For the next three days, Leonard made a point of walking the streets of Hassel, deliberately visible to all—soldiers, workers, and citizens alike. From the moment the sun rose over the recovering city until twilight draped shadows across the cobbled streets, he could be found in one district or another, quietly assessing the mood and lending his presence as a reassuring reminder that their cause was just and strong.

It would have possibly been smarter to sequester himself away for meditation or even some training, but despite Bernard's strength, he was not concerned about a lack of power on his part.

It was more important to let the people know that he was confident in his victory. Stability was a hard thing to build, especially so soon after a bloody siege, but if he wanted his newborn country to ever stand on its own two feet, he needed it.

The reconstruction crews always greeted him warmly, hammers raised in salute, and calling out respectful acknowledgments. They were made up of locals and the army's engineers, alongside a few master stonemasons from Treon and Lamprey Port.

That had been deliberate, meant to facilitate integration into the new order, and it seemed to be working, as even the local workers seemed very happy to see him. It probably helps that we are paying them twice what they would have gotten for working for Pollus. And that we've already handed out an advance.

It was unfortunate, but money always made things easier. Once the people of Hassel began to trust that the Revolutionary Government was responsible with payments, they would start to rely on them for other things as well.

Leonard waved back, always pausing briefly to express his thanks for their hard work and provide encouragement. Soldiers guarding the city walls or patrolling the streets saluted crisply, their backs straightening proudly as he passed. Yet he saw beneath the bravado the tension lining their faces. They knew a pivotal battle loomed.

Almost none of them doubted he would win, but they were all too aware that his victory wouldn't stop the Royal forces from trying something underhanded.

The ordinary citizens, however, were more cautious. He walked among merchants selling goods in hastily rebuilt stalls, nodded at families sitting on the stoops of humble homes, and smiled openly at farmers bringing fresh produce from the countryside.

Many responded politely, inclining their heads or murmuring greetings, but their eyes held a guarded distance, hinting at uncertainty. Leonard understood: to many, he remained an enigma—a hero of legend rather than a person with whom they felt comfortable approaching.

Considering that he had led an assault directly into the heart of their city less than a month before, it made sense for them to be so wary.

Undeterred, Leonard went for the softer target. Hassel's children displayed none of the adults' reticence, and if he could gain their support, simple as it might be, it would show to the adults that he could be trusted.

In a grassy square near the poorer neighborhoods, he knelt to their level and answered their endless questions about his adventures as the Hero. They clustered eagerly around him, eyes bright, tugging at his sleeves.

"Did you really fight an army of the Void on your own?" one girl asked breathlessly.

"I did," Leonard replied, gently ruffling her hair. "It was a fearsome battle."

"Did you win?" a small boy demanded, wide-eyed.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Leonard grinned, drawing laughs from the assembled children.

"Can you show us some fighting moves?" asked an older child, holding a wooden spoon he'd clearly pilfered from his mother's kitchen as one would a sword.

Leonard chuckled, taking the spoon from the boy's hand. "I suppose a demonstration wouldn't hurt." He glanced at his personal guard, gesturing to a sturdy man named Felix. "Felix, draw your sword."

Felix raised an eyebrow but obediently did as commanded, stepping forward and holding the weapon cautiously. Leonard infused the spoon lightly with the golden glow of the Light, strengthening it until it shimmered faintly.

"Ready yourself, Felix," Leonard called playfully, raising his glowing spoon.

The children laughed, delighted, as Leonard tapped Felix's blade, gently knocking it aside at first. Felix grinned and attacked in earnest, his blade flickering skillfully through the air, yet Leonard's spoon smoothly countered each strike.

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Empowered by the Light, it was as sturdy as enchanted steel. With a swift spin, Leonard disarmed Felix neatly, and the sword clattered harmlessly to the cobblestones.

The children erupted into cheers, their voices ringing joyfully through the square. Felix chuckled, retrieving his weapon with a good-natured shake of his head. Leonard smiled warmly, feeling the barrier between him and the citizens crumble slightly.

It was essential to balance moments like these with the more formal presentations. He could draw power from the people's beliefs, yes, but it could also influence him. He had felt that several times during this campaign, and he didn't want the image of him as a cold, invincible conqueror to crystallize over Hetnia.

His willpower was strong enough to resist the voices, but that didn't mean he shouldn't make it easier for himself.

After the excitement subsided, Leonard patiently demonstrated the basic sword forms to the children, gently correcting their stances.

Behind the eager participants, one child caught his eye—a boy who lingered at the edge of the group, watching intently but shyly.

Leonard observed him quietly, noticing a steady flow of mana radiating unconsciously from the boy's small frame. The air around him shimmered faintly with uncontrolled energy, indicating an extraordinary reserve of magical power. Leonard doubted regular people would notice, beyond maybe a prickling feeling on their skin if they got too close, but to him it was as obvious as day.

He doesn't look like he even feels it. If he's always like this… He might even have more than Jean had when I first met her. The reserves of a Master without any actual training… If he's not suffering from it, it means he doesn't just have power, but also that his body is sturdy enough to take the constant stress. He'd be a terror with some training.

It would take years before he felt comfortable bringing the kid anywhere near a battlefield, of course, but that didn't mean his talent shouldn't be nurtured. Even if the Haylich campaign ended before he'd matured enough, having more powerhouses ready to defend their freedom could only be a positive.

Leonard subtly beckoned a guard to come closer, murmuring instructions to note the child's name and family. As the lesson concluded, Leonard approached the shy boy, kneeling to meet his hesitant gaze.

"What's your name, young man?" Leonard asked gently.

"Elias, sir," the boy whispered, eyes wide with awe.

Leonard smiled reassuringly. "You have a remarkable gift, Elias. Do you know that?"

The boy's eyes widened further, confusion evident. "I do?"

Leonard nodded kindly. "Indeed. You have more magic in you than most adults I've ever met. Have you ever had problems with people feeling uncomfortable with you when they got too close?"

Elia's mouth gaped, and he nodded rapidly, "They always told me I was a weirdo! Nobody wants to play catch with me!"

"Well, there is nothing wrong with you, I can tell you that much," Leonard replied, patting the kid on the head and confirming that indeed, his reserves were very deep.

Nearby, Elias's mother approached hesitantly, clearly a washerwoman from her rough hands and simple clothing. She twisted her hands nervously, her eyes downcast. Leonard stood slowly, extending his hand gently in greeting.

"My lady," he spoke softly, prompting her to look up startled.

"Oh, m-my lord," she stammered, blushing deeply and fumbling her words. "I—I apologize, he didn't mean to disturb you—"

"Not at all," Leonard assured her quickly. "Your son has extraordinary potential. With your permission, the Magic Tower would like to offer him formal training."

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him in disbelief. "My Elias? Magic training? But, my lord, we—I—"

Leonard gently interrupted. "Don't worry about the cost. The city will fully fund his studies and equipment. Someone will visit soon to give you more details. Your son has a great future ahead, if you allow him the chance."

Tears welled in her eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden kindness. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, my lord," she whispered hoarsely, bowing her head again and again.

Leonard gently squeezed her shoulder. "No need for thanks. It's my privilege to ensure every child gets an opportunity to flourish. That is why I led this Revolution, after all."

As Leonard turned to leave, he felt an abrupt tug within the flow of the Light—a familiar presence radiating from far beyond Hassel. He froze momentarily, turning sharply to gaze northward, a deep frown settling on his brow. The sensation was unmistakable, but why would he announce himself so openly?

Leonard sighed, shaking off the feeling with a grim smile. He knew exactly who approached, and despite the apprehension tightening his chest, he could not help but feel a bittersweet anticipation.

———

That evening, Leonard sat alone on the balcony overlooking the city, a glass of golden wine in hand. The stars sparkled above, distant and calm, oblivious to the tumult below. His gaze lingered thoughtfully on the horizon, where darkness veiled the encroaching armies.

Amelia joined him quietly, slipping into the seat beside him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Leonard raised a gentle hand to stop her.

"I already know," he murmured softly, swirling the wine slowly in his glass.

Amelia blinked, surprised. "You do? How?"

Leonard smiled faintly, bittersweet and melancholy. "He announced himself earlier. Felt his presence in the Light. Hard to miss, really."

Amelia sighed, shaking her head ruefully. "I should have expected the Grandmaster wouldn't lower himself to an ambush or anything dishonorable. He's too proud for that."

Leonard hummed quietly in agreement, his eyes distant and reflective. "Yes. Always honorable, even when it might hurt him. Stubborn old fool. He'll still fight me, though. If he came here, it means they managed to either convince him it's his duty, or find leverage he cannot ignore. Anything else he wouldn't have cared about."

A long silence settled between them, comfortable and laden with shared understanding.

"It'll be good to see him again," Leonard finally admitted softly, his voice thick with unspoken emotions. "It's been too long."

Amelia glanced at him sideways, noticing the sadness etched in his features. "Even if it comes to blows?"

Leonard nodded slowly, the smile fading from his lips. "Especially then. He would expect nothing less. It will be… painful, but necessary."

She reached out, gently squeezing his hand reassuringly. "You're not alone, Leonard. We're all here with you."

He met her eyes gratefully, nodding once. "I know. And that makes all the difference."

They sat quietly together, watching as night deepened, stars twinkling serenely in the darkness. Leonard's thoughts wandered, contemplating the inevitable confrontation, the weight of the past pressing heavily on his heart.

Yet despite everything—the turmoil, the sorrow, and the battles yet to come—he felt an unwavering certainty. No matter the cost, no matter the pain, he would face his old mentor honorably, standing firm in his convictions. The future of Hassel, of the Revolution, depended on it.

And if fate demanded they clash blades, then Leonard would do so without hesitation, carrying with him the strength of all those who believed in their cause.

The night deepened quietly around them, filled only by the distant murmurs of a city awaiting destiny.

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