrogance only a noble can manage. I insult them to the Abyss and back, demanding reparations from the city and the guilds for forcing me to risk my life and those of my servants due to their inaction. After all, the guards didn’t take our plea for help seriously.

I, who may have killed dozens of people and caused significant property damage, demanded reparations. The sheer audacity of it left the guards too stunned to stop us as we left the building.

I keep our hostage hunter, ignoring their request to detain him. He can testify to our justification. Can’t have any “accidents” happening. It wouldn’t be the first time a witness disappeared before they could make problematic statements against powerful people.

And so, under the cover of darkness, our carriage moves through the city peacefully. Kierra and I on one bench, my wife looking pretty pleased with herself while I sit in a contemplative silence. Geneva, still in the form of a monster, our hostage hunter, clean but traumatized, and an unconscious Howie on the other bench. Bell is curled up on the floor between us and the servants are on the driver’s bench.

A light touch on my shoulder draws me out of my thoughts. I turn to Kierra. Her usual charming smile is a little annoying.

“Go on,” she says, removing her hand. She puts her back against the wall and curls her legs underneath herself, as if settling in for a good show. “Grieve for your victims if you must. It is rare but even elves react as such after battle.”

Why does she sound like I’m being ridiculous? “Things got out of hand,” I snap.

“Did you think there would be no casualties when you, in your words, decided to rampage through the streets?”

I scowl. “The point of skipping straight to the violence was to minimize damage in the long run.” I figured if we caught them by surprise and hit them hard enough, we could skip a lot of horseshit and save lives. Tonight would have been a hundred times worse if the guilds had prior warning and organized themselves against us.

It's kind of pointless if we end up committing a massacre anyway.

“Your plan went awry but you have accomplished your goals, have you not? Howie has been retrieved unharmed, your reputation has spread, and the guilds will not be eager to challenge us again.”

“Mm.” She’s right but it doesn’t feel like a flawless victory. Perhaps I simply can’t trust her logic. Obviously, she wouldn’t see anything wrong with what happened. I’m not sure why I do.

“If you are dissatisfied with your performance in this battle, the answer is simple. Become stronger.”

I groan. “Strength isn’t the answer to everything.”

“Is it not? If you were stronger, you could have subdued the hunters without killing them. If you had demonstrated overwhelming strength earlier, the hunters wouldn’t have dared to target Howie in the first place.”

I hate her muscle-brained logic sometimes. Particularly when she’s bludgeoning me over the head with it.

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“Have I hurt your feelings, dedia?” One of her legs stretches out, her foot meeting my bare thigh, my clothes having burned in the white flames thrown around by the Torchbearers’ guildmaster.

“Sorry, hm? I do not understand your disappointment. They made themselves enemies by getting in our way. You gave them chances to retreat and they rejected it. At that point, they resolved themselves to die, did they not? Why should you feel bad for killing them?”

“I…I don’t feel bad about killing them…” It’s a shame they’re dead but I’m not grieving their deaths. They were strangers and they were trying to kill me. At the very least, harm me. It’s…ah.

“I’m upset that it was over something so stupid.” All this because they didn’t want to be told no? Innocent people were dragged into it. Yes, that’s it. I’m upset that I killed a bunch of people who had little if anything to do with Howie’s kidnapping and who probably were just trying to defend their friends and comrades all because of the selfishness of a few hunters. Saints damn them.

Kierra makes a cooing sound as she crawls along the bench and drapes herself over me. “My merciful conqueror. Your heart may hurt but victories are meant to be celebrated. You invite misfortune in future battles if you frown after a battle won.”

I suck in a sharp breath as one of her hands trails over my chest before cupping a breast. “Is that just an excuse to get in my pants?”

“What pants?” she whispers hotly. She chuckles as her opposite hand capitalizes on my lack of clothing by sliding between my legs but I trap it in place by squeezing my thighs.

Her response is to kiss along my neck. “I am serious, Lou. If you wallow in hurt, you will hesitate in the next battle. If you hesitate tomorrow, then you have lost today.”

“Mm.” Her lips are a good distraction. I turn toward her and draw her into a kiss. A soft one. That’s all it takes to calm her ardor and she shifts from violent beast to comforting wife. She cuddles me while a gentle hand rubs circles on my back.

The discomfort in my chest eases. What’s done is done. It was a bit of a fuck up, but it’s not as if I’m used to throwing around my weight. Mistakes are bound to happen.

But we will be having a talk, Geneva.

[I look forward to it, my summoner. In the meantime, Howie is awakening.]

“Mmrrphh.” I can hear the brewer stirring on the opposite bench. Reluctantly, I pull away from the kiss. Kierra doesn’t stop me, tugging on me until I rest my head on her breasts, relaxing as she plays with my hair.

Howie slowly opens his eyes. He blinks as he takes in his surroundings, gaze lingering on Kierra and I before stopping on Geneva, eyes widening in surprise. “Damn. Which clan birthed you?”

“That is our pet, not a twilighter.”

“Shapeshifter, huh. Pretty good. Don’t try that in Twilight though, or the clans will have you bound and gagged in one of their tents before you can blink.” He sits up and stretches before wincing, a hand going to his head. “I feel like I drank a whole bottle of Wilkie’s Burning Bludgeoning. Those bastards…” His eyes meet mine. “Thanks.”

I shrug. “Can’t have my favorite brewer disappearing. What will we drink if you’re gone? Water?”

I chuckle as his lips twist in distaste but my smile quickly wanes. “Though things got a bit messier than I wanted.”

“Ah. I can disappear for a while.”

“Don’t you dare. You’re my justification so I need you to scream as loud as you can to as many people as will listen about the injustice and brutality of the guilds.”

“Sure thing, Lou. By the way, who was it?”

“Torchbearers.”

“Really?”

“We found you in their basement. The basement’s basement actually.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have expected them. But that was probably the point.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs and scratches at his messy hair. “See, the guilds have really deep connections. On the surface, they look like they compete but when it comes to outsiders, they band together. Why I never fought against those Shadow idiots. You fight one guild, you fight them all.”

“Hm. So, although the Torchbearers got a good deal, they still helped that Simple bastard snatch you because of some hunter brotherhood?”

He shrugs. “I guess? Those types like to keep their workings secret. Anyway, if I’m not running, where am I staying? And where’s Sara? You didn’t…leave her behind, did you?”

I scoff. “No, I didn’t leave her. She’s on the bench with my servants. You owe her a big thank you. If she wasn’t so quick to come to me, who knows what would have happened to you tonight.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. Guess they’re pretty close. “And you’ll be staying with me until this mess is figured out. You and your barmaid might have to share a room though.”

His cheeks flush faintly, the same dark green as Kierra’s blush. Hoho, do I detect a hint of romance? “Er, best not. Wouldn’t want…eh-hem. Men and women don’t share tents unless certain things are expected.”

“Alright, but someone’s sharing a room with one of the servants.”