Marn’s frown deepened as he watched Lord Rantar. It was only after Areen had pointed it out that he began to notice the man’s behavior towards his servants. The majori-ty of the service staff were women, and Marn observed with growing discomfort how they frequently had to dodge Rantar’s roving hands. Although the man never laid a finger on Lanni, his lecherous gaze followed her whenever she turned her back. Sifa seemed to be the only one immune to his advances, but that was only when her husband Lamin was present. Internally, Marn made a resolution to bring this issue up at the next meeting with the other guards. In the past, the soldiers had been known to step in and discreetly pro-tect the women servants from such harassment. It was perhaps time for them to take up that mantle once again. “Excuse me,” a voice broke Marn’s chain of thoughts. He looked down to find Wenda with her broom, a gentle reminder of his immediate surroundings. He’d been so lost in his own head that he hadn’t noticed her approach. “Sorry,” he apologized, stepping aside to avoid hindering her sweeping. He checked his boots, ensuring they weren’t bringing in any dirt from outside. Marn was raised in this region and deeply respected the Yarb custom of maintaining clean indoor spaces by not wearing outdoor footwear inside. Although he had gotten used to wearing boots in the household, it was a practice that still sat uncomfortably with him. “Are you waiting for Areen?” Wenda inquired, her broom pausing mid-sweep. “Yes,” Marn replied. “She mentioned she might be visiting her family soon, and I wanted to ask her to deliver something to my mother.” “Your mom lives in Yarba?” Wenda looked at him curiously. “I grew up not far from here,” Marn affirmed, offering her a piece of his past. “I didn’t think they sent Yarbs to serve here,” she commented, seemingly puzzled. Marn knew well that the military usually didn’t place locals in positions where they could serve in their home regions. If they knew of his connections here, they likely wouldn’t have stationed him at this post. “Perhaps they made a mistake,” he suggested nonchalantly. “I’m glad they did,” Wenda said with a smile, giving Marn an appraising once-over. Had Areen not been in his thoughts, Marn might have taken this opportunity to pur-sue Wenda. He even toyed with the idea momentarily, considering whether it might be a means to gather more information. Just then, Areen’s knock at the door snapped him back to the task at hand, and she entered the room. Her brows knitted together when she saw Marn and Wenda in con-versation. “Here are the soaps and flour, and the rope for Captain Trema,” Areen announced, presenting the items she had brought. Rope? Marn thought briefly, wondering why Captain Trema would need it, but he quickly put the question aside. “Areen, let me walk you out. I’ll deliver the rope to the captain on my way,” Marn proposed, eager to have a moment with her. “Also, I wanted to discuss sending some-thing to my mom when you visit home.” “Your mom?” Areen inquired with a hint of hesitation, trailing behind Marn as they made their exit. Her voice was low enough that Wenda, thankfully, did not overhear from beyond the closed door. “Marn, I can’t go back there.” Marn’s expression softened with regret. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault.” “No,” Areen replied with a firm shake of her head. “I chose to leave, and I don’t want to go back there.” Marn sighed, his eyes downcast. “I don’t really have anything for my mom ei-ther.” Areen’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Then what’s going on?” “I wasn’t doing anything with Wenda,” Marn defended himself. “I didn’t say you were,” Areen said, her voice steadying despite the churning emotions inside her. Marn met her gaze. “I know that look. I saw it every time I flirted with another girl. Back then, I didn’t understand it was jealousy.” Areen bit her lip, conceding, “I saw the way she was looking at you.” Marn’s voice grew softer. “You told me to sleep with her to get information. You said it was okay, but I’m not going to sleep with her. You’re the only one I want to do that with. I may flirt with her some, but that’s it. They can’t ask me to do that, and I won’t hurt you anymore.” Areen’s voice was a mere whisper as she began, “Maybe the three of us…” “No.” Marn cut her off. “You hated that. I stopped asking you back then because I knew you didn’t like it. I’m not going to force that on you now.” Areen looked down, contemplating. “I won’t say I’d like it, but if you need the information, maybe we should.” Marn shook his head firmly. “No. If they want the information that badly, they can bring in a questioner. I’m done hurting you.” Areen’s voice was earnest, almost pleading. “Is my happiness more important than the kingdom’s well-being?” Marn let out a humorless chuckle. “Which kingdom? You’re Yarb.” “Both,” Areen stated. “If they go through with this plan, it could mean war. That’s not good for either kingdom. And I don’t want to return to the old ways. I wouldn’t be here if it comes to that. My parents wanted me to marry Birno. They promised me to him. He’s worse than your mom’s husband. You showed me there’s another way, so I left. If Rantar gets his way, I’ll have to return. My father will beat me for leaving, and then Birno will do the same. If it’s a choice between that and witnessing you with someone else, I’ll choose jealousy.” Marn visibly flinched at her words, the weight of their meaning heavy upon him. He did not relish the position they were in. “Let me deliver this rope to Captain Trema. You should head back to your shop. I’ll come to see you after you finish work.” Areen gave a swift nod and hastened away, her footsteps fading into the distance. Marn lingered for a moment before making his way to Trema’s office, the coiled rope heavy in his grasp. As he entered, he caught sight of Trema and Lanni engaged in hushed conversation. Something in Lanni’s poised appearance sent a chill down Marn’s spine. She had the kind of face that could betray nothing yet suggested a storm brewed beneath. “The rope you requested is here,” Marn announced, holding it out towards Trema. “Good, thanks.” Trema’s response was brief as he accepted the rope from Marn, immediately stowing it away neatly in the nearby cabinet. Pivoting back toward Marn, he asked, “How is everything going on your end?” Marn relaxed slightly, relieved by the routine inquiry. “It’s going well. Lady Barta hasn’t complained any further about my supposed noise disturbances.” “Good. Any other trouble?” Trema’s gaze was probing. He paused, the truth teetering on the edge of his tongue before retreating. “No,” Marn said, a little too quickly. “He’s lying,” Lanni interjected sharply. Trema shot a stern look her way. “Manners,” he chided. Lanni responded with a smirk. “A thousand years, no one has gotten me to hold my tongue. Why do you think you will?” “I probably won’t, but I’ll keep trying regardless,” Trema retorted, then redirected his attention back to Marn. “Is there something you’re holding back that you’d like to discuss?” “Would you prefer confidentiality?” Trema asked, offering a one-on-one conversa-tion. “No, Lanni’s involved as well. She can stay.” Trema and the woman who Marn had assumed was Lanni exchanged a knowing look, a silent conversation passing between them before Trema silently signaled his con-sent. “I’m not Lanni. I’m Drepal,” the person clarified, yet there was no real expecta-tion of a reaction. “You’re still involved.” Trema briefed him on Drepal before. Marn felt a tangle of thoughts about her; the stories he’d heard painted various shaded images, ranging from mildly concerning to out-right alarming. He found it unsettling that Jahree’s interest in her appeared unshaken—an indication that the threads of their relationship were knotted more tightly than anyone had presumed. Marn broached the topic weighing on his mind. “I spoke with Areen earlier. She’s pressing me to engage with Wenda under false pretenses—to extract valuable intelligence from her. She fears an imminent war if the Yarbs revert to their old customs.” “There will be a war,” Drepal stated plainly. Marn sighed, an internal conflict apparent. “I know, but…” “You’ve navigated this before, Marn,” Trema remarked pointedly. “During our last campaign, you spent more time in the company of other women than in your own bed.” A shadow crossed Marn’s face as he acknowledged the truth in Trema’s words. “I’m aware. It’s the very reason I changed to the night shift.” Drepal, observing Marn’s internal struggle, narrowed her eyes thoughtfully before asking, “Are you in love with Areen?” The question struck Marn with the force of a physical blow. A perturbing swirl of emotions rose within him as he considered his relationship with Areen. Throughout his years away, he had longed for her presence. The thought of returning to her was a con-stant hum in the back of his mind, and he aspired to be the shield that safeguarded her from harm. Was it love? “Perhaps. I’m not certain,” he admitted reluctantly. “I don’t want to cause her pain, but it seems inevitable, regardless of the path I choose.” "When Lanni was in Lerjao, Lyra wanted her broken, not killed. But things got to be too much for her and they were going to kill her anyhow. That's when I was created. Lanni’s bright and observant. Because I'm part of her subconscious, I see things she ob-serves but doesn't realize. What I saw, what I knew, was Lyra was scared of Lanni. At that time, I didn't understand. I killed twenty trolls trying to escape. I tried to kill her. But I was untrained and weak from torture. I knew Lanni worried about Lyra attacking Menthanla. I figured anyone who Lyra feared could be helpful to prevent that. So I bided my time and I did what I had to in order to survive. What I did was horrible. In order to protect one person, I killed so many and tortured so many more. I can't imagine how many lives I ruined to protect Lanni so she could protect the kingdom.” “You’re suggesting I should proceed?” Marn queried. The weight of centuries-old guilt was palpable in Drepal’s voice. “For a millenni-um, I’ve been haunted by my past actions, perpetually recalling the damage I caused. With time, the repercussions have only grown more vivid. Can you accept the potential consequences if you decide to harm Areen?” Marn’s uncertainty was evident. “But if refraining leads us to war, wouldn’t my inaction cause even greater suffering?” “Is war an absolute certainty if you abstain? Can you definitively prevent it through personal sacrifices?” Drepal challenged the premise of his reasoning. “No,” he admitted, his voice laced with doubt. “Can you bear the thought of possibly losing Areen based on uncertainty?” Drepal posed the crucial, personal question to him. Trema reminded him of his autonomy in the matter, “Marn, as I’ve said, I’m not here to dictate your actions. You have a decision to make, and I’ll stand by your side re-gardless of the path you choose.” Drepal, seeking to provide a solution, interjected, “I could always interrogate them.” “That’s not an option. Your approach is too severe. If fortune favors you, I might permit you to observe any forthcoming interrogations,” Trema determined tersely. “Yes, Sir,” Drepal responded with a crisp salute. “I appreciate the advice. I should try to rest up for tonight,” Marn decided. “Off you go then. And no slacking off while on the job,” Trema dismissed him. “I should leave Lanni to return to her duties in the kitchen,” said Drepal as she rose to her feet. “We’ll have more time to discuss this later,” Trema assured her. #fantasy, #magic, #dragons, #hiddenlands