The Enchanted Bond: A Howl's Moving Castle Fanfiction ft His Imaginary Son

Chapter 4: The Market Incident

Ardain was ready to bid farewell to the Rowans and head back to Pendragon Manor when the lively hum of the market square was disrupted by sharp shouts and the clatter of toppled stalls. The scent of fresh bread mingled with the sea breeze, now tainted by chaos. Ardain and Eira exchanged a glance—hers full of concern, his marked by calm curiosity—before they made their way toward the disturbance.

As they approached, Ardain's gaze fell upon a group of rough-looking men wreaking havoc. Their leader, a burly man with a deep scar across his cheek, was shaking an elderly merchant by the collar.

"That's Master Reed, the fruit seller," Eira said, her voice trembling slightly. "He's harmless. Why would they do this?"

Ardain smiled, but there was something elusive in his expression. "Ah, perhaps they're auditioning for the part of village miscreants," he mused, his tone light. Then, with a whimsical twist, he added, "Or maybe fate's decided to give me an excuse to play hero for you."

Eira blinked, torn between her concern and the unexpected teasing. "You don't think this is serious?"

"Serious?" Ardain echoed with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps. But why not make a bit of fun of it? Life has a sense of humor, after all." His smile deepened as he gave her a quick wink. "Stay close. I wouldn't want you to miss the show."

Before Eira could respond, Ardain advanced with casual grace, as though the unfolding chaos was merely a mild inconvenience.

The leader growled at the old merchant, his grip tightening. Ardain, however, strolled forward, his steps unhurried, his expression almost... bored. With a lazy flick of his fingers, a subtle ripple of force pushed the thug back, loosening his hold on the merchant.

"Mind your own business, fancy boy," the leader snarled, his voice thick with threat. "Unless you're looking for trouble."

Ardain's smile didn't waver. He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful yet distant. "Trouble? No, no. I was merely passing through. But if you insist on making a scene, who am I to deny you your grand moment?"

The leader's eyes narrowed with anger. "You think you scare us, lordling? We don't take orders from—"

Before he could finish, another flick of Ardain's hand sent him staggering into a pile of barrels. The air hummed with restrained magic, as if Ardain had barely exerted any effort.

Eira, half-shocked by the ease with which Ardain handled the situation, folded her arms. "Is this your idea of a rescue?"

Ardain glanced over his shoulder, a playful glint in his eye. "Rescue? That sounds far too noble. Think of it more as... cleaning up a mess." He gave her a look that dared her to argue with his nonchalance.

Before Eira could respond, the remaining thugs, emboldened by their numbers, regrouped for another attack. Ardain sighed softly, as if they were more an inconvenience than a real threat. "Why do they always try the same thing?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

He turned to Eira, his smile softening, though there was still a flicker of charm in his gaze. "Perhaps you should head back to your grandmother," he suggested, though this time, his voice carried genuine concern. "It's safer."

Eira's eyes flashed with defiance. "I'm not leaving you alone with them!" She grabbed a broom from a nearby stall, gripping it tightly.

Ardain blinked, clearly amused. "A broom? A novel choice," he remarked, his lips quirking into a grin. "Though, I must say, it's rather unfair that you're keeping me guessing with these surprises."

Before the men could charge again, Ardain waved his hand once more, a stronger gust of wind sending the attackers sprawling into a stall. Their cries were drowned by the clatter of wood and scattered fruit.

The leader, battered but still enraged, struggled to his feet. "You'll regret this!" he roared, charging at Ardain with reckless fury.

Without hesitation, Eira swung the broom with all her might, striking the man across his side. He staggered, more out of surprise than pain, and turned his furious glare toward her. "You little—"

Before he could finish, Ardain was in front of him, his hand gripping the man's collar with surprising strength. The playful charm in his eyes was gone, replaced by something cold, something distant.

"This is your last chance," Ardain said quietly, his voice low and edged with an unspoken warning. "Leave. Now."

The thug hesitated, his bravado faltering under Ardain's icy stare. With a muttered curse, he gestured for his men to retreat. "This isn't over," he growled, though the fight had clearly left him.

As the market began to calm, villagers cautiously emerged from hiding, murmuring in awe at what had just transpired.

Ardain turned to Eira, his expression softening once more. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle, the earlier edge gone.

Eira nodded, still holding the broom tightly. "I'm fine... thanks to you," she murmured.

Ardain chuckled softly, his eyes flicking upward as if momentarily lost in thought. "You handled yourself well," he mused absently, then added, quieter and more to himself, "I only hope I will when it truly matters."

Eira blinked, surprised by the note of vulnerability in his words. "What do you mean by that?"

Ardain's smile returned, but it was faint, almost wistful. "Ah, nothing to trouble yourself with," he replied, the playful mask slipping back into place. "But I suppose you'll find out in time. Fate has a funny way of revealing things, don't you think?"

Before Eira could press him further, Galena Rowan appeared, her sharp eyes surveying the scene with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "What exactly happened here?" she asked, her tone more intrigued than alarmed.

Eira opened her mouth to explain but found herself distracted by something on Ardain's coat—an embroidered name, just barely visible under the lapel.

"Pendragon," she whispered, her heart skipping a beat as realization dawned. She stared at Ardain in shock. "Wait... Pendragon? As in Howl Pendragon?"

Galena raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, though she remained silent.

Ardain chuckled, his earlier tension fading as amusement flickered back into his eyes. "I see my father's reputation still precedes him," he said lightly. "But no, I'm not Howl. I'm merely Ardain."

Eira flushed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—I'm sorry! I thought—"

Ardain waved her apology away with a smile. "No harm done. It's not every day I'm mistaken for my father. I'll take it as a compliment."

Galena, ever observant, smirked. "Quite the day for revelations, isn't it?"

Eira, still red-faced, managed a weak laugh. "Yes... quite the day."

As the crowd began to disperse and the market returned to its usual bustle, Eira found her thoughts still lingering on Ardain—on the way he had handled the situation, on the unexpected layers he seemed to hide behind that charming smile.