12th day of Brownleaf, tenth month of the year, 983:

Fighting against the need to yawn, Mulia opened the window to let some of the morning air in her new bedroom in the castle. Turning to her wardrobe, she picked her uniform, the same type the attendants before her had worn, a maid uniform dyed grey and light black. It would appear expensive at a first glance, but we need to take into account the ease in which black dye could be harvested, as the blood of the majority of the northern monsters could be used as a substitute of sufficient quality.

However, as its origins were less than clean, it was a custom the rest of the Empire frowned upon. An important point to add was that the central provinces preferred brighter colours, being these the natural trend on all of its constituents. Nonetheless, for noble households that had started as monster hunters or edge knights, dying with black was a custom filled with pride.

Lastly, the emblem of the Ashen household, an extinguished bonfire with a shield stuck on it, stood plainly in the back of the uniform. The legend of its fabrication lay in the origins as mage hunters of the Ashen Household. Its connotations were but a casualty of their job, for fire magic was on the easier side of evocation spells, and was the more dangerous and common. A shield standing proudly on top of the ashes of an extinguished bonfire meant but its success in protecting people from a wildfire, one it had stopped.

Mulia’s new mornings were devoid of her mother’s screaming and, while her father's absence was unchanged, this small chance brought her a sense of freedom that could only be dwarfed by the fear Lord Noct still caused on her. She always thought of herself better than to fear a person who had saved her life, but no logic could save her from the instinctual fear provoked by a being who could end her with a finger. ‘If a mage is not busy blabbering about magic, they are a danger.’ Was one of the more common sayings of common people, born out of fear from necromancers.

Leaving her room, she started her duties with some familiarity, for she had been employed for three days already. Nevertheless, the castle still appeared as if she had not been here, for the fruits of her labour did not even have a tree to sprout from. The only aspect of her workload with a visible consequence were her cooking duties together with the laundry. But she was no stranger to trying as much as it took, so she dusted the main corridors of the castle, and day by day she readied one of the empty rooms, restoring them from their not so pristine condition.

She started her job by remembering how she had styled her hair in the mirror. Yes, a mirror. She herself didn’t believe her personal room had a mirror installed. Her hair was on the short side, but she had already decided to let it grow a bit more, now that she could tend to it in her personal bath. She also couldn’t believe she had a salary each month, not that it mattered it being on the smaller side. It still added up as she had no spendings. And hot water, she did not fathom how it worked, nor she dared to try in fear of it stopping. She just left it at ‘it was magic’, and it was indeed. This job could have been the best birthday gift ever, if not for the fact that she had turned twenty two last week.

Her brown eyes returned her unfocused gaze as she cleaned a window. Her mirror was hung a bit high up, completely capturing her stature, about a metre and three quarters, and reflecting it perfectly. Her common looks had started to bother her a bit after ‘meeting’ Soral and, together with the loneliness of not being able to meet her friends, were starting to weigh her down. She finished cleaning the windows and carried on. She would persevere.

As it was the first time she managed to catch a glimpse of Noct from the cleaned up window. He was focused on his morning training. Sensing he was almost finished she went to pick a towel and a bucket of fresh water and went to work.

Descending onto the castle’s back garden, she saw that a few veteran soldiers were starting their training in the front one, the true, and large, garden. It was lacklustre, as it lacked a variety of plants, and, to be honest, it lacked plants. It was more a space filled with grass and a few bushes dispersed there and there. She refocused her attention on his Lord, dressed in only pants and a few weighted armbands. His body was on full display, devoid of the shadows his usual vestiment hid him with, only wearing light training clothes.

She could have blushed in embarrassment thanks to his toned build, slim but compact, with well defined muscles that went for endurance rather than solid strength, but her fear kept her in check. His brown eyes were tainted by a slight greenish colour and he appeared to shine thanks to the gloss that the morning light gave his sweating skin as he swung his sword in vertical strikes.

The reality, however, was never kind, and the full view of his body brought her back from whatever she was thinking. All his horrendous scars were also visible. Cuts, burns, evidence of old stabs and attack magic. Old bruises tainted his flesh as if they were a disease, silently warning everyone of his long career as a seasoned warrior. The worst of them all were twentish strikes on the back, from a whipping she supposed, ranging from his shoulders to his lower back. She tried to not gasp as the realisation of their unhealed state settled in, the consequence of a serrated whip.

Not a common punishment, as serrated whips were only used for mages that were experts on body strengthening magic. Those weapons were usually coated on a particular alloy powder, made with copper as its basis, that ingrained itself on the wounds. Very difficult to remove, they hindered magical healing by a high degree and continuously reopened the wound as they stretched the scar tissue. The work of the punishers had been stelar. The wounds still appeared with a crust, threatening to start bleeding for any movement whatsoever.

She shook her head to ground herself, and waited a bit until Noct reached his three hundredth swing of the session by sitting on a nearby bench. As she waited, the noise of more soldiers trickling in started to come with the sun rearing its head. Having finally finished, Mulia got up and passed him the towel she had brought. He silently started to dry himself. After taking a swing from the bucket, he started.

“You know, I pay you to clean the castle, not to rest under the morning sun.” He sounded irritated with the whole ordeal. Side eyeing the soldiers who were starting their training, he grabbed his training shirt from his shadows and dressed himself, trying to cover his scars. After that, he sat with Mulia on the bench.

“But shouldn’t a servant be of help towards their Lord?” She tried to look at his eyes but he kept looking towards the soldiers.

“The Lord of the castle is my sister, you are not helping your case.” His voice was calm, treating her as if she were paperwork, a time tax that he just had to deal with.

Her curiosity stinging her, she didn’t back down, “She is still asleep, Regent.”

Noct didn’t respond. Before he could get up, a question he had not expected came up.

“Do, do they still hurt? The wounds in the back, shouldn't they have healed by now?” Tentatively probed Mulia.

Surprised, Noct answered out of habit when someone showed concern for him. Cutting and cold words. “It does not concern you.” After a few seconds, he regretted his words or, at least, his tone. He hadn't decided on a definitive way to approach the woman yet, but he was working on expelling her nonetheless. She didn’t look like a gold digger, but the look of her eyes had the same fear that everyone else showed, despite her attempts to close the distance the last few days.

“....Sorry, my Lord. I should not have intruded on your privacy.” Looking dejected yet again, a sight Noct had grown tired of seeing, she gave up. He could only sigh and yield a bit, cursing the nostalgia of the memories of having people who uttered the same words as her. Who meant them too. Maybe it was the exhaustion obfuscating his usual edge, or the less sleep that he had been having these days, as his workload has decreased. He surrendered the same.

“They do not heal, they are strikes from a military whip. I was judged and found guilty of high incompetence, having caused the death of fellow soldiers by disobeying orders.” He really didn’t want to talk about his early career in the military, at least against a woman. He still remembered the terrified look of that mother.

“What happened?” Noticing his pain, her gaze turned unflinching, causing even more discomfort to Noct.

The tiny hope of being listened to and the desire to end this conversation as soon as possible won out. ‘I really should sleep more.’ “Well. It happened in my second year of military service, after returning from the University. I was in the regiment laden with miscellaneous work. Guiding the civilians, maintaining public order, distributing supplies. Having a nobleman doing these things was Imperial prerogative after all.” His dry laugh interrupted his tale, only contempt could be heard from it.

“I think back then we had five hundred men at arms, more or less? I do not remember the exact number. Anyways, it was a bit over a hundred bandits. Supposedly quick and easy work.. We were preparing to attack their hideout, as they had been assaulting nearby villages. An unremarkable raid if it all had gone to plan. As the bandits had been particularly nasty, there were a lot of retreating peasants, and a lot of them didn’t have food.” His tone turning sour, he reminiscenced a bit. His counsellors had been the ones managing the relief program he had tried to carry out, a ‘little’ embezzlement had been enough to almost cause a famine.

“After a few days of begging from different passersby, I couldn’t keep the guilt at bay.” His voice darkened, “I helped a young woman with a small kid, and accompanied them towards the food transport. Did you know that the rest of her family had been taken prisoner by the bandits?” A tired smirk, his gaze lost in the skyline, “Well, neither did I. She pulled a scroll, a nearby soldier pushed me and shielded me with his body, and she just exploded.” Noct was just talking to himself by now, the watchful look from Mulia no longer registered in his mind.

“An immolation scroll, nasty things that could be activated by anyone just by opening the scroll. Lank didn’t make it. He had taken shrapnel from the cart on most of his right side. The burns all over him didn't help either. From the kid we found half a toy he had been holding in his hands. Lucky us, the toy was on the opposite side from the explosion, and the kid had shielded it. The woman became blackened chunks. The food? Gone up in flames. If I had done my job correctly three people wouldn’t have died. So, after my report, my high commander was struck by inspiration. He could legally whip me to his content, as punishment of course, and pray to Olfa, God of Justice, for my death. With the small gears of his brain turning at full speed, he sentenced me to a whipping of fifty strikes with the serrated whip. By then, Captain Andras had spoken to my defence, and lessened the punishment to twenty strikes.” Returning back, he coughed and finished his tale, ”The rest is as you see here.”

By now the rest of the trainers were starting to flood the grounds, and they were close enough for the both of them to hear their conversations.

“How could anyone be so demonic as to plan and do such a thing?” Her hands whitened with the strength of her grip on the bucket. “And the captain just chose that terrible situation to kill you?” She shuddered. “You were innocent, for Elenia’s sake!”

“I was the one who failed my duties. Their blood is in my hands and the punishment, even if with second intentions, was proper and deserved.” Plainly answered Noct. Following that, he rose from the bench. While Mulia mulled her response, Noct turned to look at her. She meant every word. And she hadn’t intended anything by it. She was kind. But that made her foolish. Unconsciously, his hand reached for her shoulder, intending for a friendly pat. Mulia, surprised, flinched in fear.

He quickly retracted his hand. Evading the now apologetic Mulia, mistaking her regret for distress, he retreated towards the castle. After a few steps, he added. “Do not fret for things long passed. I’m going to work, as you should.”

“....Ah, ye-yes.” Mulia rushed out of the bench.

…………………………………..

Folding clothes inside the laundry room of the castle, the flowing warm water greatly helped its workload. What it did not help was her brooding mind, still stuck on her conversation with Noct. “Does he still blame himself for those people? Maybe I am more superficial than I took myself for, he still holds a sense of guilt…” She quickly disbanded those petty thoughts from her head with a strong shake. It was no good to accuse her lord of being an amoral monster even if she didn’t mean it. Every interaction with Noct had the effect Noct had intended, fomenting the same thoughts over and over again “Should I really be here?”.

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Mulling her thoughts on her way towards the kitchen, she almost collided with Soral, who was returning from her training completely exhausted, and both travelled in the same direction. It would have been awkward if they weren’t too engrossed in their private lives to notice each other so, after the initial greeting that would be forgotten not a minute later, they went on without a fuss.

While she cleaned and tidied the room of Soral as she studied magic, she reached the same conclusion as always. ‘Another day won’t kill anybody.’

At lunch time, she cooked three separate lunches and carried two of them to the Ashen family, who ate in their rooms. She ate hers on the castle grounds, looking at the training soldiers, who were now numbering two hundred new recruits and seventy veterans, having distributed the old guard to normal jobs.

After eating, she continued trying to learn to read from her new learning guides. They were but writing paper charged with self cleaning magic that Noct had lended her. Once her writing filled the pages, they would clean themselves and write new phases for her to complete or copy.

Before she could engrose herself further in the lesson, High Commander Andras, who was resting right now, walked to her and startled her.

His disarming smile did little to calm her down as she tried to stop the ink from dropping. “How are you doing, my lady?”

Almost failing in her endeavour, she answered, her tone a bit rowdy. “Learning to read, sir Andras.”

“That I see!” Laughing a bit, he persevered, “All fine on the work front I surmise?”

“To be honest, it’s a job too good to be true and I feel lucky to be here, but….” She remembered the little story of Noct and she went back to looking a bit apprehensive.

“Losing on the employer front?” Smirked Andras, hiding the guild he felt for almost forcing this job onto her.

“Can you stop with the military jokes?!”

Seeing as she did not join in, in his mind, great humour, his gaze went from playful to cold and serious. “Did he do anything grave?”

“No, no no no.” Tried to defend Mulia. Unsure on how to approach the problem, she just went for it. “He just told me a tale from his early military days, and I am trying to make sense of it.”

Seeing as it wasn’t something he had begun fearing the moment he helped her find a new job, he recovered the smirk and warm gaze. Joking again, he spoke, “He told you about the time he burned his military tent and had to sleep with me?”

“What? No!” Despite herself, she could feel herself lightening up. A bit embarrassed, she asked “...but, could you elaborate on that?” She asked, curious to know about that shameful memory and happy to not talk about the whipping.

Andras sat on the bench and started blabbering. “Well, we had been marching pretty heavily, exhaustion had started to weigh down on us as we travelled to fight some rebels on our Countess’ behalf. To destress, we had a drink contest while playing darts that night and we went a bit overboard. The bastard always won, but that's a story for another time. And, in short, we went to sleep. Well, it was middle autumn and the cold was starting to hit. It started to rain and our petty Lord Noct awoke angry and cold and, as Noct could only be when he had just woken up, he quickly made a masterpiece of a plan. He made a firebolt, musing to himself it would warm him up. Well, it worked in a way. He didn’t realise what he was doing till the tent caught fire, and he quickly left cursing loud enough to wake up half of our troop.” Andras and Mulia started laughing, after a bit, he resumed, “We had no more tents so he slept with me for the remainder of our campaign.”

“No way!” Mulia couldn’t believe he had been so sloppy, so unguarded.

“He could be like that.” After the atmosfere had become cheerful, Andras went back to the problem at hand.

“Well, Lord Noct can be rash, unforgiving, and too headstrong. He learned all he knows by himself, on the fly and surrounded by people who looked at him as a pawn. That loneliness can distort the best of us. He is a shadow of the idealistic youngling he was before. But he is still a man who tries to hold what he has. If you would, what happened?”

“Well, I, I saw the scars on his back, asked him about them, and he told me why and how he got them. You already knew, right?”

“Yeah.” Remembering one of the bad days he had stood together with Noct, he sobered up. “Well, he was inexperienced and could have never guessed to what extent an enemy could go to win or to stall for time. It was a cursed tactic, but it worked. It cost us a good archer and a great mage, for Noct had to heal for a few weeks. That did complicate the attack, and if Noct were to have been there, a few soldiers we lost wouldn’t have died.” ‘So he still remembers.’ Meditated Andras.

“The wounds, they still haven’t healed fully, why? Aren’t they years old?!” Questioned Mulia, now worrying.

“The wounds aren’t the problem. The metallic dust from the whip is what has kept them hurting, but it only can be removed on the Capital. Military laws.” Dryly said Andras.

“Can something be done to help with the pain?”

“The usual ointments for pain, little more. You oughta ask the alchemist for something more effective, but anything from day to day will work, if as a treatment of the pain.”

“I see.” Seeing her planning her next move, Andras looked at the horizon and truly started to believe Noct was changing to the better, or maybe just recovering his old personality. For a moment, he dared to imagine them both standing shoulder to shoulder, fighting for their country like in the old times. Ruminating a test to see if this midget and doubtful hope could truly be true, he smiled a bit. He would see if he truly was sorry, for Noct had not changed as much as he feared and, if what Mulia said was true, he was specially vulnerable against guilt. He steeled himself to his new plan, he would see with his eyes his old comrade or forsake him the last time and follow his sister, ending him himself.

……………….

The sun was starting to set and Mulia was dusting the study of Noct while he finished his work of the day. Surprising herself and not knowing how to deal with the problem she had created for herself, she chastised his past self as the consequences of her foolishness, a pouch of recently made ointment, rested on her waist. Her distracted mind had started to cause her some trouble, forgetting to clean some places which she had had to revisit, dropping expensive books and almost emptying the bucket. In the fire of her internal debate, she knocked down half a row of books from a bookshelf, causing her to jump as several ‘thumbs’ struck the ground.

Just when she was crouching to get them, another ‘thump’ resounded from the table Noct was writing on. Now, it was the greedy thump that would make a little pouch full of coins. Startled, Mulia looked towards the desk where the sound had emanated from, and saw it had been Noct who had put the pouch there.

“No need to keep the charade going, lass.” Resolved Noct, mistaking her nerves for fear. His voice was the coldest she had heard from him.

“....my apologies? I do not follow, my Lord.” Asked Mulia, stopping herself at a half crouched position and quickly rising.

“Regent.” The intensity behind that word made her jump. “And are you deaf?” And his tone only gained more edge. His indifferent eyes stabbed needles in her. “You needed money right? Here you have it. Enough for the lifetime of a commoner.” That last word was spat more than said. “Take it and leave now.”

“I, I do not understand?” She really did not follow nor could she understand or guess the why of his sudden change.

Noct clenched his left fist, and continued. “I do not know who sent you here, or if anyone did, nor how much money you expected to sack from this castle. Unlucky you, there’s nothing here. For your work until now, I offer you this. Leave before I kick you out.”

“Lord Noct, what idiocy are you saying right now? I am working here out of my free wil…”

Noct smacked the desk, denting it, and froze her with his dark gaze. “I am the one who calls idiocy, woman. You have been terrified of me since the very first day and I know you wouldn’t be here without good reason. Whatever ulterior motives you were hiding, I do not care, nor will I.”

“I speak the truth!”

Instantly, as if her words had pulled a lever, the air froze. Noct had snapped upon the word truth and his face formed a scowl. “At this rate, I will kill you.” A bluff, but they were always effective.

The killer intent engraved on those last four words was enough to weaken her legs, causing her to fall on her ass. The now almost dark green eyes of Noct piercing her like a sword. Now understanding why this had come to pass, she laughed a bit, throwing off Noct long enough to confess.

“You know? I used to love the fairy tale about a princess who rescued a drake egg and tamed it.” Her weak words were muttered from her lower position. “When I was a kid I used to dream about becoming a tamer of monsters and travelling the land, helping those in need like a heroine.” Her eyes started to tear up. “Yes, you are right. You scare me, Lord Noct, like nothing before in my life. Despite all my pride in my way of thinking, never judging anybody from their looks, and my hopes of becoming a tamer, of always thinking I would hold steadfast in front of my fears, you terrify me. Even if I try to rationalise it, even if I tell myself you saved my life, even if I know you wouldn’t hurt me, even after being ashamed of myself for not holding me together. Even after all that, I am afraid.”

Noct’s ire slowly cooling down, she continued unaware, too worried to look up, “I thought of myself a better woman, but here I am, shaming my saviour. Gods be damned, I have a right to be scared, you know?! You murdered three people in front of me in the most horrible way I could have imagined! I know they would have killed me, I know you are justice in this barony, but it does little to quench my panic. You wanted to hear it? Are you enjoying this, you sadist prick?”

“....”

Mulia continued, unabated. “I worked all day to make an ointment for your back wounds, you know. I may be intimidated by you, Noct, but I am trying to change. I fought against my fear because I know you deserved better than that. But I see you were even pettier than me, Noct.”

Her words heated up. “You hate the fear people have of you, but you have already given up on them, am I wrong? You surrendered to your apathy and took the easy path. You morphed your distaste and discomfort into hate and ire. You didn’t want to confront their feelings so you demonised them to ease your mind. ‘Why do they hate me, after all I have done?’ you ask yourself, right? Well, your feelings may be right, but so are theirs! You never tried to change your reality nor calm their fears! You didn’t even try!”

“You know nothing of what I have or haven’t tried!” Fury surged again on Noct’s eyes

“I know what I see in front of me!! Not the past, but the present! And the only thing I see is a person that fears leaving his shell! Yeah, I may be scared, but you are terrified! Terrified of trying and failing. Terrified of facing whatever is eating you inside! Terrified of taking responsibility! Surrendering doesn’t pardon you from your wrong doings, Nethers, you aren’t called a tyrant because of your culinary skills!” Fury now gone, only shame and regret remained in his eyes. That didn’t stop Mulia still. “And I think I know why you want me gone! I’m a reminder of your failings as a man! Here it is, a powerless woman, walking and getting ahead on the path you gave up on. Are you a little child, that much of a sore loser?!”

Fed up with him, Mulia finished her berating, “You want me gone? You think you can scare me with your null resolve? Then I will prove you wrong! As you said before, my Lady is Soral of the Ashen Household, so good luck convincing her to dismiss me!”

Having gained strength from her outburst, Mulia turned her back to him, cleaned the tears that had sprung, and started to walk towards the door without grabbing the pouch of coins. When she almost closed the door, she heard a low voice.

“I apologise, I may have gone overboard.” Said Noct clenching both his hands under the desk. But something threatened to overpower his guild. Envy, putrid and green envy. She was better than him, stronger than him. And a big part of him wanted her gone. So he did what he knew best, evading his inner turmoil. “But I am your employer. Not Soral.” He rose up from his chair and stalked towards Mulia, not knowing if he would have the guts to forcibly kick her out. A big part of him screaming for violence. “I gave you an order, w…” Before he could finish, in his shaken up state he stepped on a book and, tripping, fell backwards against the bookshelf. Suppressing a grunt, he recomposed himself, not minding the growing red stain on the clothes of his back. The pain had brought him clarity, if anything else. But pain and exhaustion were a bad combination, and he inched forward. What stopped his fall was a pair of slender but callous hands.

As Mulia reacted on instinct, she could but remember the words of Andras, ‘a shadow of the boy he was before’. As she stopped his fall, the sight before her didn’t scare her a bit. A man lashing out, unable to confront neither himself nor her. A man that had resorted to petty threats to put a blanket in front of what he did not want to see. A man so broken he had closed himself from the world, even if he had failed miserably. A man that had been scarred by the looks of fear of the people he had spent a lifetime protecting. A man who had embodied the demon everyone thought of him to endure their stares. ‘How did you manage to scare me when you are this brittle?”

His eyes revealed his confusion, not understanding why she had helped him, even if it had been a useless action. She had not done anything worthwhile, nor would have he been harmed. If anything, she had risked herself by getting so close to Noct, who had almost snapped. “Your wounds have reopened, my Lord.” ‘We both have been scared of each other.’ Now, more than ever, she would stay, if only to prove his way wrong.

“Why does that matter? They always do.” Caught off guard, Noct didn’t notice the change of topic.

“If I am permitted to, Lord Noct, I am going to grab clean bandages to treat your back.”

“...What?” Noct asked, flabbergasted,

“And I am not taking no for an answer, Lord Noct.”

…………………..