Ashlyn's eyelids fluttered open, revealing a dimly lit room that felt unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. She gave herself about ten minutes to acclimate to the sensation of waking up, the events that had led her to this state of exhaustion gradually piecing together in her mind. The distant sounds of footsteps and muffled conversations suggested it was probably supper time.
With a deliberate effort, she pushed herself out of bed, relying on a series of familiar stretches to shake off the lingering drowsiness. After completing a few sets, she felt sufficiently revitalized to at least try to face the remainder of the day.
Her gaze swept over her belongings, which rested on a stand beside the bed. Everything appeared to be in place, including her small red disk charged with four rings and the simple hunter's knife that held a special place in her heart. A jar of water sat invitingly on the stand, which she gratefully sipped to clear her dry throat.
Making her way to the dining area, Ashlyn spotted Tess sitting alone in a corner, her attention entirely devoted to her meal. Tess looked significantly healthier, the vestiges of her injury concealed beneath her tunic. Despite her improved appearance, there was an unexpected maturity reflected in her eyes, as though the recent events had finally debuted her journey into adulthood.
“Ash... Mistress Quinn, you're up already?” Tess blurted out, standing abruptly, her voice a tad too loud. Realizing her faux pas, she quickly added, “I mean, did you get enough rest?”
“I’m fine... I think,” Ashlyn responded, her tone lacking conviction.
Tess's expression shifted to one of admiration. “I didn't expect to see you up so soon. You’re incredible. Standing up to that bastard and then maintaining those rings for over a day...” Her voice trailed off as she became aware of the curious glances from other diners. “Apologies for the language, Mistress... But truly, you were remarkable...”
Ashlyn, sensing the need to steer the conversation away from her recent heroics, interjected, “I appreciate it, but let’s hope I don’t have to do anything like that again anytime soon.”
As she took her seat, a young woman with unassuming features approached to take her order, likely filling in for Andre. At that moment, Ashlyn remembered the events of the previous day and the toll it had taken on everyone involved.
“How’s Andre doing?” Ashlyn inquired hesitantly, not quite sure if she wanted to hear the answer. If the situation were dire, Tess surely wouldn't appear so at ease.
“He's on the mend,” the merchant quickly replied, cutting off Ashlyn's question. “His recovery's probably sped up since his mom's back in charge of the kitchen. You see, people are talking...”
The barrage of information from Tess brought a slight headache to Ashlyn, but the arrival of her soup provided a welcome distraction. She couldn't help but notice that the soup lacked the exceptional flavor of the meals she had received during her intense casting vigil. Perhaps a special 'thank you' meal would come later.
As she ate, Ashlyn’s thoughts circled back to the recent clash with the resonant. It was clear she needed to be better prepared for future conflicts with her peers. Her aim was to infiltrate their ranks quietly, but plans rarely unfolded smoothly. She had been following her father's methodical approach to training, mastering one technique before moving on to the next. While this strategy suited long-term goals, it seemed to be jeopardizing her immediate need for survival.
Reassessing her tactics was essential. Diversifying her skill set with a few more useful concepts might just provide her with the tools to navigate unforeseen challenges. Her initial belief had been that focusing on a few concepts would expedite mastery of the second ring and breakthrough to the third, but time was a luxury she might not have.
Her contemplations were interrupted when the waitress returned, extending an invitation to meet Mr. Morey in his office. After a brief farewell to Tess, who wasn't included in the summons, Ashlyn followed the waitress through a hallway to the designated room. The woman knocked, announced their arrival, and then left.
“Mistress, please have a seat,” Mr. Morey invited, his voice carrying a tone of weariness and a bit of sorrow. Ashlyn noted the unexpected somberness in his demeanor, considering he had just regained his son from the brink of death. But she reminded herself not to judge; grief and relief often intertwined in complex ways.
As Julien Morey offered Ashlyn a choice of beverage and some sweet biscuits, she chose the coffee, relishing the rare and expensive treat. Despite its bitter taste, there was something appealing about it.
Mr. Morey hesitated, searching for the right words. Finally, he blurted out, “Mistress… I think you should leave.”
Ashlyn was taken aback, her confusion evident. His abrupt statement was so unexpected that she initially doubted she had heard it correctly. But his earnest expression confirmed the words. A wave of emotions waved through her – confusion, speechlessness, and a growing sense of offense. She had expended significant effort and energy to save his son, and now she was being asked to leave? It felt profoundly ungrateful.
Sensing her displeasure, Mr. Morey quickly interjected, “I’m sorry, Mistress. I spoke hastily. I do believe it’s best for you to leave, but let me explain why. I’ve been out of sorts since Andre’s ordeal…”
Ashlyn cut in, her voice firm but still composed, “Please, explain.” If he had a valid reason for asking her to leave, he should have led with it.
“Mistress,” he acknowledged her, his voice steadying as he organized his thoughts. “After Andre was safe, I investigated the incident. Being targeted by a resonant isn't trivial for us unringed. It turns out the attack wasn’t just random. The young resonant is from House Akehurst.”
He paused, noting Ashlyn’s lack of reaction. “House Akehurst owns several properties in this area, including this building. The young Master was likely here to collect rent or discuss business matters. His family often offers... 'opportunities' to businessmen in their territory,” he explained, cautiously avoiding any derogatory remarks about resonants.
Ashlyn absorbed this new information, her mind gears turning to understand the implications of being in the ‘territory’ of other resonants and what it meant for her continued presence here.
She leaned in, seeking to understand the situation better. "So, they essentially coerce you into providing services?" she asked, her tone edged with incredulity.
Mr. Morey's reply carried a bitterness he hadn't intended to reveal. "They don't exactly hire us... It's more about offering us an opportunity, in return for the... 'privilege' of assisting them."
Ashlyn's brows arched in realization. House Akehurst, likely a family of influential resonants, was extorting the locals for additional payment, exploiting their power. Julian's expectation that she would be familiar with such dealings suggested that this was a common practice in the Hold. The place was murkier than she had imagined, with residents living under the oppressive thumb of resonants. It was no wonder the revelation of her status had instilled fear in those around her.
"The younger Master is known for his... vindictiveness towards those who cross him. He or his butler will likely pay a visit to inquire about you soon, Mistress," Mr. Morey warned, genuine concern present in his voice.
"Why not just claim ignorance of me? I'm not familiar with other parts of the Hold yet, and I was hoping to stay here a bit longer," Ashlyn expressed, trying not to sound as if she was desperate.
"I wish we could keep you here, Mistress," Mr. Morey sighed. "I was even considering offering you a permanent stay at our Inn. But with House Akehurst owning this building, we are bound to comply with their demands."
Ashlyn felt a familiar sting of betrayal and abandonment. Part of her wanted to lash out, to accuse him of ingratitude. But deep down, she understood the complicated position he was in. People always had their reasons, even if those reasons led to her hurt.
"I'm truly sorry, Mistress. You've been nothing but a blessing to us." Mr. Morey hesitated before offering her three small rings. "This isn't much, but it's our way of showing gratitude," he said, choosing his words with care to convey respect and appreciation.
Ashlyn clutched the small rings and didn’t know how to answer. The trading currency was a small compensation for the unfairness of her situation, a gesture that didn't solve her predicament but softened the blow. Her mind was already going through plans for her next move. Should she seek shelter elsewhere tonight, or?
Mr. Morey, perceptive as ever, seemed to read her mind.
"You're welcome to stay the night, Mistress," he offered apologetically. "We've arranged the deluxe room for you, on the house."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Ashlyn mumbled her thanks, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks as she exited the room. Her embarrassment was obvious, but Mr. Morey's hospitality had eased some of her worries. In the dining room, she noticed Teresa, who appeared to be in no hurry to leave her seat. Perhaps she was nursing her wounds or simply reluctant to retreat to the solitude of her room. Ashlyn caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile, silently signaling that there was no rush.
Their conversation was brief and surprisingly straightforward. Teresa didn't seem fazed by the potential danger or the innkeeper's blatant nudge for Ashlyn to leave. "So, we're departing in the morning?" she asked, including herself to Ashlyn’s troupe without any scruples, and thus warming the resonant’s heart.
The 'we' in Tess's question was comforting but heavy with responsibility. Ashlyn was starting to feel the pressure of having a friend. Protecting Tess from the Hold, especially from the reprieve her revenge would imminently bring, was a duty she wasn't sure she could fulfill.
"We have to," Ashlyn affirmed in a serious tone. "Mr. Morey fears that the brat who attacked you or one of his cronies might show up soon. It's wiser to avoid further confrontation."
Ashlyn knew well that readiness for conflict was incompatible with her goals. Caution would be a better choice. After they agreed to leave the next morning post-breakfast, Ashlyn retired to her room.
The hot bath that awaited her was a piece of heaven. She let herself sink into the warm embrace of the water, her muscles unwinding, her mind drifting towards a quiet world. It was so relaxing that she nearly dozed off in the tub. Reluctantly, she moved to the bed, surrendering to a deep, restorative sleep.
The next morning, refreshed from nearly ten hours of slumber, Ashlyn performed a series of exercises suitable for the confined space of her room. Then, she picked up her things and made her way downstairs to savor her last breakfast at the Morey.
As she stepped into the diner, the weight of the three fully and one half-charged rings in her pocket served to give her a sense of accomplishment. Her ability to cast the rings had soared to new heights, each charge now requiring only two minutes of focus, and the recovery period had halved to about thirty minutes. She spotted Teresa indulging in a pastry that looked delectably extravagant – probably a small reward for their daring escapade.
Mr. Morey's nervous presence behind the counter, casting wary glances their way, was a reminder of the urgency of the situation. Despite the annoyance and sense of betrayal, Ashlyn couldn't really blame them. They, like everyone else, were just trying to navigate their way through life and survive.
Teresa, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere, bubbled with her usual energy. "Mistress Ashlyn, we should quickly finish our meal and leave. I was thinking of finding an inn on the western side of the Hold. I've heard about a place there..."
Ashlyn acknowledged Tess with a brief nod, choosing to focus on the pastry in front of her. The fruity roll was an intense trip of flavors – sweet, creamy, and with just the right amount of tartness to balance it out. She savored each bite, allowing the pastry's richness to momentarily distract her from the complexities of life.
After finishing the delightful treat and complementing it with a sip of the slightly bitter tea, Ashlyn rose from her seat. She offered a grateful smile to Mr. Morey, a gesture of understanding and forgiveness. With Teresa in tow, she stepped out of the Morey Inn. The sweet taste of the pastry lingered, a symbol of a peaceful, if not entirely happy, parting.
As Ashlyn patiently awaited Teresa's return with the cart, a well-nourished, modestly dressed boy approached her, his cheeks painted with shyness. He extended a brown packet towards her, his eyes averted. Curiously, Ashlyn accepted the packet, her fingers brushing against the rough texture, trying to guess what was about. Inside, she found a bronze brooch and a note that read, 'Give it to Mrs. Perez at the Riverside Hotel for a nice discount.' A genuine smile graced her lips; the Moreys indeed had a way of showing gratitude without overstepping boundaries. The gesture, however, was a bitter reminder of the impending troubles that House Akehurst would bring upon the Inn.
Her contemplation was interrupted by Tess's enthusiastic voice, "Jump on, esteemed Mistress Quinn!" Her attempt at formality was endearing, if a bit overdone.
Ashlyn gracefully climbed into the cart, her movements betraying her intent to appear more regal than she felt. "We should head to seamstress Liane first. I need to make a deposit for my order," she directed, masking her discomfort with the pretense of nobility.
Navigating through the bustling streets, they soon arrived at the row of commercial houses. Ashlyn alighted outside number 34, while Teresa chose to stay with the cart. The resonant reassured her, "I won't be long," before making her way to the door.
After a few knocks, Liane greeted her with a trace of surprise that quickly transformed into a warm, professional smile. "Mistress Quinn, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. Please, come in," she ushered Ashlyn inside, carefully setting aside some light-colored fabrics.
"I thought I'd stop by earlier to take care of the deposit. I just happened to be in the area," Ashlyn explained, extending a fully charged yellow ring towards Mrs. Keller.
As Ashlyn handed over the ring to Liane, she recalled their agreement for a 20% deposit, due three days post-order. However, the unexpected turn of events had left her with enough resources to settle it ahead of schedule. Liane accepted the ring with a practiced grace, then moved it to a finely crafted wooden box on the corner stand, retrieving an empty yellow ring. In the Hold's trade practice, returning the empty ring was a professional courtesy, symbolizing the transaction was for the charges, not the ring itself.
"I'm grateful for your patronage, Mistress," Liane spoke with a respectful tone, extending the empty ring back to Ashlyn. Her demeanor was cautious but sincere as she added, "If it pleases you, Mistress, I've already prepared the boots as per your request."
Ashlyn understood the underlying message about her worn-out footwear and accepted the boots with gratitude, careful not to betray any embarrassment. Liane’s relief was tangible, her fear of offending someone of Ashlyn's status evident in her cautious approach.
The boots, though simple, were well-crafted and a perfect fit. Ashlyn felt comfortable and confident as she slipped them on. She considered offering a tip for the commendable craftsmanship but decided to reserve such gestures for a future visit when her finances were more stable.
Leaving Liane's establishment, Ashlyn's stride carried a sense of assurance, proving the saying 'the wear makes the person.' Teresa, of course, noticed the new boots but chose not to comment, respecting the formalities that governed interactions within the Hold.
Their search for an inn was guided by more than just the need for a roof over their heads. For Ashlyn, a resonant aiming for the Academy, maintaining a respectable image was crucial. Teresa, on the other hand, sought opportunities to establish beneficial business connections. Their needs, though distinct, converged on finding accommodation that met both their criteria.
"The Riverside? That's... not exactly my usual crowd," she remarked embarrassedly.
Ashlyn, faking confidence, responded. "We've got the brooch for a discount, remember? It's worth a try. Besides, I need to start acquainting myself with these places if I'm going to blend in at the Academy."
Tess nodded slowly, still wrestling with the implications of staying at such a prestigious location. The Hold's rigid social structure was not kind to those who overstepped their station, and as a small merchant, Tess was acutely aware of the potential consequences. But Ashlyn's status as a resonant offered them a rare exception to these unspoken rules.
Determined, they steered their cart towards the Riverside, discussing their options. When Tess voiced her concern about the exorbitant prices – even a simple room might cost a small fortune in charges – Ashlyn reassessed her stance. "We'll just check the prices. I'm not about to spend all my savings on one night's stay," she declared.
Their route took them back past the Morey Inn, a place they had hoped to avoid. But as they drew closer, they were met with an unsettling sight – a familiar carriage parked outside, unmistakably belonging to House Akehurst. Tess's grip tightened on the reins, her earlier fear resurfacing.
Seeing her friend's distress, Ashlyn placed a reassuring hand on Tess's arm. "It's okay, Tess. We're no longer staying there. Let's just go around and avoid any unnecessary trouble," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the ominous carriage.
With a quiet hum of agreement, Tess turned the cart around, opting for a safer, less direct route to the Riverside.
The tension outside the Morey Inn reached a boiling point when the Akehurst butler exited the Inn with an air of disdain. Addressing Julian with undisguised contempt, he declared the termination of their contract. "House Akehurst no longer requires your services. You and your establishment are to vacate immediately," he pronounced, dripping with scorn.
Julian, caught off-guard by the sudden turn of events, rushed out of the Inn, desperate. He pleaded with the butler in a trembling voice, "Please, I beg you, grant us a few days to send our guests away. Could you not persuade Master Akehurst?"
His plea, however, only served to ignite the butler's fury. With a swift and unexpected motion, the butler's hand struck Julian's cheek, the sound echoing through the crowded street. The bystanders, including Ashlyn and Teresa, watched in shocked silence. Dietger, a man living in the shadow of his resonant brother, found in Julian's words a bitter reminder of his own lesser status in the Akehurst hierarchy.
Enraged, the butler spat out his next words with venomous hatred, "You are nothing but pests under our boots! Leave, now!"
Julian reeled from the blow, both physical and emotional. His hopes of salvaging the situation, of negotiating a more graceful exit, crumbled in an instant. He knew the butler's announcement was irrevocable, but he had clung to a sliver of hope for a temporary respite to check out their guests and salvage what little they could. But the butler's outburst quashed even that faint hope.
Within the walls of the Hold, seizing private property was a legal transgression, even for a powerful House like Akehurst. They could, however, legally evict the Moreys at a moment's notice and keep everything that was left behind.
As Ashlyn and Teresa observed from a distance, they realized the situation was direr than they initially thought. The events at the Morey Inn were a perfect example of the standing of the unringed within the Hold's social structure. The power wielded by the resonant Houses could upend lives in an instant, leaving little room for mercy.
In the midst of the escalating crisis, Julian lowered his head, forgoing pride entirely, and turned to retreat into the Inn. However, his movements were halted by the butler's sharp command. "Halt! We will not allow scum like you to defile House Akehurst’s property any longer." The butler's eyes narrowed as he ordered his henchmen, "Go inside. Anyone who resists leaving, drag them out."
The butler's words echoed with a chilling decisiveness, owned only by those who have no fear of retribution, blatantly declaring his intent to seize control of the Morey's possessions. Julian, struck dumb with disbelief, could hardly accept the depths of the butler's shamelessness. The notion that a retainer from a House would stoop so low, disregarding their own reputation for greed, was beyond his comprehension.
The goons, on the other hand, didn’t need to be told twice. They marched towards the entrance bearing arrogance on their faces. However, before they could reach the inn’s threshold, a figure blocked their path, her presence commanding immediate attention. "Halt!" she shouted. The butler whirled around, his anger faltering at the sight before him. The golden rings of energy floating around the girl’s hands left no questions about her stand.