I no longer knew how long I had been sitting there. In front of the river, watching the water flow calmly and evenly over the smooth stones while the sunlight reflected in its gentle movements. My thumb brushed over a single blade of grass I had plucked beside me. I cut myself on the sharp edge, and a faint but piercing pain followed as a red bead formed on my skin. Then I drew my legs to my chest, wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my head in them.
The anger and especially the frustration that had built up inside me had not faded in the slightest. It burned relentlessly within me.
Even though I was almost ashamed of it, I had spent the entire time by the river thinking about continuing on my own and not returning to the stable.
But I did not like the thought at all, even if I had not been particularly fond of Kiyan so far. He was not the first to show disapproval toward me because he feared I might be the Flame Hunter or at least someone connected to her. He was probably only trying to protect Marcy and acted so dismissive because of that. I could understand that, but it was still difficult with him. I suppose my character was not noble enough for such things not to affect me anyway.
And as for Marcy… I was not sure whether I had truly grown so fond of her so quickly or if it was simply because hardship had brought us together. Or whether I even wanted to know the answer to that question.
What I would have given to return to my old life. I sighed and looked up. My hood slipped lower across my face.
Beside me, an old willow rustled in the wind, its branches trailing into the water. Birds chirped and crickets sang. The sun was already low, though there was still no sign of dusk. Every now and then a few people passed by, but no one paid attention to me. I had deliberately chosen a quieter spot in the city.
Suddenly there was a splash, followed by the sound of something heavy sinking beneath the surface. When I looked toward the noise, I noticed a few older children throwing stones into the water and laughing. They looked so carefree.
It reminded me of Kiyan, who had almost laughed for the first time the previous night in the stable. At his core he seemed softer than his harsh exterior suggested. And of Marcy, who despite her own trauma had repeatedly given me a warm, sincere smile over the past week.
Despite myself, I smiled, and the negative feelings sank back into the depths of my stomach.
Maybe I had given up too quickly. Not only on Artur but also on Marcy and Kiyan. Maybe I should start standing my ground. That had always been one of my biggest character flaws.
My hand tightened and clenched around the dry grass. Then I stood up.
I simply had to try again. Because I had made a promise.
The bell above the entrance door chimed. With unsteady hands I closed the door behind me.
I was so nervous that I already felt sick. Even so, I stepped forward to the old counter with determination and waited. The entire way here I had gone over the follow-up conversation again and again in my head. It would certainly not be easy to convince him, but I was confident.
It did not take long before I heard another door swing open, followed by heavy steps. When Artur passed through the doorway and noticed me, he stopped abruptly. His eyes behind the lenses of his glasses narrowed, then drifted across the room.
"No worries. I'm alone this time. See?", I said and gestured toward the door.
Not a word came from his lips. I was not sure what his silence meant. Since he was still looking toward the door, I added uncertainly:
"There's no one outside either."
Then he began rummaging through one of the pockets on his apron.
I clung to the edge of the counter and watched him tensely. What was he looking for?
At last he pulled out a piece of paper, folded many times and frayed at the edges. He unfolded it with effort, adjusted his glasses and examined the contents.
The whole thing had not taken longer than a few heartbeats, but even so the short span of time felt like an unbearable eternity to me.
He put the paper back into his pocket, furrowed his brow and stroked thoughtfully over the stubble on his chin. Still, he did not say a word.
At some point I could not bear it anymore and said:
"Please do me this favor and listen to me. If not for my sake, then at least for Eoghan's, yes? I truly do not know how we are supposed to survive if you turn us away now."
With a calming gesture and a step toward him, I tried to lessen both the physical and the personal distance between us.
He wrinkled his nose, and his green eyes met mine for a moment. Then he answered in a calm voice:
"Fine. I have great respect for your father. But if you break the rules again, you are out. The fact that you are Eoghan's daughter will not change that."
Hastily, and unable to hide how surprised I was, I blinked several times. I had expected much more resistance.
"Come with me," he said, turned around and stepped into the workshop behind him.
With one last glance toward the entrance door, pushing away my guilt, I followed him.
Aside from the two workbenches, the room was filled with many half-finished, repaired and broken objects. Some things were lying scattered on the floor. In one spot a few stools stood right in the way, forcing us to walk around the workbench ahead to reach the far end of the room. I almost tripped over a metallic object. He brought me to a third door. I had not noticed it the first time, as it was tucked all the way in the back corner.
Once we passed through the door, I found myself, to my surprise, in his home. It was not very large, and both the kitchen and the living area had been combined. A small hearth built into the wall held a simmering pot. The smell of meat, vegetables and broth made my mouth water.
In the center stood a heavy wooden table with four chairs, none of which matched. It looked as if someone had simply gathered random chairs and placed them beneath the table. There was even a stool mixed in among them. In another corner stood an old chest with clothes spilling out of it. On the shelves next to the door, under which a counter was placed, various storage jars were arranged. On the counter below lay scattered papers and small metal pieces.
Aside from that, there was only one more old wooden door, which had certainly seen better days.
Artur instructed me to take a seat on one of the chairs while he wandered toward the hearth. Just as I was about to choose a random chair at the table, I stepped on something hard and nearly slipped. At the last moment I caught myself on the table. I realized that a few small wooden blocks had caused my near accident.
"From my grandchild, yes, yes," Artur explained when he turned around after the noise that had interrupted whatever he had been searching for.
Surprised, I answered:
"Oh, I did not know you already had grandchildren."
I wondered which of his children had started a family of their own. But before I could ask, the wobbly chair I was about to sit on distracted me and I almost lost my balance again. After a short moment I somehow managed to get used to sitting crookedly. I did not feel particularly comfortable in Artur's chaos, but I was at least grateful that it was not dirty.
In the meantime Artur had found a dented iron kettle, which he filled with water from the bucket next to the hearth.
"Would you like some tea?" he asked as he hung the kettle on a second swing arm in front of the simmering pot.
"Yes, please," I answered quietly.
He then sat down across from me at the table and rubbed his furrowed forehead.
Nervously, I drummed my fingers on my legs.
After a long sigh he finally asked the question I had been dreading:
"So? What happened?"
I intertwined my fingers and placed my hands on the table. Restlessly, I ran one thumb over the other while thinking about where to begin. Since he was a friend of my father, I feared his reaction. Even though Artur had a very different personality, I could not stop myself from imagining how my father would have reacted if he were sitting across from me instead.
"To be able to help you, I need to know what is going on, yes, yes. Without more information it will not work," Artur told me.
"There is something I need to say first," I admitted with my head lowered.
His forehead creased again, then he signaled with a brief gesture that I should continue.
So I answered:
"At the moment I have no money. But-"
"Yes, yes. Let that be my concern," he muttered, interrupting me immediately and waving it off, "we can talk about money later. Now tell me why you are in such trouble."
In the end I said in a hoarse voice:
"I messed up..."
Guiltily, I bit my lower lip and stared at my hands. But Artur did not say a single word. He simply waited, patient as if we had all the time in the world, until I was ready to continue.
Once my breathing had calmed again, I began to talk. At first haltingly, occasionally glancing at Artur's face. But the explosion I had expected never came. No accusations, no scolding, not even a confused shake of the head. If he had not occasionally stroked his stubble, poured the finished tea into a wooden cup, or signaled me with a brief gesture to keep going during my pauses, I might have mistaken him for a statue.
So I told him everything. At times I struggled to put the events into usable words, but the longer I spoke, the easier they flowed from my lips.
Eventually I reached the present. I waited with slumped shoulders and a pounding heart for his judgment, but even when everything had been told, he only stroked his chin again and stared into the distance.
To channel my tension, I took a generous sip of the chamomile tea. It felt good to finally feel warmth in my stomach again after these exhausting days. Or to have anything other than water in it at all.
Even if the wooden cup could not hold the heat for very long.
Artur cleared his throat and looked as though he had torn himself away from his thoughts:
"You have been through quite a lot these last days, yes, yes."
He nodded several times and turned the wooden cup in his hand.
My eyelids fluttered in surprise. I was not being scolded for my reckless decisions? In my mind he had reacted the way I expected my father to, tearing my head off. Artur had always been something like an uncle to me.
His eyes looked distant again, as though he were thinking about something. Once he seemed as if he wanted to speak, but then he dropped it again.
Just as I was finishing the tea, Artur suddenly asked:
"How is it that you came here alone?"
"I have to admit that I came here without the others knowing. They are probably waiting at our lodging. But of course I did not come here only for my own sake. I would like to take them with me," I admitted reluctantly.
At the same time I felt annoyed with myself for feeling guilty, even though I had promised myself barely an hour ago that I would start standing my ground more often.
"Yeah, yeah, I understand," Artur said, nodding several times. For a moment he folded his arms across his chest and stared at his wooden cup.
"At least you do not have to sleep outside. It is getting cold, yeah, yeah," he said eventually.
"No, no. We are staying in a stable at an inn with a friendly innkeeper," I explained, shaking my head.
Artur pushed his chair back, producing a sharp, squeaking noise.
He got up, took the kettle in his hand and pointed at my cup:
"More tea? Only have chamomile."
"That would be nice, thank you," I replied kindly.
While Artur set another kettle on, the door on the other side of the room suddenly swung open with a bang. It had so much force that it slammed against the wall and made the wood shudder.
After the initial shock faded, I wondered how the door had managed to survive that treatment at all.
A young woman my age stepped inside. She had brown hair braided to the side and was carrying a small child on her arm, who looked around with wide, round eyes.
Like Artur, she wore a dark brown leather apron over her linen clothing, covered in oils, soot and all sorts of grime. Her face struck me as immediately familiar.
"Ah, Fina. Yeah, yeah, how is the little one doing?" Artur addressed her. He had been about to sit down again, but froze when the door flew open.
Fina answered while wiping a trail of drool from the child's chin with her free hand:
"It is all right. Today is better."
Her eyes swept around the room and landed on me. When our gazes met, I smiled and greeted her:
"Hello. It has been a long time."
Instead of a smile or the warm words I had expected from an old acquaintance, she met me with a frown. I was not sure whether she did not recognize me or if she had another reason.
"Girl, this is Nova. Do you remember her? She is Eoghan's daughter," Artur reminded her, gesturing toward me.
"Ah, Nova. Yes, I remember. The last time we saw each other, we were children," she said, blinking quickly and shaking her head as though it would help her memory.
I tilted my head slightly toward the child in her arm and asked:
"You have become a mother?"
She shook her head quickly.
"Oh, no. I am his aunt. The little one belongs to Wren," she clarified, though her voice broke near the end.
Wren then. I had only known him briefly, but I knew he was her older brother and Artur's eldest child.
When I looked over at Artur, I noticed a trace of sadness in his face, the same I had seen in Fina's. So I decided not to ask further.
The child in Fina's arms reached out its tiny arms toward its grandfather and grinned. Fina handed the blond child to Artur and said:
"Go on, spend a little time with Grandpa. Your aunt could use a break."
Artur stroked his grandson's head, tapped his nose and whispered something to him, which made the child laugh. Artur grinned as well. Then he bent down with a groan to pick something up from the floor beside him.
Fina had noticed the teapot. When she stood in front of it, she planted her hands on her hips and grumbled:
"Dad, it's been ready for ages."
"Yeah, yeah. I was just about to take it off the fire," he replied, without taking his eyes off his grandson, who was now playing contentedly but lazily with a few wooden blocks.
The sight of the little family, even though they had clearly suffered some misfortune recently, filled my heart with warmth. In their own way they calmed me, and for the first time in a long while I felt noticeably better. I even had the feeling that things might work out for me as well. Though Artur still owed me an answer, so the nervousness did not quite leave me. Even so, a smile crept onto my lips.
Fina had found a thick cloth and lifted the kettle off the fire. While she held it, Artur leaned toward her as she walked past him and murmured something in her direction.
I could not hear what he said, but for a moment Fina's eyes widened and all color drained from her face. A heartbeat later, her natural flush returned. Then she nodded firmly and whispered:
"I know. I noticed that as well."
She turned away and disappeared behind the table. A metallic sound rang out. When she straightened up again, her hands were empty. She must have set the kettle down somewhere.
Fina took the child from Artur and said:
"Well then, the two of us have something to take care of."
She gave me a weak smile and headed toward the door she had come through. Her nephew gave me a wide grin and waved. Smiling, I returned the gesture and watched them until the door closed again.
Artur stood up with a groan and turned toward the hearth.
"Oh, she set it on the tripod," he muttered, then made his slow way toward the counters on the other side of the room. A faint clinking sounded as he seemed to fiddle with something.
I traced the rough wood of the table with my fingertip and asked nervously:
"How do we proceed from here?"
The worry that had been gnawing at me for days resurfaced at full strength. Not even the calming chamomile tea or the heartwarming scene from a moment ago could silence it for long.
"I will need at least a few days. You will have to be patient, yes, yes. First I need to assess the situation and visit a few contacts. Then I will tell you how things will move forward. Also for your friends," he explained, his back still turned to me.
The moment those words reached me, I felt my body relax. My heart, which had been pounding all the way up to my throat, calmed again. I was relieved. Truly relieved.
"Thank you," I said with a smile.
All I heard from Artur was a quiet:
"Alright."
A few days then. Lost in thought, I nibbled at my fingernails. Where were we supposed to sleep? With a bit of luck I could ask the innkeeper if he needed any help. Maybe that could earn us a roof over our heads and a meal or two. And if something really ended up left over… maybe I could finally send a message to my father.
Artur was already helping us more than enough. I did not want to ask him for any more favors. And aside from that, his family seemed to be dealing with enough as it was. Who knew what problems lingered within these walls.
The more relief washed over me in that moment, the more I dreaded what would come next. I would have to tell Marcy and Kiyan. They would not forgive my little solo venture easily. If at all.
Artur had walked over to the hearth and bent down to check the iron kettle. After a few moments he straightened up with effort and settled sideways onto his chair while he waited for the tea to steep.
"I honestly do not know how I will ever make this up to you," I told him in a hoarse voice.
Then I gave him a smile. He gave me a short nod and turned his attention back to the kettle. He seemed lost in thought again, so I waited out the rest of the time in silence.
A little later he got up, took the kettle off the tripod and poured a cup for me first, then for himself. After putting the kettle back and sitting down again, he said:
"Careful, the tea is hot, yes, yes."
"Thank you," I replied, wrapping my cold hands around the cup.
"How did you get into the city, anyway? I assume the tightened controls are because of you," he asked with furrowed brows.
Right. I had only told him that we had reached Truwenreuth after our exhausting journey, but not how we had actually managed to get into the city.
So I answered, after taking a cautious sip of the tea:
"We met a merchant who kindly took us with him through the checkpoint."
"Ah," he said, running a hand through his unruly dark hair, which had gained a few silver streaks over the years.
I glanced out one of the few windows. It was not dark yet, but the sun was definitely beginning to set. I told myself I would head back to the stable right after finishing the tea. I should not put off the conversation with Marcy and Kiyan any longer.
Artur adjusted his glasses while smirking:
"The way you sat in front of me earlier… with your head down and that guilty look, you reminded me so much of the old days, when you had done something as a child. One could never leave you alone, yes, yes."
I had to laugh as well. From that point on, a lively conversation unfolded. Talking about the past or even just thinking about it felt like being wrapped in sunlight. Warm, gentle and soothing.
But the longer we talked, the more tired I became. My vision started to blur. But that had to be from exhaustion. Shortly after, it got worse. Why was I so tired? It was similar to what happened when I had used too much magic. And yet it felt different. My body swayed even though I was sitting.
So I said to Artur:
"Thank you for the tea… but I should probably get back… soon."
Why did my tongue feel so heavy? When I stood up, my body tipped to the side, and I had to catch myself on the table at the last moment. I tried to shift my weight to gain more balance. But my legs felt like lead. I could not even lift them anymore. Suddenly my lips and hands began to tingle.
I realized what was happening. I shook like never before.
With my eyelids already closing, I turned toward Artur, who by then was nothing more than a dark blur:
"You… W-what did you… give me…"
My lips were already numb, and I could no longer speak properly. It felt as if I wasn't the one moving them. As if my body no longer belonged to me.
Panic and horror washed over me. Why? I kept asking myself. Why, Artur? I trusted you.
I wanted to run, but I no longer knew where the exit was. Was it to the left or the right? In front of me or behind me? The only thing I knew was that I had to get away.
My attempt to move failed. Suddenly my legs gave out. I fell forward uncontrollably. During the fall my head hit the table first, then I tumbled over one of the chairs and landed roughly on the floor.
A blurry shape appeared in my field of vision. I didn't know what it was, but I heard Artur say in a hoarse voice:
"Forgive… do not… like doing this…"
I understood nothing else of what he said. Something rustled softly. Paper?
Then I felt the panic that had seized me slowly fade. My heartbeat calmed and the trembling eased.
"Sadly… bounty… no other choice," someone murmured from far away. More voices reached my ears, but they all sounded distant now. They were so quiet I could no longer make out a single word.
I tried to speak, but my dry throat didn't produce a sound. Not even a rasp. Were my lips even moving? I wanted to get away. I wanted to scream, but it felt as if I was nothing more than a spectator.
Why? And why had I been so foolish…?
Then I sank into nothingness.