The dummy finally moved when he punched it. The strawman fell over at the hit to its face. The little straws of hay slowly trickled from its head, akin to blood.

But the usual joy from progress was missing. This was no progress after all, he merely tried to get back where he was. And he was slow at it.

He could walk now, even run. The running might have been actually a bit easier now than it was before, but everything still felt hollow. He was a husk without purpose now after all.

Carl's mother sat at her table, cheering with every hit he delivered to the stationary dummy. She was trying her best for him, but it still felt humiliating. Or it would have, had he cared for it at all.

He wiped the sweat on his forehead and walked over to her, he was exhausted after all.

"See? I told you that you will quickly gather your strength!" she exclaimed while flexing her bicep. His mother might have been a little shorter than his father, but she compensated in size. In the clan of Stonefist, strength was valued above all after all. She sported her usual sunny dress and let her hair down along her shoulders.

"Thanks." he let out. His throat did not hurt anymore per se, but it was still uncomfortable to speak. His throat moved in unfamiliar ways and his voice was harsh. His body was lanky and the little muscle he managed to gather back was more into refining then volume. His throat managed to heal fairly alright. He did not look like an abomination, but it was still a different hue than the rest of his body. All in all, if he ever had a chance to act in a play, a ghoul would fit him just perfect…as long as it was not a musical.

His brow deepened at the thought, even though he felt he mostly accepted his new circumstances. He realized that there were positives to his predicament too. Namely, that he survived. That was a good example. He lost the duty to become a guardian to a lord. That was also welcome quite a bit, he never liked that part of his fate.

But the negatives were overwhelming. His life-long dream completely impossible. His life turned on its head.

And to top it all off, his father was avoiding him.

Carl did not know if it was his condition, or that he let him go to the Academy at all, but his father could not face it either way. Carl understood. If he could avoid himself, he would.

His mother left, saying that she forgot something urgent. She was obviously lying. His mother could not act to save her life, but she never lied to Carl for nothing. His curiosity climbed up from the pits of numbness that Carl threw all his feelings into and led him on.

Something was happening for sure.

The doors opened and his father came in.

He sat at the table, pouring himself a cup of the tea.

"How are you doing son?" he asked, his hand trembling with the cup.

"Manage." he answered truthfully.

"How is the training going?"

"Good."

"That's good, yes." he answered, looking nervously around the room. "You may have noticed. I had little time as of late." he started putting the cup on the table. "I have been preparing something. Something I hope you might like." He placed a violin case on the table. "Now, I know that you always rather sang than played, but I thought that maybe," His father looked at him, right into his eyes. He wore a gentle, kind expression. "Maybe you would enjoy this as well?"

Carl opened the case. The violin was beautiful. The wood was dark, probably made from a chestnut tree. It was laden with small slivers of gold, depicting symbols used in ancient texts. The runes from their family heritage.

Carl put it gently on his shoulder, gripping it the way he saw his dad grip it numerous times. He took the bow, and trailed the strings with it. Producing a pleasant sound.

"I don’t want to force it onto you, but I thought that maybe…maybe it might help?" he asked more than exclaimed.

"It…might." replied Carl with a smile to his dad.

His father quickly sneezed into a tissue and sipped from his tea. If Carl did not know him, maybe he would not notice the tears that rushed out the moment he replied.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"There is also a known concert of Maestro Luvie. If you want to come with me?"

Carl nodded with his smile again, producing another sudden sneeze from his father.

"Chilly in here, huh?" he asked.

"Uh huh." Carl laughed carefully.

The job finally done, Gavin could breathe a little easier. Even if he had to drag the princess the whole way, his legs felt chipper and his step came easy. This was the third…no, the fourth job he successfully finished. Though this one was definitely the longest and took the most out of Gavin, it also felt like a triumph.

I finally caught the murderers. He laughed at wildly.

Even though the princess was fairly heavy and he was more scrawny than beefy, he still pulled her leash with joyful vigor.

She shot him angry glances with her green eyes, twisting in her restrains.

"Oh, you won't have to suffer me for long, I will pass you to the correct authorities very soon. Might even get a payout out of the whole thing." he laughed out loud.

The sounds scraped Aviana's spine. Her hands were bound and mouth gagged. She had trouble walking and her whole body screamed from the thrashing her captor - Gavin presumably - delivered yesterday. But that was not the reason her eyes were filled with hate, not the reason why she would kill him the first chance she'd get.

He killed Cormac and he would pay for it dearly.

Still, now she only hoped that the watchmen would find enough time to hear her out.

The great stone Capital was growing bigger on the west and her hopes were slowly, but surely dying out.

Gavin traded her in, in a watchmen outpost. She watched the gold pile on in his pouch. His greedy eyes looking over the reflective coins. But the rest of the way was better now.

Gavin stayed at the outpost, but she would find him later. She was still gagged and all her tries to get their attention and her gag out failed.

She was in a cart, driving to the city of her family. She was bound and the disappearance of Gavin took her anger and loathing with it. Now it was just somber.

The giant gates of the city welcomed her in, as well as the glares from the people around.

The captain of their little convoy, a man around his forties, grabbed a smaller errand boy watchman.

"Announce our arrival to the judge. We will be in the hall in about three hours. I expect everything to be ready by then."

"Sir, yes sir!" the boy yelled with a salute, then he ran quickly towards the courthouse.

The captain looked at Aviana and pointed somewhere with a gesture. The cart changed direction and she was confused.

She was riding to the citadel, riding to her family.

It was freeing to move your arms and legs, would Aviana not be stuck in a chair.

Her mother watched her from the other side of the room, pouring herself a cup of whatever liquor she decided for today. Her green dress was celebratory, woven with gold fibers, and her crown glistened as it always did. Her mother never missed the chance to polish it after all. Her rusty hair narrowly reaching her shoulders.

She poured water into a glass and walked over with both to the table. She put them next to her, not offering Aviana a drink. And Aviana would not ask, her mother liked pleas too much.

"Explain." she said while drinking her cup. Her pinky upright in a cheesy pompous gesture.

Aviana really did not have the mood for this. The sight of her mother would have evoked unpleasant memories strong enough for her to become defiant normally, but much more important things took place in her mind now.

"I have been framed." she said slowly, her words shallow.

"I thought as much. The crime scene was too crude, even for you. Now, do you have a plan. Or should your mother take care of it?" she asked happily. She would smear this 'favor' across Aviana's face for years to come. She always relished in her daughters failures.

"Please, mother."

"There is just one thing. If these kind of wicked things happen in your vicinity, we must be careful, daughter. You are important and we would not want to lose something important to us, would we? So, it would be better if from now on, you will stay home. We could resume your studies and make of you, who you were always meant to be. True?"

"Yes, mother." she watched the grey ground.

"Great. We have a witness of the whole incident, so there is no reason to worry. Your innocence is granted." her mother continued, while she sipped from her cup.

"A witness?" Aviana's attention was redirected from the ground at her mother. Her heart beat wildly at her dark premonition. "Who?"

"A young boy from the Academy, he was so shaken he became a watchmen himself. But ultimately, who he is, is unimportant."

"I don’t know of any witnesses. I would like to know his name. You used to tell me yourself, that gratitude is important." Aviana tried to play at the strings of her mother and she seemed to hit a chord.

"That is true. It is nice to see that you do take at least some of what we try to give you." She sipped loudly yet again, which would have been incredibly irritating any normal day, but Aviana held her breath until she heard the name. "But you are still forgetting, that you are in no position to ask questions."