I was born and used to live with my parents in a small town in the southeast part of the duchy of Beaumont called Dubhan.

I don’t have many memories of that time, for when I was maybe six or seven years old, we had already left that town for another one. But if there is something I both know and remember clearly, it is that my parents were working partially as some sort of merchant. They were from Dubhan, delivering merchandise to a very remote manor south of Beaumont. That is, however, a detail I still remember clearly. I remember how long carriage-riding it took us to reach that beautiful house in the middle of nowhere. I still have vague recollections of the manor's inhabitants: Madam Mathilda, the ostensibly governess; Syrius, the old butler; and, of course, the manor's Young Lord, whose face was still clear in my mind.

Back in the days, I was not sure why, but we abruptly ceased all activities at the manor, which, as far as I recall, was visited at least once a week. trip, which had by that time become my most anticipated activity of the week.

Days went by, then weeks, then months, and soon came the time we both hurriedly and abruptly left Dubhan.

For a time, the reason for that sudden stop remained a mystery to the child that I was, but as I grew up, I came to realize one thing. My parents weren’t simple merchants as I thought they were; they never were. They did hold a shop and sell things, but that was a sideline activity they held in parallel to their main one.

Both my parents were Aina-users. They met at a very young age, serving the same family, the Douglas, something which they, even when they married and had me, kept doing.

My parents were stationed in Dubhan to serve Madam Mathilda, who was the daughter of that family but also posed in that manor as a mere governess, for whom they, in parallel to delivering supplies to the manor, sent, received, and delivered letters.

The moment the manor’s young lord left the manor, my parents, along with every servant of the manor working under Madam Mathilda's order, were replaced, which is why our trip to the Rosetta suddenly came to a halt and that eventually we had to eventually leave the town, which so far I was the only one I knew.

Just like I was most likely fated to, just like my parents, as I grew up, I ended up following and serving Madam Mathilda. It was in the accomplishment of that duty that I came to learn of what had really happened to the Young Lord, who was long since missing from Madam Mathilda’s side, and the fate of the manor as well as our old town.

Not knowing what else I could do, I kept serving Madam Mathilda until the day we came to move to the aristocracy's fortress, where I first met Master Schlain, Mr. Austen, and the other members of the brotherhood. I knew they were people Madam Mathilda was well acquainted with. But I also knew that they were dangerous people, whom even my parents warned me to not approach. a warning, which I, for a time, followed.

I knew that they were like my parents: aina-users; and that, however, unlike them, they were murderers, savagely killing nobles when they saw fit. As such, even as a commoner, I developed a fear of them, but I, while serving Madam Mathilda and, by extension, ‘The Mother', came to have to interact with them, which is where I came to get the little missie nickname they were calling me with.

Much to my parents' dissatisfaction, I slowly began to get more and more accustomed to them, hanging with them, and ultimately going even as far as to beg them to teach me how to fight.

To tell the truth, I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for when I voiced that request, but maybe it was just that I was at a time in my life where I craved action and most likely violence, for I liked that. I knew I was aina-less and magic-less, more of a burden, but I liked being at their side.

Soon, before I even realized, I found myself involved in a raid with them, then another, then another, and so on, till it became for me one of my favorite activities. Despite how much I was scolded by my parents for hanging with them, though I knew they weren’t heroes or anything like that, to me, the brotherhood became family. To me, they soon became the uncles, the guardians, the mentors, while the two men leading them, Master and Mr. Austen.

But now we’ve lost the two of them.

***

The Aristocracy Fortress, in a refectory-like room.

"Little missie?" I heard an old and familiar voice calling, as I felt a hand reaching for my shoulder.

"Hum?" I mumbled, coming back to my senses, and finally lifting my gaze away from Mr. Austen's sword, the one he gripped onto until the very end.

I glanced toward the man at my side who was calling on me. I saw a white-bearded man.

That man was called Ton, a veteran member of the brotherhood and one of Mr. Schlain and Mr. Austen's closest confidants and friends.

Looking around me, I saw I was not alone. I was surrounded by countless familiar faces, each staring at me with a grave, grieving, or sad expression on their faces.

Each one of them was wearing the color white, which is the color of the brotherhood.

There were many of them today, more than I was ever given to see together in a single room, since for most of the time, each of these people was scattered across the continent to accomplish what they did best, but today they were here, for this week, they had come to bury the ones who, for decades, had led them and fought alongside them.

"Little Missie, you were there, weren’t you?"

"To the last moments of Brother Austen, tell us, is that rumour true?" a familiar face asked.

I could not muster the strength to answer both of these questions.

"Little Missie?" another one urged.

"That’s enough," a voice said, considerate. "I know you are grieving, like every one of us, and so is the little missie."

"Besides, we all know what the little missie silence means," another old voice said. It belonged to one of the oldest members of the Brotherhood. "It is time for us to face the bitter reality."

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Does it mean that the rumors are... true? Austen and Schlain's deaths were under "the Mother" order.

"That had to be true..." "Brother Schlain would never lose to anyone, even to an Archbishop or a holy Paladin, unless he was betrayed or set up."

"But why was he—"

"We all know why."

"If that's the case... I refuse to continue this farce... How could she..."

"Me too!"

"Me too!"

Similar voices rose up high and loud among the other members of the brotherhood.

They lost the motivation to continue to provide their help to the aristocracy, and I couldn’t help but understand them. With what they did, ‘the Mother’, Madam Mathilda, and him, Aryan, beheaded the brotherhood of both their founders and leaders, but once again, as painful as it was for me to admit, I couldn’t help but understand the rational reason that led them to that decision.

I understood them, but I couldn't bring myself to forgive them, which in turn reminded me, much to my own torment, of the situation we had put Madam Mathilda and the mother in by perpetrating our vindictive raid on the Barista's manor.

It was at that moment, amidst the members of the brotherhood, that someone muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Retribution..."

Each eye fell on the one who spoke these words. It was a man in his forties. Though he clearly didn’t expect these words to bring so much attention upon him, he immediately continued,"... Brother Schlain and Austen would have done the same for us..."

"Which is exactly why they were killed."

"Exactly!" retorted the man angrily, "they never would’ve given up on any of us."

The man's words made everyone in the room reminisce.

Indeed, he was right. Mr. Austen and Master loved and would’ve laid his life bare for each one of them, and each of them were well aware of that fact.

"It is only fair for us to do so for them as well. We--"

"Enough!"

The one that spoke was Ton, the white-bearded man who had his band holding onto my shoulder. He did not say anything else but simply peered somewhere, upward. Following his gaze, we all saw, overlooking us from a balustrade of the floor above, Aryan and, standing at his side, him.

I knew, for Aryan told me that he was the one who took down Master.

"As if I was afraid!" the man roared at his fellow comrade.

"What do you want to accomplish?! To get us--"

"Justice."

"This place is her fortress. We cannot win. "

That was a reality each one of them had to agree on.

Each of them was an aina user and a veteran fighter, but they knew and understood better than anyone else that there were things in this world that their swords, bodies, and cheap tricks could not defeat, and that woman they all agreed on calling "the Mother" was one of these things.

They could not win. I knew that if they dared to oppose her, the sole fate that would await the brotherhood would be extermination.

They could not win, not this war.

"But still"

"Enough!"

That word set a silence amidst us, for the one who shouted was no longer Ton or any of the other men present, but rather me.

"Little Missie," some of them muttered, surprised by my unexpected intervention.

I stood up from my seat, making my way to a nearby table, which I jumped atop, before announcing, loud and clear, "You earlier asked me if I was there when Lord Austen died. The answer is: Yes I was. He died by the sword of Lydia and Mathilda. "

"You wondered how the Master could have been defeated by an Archbishop. Aryan was there to witness; he was; but it was a member of the aristocracy that eventually gave Master the final blow."

Some of you earlier wondered why "the Mother" would do that to him. Here's the answer: because Master, Mr. Austen, along with me, Aryan, and some of you, sought retribution upon someone whom we should've not sought retribution upon."

My words left the room in a heavy silence.

"Little Missie..."

"But in his final moment, Mr. Austen was given his choice, which he made. In the end, Master got to fight the ghost he’s been chasing for years, whom he lost against. This, all of this, was not some gratuitous evil reaped upon us; it was all an answer to choices they made," I said, pointing at some of them. "Choices we made, including me. We all have a share of responsibility in this, some greater than others, some for allowing them to fall into the bottomless pit that is revenge, some for always expecting them to shed more blood than they already have, some for being inconsiderate brothers, some for leading them to death, but we all have a share of responsibility when it comes to their fate, and I believe none of us are innocent or naive enough to believe otherwise."

Wiping the tears that flew forth, I added, "Revenge was Master and Mr. Austen's reason to fight. I believe you know better than I do, but at the very end, I believe they came to discover something new here within these walls, something for which they had agreed to fight for, or maybe it was something new to fight against, for it went for several years without having to be directly connected to revenge.

"The truth is that they had a work in this world, within these walls, that they left unfinished. Which is why today, I swear today, not as the Little Missie, but as the girl who wants to see what her master and uncle would’ve accomplished in this very turbulent age, how history would have remembered them if they were taken too early from our side. "

"I swear, as long as I still have remaining strength in my arm, to never lower my arm. I do not pretend to be strong, nor do I pretend to know where this may take me, which is why I request your strength and wisdom. Stand by my side, support my back, show me the path, so that I shall not falter, not on my dreams or ambitions' behalf, not on revenge, but on that which Vans, Karl, Master, and Mr. Austen fought alongside the aristocracy for. "

As I drew Mr. Austen's sword out, I announced, "I won't lie to you, and you most likely already know: I like fighting, but I also like being alive, which is why I ask you, once again, will you, as my brothers-in-arm, lend me your strength and fight by my side? Or will we die here? "

To be honest, the moment these moments came out of my mouth, all the assurance I had flew forth altogether. I expected no one to hear my words, yet they did.

At first it was silent, but then it reverberated. It was only one person’s stomp at first, but then it was followed by others, first a couple of them, soon a dozen, and finally all of them, to together form a drum-like ovation.

"Everyone,..." That was the only thing I found myself mumbling.

"That was a grand speech," I heard, teasing one of the men present.

"Sure it was," added another, followed by bursts of laughter.

This sight soothed my heart. Because this is how I discovered and came to love the brotherhood. They had flaws, violent and irreversible flaws, but that wasn't all they were. The Brotherhood was an organization that shed a large amount of blood, but they weren't just murderhobos; they were brothers who shared the best and the worst with each other.

As I looked toward where he and Aryan were, Aryan was already taking his leave, closely followed by him, after he threw me a strange stare.

It was at that moment that Ton walked out of the crowd, and came to my side, and announced to everyone, "Today the little Missie spoke wisdom. I believe it is time for us to change. I’m tired of having to bury our comrades. As desolate as the thought is to some of you, I want each of you to have a peaceful death. "

"You want us to die in bed, Old Ton?" one of them asked, complainingly.

"Yes, Franz, I want you to die in bed."

The room once again erupted into laughter.

But, to get to the point, I agree with the little mi- No, what I mean is that I agree without our little sister, over here," He smiled and said, "You did ask if we would lend you our strength. Here is your answer?" as he glanced at the others. They all, altogether, raised their arms in salute and respect.