"Six against one," she observed.

"And you didn't use any magic, didn't transform, and didn't call on bloodline abilities beyond basic enhancement. Just skill and experience."

Her amber eyes studied him with open curiosity.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Necessity," Jorghan replied simply, meeting her gaze steadily despite having to crane his neck to do so.

"You learn fast when losing means death."

"Truth," Yaudheyi acknowledged. She turned to look at the downed youths, her expression becoming disappointed rather than angry.

"You six represent the worst tendencies of our bloodline—arrogance without wisdom, strength without compassion, beauty without grace. You thought being Amasurata meant you could abuse those you perceived as lesser."

Kel'mars tried to speak again, but Yaudheyi's raised hand silenced him.

"You will report to the discipline barracks," she said, her tone allowing no argument.

"You will spend the next month on sanitation duty—cleaning waste systems, hauling refuse, doing the work you consider beneath you. Perhaps it will teach you humility. Perhaps not. But either way, you'll learn that being part of the strongest clan means upholding the highest standards, not exploiting the lowest privileges."

She glanced at the crowd.

"Someone help these fools to the medical ward, then ensure they understand their new assignments."

Several elves moved forward, not the youths' friends, but older clan members who looked embarrassed by the entire display. They helped the groaning youths to their feet, supporting those who couldn't walk properly, leading them away through streets that had gone silent with shock.

When they were gone, Yaudheyi turned back to Jorghan and Sigora, and her expression softened into something warmer.

"Jorghan Sol'vur and Sigora," she said formally.

"I am Yaudheyi Amasurata," a slight pause, "I apologize for the behavior of those youths. They do not represent Amasurata values, and their actions dishonor the hospitality we owe our guests."

"It's all right," Sigora said with a respectful nod.

"Your intervention is appreciated, though I'm curious why you waited so long to act."

"Because I wanted to see if he would show restraint," Yaudheyi replied honestly, her eyes on Jorghan.

"The reports of your battle against the Imperial army were... extraordinary. Descriptions of power that seemed exaggerated, capabilities that shouldn't exist. I wondered if you were truly in control of that power or if you simply had enough of it that control didn't matter."

Jorghan raised an eyebrow; she wasn't a simple elf lady. He had to watch out for her.

She gestured at the now-empty street.

"But you showed perfect control. You didn't transform, didn't use blood magic, and didn't kill when you easily could have. You delivered precisely calibrated strikes—painful, humiliating, but not permanently damaging. That suggests someone who fights with his brain as much as his body."

"I didn't want to disappoint my aunt," Jorghan said casually.

"But they pressed the buttons that shouldn't be touched."

She looked at him, nodding as if she understood his plight.

But not all of the elves would think like that.

Yaudheyi turned to address the remaining crowd, which was still watching with fascination. "Show's over. Return to your business. And spread the word—Jorghan Sol'vur is a guest of honor in Dewura'tt. Anyone who disrespects him or his companions will answer to me personally. Am I understood?"

The crowd dispersed quickly, murmuring among themselves, no doubt already crafting the stories they'd tell about what they'd witnessed.

When they were alone, or as alone as anyone could be in a city this size, Yaudheyi's demeanor shifted from formal clan lady to something more personable.

"I hope this incident hasn't soured your impression of our city," she said.

"Dewura'tt has stood for thousands of years as a symbol of what elven civilization can achieve when we work together. A few stupid youths shouldn't define that legacy."

"It hasn't," Jorghan assured her.

"Every city has fools. What matters is how leadership responds to them. Your response was... decisive."

"I try," Yaudheyi said with self-deprecating humor.

"Though I suspect those six got off easy compared to what you could have done if you'd truly wanted to hurt them."

She extended her hand, a human gesture, Jorghan realized, adapted for his benefit.

"I look forward to seeing you at tomorrow's ceremony. Something tells me your official recognition will be the beginning of interesting times for the thirteen clans."

Jorghan took her hand, noting the strength in her grip, not crushing, but firm, the handshake of someone who'd never learned to be gentle because she'd never needed to be.

"Interesting times," he repeated.

"That's one way to put it."

Yaudheyi laughed, a rich, genuine sound that made her seem more approachable despite her imposing presence.

"Walk with confidence in our city, Jorghan Sol'vur. You've earned that right. And Sigora—" she turned to include the other woman, "—your restraint tonight showed strength beyond mere combat ability. That's leadership quality that will serve your clan well."

She departed then, her crimson gown flowing behind her, the golden lioness seeming to prowl as the fabric moved. The guards who'd been held back moved forward to resume their normal patrols, and the street gradually returned to its usual evening activity.

Jorghan and Sigora stood together in the aftermath, processing what had just happened.

"Well," Sigora said finally, "that could have gone worse."

"Could have gone better too," Jorghan replied.

"But at least now they know not to mess with us."

"They know not to mess with you," Sigora corrected.

"A six-foot human just beat down six elite Amasurata youths using nothing but hand-to-hand combat. That story is going to spread through this city faster than wildfire."

Jorghan grimaced.

"Great. More stares, more attention, more—"

"More respect," Sigora interrupted.

"Elven culture values strength demonstrated over strength claimed. You just demonstrated yours in a way everyone can understand. Tomorrow's ceremony will be a formality after tonight."

She took his hand, no longer concerned about public displays now that their connection had been so clearly established.

"Come on. Let's get back to the quarters. I think we've had enough city exploration for one day."

They walked together through streets that seemed subtly different now—elves they passed still stared, but with a different quality. Not curiosity about an exotic human, but assessment of a warrior who'd proven his capabilities.

By the time they reached the Highrest Quarter, word had apparently already spread to the staff. They received bows and respectful nods that hadn't been present earlier, subtle acknowledgment that Jorghan's status had shifted from interesting visitor to legitimate power.

In the hallway between their rooms, Sigora paused at her door, then made a decision.

"Your room or mine?" she asked quietly.

"Discretion suggests separate," Jorghan replied.

"But honestly? I don't care who knows at this point."

Sigora smiled, opened her door, and pulled him inside.

Tomorrow would bring ceremony and politics and new complications.

Tonight they'd earned their peace.

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