The Slave

Par Laurent Delépine

Sixty years have passed since the war that ended the reign of tyrants. Civilization has managed to rebuild itself on the ruins, despite the persistence of pockets of chaos. Yet most of the continent remains deadly. Living on the edge of the habitable zone, Deirane was an unassuming teenager until a drow noticed her and decided to turn her into a work of art. After he marked her, she was forced to flee her village. However, she found love and safety in the arms of a young farmer. Through him, she built a new family, made new friends, and began a fresh chapter in life. But with her distinctive tattoo, she never went unnoticed. Far to the south, Orvbel, the global hub of the slave trade, came into play. The wealthy King Brun learned of the young peasant’s existence. He became obsessed with one desire: to possess her. During her brief wanderings, however, Deirane had formed a bond with Saalyn, the most renowned free warrior of Helaria. This formidable woman had already clashed with the slaver city and nearly brought about its downfall. Recently recovering from trials that had left her injured and traumatized, Saalyn had only just resumed her investigations. Though not fully healed, she remained a fearsome opponent. The king realized he must find a way to eliminate her, preferably permanently. Thus began a rivalry between Saalyn and Brun, with nothing less than Deirane’s future hanging in the balance.

• Langue: Français
• Éditeur: Tektime
• Date de sortie: 7 mai 2025
• ISBN: 9788835476269

Aperçu du livre

Prologue

She was exhausted to the point of no return. Curled up in a corner, she had not eaten the plate of food. She was aware the guard would soon come to clear it away. She also knew that as soon as her injuries healed, her torturers would come back to continue their work. The Stoltzt survived everything that hadn’t killed her. She had permitted the torture to go on forever." Perhaps for years. It was something that had happened countless times before. She had only one way out of this place: die.

The door opened. It wasn’t time! They had only just brought her food! It was too early. They would come back for her. They were going to take her downstairs, into that dark room, and resume their torture. The sound that came from her throat was so small it was almost inaudible, but it revealed all of her terror. A great silhouette filled the hall, stretched dark against the light.

I’ve found her! a deep voice shouted.

Someone rushed toward her. Strong arms kept her wrapped up. She struggled but was too weak to fight back.

Calm down, it’s me.

An idea formed in her mind. Orvbelian or Yriani the man hadn’t spoken. He had spoken Helariamen—the tongue of her own country. They had come for her. The tears she had restrained during her ordeal came. The giant rocked her softly, mindful of her injuries.

Someone else entered.

Is she alive? a female voice asked.

Yes. Get a stretcher, her rescuer commanded. And call a doctor.

Right away.

Then she felt her body being lifted, and her back cushioned against a soft surface. They placed a blanket over her. Then they carried her away. She didn’t know where they were taking her, but she was with her people, safe. They had come for her.

The giant arose and addressed the soldiers who had accompanied him.

Did you flush out Jergo? he yelled, his voice quivering with rage.

He is holed up in his quarters.

Don’t touch him.

The giant glanced at the obsidian dagger at his belt.

He’s mine.

I. Province of Karghezo

The Yrian Plateau, the historical heart of the kingdom of the same name, was split in two by the Unster River.

The west, heavily irrigated by rivers descending from the mountains, was densely forested. Humans had cleared the land to build large agricultural estates, which became the foundation of the country’s wealth. The provincial capital, Elmin, had become a major economic and intellectual center, though it could not match the grandeur of Sernos.

The east, however, was far more barren. There were no rivers, only the fiery rains that irrigated the land. Vegetation was sparse. Many areas where poisoned water had accumulated were completely barren, and crossing some of them could even prove fatal. Mining was the main activity in the region. Small amounts of copper were mined, along with bauxite—a mineral with no apparent use, but one that the Helariaseny bought in abundance. Karghezo, the province’s only city and administrative center, would have withered had it relied solely on the resources of its hinterland.

Sheltered from the east winds, however, the slopes of the plateau were carved with numerous fertile valleys. While the upper slopes were as barren as the plateau’s summit, the lower slopes, fed by purified springs filtered through hundreds of layers of rock, allowed life to persist. It wasn’t abundant—in fact, it often seemed sickly, burdened by the fiery rains—but it was enough to sustain independent human communities.

In one of these valleys, on the northern slope, there was a wagon. Empty of cargo, it carried three passengers. The driver was a man, a young adult of average height, muscular from years of field work, with close-cropped brown hair. He was accompanied by a woman who still had one foot in adolescence. She was wrapped in a large cloak, revealing only her small, childlike frame. She had wrapped herself tightly in all those layers of clothing to protect the newborn she held in her arms, only a few months old.

Dresil, for that was the young farmer’s name, guided his cart along the river that flowed at the bottom of the valley. The closer he got to his destination, the more eager he became to show his farm to the love of his life. It was around a bend in the path that Deirane saw it for the first time. This was where she would now live, where she would raise her son, Hester, alongside the man she loved. She gazed at the scene, marveling at everything she saw.

The living quarters were a small wooden building made up of several adjoining sections. This structure allowed for easy expansion when necessary, as evidenced by the recent addition, judging by the lighter color of the walls.

All around were trees as far as the eye could see. The farm produced various dried fruits: mostly walnuts, hazelnuts, and butternuts. The latter trees in particular were well represented. The bushes, about waist high, were neatly lined up behind the house like soldiers on parade. Known to thrive under fiery rains, these plants looked radiant. The other trees, though displaying the sickly appearance common to all vegetation in the region, were still bearing fruit.

To the side, a yard housed juraves—animals that had taken the place of chickens, turkeys, and other gallinaceous birds since their disappearance. These creatures likely provided the eggs and meat needed for the farmer’s sustenance and occasionally supplemented his income. A barn completed the ensemble.

A wooden bridge over the small river in front of the house provided access to the property. Deirane found the place charming. Not too large, unlike her father’s grain fields, and well shaded, which was an appreciated feature in the current very hot climate. What surprised her, however, was the small size of the water purifier. Her father owned two and had begun building two more. There was only one here, with half the capacity she was used to. But Dresil had lived alone until now, so his needs were smaller. The river was clean, with its source close by, and it hadn’t had time to collect fire dust. It was only after the rain that the water needed to be cleaned, while the current cleaned it.

Deirane followed Dresil into the barn. Since nuts didn’t require much storage space, unlike the straw from the grain fields, part of the barn had been converted into a stable. It wasn’t large—only four stalls, barely enough to accommodate Dresil’s mount and those of visiting friends. But much to the young woman’s surprise, all the stalls were occupied. She hadn’t thought her fiancé could own so many horses.

We have visitors, I think, the young farmer said cheerfully.

Friends of yours?

He nodded.

I suppose they couldn’t resist coming to meet the woman of my heart.

Deirane smiled at the sentiment. She had always seen Dresil alone—either at the market selling his produce or at the Helaria embassy visiting her. She had never imagined he might have friends. Yet it was logical. He was a young, dynamic man in his prime. Surely, he needed some fun occasionally. He likely had a family too—a mother, a father, brothers, and sisters. She knew he’d had a younger sister who had died from the fire sickness a few years back, but perhaps she wasn’t the only sibling he’d had.

In a way, she had imagined living in a bubble with him, isolated from the world and only venturing out when absolutely necessary. But such a life was unrealistic.

Dresil took Hester, her son, from Deirane so that she could climb down from the wagon. Then he returned the child to her so he could unharness the horse and let it run free. No need to tether it or confine it. After three days of riding, it surely didn’t want to wander any further. Dresil took Deirane’s hand and led her to the house.

There were four people inside. Three men were sitting on benches, drinking mugs of beer, while a woman was at the stove, stirring something in a large pot that gave off a delicious aroma. Seeing the gathered company in his home, a broad smile spread across Dresil’s face.

Well, look who’s back from the city! one of them exclaimed.

The speaker looked as though he could pull Deirane’s father’s plow if need be. The muscles on his bare arms spoke of extraordinary strength. Even his jaw seemed capable of snapping a steel bar. His closely cropped hair did nothing to soften this impression—it was so bristly it looked like it could scratch glass. Yet his startlingly blue eyes softened the overall image. He raised his mug in a toast to the couple. Instinctively, Deirane clutched her child close, as if to shield him.

And this is the girl you found in the city, said another.

About time we saw her, added the cook. After all the times he’s talked about her, I was beginning to wonder if she was real.

I never doubted it, but if he’d mentioned her one more time, I might have swum to Shacand myself.

He didn’t lie—she’s beautiful.

If I’d known what was waiting in Sernos, I’d have gone there to sell nuts ages ago.

For a moment, Deirane had feared she might find herself isolated, alone in her bubble, until she could learn the dialect spoken in this part of Yrian. It was as different from the one in Sernos as it was of her own. But everyone spoke in standard Yriani. That was the language used at the embassy, so it had become second nature to her.

This group didn’t often have cause to use it, yet they did so now to include her in their conversation. She felt grateful to them for this gesture.

Dresil had noticed it too. Seeing all his friends gathered and making efforts to put his lovely fiancée at ease made his heart feel as if it might burst. For several minutes, they exchanged warm greetings. Then came the moment to introduce Deirane.

My friends, Dresil began, this is the young woman I met and intend to marry. Let me present Deirane.

The guests applauded as Dresil gently pushed the young woman, shy under the weight of their cheers, forward into the light. As she stepped fully into view, their movements froze, and a heavy silence fell. They had just seen the jewels embedded in her skin: the ruby on her forehead, the diamonds on her cheeks, and others on her neck, hands, and every—though few—uncovered part of her body, all interwoven with threads of gold beneath her skin.

The woman among them was the first to recover.

When Dresil told us you were one of a kind, I didn’t realize he meant it literally.

Is that a real ruby? asked the colossus of a man.

Yes, Deirane replied.

And how did that come about? inquired another individual. It’s likely that you weren’t always like this, they suggested.

I don’t enjoy discussing it, she conceded.

Even I haven’t been informed of the details, stated Dresil, not even as her acquaintance, Saalyn.

The mention of the independent warrior’s name caused one of them to react slightly, though they remained silent.

Did you agree to it? the young female inquired.

Deirane nodded negatively.

Then we shall refrain from discussing it further this evening, it was decided, addressing the trio of men.

The slightly authoritative tone was intended for the male trio.

I noticed a pearl bracelet on your wrist, the youngest among them pointed out. Could we talk about that instead? Did Dresil acquire it for you from Helaria?

Nearly, responded Dresil. From Sernos, specifically at the Helaria embassy there.

I was unsure of where to turn. They offered me shelter, Deirane clarified.

Hold on! exclaimed the cook, capturing everyone’s attention. Their expressions reflected her surprise, including Deirane’s.

Before you continue, shouldn’t you introduce yourselves first? She’s aware of everyone here, but you’re all strangers to her.

Deirane was visibly relieved, though she had been too cautious to voice her thoughts.

Very well, said the brunette. I’m Nëppë, the sister of this walnut vendor here, she began.

Walnut farmer, interjected Dresil.

Walnut farmer who is a bit nutty, Nëppë countered.

Deirane felt a sense of relief upon hearing the clarification. For an instant, she had been concerned about encountering a romantic rival, namely an ex-girlfriend, who might attempt to displace her before it was too late.

The individual resembling a bleached orc is Surlo, Nëppë informed her, indicating the blond man. Should you require physical strength without the necessity for intellectual engagement, he’s an appropriate choice. Surlo and his twin are in charge of a jurave plantation.

Surlo, a towering presence, was not quite as imposing as Jergen, the regent of Mustul, who had previously shown care for Deirane at the embassy. Jergen had a way of making others, even someone as substantial as Surlo, appear less robust by comparison. Despite his size, Surlo offered a polite wave to his friend’s intended.

Deirane observed an interesting dynamic between Surlo and Nëppë. There seemed to be genuine affection in their shared glance—possibly a hint of romantic love. The thought of Nëppë, with her slender and flexible form, nestled within Surlo’s brawny embrace was not difficult to envision.

And this young man, Nëppë went on, referring to the person who had responded to Saalyn’s name, his name is Vorsu. He’s so youthful, one might assume he’s still nursing.

My mother didn’t breastfeed me, Vorsu corrected her. She had a wet nurse take care of that.

Nëppë noted the timing of her remark. And it seems someone is growing impatient.

She swiftly pulled out a chair, offering it to Hester’s mother, as the baby began to fuss. Dresil chastised himself for not acting sooner.

And the last person here, she added, is actually quite useful. He’s the one providing our meal tonight. In his orchards, he cultivates the vegetables for our stew.

With the wooden spoon, she made a gesture towards the remaining guest.

Thank you, Nëppë, but I’d prefer to introduce myself, if you wouldn’t mind, Deirane requested politely.

Certainly, please proceed, Nëppë graciously conceded.

Deirane took a seat and offered a warm smile to the kind young lady. She had just removed the scarf that had served as a makeshift carrier for Hester during their journey. The little creature had roused from his slumber and began to fuss. Deirane cradled him tenderly in an attempt to soothe his whimpers.

Turning her gaze to the trio of gentlemen seated at the table, she announced, Allow me to present myself. I am one who brings joy to those in love, adorning their confessions with beauty. I am the one who adds elegance to the tresses of fair ladies and enhances the chambers of young maidens with my blooming charm. It is my delight to aid the god of love in his eternal quest. Throughout the year, I am the source of floral adornment for the women of Sernos and beyond. I am known as Mace, and it is I who stand before you today.

Her hand reflexively touched the bloom in her hair, a gesture that was not lost on her. It had been a gift from Dresil, plucked from a tree at the entrance to the valley. This self-proclaimed bard had no part in its selection.

Now, it’s your turn, Nëppë prompted. What is your place of origin?

Deirane felt a flutter of unease as the weight of their curiosity settled upon her. Playfully, she tickled the now-quieted Hester.

There’s not much to tell, really, she began. I hail from a small farming community named Gué d’Alcyan, located near the town of Ortuin up north. I’ve been away from home for several months, and I spent some time at the Helaria embassy along the way here.

It appears you had quite the journey from Ortuin to this place, Nëppë observed astutely. Perhaps you’ll regale us with tales of your adventures one day?

Perhaps, Deirane replied coyly, leaving the door open for future sharing of her enigmatic past.

Well then, that’s settled. We’ve all introduced ourselves, Nëppë declared. We all know each other now. We can eat.

No. Not everyone, Deirane interrupted. Someone is missing.

Her gaze turned to Dresil. The farmer’s face expressed surprise.

But come on, he said, you know who I am.

I know you sell walnuts at the Sernos market. And Celtis told me you sometimes have flowers and charcuterie. And now, I’ve learned that you don’t produce them yourself. But that’s all I know.

Your friend isn’t just cute, Mace commented. She can think, too.

Dresil nodded before answering.

My trees are low-maintenance, really. They don’t demand constant care like vegetables or the pigs that need to be fed daily. But when the time comes for the walnut harvest, oh boy, do I need help. That’s when the neighbors come through, and we all pitch in together. It’s like a barter system. I sell their produce at the market alongside mine, and boom, they’re there when the walnuts drop.

Mace chimed in, Exactly. A couple of times every year, we just can’t manage with our usual crew. That’s when we call in the cavalry. They come, and we all get the job done together. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?

Deirane got the gist of it.

Back home, it’s a similar deal. Whenever someone’s in a bind, the community jumps in to help, especially when it’s a single parent or widowed. There was this one widow near our village, she had this kid. The villagers stepped up big time for the harvests and planting until the son was old enough to take the reins from her. It’s just how it’s done there.

Nëppë had a different take on it. I bet she was still a looker, that widow. And with a kid, she’d be a catch for sure. A proven baby-maker, right?

Deirane nodded, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. It was a bit of a jaded perspective. Were these acts of kindness just self-serving after all? Some of the guys who’d helped out had wives of their own. What could they have wanted from a widow?

Someone in the room quipped, You’re all still in the market yourselves, obviously!

Nëppë shot back without missing a beat, How could you be, you’ve never even been to the altar!

The conversation took a bit of a detour when Surlo pointed out Deirane breastfeeding Hester. Look, even here she’s got them out!

Deirane felt her cheeks go red with embarrassment, trying to cover herself up, but Nëppë was quick to her defense.

Could you not be a creep for five seconds and look the other way? she said, waving her spoon around like a conductor’s baton. Deirane couldn’t help but chuckle at how these burly guys just fell in line behind Nëppë’s words.

Surlo shrugged it off, and Nëppë went back to her meal. Deirane took note of Nëppë’s deft handling of the kitchen spoon—it could be a handy skill to learn.

There was silence for a moment. But then Mace leaned over to Deirane.

Your bracelet, he asked. May I see it?

Deirane hesitated. Since it had been given to her, she had never taken it off, except to wash. But she reasoned that since she was no longer on Helarian soil, it didn’t matter. Trying to disturb Hester as little as possible, she unbuckled the bracelet and handed it to the young man.

Can you read it? she asked.

No, Saalyn taught me the letters of Helaria and those of Yrian, but not the old alphabet.

I’ll give it a try. I learned a little.

Saalyn? Vorsu interjected. The free warrior?

I was under her care.

I met her once.

We know, Nëppë interrupted. One day, you sprained your ankle, she happened to pass by, and she brought you back on her horse.

She said it like a story told a thousand times over.

Maybe it’s true, Dresil interjected. I’ve seen the Saalyn in question. She matches his description. Except for her height. She’s neither tall nor short. Average.

I was five years old at the time, Vorsu defended. At that age, all adults seem tall.

Actually, helping a child who’s hurt sounds like her, Deirane added.

Mace, bent over Deirane’s beaded bracelet, was muttering as he deciphered it. He spoke too softly, but occasionally recognizable words reached her ears, such as Deirane Jensenkil, her name in the Helarian style, or gatpraxsei sëhelaria, referring to the embassy itself. However, the last phrase he read aloud, clearly:

Calen Jetrokil steklyät.

After saying it, Mace fell silent for a long time, to the point where everyone began to wonder what was wrong. He looked surprised, even shocked. He handed the identity bracelet back to Deirane, who reattached it. Strangely, that reassured her. She felt naked without it, uncomfortable.

Damn, Dresil! he finally exclaimed. Where on earth did you discover her?

At the Helarian embassy, as I previously informed you, Dresil replied, quite unfazed by the outburst.

Mace’s friend seemed taken aback by his companion’s sudden intensity. Typically, Mace was a composed individual, and profanity was a rare occurrence in his vernacular. The young agriculturalist was quite shaken by his friend’s sudden loss of composure.

What’s the situation here? Dresil inquired.

Calen Jetrokil steklyät, Mace said, his fervor undiminished.

You’ve mentioned that already, Nëppë pointed out. The bracelet is endorsed by archon Calen of Jetro. So what’s the significance of that?

Do you have any idea who Calen of Jetro is?

No. Should she be of concern to us?

She is the archon of the Librarians’ Guild, the most influential individual in Helaria next to the Pentarchs. And she’s personally authenticated this bracelet. While any master in the guild could have signed it, Calen of Jetro chose to. Calen herself! The lady you’ve brought here is her personal protégée, her chosen pupil from the guild!

His gaze shifted to Deirane, who couldn’t resist the urge to smile at his excitement. In her mind, she had a distinct picture of this woman—more relatable, more feminine. They had shared moments of friendship, guidance, and even passionate love. She had never perceived her as the archon, the supreme leader of her esteemed guild.

She was the one who welcomed me at the embassy, Deirane spoke up.

What was her purpose there? She typically resides in Jimip, in the library. Did she have significant matters to attend to?

She went there to be with her partner, who was to attend a significant conference. His name is Jergen, and he hails from Mustul, the state, not the isle. Given their infrequent opportunities to convene, she eagerly grasped this one to be by his side.

And pray tell, what was the essence of their dialogue? It must have been absolutely riveting!

Deirane remained mum, her gaze shifting to Hester, who was nursing quietly. The recollection of their intimate exchanges brought a flush to her cheeks, which she attempted to obscure. Nëppë, however, seemed to perceive the subtle undertones, her smile revealing a tacit comprehension.

Indeed, the Regent Jergen is quite the robust gentleman, she said after a brief interlude.

And if that Calen is the brunette I once beheld with him in the market, she’s undeniably stunning, Dresil chimed in, his curiosity kindled.

If she was the one sans sight, then it was indeed her, Deirane affirmed.

The room’s occupants, with the exception of Mace, had deduced the truth, as indicated by their broad smiles and muffled laughter. It was challenging for him to accept that someone as astute and influential as Calen could entertain such commonplace concerns.

It must be a different Calen, he insisted after a pause.

Cease your folly, Nëppë retorted. Do you truly believe there are two Calens serving as corporate archons? And considering the Stoltzt’s method of producing male offspring, she likely engaged with various men simultaneously.

Indeed, she is reputed to have numerous lovers at the embassy, Deirane added. It’s presumed to be recompense for her sightlessness—a craving for tactile experiences.

This revelation rendered Mace speechless.

Hester had completed nursing. Deirane patted him gently, releasing a burp. While the embassy had always provided ample discreet spaces, the current cramped quarters and her exposed state made her feel overly vulnerable. She noticed Surlo’s eyes lingering on her chest. Whether his gaze was fixated on her breasts or the peculiar tattoo that adorned them, she found it unsettling. Thankfully, Nëppë interceded, using her wooden spoon to demand his attention. Yet even she couldn’t resist a furtive look. Her demeanor was not lecherous—simply intrigued.

Deirane contemplated that if there was ever a soul she would reveal the full extent of her transformed body to, it would be this compassionate young lady. Even Saalyn, who had witnessed her naked form, had only seen fragments of the intricate design. Deirane often studied her reflection, marveling at how the gold threads and precious stones were arranged on her countenance, torso, and limbs. Yet her back remained a mystery to all but her own eyes.

Hester was beginning to feel drowsy. She leaned her son against her shoulder and tightened her bodice.

Do you have a room for Hester? she inquired.

Certainly, he replied. Appreciating the chance to ease the awkward pause, the young farmer stood up and escorted Deirane to the bedroom. It connected to the living room through a door that faced the entrance. The bedroom was quite spacious, crafted entirely of wood like the rest of the house. However, it had been polished and varnished, giving it a welcoming look. The floorboards were bare but fitted so well that there was no concern for splinters.

A large double bed took up most of the room. Its headboard featured a wooden panel with an engraving of a face resembling Deirane’s. She felt both touched and shy about the gesture. It must have required considerable skill from the sculptor. Based on the detail in the features, it could only have been created by Dresil. Against one wall stood a large wardrobe, clearly recently expanded. Deirane was confident there would be ample space for all her belongings. Yet, her attention was drawn to a small cradle set between the bed and the window. Three sides were made of solid wood, but the fourth featured bars close enough together to keep Hester from slipping through. From the bed, the mother could see her baby, and the baby could see her in return. Deirane moved closer. The cradle was already prepared with fresh sheets. On the headboard, she noticed a symbol indicating the baby’s protection under Mother, the Yrian goddess of motherhood and children. After spending months in Helaria, a nation largely characterized by agnosticism, she had nearly forgotten that she had deities to appeal to in difficult times.

It’s lovely! Deirane exclaimed.

I crafted it myself, the young man replied. Filled with joy, she quickly kissed him on the lips. Enchanted by the moment, he held her tightly. However, he quickly loosened his grip as he sensed her stiffening. She immediately regretted her reaction, but it was instinctive. The memory of that horde was still vivid, although it had somewhat faded over the past months.

Nëppë joined them. What do you think of this little love nest? she inquired.

It’s remarkable. It must have required a lot of effort, Deirane answered.

Prior to meeting you, Dresil lived in a cave. He had created a straw mattress in the main hall. I had to firmly suggest he construct this room—and the one next to it, she added, pointing to a small door.

I built it before you came into the picture, Dresil countered.

You would never have added that wardrobe if I hadn’t insisted on it.

I’m sure the old one would have sufficed.

It would never have been sufficient for Deirane. I know what I’m talking about; I’m a woman too, in case you’ve forgotten.

Deirane remained silent, but her thoughts aligned closely with Nëppë’s. At that moment, she had very little. She had been compelled to abandon everything when she fled from her family’s farm. During her stay at the Helarian embassy, she could not gather many possessions. Her belongings were confined to the clothes she had purchased, a dress given to her by Saalyn, and a cameo pendant from her sister. However, that was about to change now that she had a place of her own.

Leaving her siblings to argue, Deirane opened the small door to peer inside. It was a nursery, intended for Hester when she grew too big to share a bed with her parents. For now, the room was empty, but the young man had begun to decorate it. Satisfied by her curiosity, she gently placed the baby in his crib and tucked him in. Since he cried a bit at the loss of his mother’s warmth, she stayed with him until he fell asleep, singing a lullaby to soothe him. Nëppë guided her younger brother out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Deirane joined them shortly after. Her return was met with loud cheers. All the men were seated on benches around the table while Nëppë set plates in front of them. She placed one additional plate than there were guests, indicating that someone had yet to arrive. Dresil had saved a seat next to him and Mace, where she took a place.

At that moment, the door swung open, and Surlo walked in. Another Surlo. For a brief moment, Deirane was confused by this new arrival, who resembled the man who had welcomed her earlier. It took her a moment to grasp that they were twins. She recalled someone, though she couldn’t remember who, mentioning his existence. The newcomer’s face, bright and cheerful like his brother’s, beamed at the sight of him.

Just in time for dinner! exclaimed the first Surlo.

Of course. When it comes to food, he’s never late, joked Nëppë.

Though her words seemed sharp, her tone held affection. Vanso, as she later discovered he was called, placed a large sausage by the hearth. Following that, he embraced the young woman.

Hey, she protested, you’re supposed to enjoy the cooking, not the cook!

One doesn’t exclude the other, he responded, not releasing her.

Deirane noticed that despite her protests, she tilted her head, allowing him to place a kiss on her neck. She came to realize that he, and not Surlo, was Nëppë’s partner, contrary to her earlier assumption.

Vanso settled next to his brother. The two shared a hearty embrace.

Mother regrets that you couldn’t make it, he remarked.

One of us needed to represent the family for Dresil and his lovely fiancée.

The newcomer turned his gaze toward Deirane, his eyes clear and kind like his brother’s.

So, you’re the one who managed to win our friend’s heart?

That’s correct, Nëppë answered for her. Her name is Deirane, and she hails from Gué d’Alcyan.

And she knows Calen of Jetro, added Mace, sounding impressed.

And what about you? Are you a princess, with that ruby on your forehead? Is it genuine?

She prefers not to discuss it, Nëppë interjected, bringing a pot to the table.

Then she sat between the twins. As the host, Dresil served the women first.

She won’t say much if no one allows her to speak, remarked Vanso.

Nëppë is right, Deirane replied. The memories connected to these stones are painful. The person who did this didn’t consider my feelings. And he didn’t soothe me when he embedded them.

Nëppë stifled a gasp of shock, but Vanso continued:

The stones! Are there more?

She has them everywhere, Surlo added, even on her breasts.

That must have been very painful, said Nëppë.

Deirane’s eyes filled with tears at the memory.

Look, you’ve upset her with all your questions, rebuked Nëppë.

She stood up to console her, but her brother had already wrapped his arms around her. This time, Deirane did not pull away. She buried her face in her fiancé’s neck.

I apologize, said Vanso. I didn’t consider how it must feel to have those stones embedded in your skin.

Nëppë joined the young woman in a hug. Between her brother and sister, Deirane’s sobs gradually ceased. Bit by bit, she regained her calm.

Thank you, she said to Nëppë. I’ll be okay.

Nëppë returned to her seat. Deirane allowed herself to be vulnerable:

For hours, he cut into my skin with his tools to insert the stones. I screamed from the pain. I begged him to stop. But he wouldn’t. When I passed out, he used a demon spell to revive me. This continued for an entire day. Later, when he finally released me, my sister told me I’d been gone for three days. But it felt like forever.

Dresil gently placed his hand on his companion’s cheek, caressing her with great tenderness.

I’m truly sorry, he said. I had no idea how much you suffered.

If I’d known, I would never have brought it up, Vanso added, looking regretful.

Everyone at the table was shocked. None of them had imagined the true nature of the tattoo.

I apologize, Deirane finally said. I shouldn’t have shared this with you.

Don’t apologize, Nëppë replied. Burdens like that should not be borne alone. You can share it whenever you wish.

Thank you, Deirane said sincerely.

In this way, Dresil’s friends achieved what Saalyn, Calen, and even her older sister, Cleriance, could not.

The meal continued in silence. The earlier cheerful atmosphere had disappeared. It was Mace who took the initiative to revive the conversation:

Why don’t you tell us how you two met?

Dresil eagerly seized the opportunity:

She had never eaten nuts before. When she saw my stall, she was so surprised that she stopped in her tracks.

We didn’t cultivate dried fruits on my farm, Deirane clarified. We grew grains, vegetables, and fresh fruits, but no dried ones. I didn’t even know they existed.

Don’t you have butter churns where you’re from? Nëppë inquired.

No, we don’t. And it’s unfortunate. Dresil outlined their advantages to me. A few would be incredibly useful on my father’s farm.

Dresil has never described the benefits of butter churns to me, Surlo commented.

I was looking for a way to keep them around, whatever it took. You don’t need this—you’re already hooked on the food, Dresil replied.

Everyone erupted in laughter. Even Surlo, good-naturedly accepting that he was the subject of the joke, laughed along with the others.

You wanted to keep me around? Why?

Because the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one. That’s why I sold you the nuts for such a good price.

A quarter of a cel for six handfuls, Deirane clarified. My friends teased me about it for days.

But she never returned. Her friends did, especially your friend Celtis. She had quite the appetite. Honestly, it’s amazing how she stayed so slim given how much she ate. But you? I had to search for you at the embassy.

You took your time. Several months.

I was too afraid to go to the embassy. If your blonde friend hadn’t encouraged me, I would never have crossed the threshold.

Saalyn encouraged you? How?

Dresil looked a bit embarrassed.

Well, she didn’t do much, really. I had never been to the city before I met you. I didn’t know you could simply walk into the embassy. She saw me waiting in the square outside the gates and came to inquire what I was doing. Later, my horse’s injury gave me a reason to enter.

He leaned in and kissed his fiancée gently. From the corner of her vision, Deirane caught a glimpse of Surlo kissing Nëppë’s neck, and Nëppë didn’t protest. When Dresil separated from her, she retained him with an arm around his neck and murmured into his ear:

Which of the two is your sister with? I thought it was Vanso.

Both of them, Dresil whispered just as quietly.

Isn’t that a tad controversial?

They’re twins.

The way the young farmer spoke those last words showed that he saw nothing out of the ordinary. In Gué d’Alcyan, such a situation would have likely prompted continuous arguments and possibly a feud between two households. Yet in Karghezo, over a hundred and fifty longes to the south, social norms were quite dissimilar to those of the northern territories.

The meal concluded on a high note, despite everyone’s cautiousness to avoid mentioning Deirane’s tattoo again.

Deirane’s favorite part came when the musical instruments made their appearance. Dresil played a flute that was unfamiliar to her—elongated with a bell-like end that flared out. Mace complemented him with the tambourine. For vocals, the twins had rich bass voices that intertwined seamlessly with Nëppë’s higher notes. But it was Vorsu who truly stood out, his high voice possessing an eerie purity.

Deirane had a singing voice, but she didn’t feel brave enough to perform amidst such talent. Thus, she played her usfilevi, which was met with warm appreciation. The timbre of her strings melded exquisitely with the group’s sound.

The night concluded late, with the first whispers of dawn coloring the horizon. Nëppë and her future spouses were the last to leave. She had insisted on cleaning up before allowing Deirane to take over her new abode. Their dwelling was close, less than a longe away—a short walk of a calsihon.

The sudden quiet that followed their departure was a bit disheartening for Deirane, though she also felt a sense of relief. The liveliness of Dresil’s friends was enjoyable but draining. She pondered if these social gatherings were a regular event or if they had merely been eager to make her acquaintance. They were now her friends, too.

She smiled, remembering how Mace had described Calen. Not knowing her but admiring her, he’d imagined her as a recluse, only leaving her hideaway when absolutely necessary, neglecting her appearance. When Deirane explained that Calen was actually a strikingly beautiful woman with an active social life and many lovers, he was stunned. No, he was shocked. He had barely spoken for nearly a monsihon¹ . But by the end, he was determined to meet her, even if it meant traveling to her stronghold in Jimip on foot.

Deirane felt she was going to love this new life that was only beginning.

II. Elmin

Saalyn and her student, the young man named Öta, had made their way to Elmin a mere few days prior. This marked their first official case in quite a few months’ time. The circumstances were grim: a girl of tender years had been taken by force, with the intent of extracting a ransom. Yet, the girl’s father, a captain within the city guard, found himself in a predicament, for his coffers held not a single piece of gold. This man’s occupation did not grant him a wealthy lifestyle. The kidnappers, it was surmised, must have known of his financial constraints. Hence, their motives had to run deeper than mere monetary gain.

The authorities of Elmin and those in the higher echelons of Sernos shared the same uneasy conclusion. The notion of gaining leverage over a man entrusted with the safeguarding of the former capital was a cause for great alarm. This captain’s power lay not in his personal wealth, but in his knowledge of the city’s defenses, which remained intact despite his suspension from duty. The situation grew so dire that the Pentarchy of Helaria deemed it necessary to dispatch their most skilled investigator.

Saalyn was indeed a formidable figure within the Helarian ranks. As the most senior of the free warriors, her storied career had spanned one hundred and ten years. These warriors, while not soldiers in the traditional sense, served as officers with the unique capability to traverse the globe at the behest of their Neiso-based command. The Pentarchy had cultivated this elite force to be approximately three hundred strong, each operative executing missions across the known world.

The presence of these free warriors was not always met with open arms by the governments they encountered. However, the might of Helaria’s merchant fleet, the world’s largest, and its accompanying navy, compelled a begrudging acceptance. The protection that the fleet offered was too vital to be spurned, even by the mighty Yrian. This fleet was bolstered by an unbeaten military force, which included elite commando units. Together, they formed a military might second only to that of the Yrian himself.

The common folk, however, held these warriors in high regard, often viewing them as noble champions of justice. They saw them as selfless heroes, swooping in to aid the downtrodden. The truth was somewhat more pedestrian; the free warriors’ legal status dictated a strict adherence to their duties. Yet, they remained a source of admiration.

It was curious that the very kingdom with the power to expel them had instead granted them sanctuary. The king of Yrian had even reserved the right to engage their services as he saw fit. The gravity of the situation in Elmin had prompted the king to exercise this right, contacting the archon’s representative—the Helarian ambassador in Sernos—and demanding the intervention of the most esteemed free warrior of them all, the esteemed Saalyn.

Saalyn was the oldest of the free warriors. Her name was little known, at least to the free warriors. Only a few initiates, people she had saved, or traveling companions knew it. Paradoxically, her exploits had traveled the world. Bards sang of her, and people told the stories. They even gave her a name: Gaba. Some didn’t believe it; they thought this person had done too much in her life. According to them, either all these deeds were legendary, or the deeds of one person were attributed to many. And yet the legend was true. She had traveled the world as a free warrior for 112 years, and she felt capable of doing so again.

There were some differences between the mythical Gaba and Saalyn. She had made sure of that. One was as dark as the night, the other as bright as the sun. One traveled with a woman—always the same one—who was her equal in every way, while the other was mostly accompanied by young men, apprentices she trained for the job, who then went off to live their lives.

But the similarities were more numerous. Both had a figure that left no one indifferent, athletic enough to wield a sword, but which perfectly filled an evening gown at official receptions. Her face was also remarkable. She could have been a model for artists, painters, or sculptors. In fact, she had posed for them once.

However, Saalyn stood out in this provincial city. Amid the admiring gazes her beauty attracted, some individuals showed hostility, even outright hatred. While the capital of Yrian, Sernos, had accepted the Stoltzt, here, prejudice persisted. It was no longer the aggression that existed a few dozen years ago, but anti-stoltzt racism still simmered beneath the surface. And her belonging to the Stoltzt people, she could not hide. She had their reptilian eyes with vertically slit pupils, green in her case, and her skin shimmered under the rays of the sun.

Although she had a collection of dresses at her disposal, she typically selected a neutral, understated, and comfortable attire for carrying out her responsibilities: a light brown tunic crafted from a soft material, with a loosely tied bodice that suggested alluring possibilities, accompanied by a set of snug, matching leather trousers. Finishing the look were a pair of mid-calf boots. She bore no apparent arms, yet a scabbard affixed to her steed held a splendid bronze sword, a rarity in these times when most weaponry was constructed from wood or stone, the metal blades being an exception.

Her companion was equally notable. A blend of Mustulsis and Helariasis heritage, he exhibited the commanding presence of the former, which rendered him a daunting adversary in close combat. His attire consisted of a cuirass and a belt adorned with gleaming obsidian knives. Despite initial impressions, he was not the leader of their duo; that distinction belonged to Saalyn. A common adage among their ilk went, Free warriors journey in pairs, master and pupil, leading many to their demise by underestimating them.

Upon reaching the city, Saalyn had proceeded to the Helaria Consulate to leave her possessions. Arming herself with only her more inconspicuous weaponry, she set out for the captain’s abode. Ralsen, though stationed at the guard barracks, maintained a family home within the city limits. For safety’s sake, the rendezvous was set there.

Once she had swiftly cleaned up the travel grime, she donned a coat and embarked on the short stroll to the meeting. The consulate was not far from the captain’s