Solgor’s eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the calm and composed Aino extend her delicate hand to meet his, which had been waiting in mid-air.

Her hand was small, with fine, smooth skin and slender bones, appearing utterly harmless.

At first glance, Solgor could tell she was likely a magic user. The youthful appearance of her body could either be the result of shapeshifting or some forbidden magic that reversed aging.

Truthfully, as a swordsman, Solgor lacked sensitivity to magic and was not adept at analyzing such things. He couldn’t discern exactly what kind of being stood before him, only that the faint scent of blood suggested she was no ordinary creature.

But for a magic user to dare stand this close to him?

Throughout his illustrious life as the Dwarven King, Solgor had slain many magic-wielding foes. The essence of such battles lay in overcoming their spells and barriers to close the distance.

Once a magic user was forced into close combat, the result was usually instant death.

After uttering his probing statement, Solgor had focused all his attention on Aino, ready to counter any sudden attack.

Yet Aino merely replied casually:
“You’d better not try anything. The consequences might be more than you can handle.”

The naked threat caught Solgor off guard. It had been many years since anyone dared to speak to him this way.

Was she bluffing? Could a magic user really resist him at this range?

Solgor felt a surge of impulse—to draw his sword now and behead this strange being, whether or not it was her true form.

For seasoned warriors, confidence and courage were never in short supply. They thrived on breaking through the so-called “unknown.”

But whether it was due to the countless lives in the city or his own matured caution as the Dwarven King, Solgor eventually released her hand and stepped back a few paces, maintaining a distance that would ease the tension without feeling unsafe.

This distance marked a critical boundary—not close enough to threaten, yet not far enough to let her lower her guard.

“No harm. I choose to believe you,” Solgor said, turning away with a sweep of his deep-red cape. A flicker of regret and frustration crossed his eyes.

If he were a hundred years younger, he would have tested her strength without hesitation.

Even now, if he were not the Dwarven King, not in Grantham, he might have acted to uncover her true capabilities.

What a pity. What a shame. The king sighed inwardly at his decision to step back, a compromise he would not have made in his younger days.

Unaware of Solgor’s internal struggle, Aino felt a wave of relief. While her body was incredibly resilient, close combat remained the Dwarven King’s domain of expertise.

Still, it was a shame not to experience such remarkable swordsmanship firsthand.

If not for Chloe and Parker, Aino might have fought him just to put this arrogant old man in his place.

Unknowingly, their thoughts aligned for a brief moment, though neither realized it.

What followed was a conversation led entirely by Solgor, aimed at stabilizing their relationship while subtly probing Aino for information.

To Aino, the exchange was stifling. It had been a long time since she felt so constrained.

As a ruler seasoned in politics, Solgor’s words were a mix of truth and falsehood, his true thoughts impossible to discern.

How dull.

Such individuals always took control of the conversation, their every move composed, leaving others uneasy and reactive.

It reminded Aino of workplace “chats” with a superior in her previous life, completely one-sided.

Growing impatient, she lowered her gaze, responding with indifferent “oh” and “mmhmm,” expressing her silent protest through perfunctory replies.

Solgor paused, taken aback by her sulking demeanor, then chuckled softly.

In truth, he hadn’t meant to speak in such a manner. It was simply the result of being the Dwarven King for too long. He had forgotten how to hold a normal conversation.

Kings were always alone. Even human rulers, after just a few decades, often lamented their isolation. Solgor had been the Dwarven King for nearly two centuries.

The decades of wandering as an unknown dwarven swordsman, rising to fame as a sword master, and eventually becoming one of the few Sword Saints—those were the days he truly missed.

Seeing Aino’s disgruntled expression brought a genuine laugh to Solgor’s lips for the first time since they met.

“What are you laughing at?” Aino asked, casting him a scornful glance, assuming he was just putting on airs.

To her surprise, Solgor’s tone changed entirely as he replied:
“All right, I suppose talking to me is boring. My apologies. Until you break your promise, consider us friends.”

“What promise? When were we ever friends?” Aino snapped, irritated by his self-centered remarks.

“The promise not to harm innocents or cause trouble within the city,” Solgor explained with a smile. “And as for friendship, it’s always wise for strong individuals to get along until conflict arises.”

Aino wanted to retort but found no fault in his logic.
“I don’t harm innocents, so I don’t need such promises. And I don’t need your friendship. Just take care of Chloe for me.”

Solgor ignored her dismissive tone, focusing instead on her final words.
“Chloe? The fairy with you?”

“Yes. She’s my friend. Protect her,” Aino said firmly.

“Very well, I promise,” Solgor replied without hesitation.

For a moment, Aino was at a loss for words. Regardless of his attitude, she never knew how to handle someone like him.

After a pause, she recalled something that had been bothering her.
“By the way, do you know about the Exotic Flower Pavilion in Grantham?”

Solgor raised an eyebrow before answering, “Of course. The current owner is a dwarf named Pesto, a well-known merchant in the city.”

“But I clearly saw a fairy establish it…”

“Oh?” Solgor’s expression turned curious. “That must have been thirty or forty years ago. You were in Grantham then?”

“Yes. I was traveling with my companions. Do you know where she went?”

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, Solgor replied, “Hmm, if I recall, she handed the shop over to Pesto shortly after establishing it and left Grantham. I’m not sure about the details.”

“Got it.” Solgor’s candid answers and cooperative attitude made Aino feel more at ease, softening her perception of him slightly.

Tilting her head, she asked, “So, that’s it?”

“Farewell,” Solgor replied.

His departure was swift and deliberate. By the time the words left his mouth, he had already turned, his red cape trailing behind him.

With Chloe’s situation resolved, a weight lifted from Aino’s heart.

Casting one last glance in the direction Solgor had gone, she turned and ascended the stairs, ready to return to where she came from.