Chapter 11: What is he planning?

Johnny watched, as Filarion and the kids he had fooled into using to get inside the guild hall despite the restraining order came inside the training hall. Had the tank been anyone else, he would have thought that it was just a coincidence that the four came inside the hall when he was here.

But Johnny was no fool. He knew that Filarion knew all about his daily routine. More than that, Johnny knew that Filarion was just pretending, ready to drop these kids on the side of the road, once he got what he wanted.

"Now, now, Nate. No pouting. Just keep on running," Filarion's bell chime like voice tickled Johnny's ears. He had heard this amused lilt before, sometimes even during coupling. Filarion was playing with the kids, but something told Johnny he was slowly becoming fond of them.

And wasn't this the joke of the century? A murderer like Filarion, who ordered people dead without blinking an eye, suddenly playing house with three kids? Johnny wanted to throw a tantrum, but decided that the safety of the kids was more paramount.

He stood from where he had been punching the bag filled with sand, and went to the elf. As soon as Filarion's eyes landed on him, they shone. Johnny knew this shine. Filarion thought he was getting what he wanted.

"Are there no laws for you?" Johnny snapped, when he came to Filarion. "Should I read the restraining order to you?"

"I am not here for you, and you were far enough that it didn't matter that I am in the hall," Filarion sounded hurt. How much of it was the truth and how much the elf pretending, Johnny didn't know.

"Are you forcing them into dungeons already?" Johnny needed to know. Granted, Filarion could lie to him. But he thought that the elf was not so far gone, to do so.

"Yesterday we did defend the tower quest from a cat," Filarion told him with a straight face. Johnny blinked at him.

"You... what now?" Johnny couldn't understand what defend the tower code word had to do with cats. Was it a cat as big as his Fluffs?

"We protected a kitchen from a ravenous cat," Filarion clarified. Then rolled up his pant leg, and showed him a bite on his ankle. "Feisty little thing. Found the one spot not protected by runes, and sunk its teeth in."

"So, you bullied a cat?" Johnny asked. In his experience, cats didn't bite unless bullied.

"The cat was not harmed in any way. We even made up. I spend an hour petting it, and it licked my wound in apology," Filarion told him, but his eyes were downcast.

Johnny snorted then. For a second, he wanted to comfort Filarion over the fact that he had gotten bitten. That urge was mercilessly squashed.

"Johnny," Filarion began, but Johnny held up a hand.

"It is Mister Morrel to you, lord Elathana," Johnny spoke, and he watched as Filarion's expression became torn.

"Mister Morrel then," Filarion's breath hitched in his throat, and Johnny could see tears in his eyes. The tank told himself that this was all an act, and forced his hands to remain by his side, rather than to wrap around the murderer. "Please don't stand in the way of my party's training. They are promising young adults, and I want to nurture them."

Johnny blinked at that. He had expected that Filarion was going to ask him that they should go back together, not that he should step away and leave the elf's life. Johnny nodded, and went back to his corner.

As if commanded, the three kids came to their party leader, and proceeded to herd him in a hug pile. Even from his corner, he could feel their glares. Johnny felt bad about what he had done.

Then, he remembered that Filarion must have killed hundreds, or had them killed. For no other reason but because they couldn't pay his fees. Johnny's glare leveled to the three kids, and he watched as Filarion herded them out of the training hall.

After a couple of repetitions of lifting the one-hundred-kilogram weights, he got bored with it all. He tried to lift them without mana, and he huffed and puffed, as he did a single repetition.

Drenched in sweat, he left the weights behind, and headed towards the mead hall. There was no trace from Filarion and the kids inside, and Johnny was grateful. He picked a random pit fire, and sat down with a group he didn't know all that well.

"Hey, you look like you are ready to pummel someone into the ground," the tank of the party said, as he handed him a beer bottle. Johnny took it, and then took one large gulp from it.

"I feel like doing an SS ranked quest, but I don't have a party," Johnny mused. He needed danger in his life that he could do something about. Not how he had been useless in saving those five people.

"Really? We, the Sapphire Shooters, would love to come with you," the tank had stars in his eyes. Johnny took another gulp from his beer.

"What rank are you?" Johnny asked, as the five shifted uneasily.

"Well, I am rank C, but Sill is rank B," the tank said, and Johnny resisted the urge to snort.

"I can take you to a quest, but it won't be to an SS ranked one. I am not in the business of risking other people's lives," Johnny said. The five looked disappointed at that, but then edged closer to one another and began to whisper. Stealing glances at Johnny every so often.

He could hear snippets of their conversation. He might not know who they were, but they knew him. There was awe in their voices. Johnny thought that Filarion must have felt the same when it came to his kids.

Then, the tank shook his head, and gulped down the rest of his beer quickly. He shouldn't think about Filarion. That apple was pure and ripe on the outside, but rotten down to its core. Filarion was not his little leaf. Not anymore. Perhaps, he had never been.