Shara, Darron, Sheriff Torg, Isabella and the goatee man made their way together back to Sheriff Torg’s office. Adgito had been doused with water, causing her to change into aquatic form so as to not burn down Isabella’s mansion. She had decided to separate from the group for now and go sulk in the hot springs until she was comfortable changing into something else.

Shara was certainly worried about Adgito, but her more immediate concern was the obsessive sociopath that was about to become her direct responsibility. Well, that was the best-case scenario, anyway. Worst-case scenario, said sociopath would snap and attack her former master’s killer as he walked past, rendering the question of her guilt immediately irrelevant.

Arina didn’t move as the group approached, but there was a clear mental reaction. Arina’s was a difficult mind for Shara to read, for a number of reasons, but as best she could tell the blind vrochthízo had, within moments, identified all five approaching people by the shape of the air they displaced and the sound of their footsteps. It almost gave Shara a headache.

It also didn’t take Arina any significant amount of time to determine why one of the five people was returning with his hands bound. A quiet rage welled up inside her. This would be the final test, Shara supposed. If Arina broke free and killed this man, there wouldn’t be a whole lot else Shara could do to help her. Thankfully, Arina remained perfectly still even as they passed her, seething alone in her anger and shame.

“So, is she free to go now?” Shara asked.

“Aye, ah suppose she is,” the sheriff said grudgingly. “Wit’ this man’s confession an’ the body of tha other vroch ya pretty much got ‘er clear o’ charges. Come ‘wit me. Ah gotta lock this one up until ‘is trial, then ah’ll grab tha keys to tha stocks.”

“You left the stock keys in the sheriff’s office? Unguarded?” Darron asked.

“Well, tha only people who want that damn vroch free were busy destroyin’ tha Cornwall manor!” the sheriff bit back.

Isabella stayed behind, wordlessly watching over Arina as the rest of them entered the sheriff’s office. They headed to the back of the office, shoved goatee-man in a small prison cell, then returned to the front to grab the keys. The sheriff stopped as he acquired them from his desk, pausing to glare at Shara and Darron.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this? Maybe she didn’t nab Greg, but we both know she killed countless other folk. Ah finally found justice fer them, and ya just wanna take that away?”

“The definition of justice is an issue of much philosophical debate,” Darron said flatly, “but if a child hurts another without realizing it, I feel like the correct response is to educate them on why their actions were wrong. Not to lock them in public stocks and starve them to death.”

“Tha isn’t a child pullin’ someone’s hair, boy,” the sheriff pointed out. “It’s ah fullah-grown monstah that murdered titans know how many people.”

“Well,” Darron said, grabbing the keys from the sheriff, “that seems like an awfully arbitrary cut-off point.”

He left to free Arina, leaving Shara and Sheriff Torg in the office alone.

“An what does tha little sweetheart think of all this?” the sheriff inquired. Shara shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t like it, but it’s difficult for me to not see both sides. I… hate the idea of letting a killer off easy. I really, really hate it. But, in Arina’s case, she was just treated like a tool. I shouldn’t hate somebody’s sword, just the person that wields it.”

“She’s a livin’, thinkin’ monstah, kid. Not a sword.”

“No, she… really is. Mostly. Which is the saddest part, I think. I guess we’re going to take responsibility for changing that.” Shara gave a wry grin. “And I guess she’s out of your hair either way, right?”

The sheriff snorted.

“If only. Make sure yer brother gives me mah damn keys back,” he said, and waved her off.

Stepping back outside the office, Shara saw Arina stand upright for the first time as Darron finished the last lock on the stocks. She quickly snapped to attention, despite the fact that she clearly wanted to stretch her sore frame instead. Standing upright, Arina was shorter than Shara or Darron, though not by a lot. Her tail twitched slightly from where it poked through her pale prisoner’s garb, its spiked tip quietly tapping the ground every so once and awhile. No longer forced to look downward, Arina quickly pushed her long, black hair behind her ears, revealing the blank white cloth mask that covered her face. She looked at no one in particular, her head turned to face the space between where Darron and Isabella were standing.

“Isabella...” Arina asked, “did that man they brought really kill your father? Is it done?”

“Yeah,” Isabella quietly confirmed, face peering at the ground.

Arina turned to Darron and bowed deeply.

“Then, in accordance with our prior agreement, I hereby declare you my new master, until death.”

“Naw,” Darron said, holding up his hand dismissively. “Hard pass.”

Arina twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Am… I… is something wrong?” she asked, not rising from her bow. “I was under the impression…”

“The whole master-servant thing is extremely creepy to me,” Darron flatly said. “I want no part of it. Besides, Shara’s the one that actually caught the guy.”

Arina wrinkled her brow.

“You would have me serve… your warrior?” she asked.

“She’s not ‘my’ warrior.” Darron explained.

“Yeah!” Shara agreed, “If anything, Darron works for me. I’m pretty much in charge around here.”

Shara felt Darron wish he could honestly deny that, which made her grin. Arina seemed briefly confused, but quickly defaulted to her usual strategy of unconditionally accepting a master’s words at face value. Which, while convenient in this case, was something they’d probably have to work on. Arina turned her bow to Shara.

“Please accept my apologies. In that case, in accordance with our prior agreement, I hereby accept you as my new master, until death.”

“Accepted!” Shara happily exclaimed. “Tentatively. Except the until death part.”

This confused Arina again, but she silently rose from her bow and nodded in agreement. Hoo boy, this was going to be a hassle.

“You have permission to ask questions, should you have any,” Shara clarified.

“Do you plan to trade me away, master?” Arina asked.

“No,” Shara said. “One day, I want you to be your own master, is all, and I don’t want to die before we can accomplish that.”

Arina furrowed her brow.

“In what way does this plan assist you?” she asked. “I don’t understand how this distinction is relevant.”

Hoo boy. She quite literally didn’t understand the difference, because her concept of “being her own master” still involved working for Shara. Baby steps.

“Right, we’ll work on that,” Shara said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it for now.”

“Yes, master,” Arina responded and immediately stopped worrying about it, confident that some long-term plan beyond her comprehension had been set in motion.

Man, Darron was right about this master-servant stuff. Shara had to admit she’d kinda been looking forward to it, but in practice this was way creepier than she had ever imagined. Shara needed to be very careful about how she worded everything.

“Do you want to say goodbye to Isabella?” Shara asked. “We’ll probably be staying here one more night, but then we’re hitting the road.”

Arina got very confused for a moment, but then remembered she could ask questions.

“Is ‘hitting the road’ a metaphor for travel?” she asked.

“Um… yes.”

“Then I would like to say goodbye to Isabella.”

Arina stood still, saying nothing else. Shara let her stand there for a while, hoping she’d figure out the implication. She did not.

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“Then… then do that, please,” Shara relented. “However you like.”

Arina turned to look at the space directly to Isabella’s right.

“Goodbye, Isabella.”

“Arina…” Isabella said, starting to cry. “Why did you lie to me? How many things have you lied to me about?”

Arina was about to deny any knowledge of falsehoods, but Shara butted in.

“Arina, you’re no longer bound by whatever your old master prevented you from saying,” Shara said. “If you want to tell something to Isabella, you can. If you don’t want to, you don’t need to.”

Arina was silent for a while. As best she could tell, this freedom of choice had been given to her as a test. Gregory would often give her tasks where only the results mattered, not the methods. After she had grown, Gregory would simply tell her who to kill, and she possessed great freedom in exactly how to go about that. She would pick whatever method she deemed would grant the most effective completion of her master’s desires. Yet here, in this case, she did not know her new master. She didn’t have a lot of context for deciding the best way to make her pleased. Her master must be aware of that, so this was a test of her judgement and observation skills. How accurate of a guess could Arina make with her limited information? Should she fail, she would likely be rendered purposeless once again, cast out for her worthlessness.

The reality of it was far from actually being that dire, of course, as Shara had no intention of ditching Arina. She did want to know how much of Arina’s loyalty was dedicated to her nominal master and how much was actually still dedicated to Gregory Cornwall, though.

“I lied to you because I was told to,” Arina eventually said. “Your father did not want you to know.”

Isabella began crying in earnest now, bawling out rivers of tears. Shara felt Darron wondering if Isabella was at risk of dehydration, or perhaps if she had natural water magic abilities. The amount of liquid she’d lost through her eyeballs this past day was getting ridiculous.

“I loved you like a sister!” Isabella bawled, “b...but the whole time, you… my father and you both…”

Isabella erupted into uncontrollable tears for a while, before continuing.

“Did… was any of it true? D-d-did you ever really care about me?”

“I don’t know,” Arina responded. “Being with you was… calm. Watching you was an easy job. You would smile and laugh at everything. It was nice.”

“W-w-was that it? I was j-just an easy j-j-job?”

Arina stared at nothing.

“It was a job I looked forward to,” Arina said. “Master was happy when you were happy. So I wanted to make you happy.”

“So it was just something you did for poppa,” Isabella mumbled, “like… like all the other jobs he gave you.”

“No,” Arina said. “When I completed other jobs for the master, he was pleased. But when I made you happy, he was happy.” Arina furrowed her brow behind her mask. “I feel as though I am not speaking as clearly as I could be, but I lack the vocabulary to articulate further.”

Isabella suddenly surged forward and embraced Arina is a massive hug, depositing the rest of her tears in the vrochthízo’s modest bosom.

“N-no… that’s… that’s just like you,” she bawled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re still you, but… after everything that’s happened, I look at you, and I… I’m just so frightened. I want to scream and vomit and I know it’s still you but… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Arina stiffly patted Isabella’s head.

“Then, perhaps it is for the best if I am leaving,” she said. “Making you sad defeats the point.”

Isabella only cried.

After expelling the rest of her eyeload, Isabella wiped her face dry and said goodbye. Shara informed her of the inn they’d be staying at, and Isabella promised to have a servant drop by with the few items, mostly clothing, that Arina owned. Then she left, fully expecting to never see Arina again.

Shara, Darron, and their new tag-along Arina then made their way to the inn they had stayed the previous night at. Darron paralyzed another small bird for Arina to much on along the way, although Shara had to make clear it was okay for Arina to eat it before she did so, quietly slipping it under her mask and into her mouth.

“Actually, do you have any dietary preferences?” Darron asked as she swallowed it whole. “I’ve been getting you whatever’s convenient because I suspect you’re currently malnourished, but if there is a kind of non-sapient wild animal you prefer to eat, I can keep an eye out for it.”

“I am grateful for any meals my master grants me,” Arina simply said.

“That’s nice,” Darron pressed, “but it doesn’t answer my question.”

Arina was silent for a moment.

“I am partial to bats,” she eventually said. “I gained the habit of hunting and killing them because of the awful noises they make, but I have grown fond of their taste.”

“That’s fine,” Shara said. “As long as it’s a wild animal, you’re welcome to eat whenever you need. Just don’t eat anything that can ask you not to.”

“Or anything that could eventually become something that can ask you not to,” Darron clarified.

“Yeah, don’t eat any babies,” Shara agreed.

“Or anything owned by someone that can ask you not to,” Darron continued.

“Alright, no eating pets or property either,” Shara said.

Arina thought about that.

“I am to understand the consumption of unwanted vermin may be performed at my leisure?” Arina asked for clarification.

“Um, yes,” Shara said. Then, in an attempt to avoid disaster, she quickly added “So long as you’re talking about actual vermin rather than the derogatory term for people you don’t like.”

Arina nodded and made a sudden upward motion with one of her hands. A jet of air bursted from a small space between two buildings, causing a hitherto-unseen mouse to careen out of the gap directly into Arina’s outstretched claws. Still squirming, she placed it in her mouth and ended its life with a sickening crunch. Shara could not for the life of her decide where that fell on the cool/creepy scale.

Arina did something similar to many unfortunate rodents on the way towards the inn, but only when Shara and Darron were the only ones watching. When anyone else was on the street, Arina turned away from them, tucked in her tail, and usually moved to interpose Shara or Darron between herself and the other person. It generally didn’t stop her from being recognised, as her prisoner’s smock did nothing to cover her pitch-black arms and legs. Still, no one they passed seemed to be brave enough to talk to them. They only wondered: what’s that monster doing free? Who are those people it’s with?

They eventually made it to the inn without incident. Shara hadn’t known how long they’d end up staying on Oinos Springs, so she hadn’t bought the room for multiple days in advance. However, as she paid the innkeeper for another night, she noticed he seemed apprehensive about something beyond the vrochthízo keeping them company that made her decide to peek into his mind.

This is the group that dark-skinned Elpisian woman paid me to send to room three, he thought, as he handed Shara a key to that very room. Right, like she was going to put up with that.

“Yeah, I’d like a different room please,” Shara said. “Do you have anything on the top floor?”

After a quick exchange of haggling and Shara calling a few of the innkeeper’s bluffs, Shara got a key to a room on a completely different story than room three. Satisfied, she made her way up to the new room with Darron and Arina in tow. Whatever that nosy woman was planning, she wasn’t just going to waltz into it. This room only had two beds, but Adgito was likely to spend the night in the hot springs and Arina didn’t sleep anyway. If Adgito did come back, Shara would just rest on the floor.

Turning the key and opening the door, Shara spotted both beds, as well as a quaint little coffee table, at which a dark-skinned, short-haired military woman was sitting, reading a book.

“Oh, hello,” Marisol said, marking her place and looking up. “So, how was your day?”

“What???” Shara yelled, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. “How did you… I mean, I specifically avoided the…”

“Well, yes, I figured you might pick up on that from the innkeeper,” Marisol said, “which is why I broke into the other vacant room in this inn instead.”

“What the heck are you doing in here???”

“Reading,” Marisol said. Shara groaned.

“Do you seriously not have anything more important to do than bother me?”

“Actually, I have many more important things to do than bother you. Fortunately, I am extremely good at my job, so I managed to complete them earlier.”

“Oh, goodie,” Shara deadpanned, “so bothering me is just something you do in your free time.”

“Time, my little sweetheart, is by far our most precious commodity,” Marisol said, standing up. “It is never free.”

“Great,” Darron said from behind the doorway. “So are you going to stop wasting it, or will you continue spouting platitudes all day?”

“I like platitudes,” Marisol hummed. “Spouting them is an excellent test of one’s intellectual character. You gain so many answers, by asking the right questions. Speaking of: what number am I thinking about, right now?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Shara asked, crossing her arms. “What the hell do you actually want with me?”

“Incorrect!” Marisol chastised, approaching where Shara was standing in the entryway. “I mean, that’s not even a number. Are you even trying?”

Marisol confidently walked right next to Shara, almost touching her. She was much shorter than Shara was, but Marisol craned her neck up to confidently grin into Shara’s downward glare.

“The correct answer,” Marisol whispered, “was one-hundred and fourteen.”

That… bitch. Shara gritted her teeth. That was the population of Aletheia, before Gadiel Halcomb slaughtered her family. One hundred and fourteen faces that Shara had lived with for the first eight years of her life. This crazy lady was straight-up asking to get gutted, right here on the floor of this inn.

“Get. The hell. Out. Of. My. Room.” Shara hissed at her.

“I would love to, sweetheart,” Marisol cooed, “but I’m afraid you’re standing in the doorway.”

Slowly, deliberately, a slightly shaking Shara stepped backwards, got out of Marisol’s way, and let her pass. Marisol strutted out of the room, giving a wave goodbye as she headed towards the staircase without looking back.

“Have fun in Yidril, sweetheart!” Marisol called. “I hear it’s nice this time of year!”

Shara struggled to maintain a grip on herself, not wanting to show how much Marisol’s words had gotten to her. That… that damn woman! What did she even want? First Marisol was mad at her, then she was helping them out, and now Marisol was stalking her and deliberately attempting to throw her into a rage! It was like… it was like she was just getting toyed with. Like Marisol thought anything Shara did didn’t actually matter.

But if that was the case, why bother giving her so much attention? Nothing added up, and her stupid, fritzy powers that would otherwise solve everything wouldn’t even work on her! It was beyond aggravating!

Shara forced herself to calm down. She wasn’t going to get worked up and play into that woman’s hands.

A long, awkward silence followed as Shara, Darron and Arina made their way into the small bedroom and prepared to rest for the night. No one seemed inclined to say anything, until Arina eventually spoke up.

“Should I kill her?” the assassin asked, with literal dead seriousness.

“Maybe later,” Shara grumbled.