The sun sat high and unbothered in the cloudless sky while the myst-infused train tore across the tracks with a speed that made the landscape smear into streaks of color. This wasn't an ordinary locomotive groaning under its own age; it was one of the Kingdom's engineered marvels—sleek, rune-lined, and powered by condensed myst cores that thrummed like a living heart beneath the metal shell. Acceleration glyphs clung to its frame, bending travel time until hours collapsed into minutes. And inside that well-crafted miracle of engineering sat Liam.

He occupied a window seat, his crimson eyes following the scenery that whipped past in a blur. He wore a simple long-sleeved white shirt tucked neatly into black pants that matched his boots, while a long dark coat draped down just above his knees. His hair remained overgrown, tied into a short, loose ponytail with stray strands drifting across his face whenever the train shifted.

'Teleporting there would've been much easier,' he muttered inwardly, watching the vast green fields smear into each other. 'Her Majesty definitely just wanted me to "see the outside world" again after so long. But that's nonsense. I'm literally going to spend time with the Silverharts—how is that not seeing the outside world? Why the hell take a train when teleportation exists?'

The thought had been chewing at him since the moment he boarded. Throughout the weeks of intense training, the Silverharts had never left his mind for long. That constant tug on his thoughts eventually pushed him to request permission from Queen Lucy to visit the people who weren't related to him by blood, yet were the closest thing to a family he had ever known after Draven and after losing his grandfather.

The Silverharts had taken a place in his heart that no one could ever replace. They were the ones who found him half-dead at the edge of the Forest of Kyrell, broken and barely holding onto life, and still welcomed him without reservation. For an entire year, they had treated him as if he were their own son. They fed him, clothed him, watched over him, even ensured he was enrolled in an academy. And after that year, they gave him the opportunity to chase his ambitions, sending him off to Grandeur City so he could enter the Dark Knight Academy and shape his own future.

At the time, Liam hadn't thought much of their kindness. With the brutal, relentless training he had survived under Draven in the dark forest, warmth and affection had barely registered as concepts worth his attention. But after his experiences at the academy, after facing death, battles, and revelations that reshaped who he was, and especially after the time he spent inside the mind realm, he'd come to understand just how deeply their actions had mattered.

Even if the world revealed blood relatives he never knew, even if fate itself dragged out the truth of his lineage, none of them would ever hold the place the Silverharts did. They were the reason he was alive. Their care had kept his heart beating. Their choices had carved a path that allowed him to become who he was now.

Liam's gaze stayed fixed on the rushing scenery as he breathed out softly. "I wonder how they're all doing," he murmured, voice barely louder than the hum of the myst engine beneath his feet.

After watching the world rush by for a long stretch, Liam finally shifted his gaze from the window to the otherwise empty train car. The only other soul inside was Mabel, his appointed protector, who stood with unshakable posture a few steps from his seat. Her stance was rigid, her back straight, her attention constantly sweeping across the car in silent vigilance.

He studied her quietly, noting how she hadn't moved from that spot since they boarded. Her eyes drifted along the aisles and corners with mechanical precision, never resting for more than a heartbeat.

"Do you ever sit down?" Liam asked, his tone flat, almost casual.

"What?" Mabel muttered, turning toward him with a blink of surprise.

"I just can't seem to remember the last time I saw you take a seat. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever seen it happen at all." He leaned back slightly, still calm. "Do you enjoy standing that much, or do you simply not get tired?"

Mabel held his gaze for a moment before answering. "I do not enjoy it, and I don't get tired either. I stay standing because sitting would slow my reaction time if a threat appeared. That delay could cost your life… and I won't risk that."

"My life?" Liam scoffed faintly. "You're really taking this protector role to heart." Despite the remark, there was no mockery in his voice. "Though… I do appreciate it," he added, turning his attention back to the window.

Mabel watched him in silence, her thoughts drifting behind the mask of her expression. 'Of course your life. Protecting you is the entire purpose of my position. Sitting down would make me relax. And more importantly… I owe you my life. I can't ever put mine before yours.'

Minutes passed with only the soft hum of the myst-engine filling the space. Mabel kept glancing sideways at him, as if weighing a question that hovered on her tongue. Eventually, she spoke.

"Hey, Liam."

He turned his head just enough to meet her gaze. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" she said quietly.

"Sure. Go ahead," he replied after studying her posture for a moment.

"These Silverharts you're going to visit… how close are you to them? And I'm not trying to intrude or pry into your private matters," she added steadily, "but I'm curious."

Liam exhaled softly, the answer already settled in his chest. "You can consider them my family."

That single word—family—made Mabel's eyes widen slightly. It wasn't a reaction she could mask in time. She hadn't expected him to call anyone that, especially not with such unguarded sincerity. The fact that it came from him, someone so guarded by nature, meant the Silverharts were profoundly important to him.

'To think he can consider people outside his bloodline as family… that's something,' she mused inwardly. 'Though I suppose I shouldn't really think of them as outsiders at all.' A faint smile tugged behind her mask.

"I see," she said at last. "That explains why Her Majesty assigned members of the Royal Corps to watch over Nystra City. That was your request, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," Liam replied, tone drifting into detachment. "I can't have them exposed to danger, you know?"

"Yeah… I guess you can't," Mabel murmured. She shifted slightly, almost thoughtful. "Still, it's surprising to see you care for others. Not in a bad way, of course."

"What do you take me for?" Liam frowned lightly. "Last I checked, I cared enough to…" He stopped mid-sentence, gaze sliding away as if he'd stepped too close to something he didn't want to voice.

"Cared enough to what?" Mabel asked, her curiosity sharpened now, leaning slightly toward him without realizing it.

"Nothing. My tongue simply slipped, that's all, so forget it," Liam said, his tone flat and unbothered, as if he'd brushed away a meaningless detail.

The dismissal only sharpened Mabel's curiosity. The way he cut himself off, the flicker in his expression—those small cracks in his usual calm made her wonder what exactly he had been about to admit. Still, she didn't press him. She forced the question back down and returned to her post with the same disciplined stillness as before.

'Guess some things never change,' she mused silently, keeping her thoughts locked behind her mask and her posture steady.

The rest of the trip settled into quiet. Liam kept his eyes on the blur of scenery outside, the passing forests and scattered valleys slipping by like painted streaks. Mabel remained unmovable, a sentry carved from instinct and duty, her gaze shifting in a steady rhythm across every corner of the carriage.

Minutes bled into one another until a distant shape appeared on the horizon. Liam leaned forward slightly, catching sight of the rising rooftops, the clustered buildings, and the winding streets of Nystra City as it began to form through the glass.

"Even from here, it still looks the same," he murmured under his breath, the familiar silhouette stirring something faint and unreadable in his expression as the myst-train slowed and approached the station.