It was late in the morning, and the weather outside was bleak—windy and overcast, with little light shining through the heavy clouds.
I pressed my face against the window, and could just barely make out the lake in the distance, down the steep street to my right. It appeared to be a weekday, as I saw several laborers dressed in worn jackets cut short, lugging barrels of goods across the cobblestones. They wore leather boots with hard heels that clicked and clacked loudly on the pavement as they grunted and shouted while working.
Florencia was making a pot of coffee beside me, dressed only in a large cotton shirt, with her hair tied up in a messy bun, and as I stared at her, she smiled back at me, closing her eyes for a moment. When the hot drink was done and poured out, she sat beside me in silence for the first few sips, enjoying our closeness and warmth.
“I miss when we got coffee from Oade or Proolt,” she said in a dreamy voice. “Those were heavenly. Now we only get leftovers from the southern provinces, and they don’t even roast them properly.”
“It tastes good enough for me,” I said, sipping the black drink. Despite its bitter taste and lingering sharp note on my tongue, I didn’t mind.
A few days ago, when I first stepped into Florencia’s apartment, her emotions were all over the place. We spent most of the day in uncomfortable silence or making small talk about things of no consequence. But as the day wore on, she would go from almost singing with joy to tearing up and barely holding herself together. I tried to comfort her in my clumsy way—cold and stiff—but she told me that these were tears of joy, and she was simply going through a kind of soul-cleansing process. I didn’t really understand what she said, but I let it play out.
The following day, when things had settled down for her, she decided it was time to buy me some clothing. She refused to let me walk around dressed like an escaped convict, and I had to agree with her there. After a few hours visiting the many shops in Bessou, I threw away the white tunic, slippers, and coat for a wardrobe that was suitable to wear out in public—some decent canvas trousers which were very stiff, and would take a long time to break in, some decent leather boots, a dark linen shirt, and a grey scarf to keep from the wind.
We spent quite a few coins for the entire outfit, but Florencia said that coin was of no concern.
The first item that we bought was a plain brown chore jacket of coarse wool, instead of the dark-blue shortcoat with a high collar that Florencia suggested. We later realized that my jacket looked similar to the ones worn by the laborers on the docks, as a group walked past us, dressed in jackets similar to mine. One of them, an older man with a bent back and weathered face, complained how their latest assignment of unloading cargo had been backbreaking. After they had passed, we had a hearty laugh about that, and Florencia kept joking that I should just accept my new life as a simple laborer. That I should haul barrels from morning until evening.
Before returning to her home, we passed the harborside, watched the lake, and listened to the cry of seagulls, and for that moment, the romanticism of a simple life appealed to me. Not too long after that, we were back at her apartment, drinking a cup of sweet tea which had a sharp note to it. I asked Florencia about it, but she only said she got it from the sailor downstairs, who brought it from Evilebp, and that she only served during special times.
*
I don’t really remember how exactly it was that we came to talk about what happened to Florencia after Jonas disappeared. And although Florencia spoke as if I was Jonas, I still found it impossible to identify myself as him. What she spoke about felt like the actions of another man, and not me.
But I listened. It was not a happy tale, and one that stuck with me for a long time, and made me understand just how deep her emotions ran. Her words were bitter, directed at many she knew back then, and their many failings.
After the disappearance of Jonas, the young Florencia could live nothing resembling a normal life, even with the help of her friends or teachers. She would get out of bed, eat very little, and then fall into despair until she fell asleep again, only to repeat the same routine. It improved after a few weeks, but she wasn’t a functioning person for many months after.
The Academy tried to help her as much as they were able and knew how, as they still hoped to save her from her own dark thoughts. However, their patience was strained because she did not overcome her grief fast enough. And although she remained a student at Cappesand, none of her former masters supported her when Vanda Canno demanded her expulsion from the Craft of Diplomacy.
When Florencia returned to the Academy after many months, she had undergone a transformation. She challenged her teachers constantly, and became argumentative over most matters, much to her own detriment. But because of her proficiency in all the important crafts, and her promise in either academics or diplomacy, the Academy decided to still find a use for her until enough of her old life was forgotten, and a new life could be forged.
After completing her studies, she spent several years doing simple fieldwork for the Academy throughout the southern hemisphere. She visited Lith, the Szell Counties, Valden, and Evilebp in the west and southwest, and spent many months up north, in Stotor, back when peaceful times ruled over those territories.
It was during these early years of her adulthood that she fell in love with Evilebp. She was sent there on a research trip with several junior colleagues of the Academy to study the country’s history and archeology, and the trip left a lasting impression on her. Evilebp was a vast country, more than double that of Lienor, with endless fields and winding rivers, as well as massive forests that seemed to endlessly reach into the sky. However, Florencia loved most the many small coastal villages scattered along the rocky coastline, all connected by ship routes and wide roads.
But Florencia never forgot about her true purpose and worked for a secret goal. Academy fieldwork was simply an umbrella term for almost any kind of work that needed to be done for the good of the Academy, or the betterment of knowledge for their masters. During those long years of fieldwork, Florencia took ever more liberties in her duties and started researching the phenomenon of the shadow people.
When Florencia had brought up the topic of the shadow people with her masters, the entire staff had zealously opposed the very idea of their existence, save for a few masters whom I’ve already met. Florencia felt completely betrayed, and as a result, distanced herself even more, embarking on distant journeys and adventures in search of any information about the shadow people. However, no matter how far she traveled or how many places she explored, she always came back empty-handed.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
Sure, there were whispered rumors about ancient texts about secrets of the deep, but never actionable information and Florencia roamed around between the many old places of the world for many years, looking for those rumored mystical tomes of knowledge. But she found none. What she found was the very mundane danger of dangerous people who wanted to be left alone, for various reasons that grew darker and more vile as the years passed.
It was on one of her journeys up north, near the border of Stotor and Rasker, that Florencia stumbled upon her sword. It was an old and ruined place of stone and iron, built deep into the earth and long forgotten, with its entrance overgrown and buried. Florencia could sense power emanating from the place, and there were symbols etched on the crumbled walls, but she could not understand their meaning. She also found no help from the various libraries in Lienor to translate any of what she found.
As she explored some of the still-intact passages, she came across a longsword buried in dust and debris. The silver-like hilt was engraved with a circular symbol and the letter J above it, but she was unable to gather any useful information from the old and forgotten place. Defeated once again, she returned to Bessou.
About twenty-five years ago, strange anomalies started happening in the far places of the world, here and there in the shadows. It began slowly at first, with people behaving strangely and out of character, often resulting in violent and insane behavior. There were stories of families living alone, far in the wilderness, disappearing or being murdered, and of rogue wizards causing trouble. There were also tales of strange creatures lurking in the shadows that resembled none of those people knew.
At first, this development was ignored until a certain professor and his aide at the Academy took an interest—Master of Mind-Craft Ardovar Verrier, and his assistant, the fierce Sofia Dion. The two of them founded what became the Yasman Lodge under the protection and management of the Cappesand Academy.
They asked for volunteers to look into those anomalies and Florencia took up the call, having worked with Ardovar many times during her years of fieldwork.
Then the anomalies started happening too close and something had to be done.
The situation became impossible to ignore when, on an early spring morning, a young and promising proctor, Luciano Klaye, was stabbed to death by his own trusted assistant. After viciously slashing the throat of the proctor, the body of the assistant disintegrated into bloody chunks in front of dozens of students.
The victim was a friend and pupil of the then vice-dean Philemon Petridies, and he lobbied the High Council of Adviser for the Cappesand Academy to give the Lodge a more direct role in investigating those strange crimes. The head of the council, Baron Esmail de-Carsa, made a strong case to the king, and the Yasman Lodge of the Cappesand Academy was given the authority to act as judge and executioner by King Geunis Sandoro Landoros II if they held proper oversight over the actions of the lodge.
What happened in the following years, Florencia was not too eager to talk about. It involved investigating terrible deeds of evil and tragedy, and I understood how one would not willingly talk about those things.
“And now, it seems that the news I hear lately is only of things growing worse,” Florencia said and sighed. “Just before I left for Rasker, we heard that the peace talks with Stotor had failed. At least Castieltoch and the nearby regions have broken off relations with the south to stay on good terms with us…”
She did not finish her thought, and I did not press the matter. There already were too many awful stories told for one evening.
Florencia seemed to read my mind, which might’ve been just that, jumped up, and said: “How about something more fun?”
I looked up and raised an eyebrow.
“No, Jonas, you have to use words. Stop staring like that, people will think you’re weird otherwise.”
“I’m not weird!” I said, sounding more hurt than I was. “But what do you have in mind?”
“Wine and cards!”
That did sound better than talking about politics and tragedy.
“You have to teach me the rules,” I said, to which she winked and grabbed two dark-green bottles from the cupboard.
She didn’t even bother with cups, sat cross-legged on the bed opposite of me, and shuffled an old deck of cards. As the evening dragged on and we drank more of the sour wine, I found myself unknowingly moving closer to her. Soon she leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder and idly tracing circles on my thighs. I couldn’t tear away from her, and her scent was intoxicating. She looked up at me with eyes filled with a single, burning desire.
I leaned in and kissed her deeply, our bodies pressing together as the game of cards was forgotten, and an old passion surfaced again from my mind.
It was a wonderful night, and we had very little sleep. We kissed and did many other things, enjoyed each other until the very early hours of the morning, and spent our energy fully. The next day we spent the same way and it was a good thing the floor below us was unoccupied.
*
“Please, Jonas, stop, I can’t anymore. I’m exhausted and so sore,” Florencia said. “How do you have so much energy?”
“It’s entirely your fault,” I said, and smirked crookedly, finding an old pain in my cheek that I never knew I had there.
Florencia smiled back, but her legs were unsteady as she stumbled to the kitchen to fetch some water. When she bent over to fill the cups, I couldn’t help but drink in the sight of her lean and toned body, sculpted by years of long journeys and dangerous adventures. We were both barely clothed by then, feeling very comfortable around each other, and the sight of her firm legs with defined muscle under a little fat, and her round cheeks that I recently had the pleasure of enjoying, and was a difficult thing to look away from. And although it was considered impolite to stare, Florencia seemed to enjoy the attention and took her time before standing up straight again.
“You have a nice butt,” I said, trying to joke.
Florencia smiled again, enjoying my undivided attention, and said: “I know. But thank you.”
With light steps and a little dance, she came back and sat back down. “You know, Jonas, I like this a lot. I don’t think you understand just how much I still can’t believe this is happening. This all feels like a dream and that I will wake up soon and have to go on an assignment.”
“This is no dream,” I said in a harsher tone than I meant to. “What of the lodge? Should they have sent word already?”
This was not what Florencia wanted to hear, and she rolled her eyes and sank into the pillows arranged neatly behind her. But her annoyance was not over my words, and she lay her legs over mine.
“I’m surprised they’ve said nothing for all this time,” Florencia said. “The lodge has so few members in Bessou right now, and plenty of assignments, so Ardovar should send word any day now. I’m dreading it already.”
“I’m sorry about bringing it up. What will you do if he does that?”
“Can we not talk about this right now?” Florencia said. “Let’s just enjoy this moment.”
“I’m fine with that,” I said, and we enjoyed each other’s company in silence. And although Florencia did not wish to talk about the future, it weighed heavily on my mind, and I found it hard to get rid of those thoughts. But to appease her, I did not bring it up again.
“How about some coffee?” Florencia asked. “I should still have some, but it’s not very good.”
“That sounds great,” I said and sat up on the bed.
The fire had died down earlier in the morning, but there was still some warmth left over, and with a few thin kindling, I could revive it. Soon the flames were dancing again. It was a slow morning, with dark, windy skies outside, and after Florencia had poured us a cup of steaming coffee, we sat next to each other in comfortable silence.
“So,” Florencia sang. “You said you would tell me about Veneiea.”
I hesitated before sighing in defeat. I had promised to share with her what had happened there, but I would rather not. The past week with her had been delightful, and I did not want to ruin the mood by talking about it. Eventually, however, I had to, and with a heavy heart I told her everything—what I had done there, the beast I encountered, the Russo twins, and then my capture by Sofia Dion and Ferchell Maore. I made sure to be as precise as possible, leaving nothing out.
And as I spoke, I saw the realization dawn on Florencia’s face. Her expression fell as she came to understand the gravity of what had happened.