Interlude A1.II
Three Years Ago...
Mags stood with her arms crossed, chin jutted out, glaring daggers at Radmilo and the Blackfire cronies who loitered in the orphanage yard. The sun beat down on the dusty ground, but the tension in the air was colder than a winter’s night. Vitomir, calm and steady as ever, stood beside her, his large hand resting lightly on her shoulder. It was the only thing keeping her from lunging at the Blackfire lieutenant.
Radmilo grinned, his yellowed teeth flashing in the light. “Come on, Vito,” he drawled, “you know how it is. Boss Man can’t just let you all slide on the taxes. If we start making exceptions, well, then everyone’ll think they can get away with it. Chaos, disorder . . . folks will walk all over us!”
Vitomir’s face remained impassive, but Mags could feel the tension in his grip. “I understand your position, Radmilo,” Vitomir said evenly, “but this is an orphanage. The children have nothing to give, and neither do I.”
Radmilo’s grin widened, a gleam of something nasty in his eyes. “Well, there are other ways to contribute to the good of the community.” He looked over the children playing in the yard, his gaze lingering on the older ones. “The kids could work. Or maybe you could join us. Man built like you, with scars like that. . . Blackfire could always use some extra muscle.”
Mags felt Vitomir stiffen beside her, but his voice remained calm. “I’m no fighter, Radmilo. I left that life behind. And I despise violence. Kruno wouldn’t want me…”
Radmilo’s grin faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. “I’m trying to help you here, Vito. If you don’t have the money or a solution by this time next week, well, let’s just say there’ll be some… unfortunate consequences.”
With that, Radmilo turned on his heel, his men following him like a pack of wolves, and strode out of the yard. The moment they were gone, Mags spun to face Vitomir, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, so tight she could feel drops of blood welling in her palms.
“Why don’t you fight back?” she demanded, her voice trembling with frustration. “We could kick them out! You were an officer in the Crown Coalition! You’ve got Mithra, my mother’s Ivaldi blade! You could—”
“Mags.” Vitomir’s voice was firm but gentle, like a wall she couldn’t climb. “Violence only begets more violence. I have you, Sabo, and the others to think about. I’m just one man, and the Blackfire Company outnumbers us. This isn’t a fight we can win.”
Mags opened her mouth to argue, but Vitomir shook his head and turned away. “I won’t risk your lives,” he said, his voice softer now, “not for anything. I’m going inside to help with the younger ones. Think you can come give me a hand?”
And just like that, the conversation was over. Vitomir walked back into the orphanage, leaving Mags standing in the yard, alone and seething. Her chest heaved with barely contained rage, and her nails dug into her palms. Coward!
How could he just give up like that? How could he let those thugs walk all over them?
She kicked a rock, sending it skittering across the yard. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Vitomir used to be a hero, a real fighter. Now he was just… hiding. And they were all supposed to hide with him.
The sound of raised voices caught her attention. Two men were jogging down the road, their shouts carrying through the quiet streets.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“A Maldrath! Outside town, near the old mill!”
Mags’ heart skipped a beat. An idea began to form in her mind, wild and reckless.
A year ago, Kruno and his men arrived in Solstice under the assumption of clearing out stray Maldrath in the nearby countryside. Instead, they took over the small backwater town, even bribing and integrating the small militia of local townsfolk into their fold. It didn’t take long before they were fearlessly terrorizing Solstice, the auspice of overseeing imperial justice becoming nothing more than a halfhearted lie. But if the Blackfires were afraid of anything, it was Maldrath. They hadn’t moved into Solstice to exterminate the beasts—they were too scared to go after them. And now, there was no sign of either them or the Maldrath leaving.
A grin spread across her face, fierce and determined. If Vitomir wouldn’t fight, then she would. She’d do whatever it took to protect the orphanage, to protect her family.
image [https://i.imgur.com/7P7JEZo.png]
The night was alive with music and raucous laughter, the grand hall of Blackfire Manor filled with the boisterous revelry of Kruno and his men. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale, the long tables crowded with Blackfire mercenaries shouting over one another, exchanging tall tales. At the head of the room, seated in a throne-like chair draped in red velvet, was Kruno himself. He grinned wide as Radmilo finished a crude joke, the punchline drowned out by the rowdy chorus of laughter.
But the festivities were cut short by a sudden commotion at the entrance. The double doors burst open, slamming against the stone walls, and in marched a thirteen-year-old girl, a slip of a thing, her wild eyes flashing with fury, her black hair a storm cloud around her face. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to the small figure who stood defiantly in the doorway. Behind her, a flustered maid scrambled to catch up, wringing her hands and sputtering apologies.
“I-I’m so sorry, my lord!” the maid stammered, trying to pull Mags back by the arm. “I tried to stop her, but she—”
Kruno held up a hand, silencing the maid with a casual wave. “No need for apologies,” he rumbled, his voice like a silk-wrapped blade. “This is interesting. Let’s hear what the little bird has to say.”
The maid hesitated, then stepped back, her face pale. Mags shook her off and took a bold step forward, her small frame dwarfed by the imposing figures that surrounded her. The firelight flickered across her determined expression, casting shadows that danced in her dark eyes.
“You and your Company,” Mags began, her voice sharp and unwavering, “are to leave the orphanage alone.”
A ripple of amusement passed through the room. Radmilo, lounging in a chair beside Kruno, chuckled and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Is that so?” he drawled. “Last I checked, the orphanage still hasn’t paid a single coin in taxes. And we don’t make exceptions, little girl.”
Kruno snorted, a deep, mocking sound. “And what exactly are you going to do about it, runt? You think you can waltz in here and give orders?”
The men roared with laughter, but Mags didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her gaze fixed on Kruno with a fierceness that silenced the room once more. “We won’t pay,” she said, her voice steady. “But I have something else to offer.”
Kruno’s laughter died on his lips, his interest piqued. “Oh? And what could you possibly offer that would be of any value to me?”
Without a word, Mags reached into her pocket and withdrew two small stones. She held them up for a moment, letting the faint glow that emanated from within them catch the light, then tossed them onto the ground at Kruno’s feet. The aether cores clinked as they hit the floor, their soft luminescence clear against the dark, polished wood.
The room went still, the laughter forgotten. Kruno’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at the stones, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. “What’s this?” he asked, his tone suddenly more serious.
Mags straightened, her chin lifted high. “I’ll slay Maldrath for you,” she declared, her voice ringing out clear and strong.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Kruno’s lips curled into a slow, wolfish grin. “You?” he said, his voice dripping with skepticism. “A scrawny little girl like you thinks she can take down Maldrath?”
Radmilo leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “You’ve got guts, kid, I’ll give you that.”
The men murmured in agreement, but Mags didn’t back down. She met Kruno’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “I’ve been hunting Maldrath and know more about these monsters than most,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Those aether cores?” She nodded at the stones on the floor, each no larger than one of her fingernails. "They’re from the ones I’ve killed. I know how to track them, and I know how to end them.”
Kruno’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He leaned forward, resting his massive hands on his knees as he studied the girl before him. “Alright, runt,” he said slowly. “You’ve got my attention.”