A Life Owed and a New Resolve

The guard flinched, nearly tumbling from their seat.

Stunned for a moment, they finally recalled what to say: “You… you… do these claims truly hold any weight? When we arrived, all we saw were corpses strewn across the floor and you. You assert they were masked men, but did anyone else witness this? Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?”

Just then, their companion beside them tugged at their sleeve, whispering, “There are, in fact. Two other ordinary people are still alive at the scene.”

….

The interrogating guard’s face flushed crimson as they stammered for a long moment, “Can’t you speak with proper respect? We are simply conducting official business. Your involvement here is concluded; you may return.”

Iordera rose, making her way to the doorway before pausing. “They needn’t have been there,” she stated.

“What was that?” the guard asked, not having heard her clearly.

“I said, they needn’t have been there,” Iordera repeated, her head bowed, her voice as deep and chilling as the waters of an ice-bound lake. “Yet, because they had received an order from the City Lord’s Mansion, tasked with preparing provisions for you, the officers, they were present.”

“You all, every one of you, owe her a life.”

A sudden chill ran down the interrogating guard’s spine, and they nervously tugged at their collar. “What talk is this of owing a life? We were in a desperate rush ourselves; it’s simply that we didn’t arrive in time, isn’t it…?”

By then, Iordera had already departed, leaving no one to hear their hollow excuses.

Rather than returning to the prison cell or even her own home, she made her way to the small shop.

The doors and windows lay shattered, the interior a scene of utter devastation, with bloodstains yet unswept from the floor.

Iordera approached the storeroom door and knocked, but no one answered.

“Uncle, it’s me.”

The storeroom door creaked open just a sliver, and only after recognizing her did it swing fully open.

The shop’s proprietor, Mr. Sanders, appeared to have aged decades in an instant, his eyes utterly devoid of light.

“Thank you for saving my daughter… and me,” Mr. Sanders rasped, his voice hoarse with grief.

“I am truly sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner,” Iordera paused for a moment, her gaze softening. “Mr. Sanders, what are your intentions now?”

“I don’t know, but…”

He lowered his head, his fingers tracing the cold metal of the doorknob. “She wished to contribute to this city, and for that, she met with such a terrible fate. I refuse to let her death be in vain. These remaining goods, I will pack them for her. Once the City Lord’s representatives arrive to take possession, I will depart from Juneburg with my daughter.”

“Very well. Would tomorrow afternoon be suitable for loading the goods?” Iordera asked. “Tomorrow afternoon, I will come to assist you.”

Mr. Sanders looked up at the young woman, observing the utter lack of expression on her face.

Though he couldn’t fathom her reasons, he nonetheless nodded, assenting to the request of his savior.

****

With only two days and a night remaining until the final deadline, these days proved arduous for many to endure.

Yet, for the two young maids in Iordera’s household, the sentiment was quite the opposite. As long as food was plentiful, they yearned for nothing more than to remain idle.

After all, life held so many simple pleasures; even idly staring into space brought them joy.

And if all else failed, engaging in playful banter with their young mistress was a delightful pastime.

This particular evening, however, Nina observed Iordera’s utterly expressionless face and sensed that something was amiss.

“Young mistress, what troubles you?”

“Nothing,” Iordera replied, her voice barely a whisper. “Let us eat.”

Iordera’s somber mood was palpable, and not a single word was exchanged among the three at the dinner table.

After their silent supper, Iordera retired directly to her room to sleep.

The sky gradually yielded to darkness, and night slowly descended.

Iordera did not open her eyes; sleep still eluded her, yet this time, she felt no trace of urgency.

She even found herself savoring the sensation: the profound stillness of the deep night, the very air chilling her to the bone, as if she stood before a frigid mirror, compelled to stare into the depths of her own soul.

‘Perhaps in that moment, Sterling finally comprehended that only through a madness that defied life and death could fragile justice ever be preserved. And you, then, are you willing to embrace it?’

The night drifted by in a hazy stupor, and Yuna, smacking her lips contentedly, slumbered soundly.

She was then roused by her sister.

Yuna’s eyes fluttered open to find Nina seated at the head of the bed, her expression grave with deep thought.

“What is it, Sister?”

“Yuna, did you not perceive the young mistress’s demeanor last night?” Nina inquired.

“I did, of course, but there’s truly nothing we can do.”

“No, what I mean is this,” Nina stated calmly, “Whenever the young mistress harbors a worry, she invariably suffers from insomnia through the night, and consequently, she fails to awaken on time the following morning, resulting in tardiness for her duties.”

“I understand,” Yuna replied, pushing herself into a sitting position with some effort. “Are we to rouse her from bed now?”

However, as the two drowsy young maids cautiously pushed open the door to their young mistress’s room, they were met with a startling sight.

“Eep!”

“Ah!”

Iordera sat neatly dressed on the edge of her bed, casting a faint glance their way. “You’ve arrived, and it’s quite opportune, for I have instructions to impart.”

The two young maids, now wide awake, settled obediently onto the chairs.

“Please speak, young mistress.”

“For the next two days, I shall be occupied with certain matters and may not return in the evenings. You need not concern yourselves with my whereabouts; simply eat when you are hungry and sleep when you are tired,” Iordera instructed.

Nina paused, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Young mistress, what is it you intend to do?”

“I won’t delve into the specifics, but suffice it to say, it is somewhat intricate and not without peril,” Iordera explained, drawing a pouch of coins from her pocket and placing it on the bed. “If, by the morning of the day after tomorrow, I have not returned, you are to take this money and depart from Juneburg, never to look back.”

Yuna’s drowsiness vanished instantly, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Nina quickly covered her cherry-red lips with a hand.

“Young mistress, could you… at least tell us where you intend to go?”

Iordera hesitated for a beat, then offered a wry, bitter smile. “To the City Lord’s Mansion, most likely.”

“The City Lord’s Mansion?”

“Indeed. Therefore, if everything proceeds as smoothly as possible, I should return before the morning of the day after tomorrow, and we will all depart together. However, if I am not back in two days, then you…” She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

“Understood,” Nina interjected swiftly. “Life is filled with dreams, and each of us must live our own splendid journey.”

“We are grateful for your sacrifices, young mistress,” Yuna added, her demeanor now fully serious.

Iordera’s lips curved upward into a faint, fleeting smile.

“You two,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone, “even at such a serious juncture, you can’t resist your playful banter with me.” She swung her legs off the bed. “I’m departing now. You may both return to your slumber.”

Having spent the entire night in contemplation, she had arrived at several crucial decisions.

Could the vital information she sought truly be extracted from the lips of a stubborn individual who held no connection to her, and even harbored an innate animosity?

Theoretically, it was indeed possible; one person alone possessed the means.

Hecate.

All Iordera needed to do was consider how Hecate herself would approach such a task.

On the penultimate day leading up to the deadline, the streets were virtually deserted of pedestrians. Iordera’s slender figure walked alone down the desolate thoroughfare, each step deliberate and measured.

Upon reaching the prison cell, she delivered the meal, then settled down to wait beside it. Everything appeared to unfold as it always did, indistinguishable from any other day.

Yet, Hecate soon realized that the young girl sat beside her, gazing intently, her eyes unwavering.

Hecate slowly set down the meal tray, her gaze locking with Iordera’s. Several minutes elapsed, neither woman averting her eyes, their gazes fixed solely on one another.

Were it not for the stark impropriety of the setting, any observer might have mistaken the scene for the unfolding of a profound romance.

It was then that Hecate understood, perceiving the true intent behind the “tender affection” in the young girl’s unwavering gaze.

She was observing, and she was learning.