"Are your ears sensitive to touch?"
Vaelira blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. "Why would you ask something so… obvious? It's common knowledge that they are. And you, of all people, should know never to touch a Feralkin's ears."
"Ah, I see," Solas murmured, resting a thoughtful hand beneath his chin. He recalled the moment he'd placed his hand on Lyssa's ears—the tension in the room, the shocked stares from the other knights. But she… she had leaned into his touch. After a pause, he lowered his hand and added, "I touched Lyssa's ears. She seemed to enjoy it."
Vaelira stared at him, stunned. "Y-You what? And she didn't hit you?"
Solas shook his head. "No. She purred."
Vaelira could only gape. Lyssa? Letting someone touch her ears without retaliating? That was unheard of. She was infamous for lashing out when anyone got too close, especially around her ears or tail. Most walked away with scratches—or didn't walk at all.
Sure, Lyssa could be playful. Occasionally, with someone she trusted, she might tolerate a fleeting touch. But letting a stranger—someone she'd just met—do that?
It didn't add up.
There's something about him… Vaelira thought. Like his presence just eases people. As if you know he won't judge you. It's almost—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle voice.
"Is she alright?" Solas asked, his gaze shifting to the injured girl lying nearby. His tone was soft, laced with concern.
Even while unsettling her with his presence, he remained attentive to others. That gentleness… it was disarming.
The girl's breathing was faint but steady. Her hair, thick and slightly wavy, spilled past her shoulders in tousled layers. A soft, silvery ash-brown, it framed her face with natural ease. A few shorter strands clung to her forehead—likely from the heat of battle. Her ash-colored dog ears drooped low, heavy with exhaustion.
Vaelira turned to glance at her, then nodded. "Selin. She's okay. Just needs rest."
"That's good," Solas said, his gaze returning to Vaelira. "Do you have any more questions for me?"
Her expression soon turned serious. "Right… about the capital. Since you'll be placed under arrest and imprisoned, I'll see if I can have you released without punishment."
The faintest smile curled on Solas's lips. He gave a small, almost playful wave of his hand, as if brushing away the weight of her words. "There's no need to trouble yourself on my behalf," he said softly, with calm conviction. "I'll be fine. Things tend to unfold as they should."
Vaelira tilted her head slightly. "Then… why did you help us?" Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "You could've run. Let us deal with the goblins and slipped away unnoticed."
Solas met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Because I chose to," he said simply. "That's all there is to it."
His words hung in the air, as if there was more beneath the surface—but he left it there, offering no further explanation.
Vaelira was surprised by how good his answer made her feel. A soft smirk touched her lips. "Then I'll be looking forward to what comes next."
She couldn't shake the strange connection she felt with him. She had never bent the rules for anyone—never questioned the law, never hesitated to carry out orders. And yet here she was, already making exceptions for a man she'd only just met.
Solas rose to his feet, his movements calm and deliberate. "Well then, I believe that concludes our conversation."
He stepped toward the caravan door, then paused, glancing over his shoulder with that serene smile.
"I have a feeling," he said, voice smooth and assured, "this will be the beginning of a very promising partnership."
Then he stepped outside.
The warmth of the sun brushed against his skin, the wind humming softly as it ruffled strands of his white hair. The fertile earth crunched beneath his feet as he stepped out.
Everything was falling into place—just as he had planned.
He could've run when the goblins struck, vanished into the chaos without a trace. But he didn't. That moment had opened itself like a gift, and he seized it without hesitation. It was the perfect chance to embed himself deeper, to win their trust. Soon, they would all be following his lead without even realizing it.
Even Rowena tending to the wounded knight had been deliberate—another gesture to earn goodwill, to show that even his own treated captors with care. A small act, but powerful in its message.
Everything bends in time. Everything alligns beneath the simple guidance of my hand.
"S-Solas…"
He turned his head toward the voice. Rowena stood by the caravan door. It was clear she had overheard their conversation, but he didn't press her—she had already done enough for him.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
She lowered her gaze. "Are things going to be okay for us?"
Solas stepped closer, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. His voice was soft, reassuring. "Everything will be just fine."
He glanced toward the caravan. "Why don't you go check on them? See if they're alright."
"O-Okay." She gave a small nod and turned toward the door, though something in her chest ached. It felt like Solas was pushing her away—and she hated that feeling. She wanted to become stronger. Strong enough to walk beside him, not behind.
Just before stepping inside, she looked back. He met her eyes with a soft smile, one that felt distant. Then he turned and walked away.
As Solas passed the caravan, most of the bodies and scattered weapons had already been cleared. Ahead, a group of knights surrounded the massive corpse of the orc he had slain. Judging by their expressions, they were debating how in the gods' names they were going to move it.
He soon made his way over to them. As he approached, the sound of bickering filled the air.
"It's not going to be that easy to cut it up into pieces…"
"Sure I can, just watch me!" Nyra declared, stabbing her blade into the orc's arm and wobbling it awkwardly, trying to saw through it.
"Why don't you pull it upward and go from the other side—cut it like cake?" Lyssa offered.
Elira shook her head. "That won't work either, Lyssa."
"You're all wasting time," Solas said calmly, cutting through the noise as he stepped up to the group.
They looked up at him.
Solas approached the orc's hulking corpse and knelt beside the massive arm Nyra had been struggling with. "You have to cut where the bone is weakest."
He placed his hand near the elbow. "Here. At the joint—the tendons are softer, and the bone won't resist your blade as much. It'll come off cleanest from this angle."
Nyra blinked, then adjusted her sword where he'd indicated. With a few firm strokes, the blade sank in far easier than before. "You were right!"
Solas rose to his feet and stepped away from the orc, his gaze drifting over the knights until it landed on Lyssa.
Her tail wagged with excitement, her hands curled into small fists near her chin. She looked at him, leaning forward with sparkling eyes. "You're so cool. You know everything~"
Solas turned to her, his expression soft but unreadable. He didn't smile fully, but the corners of his lips lifted just slightly.
"Knowing what others overlook isn't the same as knowing everything," he said smoothly. "But if it helps you trust me… then let's pretend I do."
Lyssa was taken aback by his words but replied in a playful tone, "If you say so~"
Solas moved past her as she trotted over to rejoin Nyra. His gaze shifted to the remaining knights.
"Thank you," Elira said, offering him a soft smile—grateful he'd handled the other two instead of leaving it to her.
Mirell stood silently, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the group without a word.
Solas glanced back at the orc's corpse and the two girls still fussing over it.
"Let's get to work then, shall we?" he said, calm and composed.