As the festivities came to a close, the townspeople trudged their way back to their homes and shops, fatigue evident in their steps. The once vibrant ribbons drooped from the buildings, and the streets bore the remnants of the celebration. However, Astraea, accompanied by her Aunt and Uncle, deviated from the path home and instead made their way to the inn.

"I'm so relieved you could join us," Mildred exclaimed, enveloping Astraea in a warm embrace. "I would have been so nervous without you."

"It's no trouble," Astraea responded kindly. Serving nobility, even if it was just a baron, was considered a daunting task.

"Welcome, Astraea!" a jolly voice boomed from the kitchen. "Uncle Roger and Aunt Helen, thank you for allowing Astraea to help us tonight. Please make yourselves comfortable in the next room."

While her aunt and uncle settled at the supper tables, Astraea opted to walk alongside Mildred.

"So, what is Baron Randall like?" Astraea inquired, eager to gain insight into the man's character. Every detail mattered when it came to ensuring a satisfactory stay, as nobles were known for their fickle nature.

"Hm…" Mildred replied, deep in thought. " He's been nice and pleasant to serve. I can't complain about him."

"I see," Astraea said, her brow furrowing slightly.

Mildred's description didn't offer much help, but before Astraea could dwell on it further, a loud voice rang out from upstairs.

"Mildred, my dear!" the voice called, growing closer as it descended the stairs.

The man appeared shorter in stature, his portly figure accentuated by his clean-cut hair and small twisted goatee. He seemed preoccupied with touching and adjusting his facial hair, as if afraid it would stray from its carefully styled position. Instead of the simple cotton garments worn by the townsfolk, he was adorned in a stylish black suit with striking red embellishments on the collar.

"Baron Randall!" Mildred exclaimed, hastening to greet him. "Did you have a pleasant nap? Are you ready for your meal?"

"Why, yes," he replied, allowing Mildred to escort him downstairs. His hand grazed the small of her back briefly, a gesture that did not go unnoticed. "I am indeed quite hungry," he added with a grin.

"Right away, sir," Mildred responded, brushing off his touch innocently. "Oh, by the way, I wanted to introduce you to another attendee, Astraea."

Baron Randall turned his gaze in the direction Mildred indicated, stroking his goatee as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, I have the pleasure of being escorted by two delightful maidens tonight?" he remarked, his emphasis on the word "maidens".

Astraea couldn't help but shudder slightly. She was all too familiar with men like him—eyes that undressed her with their gaze as she walked through town, their anonymous desires leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. It was only the presence of the Goddess's Commandments that gave her a sense of safety in those moments. Baron Randall's gaze felt no different, and it seemed as if his eyes were already exploring what lay beneath her simple cotton garments. The thought made her nauseous.

"How old are you, Astraea?" Baron Randall inquired, settling himself at the table.

"I will turn sixteen in the first month of the year," Astraea replied, standing behind him alongside Mildred, the room hushed except for the sounds of chewing as the baron indulged in his meal.

"Hm," he mused. "So you're just a year younger than Mildred."

"Yes, sir," Astraea replied, keeping her responses concise. She wanted to give him no reason to engage her further.

"Interesting, very interesting..."

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With that, the baron fell silent, and the remainder of the meal proceeded uneventfully. As Mildred and Astraea continued to wait on Baron Randall from behind his seat, they were unaware of the contemplative expression on his face as he absentmindedly stroked the amethyst bracelet adorning his wrist. The bracelet didn’t look like it was worth much, but Baron Randall treated it as if this was his most prized possession.

. . .

"Astraea, could you take this tray up to Baron Randall's room?" Mildred asked.

"Pardon?" Astraea replied, perplexed by the request.

It had been several hours since the meal, and Astraea was ready to retire for the night.

"I thought the baron mentioned he was expecting you later?” Astraea continued. “I overheard him saying he wanted to provide feedback on the meal.”

Mildred chuckled a bit uneasily at Astraea’s response; she wasn’t expecting any pushback.

Sensing Mildred’s discomfort, Astraea tried to placate her.

“I don't want to interrupt anything," Astraea clarified, hoping her answer would suffice.

"No, no," Mildred reassured, her anxiety more apparent now. "That whole conversation has been sorted out, but the baron specifically requested you to be there. I thought this would be the easiest way to..."

"To greet him briefly and then return downstairs," Mildred finished, her thumbs twiddling nervously. "I understand that your aunt and uncle are tired and have already gone to rest for the night.”

"I see," Astraea responded, sensing a growing unease in the pit of her stomach. However, she chose to push aside her apprehension for now.

"I'll make my way there then."

"Oh, thank you!" Mildred exclaimed, relief washing over her face. "I really owe you one, Astraea."

Astraea acknowledged Mildred's gratitude and ascended the creaky stairs, carrying the tray. It held a weighty porcelain water jug and a single, elegant glass. The jug was one of the inn's most precious pieces, rarely used except for special occasions. Tonight, with Baron Randall as the sole guest, the innkeeper wanted to make a lasting impression.

Knock, knock.

"Who is it?" Baron Randall's voice called from within his room.

"It's me, Astraea, sir," she replied. "I've come to deliver your jug of water."

"You may come in."

With a cautious gesture, Astraea slowly opened the door. Inside, she found Baron Randall seated on the bed, his coat neatly hung on a rack, and a few of his shirt buttons undone.

"Mildred informed me—" Astraea began, but her sentence trailed off.

Creak.

Astraea turned slightly at the sound, realizing that the door had closed behind her.

That's odd, she thought. The door hinges are usually pretty stable. Did Mildred close it?

"Come now, Astraea," Baron Randall beckoned, ignoring Astraea's curiosity.

"Yes, sir," she responded, shaking off her mild unease and cautiously approaching the baron's bedside.

"Pour me a glass," Baron Randall requested.

"Yes, sir," Astraea repeated, steadying her hands as she poured the crystal-clear liquid into the cups. She was mere feet away from the baron.

"Ah," he remarked, observing the graceful motion of Astraea's alabaster wrist as she completed the task.

"So," Baron Randall continued, shifting his weight to the edge of the bed, his beady eyes fixated intently on Astraea.

"It's just the two of us now."

His words appeared innocent, but a sense of alarm resounded within Astraea's mind. She weakly acknowledged the baron and hastily fabricated an excuse about Mildred needing her in the kitchen. With a brisk pace, she made her way toward the door.

Rattle.

To her dismay, the door was locked. Panic surged through Astraea, causing her breaths to quicken and her grip on the door handle to tighten.

"There must be something wrong with the door," Astraea stammered, mustering a facade of composure. "I will call out for assistance–"

"There's no need," Baron Randall interjected, his interruption cutting through her words. Astraea turned to face him, only to find him slowly advancing toward her. Despite their similar heights, the baron's imposing presence and heavy breaths intensified Astraea's urgency.

"I don't understand," Astraea managed to utter, her voice trembling.

Baron Randall's smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth mere inches away from Astraea's face.

"No one is coming to help you," he whispered with a chilling certainty.

"You're mine now."