Ingrid gave a satisfied sigh as she sank into the bed. She knew it was alright to stay a little longer, this was far from a rare occurrence after all. She wondered how they always managed to make the beds here so comfortable. This one in particular honestly felt more welcoming than the one she slept in every night at home, but that was for a separate reason than the mattress itself. After a few minutes the door opened, prompting Ingrid to shift herself upright.

Holding what was clearly a piping hot bowl of the stew she brought was the reason she came here in the first place. A gorgeous dark elven woman with dark gray skin, her pointed ears flicking up and down as she hummed to herself. She was slightly taller than Ingrid, with black hair tied into a high ponytail with a purple ribbon, and a pair of bright yellow eyes more luminous than gold. She couldn’t help but blush a little as the woman came over to the bed, seemingly not minding the fact that she was completely and utterly naked aside from her underwear.

Sitting down on the other side of the bed, the woman took a bite of the stew, giving a cheerful sound of approval. “Damn, this hits the spot! You outdid yourself, Princess. Plus you made everyone’s night. Zavi’s especially. You know how much he loves to eat. Half-giants and their appetite will never fail to amaze me,” The woman said casually, seemingly not worried about eating stew in a bed. “Hm, there’s probably an innuendo that I could call attention to somewhere in there. Once again you prove why you’re everyone’s favorite. Definitely my favorite client at least.”

Ingrid blushed at the praise, squirming awkwardly. “I-I’m sure I’m not everyone’s favorite. It’s nice to be liked though.”

The dark elf turned to her, already chewing her next bite. “Princess, how many people do you know that will show up to a brothel, make sure a prostitute has a good time, and bring a home cooked meal for the staff to share? You’re everyone’s favorite,” she teased, her mouth still full. “By the way, you gonna put some clothes back on? I mean, not that I mind.”

The blush only intensified as Ingrid was reminded of her lack of clothes. She pulled the covers closer, trying to hide herself, but the other woman just laughed.

“Okay come on, if you didn’t want me to see you naked it’s a little late for that. Shoulda paid for someone else at the counter,” she went on.

“Alice, you know I’m not going to ask for anyone other than you,” she muttered.

“Aw, that’s romantic! You save yourself for my greedy eyes alone,” Alice chuckled, “Glad to know I’m good at my job. Well, now that you’ll have trouble walking straight, how about we get to the actual business,” she added. Her tone was playful, but there was a note of legitimate concern in her voice as she placed the empty bowl on the shelf next to the bed and scooted over to Ingrid. Lifting up the covers and getting back under them, she pulled Ingrid close into a comforting embrace. “The others aren’t as in tune with you specifically, but it wasn’t a secret that you were stressed out when you came in here. What happened?”

It was amazing how Alice could switch on a coin flip from sounding like a playful miscreant to a concerned lover. She shuffled into the embrace, letting the tension melt from her body. As she did, she felt Alice squeeze her tighter. “I mentioned how I thought my sister was getting better, right? She barely leaves her room, but just last week, she had been in the garden, looking at the flowers. She had been having less outbursts too,” she explained, feeling Alice start to gently play with her hair. “I got a little overzealous. I tried to broach the idea of her starting to move on.”

Alice was quiet, listening patiently to every word. She waited until she was sure Ingrid had paused to speak. “I take it that didn’t go well, did it?”

She shook her head. “She hit me. For the first time in a while too.”

Even in the gentle embrace, Ingrid could feel Alice tense. She always did when she talked about her sister being rude to her. “Ingrid, Princess…” she said softly, “You sound a little too okay with that.”

The concern in her voice was apparent. Ingrid tried to hold it in, but there was a small whimper. “I just, I don’t want to lose her. I don’t know what it’s like to fall in love or anything. Her and Ealadha loved each other so dearly. I remember how happy she looked on their wedding day. That smile every time she called him her husband,” she trailed off, curling into herself more. Alice held her tighter. “How ecstatic she was when she learned she was pregnant.”

“I know, hon. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” Alice all but whispered. It did make Ingrid relax a little more. Progress.

“I still have nightmares about it myself. I just…” she trailed off again, placing her hand on Alice’s. “I want her to move past it and live a happy life. Not forget them, but at least be able to exist without them. They wouldn’t want this for her either. I know Ealadha wouldn’t. He said when they got married that he wanted her to be happy no matter what came next. His death wouldn’t change what he believed in life, would it?”

Alice was quiet again, seemingly thinking about her response. “No, I don’t think it would. From everything you told me about him, he was someone committed to what he thought regardless of his own health. For better or for worse, at least,” her head slumped against the pillow, clearly not minding Ingrid’s hair in her face. “Someone like that doesn’t budge. Although, I don’t think your sister would be all that receptive to that idea. When some people are caught in a depression, they get addicted to it. They stop knowing how to function without their misery. Cecilia seems to be resisting any of the attempts to give her the tools to go back to functioning without it.”

What she said made sense, even if the thought hurt. Ingrid didn’t say anything in response. She let the silence pervade the room for a little longer. The silence was good at times like this. No one yelling at her or hitting her. Just her in Alice’s warm embrace. It was calm. The two could stay like that for hours. Eventually, Ingrid spoke up again. “Thanks for letting me vent my issues again. I should start paying you extra for it,” she mused.

Alice snorted, “Oh please, the fact that you don’t bore me to death like other clients is payment enough. You’d be surprised how many women come in here with no idea what they’re doing. And usually it’s not in the fun way,” she joked.

“There’s a fun way for people to not know what they’re doing in bed?” Ingrid laughed.

“Of course! Like the first time you came in here and I got to show you the ropes. You were so cu–”

“Okay okay I get it,” She cut Alice off, blushing and remembering that visit. It must have been around seven years ago at this point. “Well, I should probably get going. It’s late, and I have training again tomorrow,” she groaned, getting up and starting to get dressed.

Alice let out a mock sigh of defeat as she let go, slumping onto her back rather than her side. “Oh woe is me. I no longer have the company of a beautiful elven girl to keep me warm through the night!”

Ingrid rolled her eyes as she pulled her shirt on. “Oh you’ll live. I’m sure Em could turn into one if you were desperate enough,” she joked, turning back and flicking Alice on the forehead. “Besides, you know I only stay the night on weekends. Really though, thanks. I needed this.”

“Any time, princess,” She said cheerily, rubbing her forehead. “I’d say come again, but I’ll probably be seeing you this weekend, won’t I?”

“Probably. It’s been a long week and we’re barely halfway through. I needed a pick me up tonight,” Ingrid chuckled, finally pulling on her shoes. “So, see you soon. Don’t miss me too much,” she joked. Waving goodbye, she exited the room and headed out of the brothel. The building was dimly lit, but she could make out the deep maroon wall paper with little spirals over the wooden floor. She smiled at the new pattern. Alice had told her extensively about Jude, the owner of the brothel. Apparently they had a knack for redecorating, as evidenced by the new designs along the walls every other week.

She said hello to a few of the other workers there, known from her time with Alice. There was Zavi, a cheerful half giant with long white hair and similarly colored tattoos across his bluish skin. Em, an aloof changeling who was in seemingly a different form each time Ingrid saw them, the only clue to their identity being the white spot around their right eye. Despite everyone’s friendliness towards her in conversation, Alice was the only one she’d really call a friend. Talking to Em and Zavi just didn’t feel like it had the same level of understanding and care that she had with Alice. Then again, it was surprising in and of itself that they had become such good friends with the shaky ground they started on. As she waved goodbye to Indigo, a silver haired human man sitting at the front desk who was known for his dancing, she realized how late it was. She had arrived when the sky was covered in vibrant hues of orange and pink, but the sun had long since set.

Had she really spent that much time with Alice? It was hard to keep track given everything that they got up to, especially talking about her feelings for once. Ingrid closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the night air. Even in this run down portion of the city, the link to nature still made the air taste as fresh and clear as a mountain stream. It wasn’t where most people would expect to find her, yet she felt more comfortable here than at her own manor. A cool breeze blew through, sending a small shiver down her spine and reminding her of how cold it could be on an autumn night. She needed to get home before she passed out in the street. She grimaced slightly as she walked. Alice was right, she really was having trouble walking straight.

Ingrid yawned as she woke up. She sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. When she opened her eyes again, she found Chimsley already at her bedside in full uniform with a glass of water ready for her.

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?” He asked with his usual charming smile.

She smiled, taking the water. “Yes, thank you Chimsley,” she yawned again, greedily washing away the dryness in her mouth. When a little bit of water dribbled out, Chimsley immediately had a handkerchief ready to prevent it from getting the sheets wet. “Ah, I’m sorry!”

“Think nothing of it, My Lady. I’ve already prepared the bath, as well as your training clothes and armor. Would you like anything else for now? Or shall I go downstairs to work on breakfast?” He asked, neatly folding the handkerchief over his arm and taking the empty glass.

Ingrid shook her head. “Breakfast sounds lovely. Again, thank you.”

Chimsley nodded, then excused himself from the room to begin cooking. Ingrid grumbled, then forced herself to get out of bed. She was in no way a morning person, but ended up having to force it to keep up with training. There was probably some quote about discipline from Labhras that could apply here, but she just wanted a bath.

Ingrid gave a satisfied sigh as she undressed and sunk into the piping hot water. Technically, she could clean herself with magic, but that just wasn’t the same as a hot bath. It didn’t have the same uncanny ability to calm her down and put her in a good headspace like a bath or a night with Alice did.

She made sure to take her time washing herself, and extra time on her hair. It would be a waste to have this long and not take care of it. As she finished, the one thing she would use magic on was drying off. Something about being covered in water when she wasn’t basically submerged irked her, and it was far more efficient than using a towel.

Brushing her teeth and getting dressed, she mentally went over what Labhras had told her the previous day. It was likely going to be combat training again, so she put her armor on and grabbed her staff.

As soon as she exited her room though, she felt something slam into her and knock her to the ground.

Groaning and rubbing her head, she sat up to see what it was, only to find Dervla in a similar position. “Ugh… Dervla? What are you doing?”

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Hearing her voice, Dervla snapped upright, a look of concern on her face. “I-I’m so sorry Lady Ingrid! Are you alright? You aren’t hurt?” she asked frantically.

Ingrid placed her hands on the servant’s shoulders, trying to calm her down. “I’m fine, really, what’s the matter? Why are you in such a rush?”

Dervla bit her lip. “Y-Your sister, Lady Cecilia, I can’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t in bed, or the bathroom, the garden, the kitchen, the–”

“Okay slow down, it’s alright,” she said in a calming tone. She could have sworn she heard her own voice waver at the end, but hoped she didn’t betray the fact that her heart just jumped into her chest. Cecilia was in a wheelchair, how could she have gotten out? Her mind raced at the possibilities, both of where she could be and how she could have gotten there. She shook her head. She needed to stay calm. Panicking over this would help no one, let alone find her sister.

The two of them sat there for a moment. Dervla tilted her head quizzically. “L-Lady Ingrid, are you sure you’re alright?” she gulped.

Ingrid nodded, “Yeah. I’m just, I’m thinking. Let’s go check her room, maybe there’s something there,” she suggested.

Dervla nodded, and the two headed off to her room. As they entered, Ingrid noted that there weren’t pajamas on the floor, and the bed wasn’t made. She was likely in a hurry. “She must have been trying to get out before Chimsley got here. He doesn’t check on her when he gets here, he leaves that to you,” Ingrid thought aloud. She winced as she saw Dervla’s expression turn to one of regret. “It’s not your fault, Dervla. Chimsley has been doing this longer than I’ve been alive,” she tried to reassure her. She could tell she wasn’t doing a very good job. Dervla was only about half a decade younger than she was, around twenty-seven. Not to mention she tended to take things hard, especially when perceived as a personal failing.

Even so, Dervla seemed to try to put on a strong expression, like she was hoping Ingrid wouldn’t see through it. “I understand. Shall we look further?” she asked politely.

Ingrid clicked her tongue, then nodded. The two split up, looking for any sign of where Cecilia might have gone. She sent Dervla to check the bathroom, and the dresser once she was done. Ingrid went about checking the bed for anything hidden in the sheets. She checked under the pillows, and in the pillow cases, but found nothing. Furrowing her brow, she tried lifting the mattress.

She was greeted with the sight of a small piece of paper, with Cecilia’s handwriting scribbled onto it. “Dervla! I found something!” she called out, holding up the paper. The maid immediately rushed over, worry pervading her gaze.

As the two read it, Dervla was the first to speak up. “This is a traditional prayer of Carys!” she exclaimed, before looking apologetically at Ingrid. “Ah, I’m sorry, Lady Ingrid. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Ingrid shook her head. “No, no, it’s good,” she said, bewildered as she stood up. “That was fast, how’d you know that?” Dervla was never a very romantic person, but she had recognized a prayer of the God of Love after only a few lines.

Dervla shifted, slightly embarrassed. “When my mothers got married, one of them recited it just before her wedding vows. Apparently she would read prayers of Carys to my other mom on dates,” she explained.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Ingrid mused, reading it over. There was a temple of Carys in the religious district in the Inner City, not too far from the manor. She looked at Dervla. “Well, I think I know where to find Cecilia then. Let’s go. Goodness, I hope she’s not hurt,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

The two went downstairs, and Ingrid quickly explained the situation to Chimsley. He understood the urgency of the situation, and told both of them that he’d keep breakfast warm until they returned. He jokingly mentioned that it would be hard for an old man to make breakfast without a sous chef. Ingrid smiled and rolled her eyes.

Figuring it was best not to wake Mattias over this, they quickly left the manor, heading to the religious district. They didn’t have to cross the bridge over the river to get there, only head down a couple of main streets. Even this early in the morning, the city was bustling with people. Streetside vendors called out their goods and prices, ranging from jewelry to food, though she couldn’t imagine who would want to have fresh mutton for breakfast. As she was already wearing her armor, those she came across greeted her with bows and murmurs of reverence. Despite her best efforts, these types of interactions seemed to follow her wherever she went. With the exception of the market district, for some reason. She was never good with people, so maybe the ones there were more focused on making money or getting good deals? Now wasn’t the time to try and understand the ins and outs of how the general populace saw her.

Continuing to follow the main road for a few minutes, they turned down another fairly large street. The people were beginning to thin out, and mixed in with the typical people of the city and their various jobs like leather workers and blacksmiths were numerous robed individuals wearing various colors and symbols. Holy symbols. Clergy of the assorted deities that were worshiped among the lands went about their business. Some were accompanied by small congregations or clergy in training.

Soon, Ingrid and Dervla found themselves approaching the gilded wooden gates of the religious district. Like most things in the city, they were created through druidic magic, looking less like a typical constructed wooden gate and more like the plants themselves naturally grew and wove themselves into the perfect shape to allow traffic through. Mixed in were flecks of gold and gemstones creating the holy symbols of all manner of deities. From benevolent ones like love and life to more mixed ones like war and storms, all faiths made their home in the district.

As they entered, Ingrid looked for a temple that she was very familiar with. While each temple had their own architecture reflecting the nature of their respective patron, the one temple she often found herself visiting was close to the entrance. Naturally, the temple to Nilin was one of the first to be erected in the district, looking less like a temple and more like a grove of trees and flowers exposed to the open air. A priest stood near a white, wooden arch with malva and penta flowers woven into chains along it. Recognizing the mark of Nilin’s signature stalk of wheat on his back, she gave a formal bow that he returned.

“How can I help you, my child? I recognize your armor is that of a druid. I’m happy to help one of your kind,” he said with a charming smile. He wasn’t quite elven, but his features and ears were close enough that she assumed him to be a half-elf. He appeared to be middle aged, which was around eighty years for a half elf.

“Did you happen to see an elven woman who looked kind of like a taller version of me with shorter hair, and in a wheelchair come through here?” she asked hopefully.

He appeared to think about it, but nodded. “Yes I believe I did. I only caught a glimpse of her, but she was in a wheelchair. She was heading that way,” he pointed.

Ingrid nodded, sighing with relief. The direction he was pointing happened to be towards the temple of Carys. “Thank you friend, how can we repay you?”

He shook his head. “You are a druid, it would be heresy of me not to lend any help that I could. I wish you luck in finding this woman. Is she a relative?”

“Sister. She wasn’t present when I woke up this morning, and we found a prayer to Carys when we searched her room hidden under her bed,” she explained.

“If this is the case, then I sincerely hope all is well. A familial bond is a powerful thing. I may not be a priest of Carys, however,” He looked down to the grass by his feet. Already, Small Hydrangeas began to sprout up around them. He smiled as his gaze returned to her. “It seems that our Great Sower can sense the love that you feel for her. I’m sure Carys will recognize that as well.”

Even among all of her current fears, she couldn’t help but smile. The temple of Nilin was a labor of love created by the first druids of the country. When people came to pray, it was said that flowers may bloom to symbolize the feelings of those present. Hydrangeas symbolized togetherness and unity, and were strongly associated with familial love. The blooms filled her with hope that things were going to be alright.

“Thank you again, friend. It seems I’m moving forward with Nilin’s blessing. May your life bloom as the flowers,” she said before giving another bow.

“May your life bloom as the flowers,” He responded softly, returning her bow as returned to Dervla.

She nodded to the maid and the two began to head off. Ingrid waved thanks to the priest, who gave a cheerful smile and a wave following the two of them. “We seem to be in the right place at least, that’s good,” she offered, noticing the clear worry on Dervla’s face.

The only response was an absentminded nod. They didn’t speak to each other as they approached the temple. Looking around, it was still very early, the sun still in the process of rising. The likelihood of anyone being in the temple was low, but most temples kept a strict open door policy to the general public. The idea was that the gods did not need to abide by the schedules of mortals, and thus were open constantly, with at least one priest to keep watch over anyone who might need guidance.

They approached the temple of Carys. It was a large, white building that seemed to be made of pure marble. There were no visible cracks or lines that betrayed where different blocks met on the entire structure. It was as if the entire temple had been meticulously carved out of one enormous marble block. Above the doors was a stained glass window portraying a golden skinned woman with flowing crimson hair. She wore simple white robes that covered her torso and legs, while her arms reached out to her sides. Holding her right hand was a pale skinned woman in similar robes, her own hair short and brown. On her left was a man with a tawny brown skin tone and pitch black hair. Neither of the two at the large woman’s side had defined facial features, but the woman herself had a gentle, loving smile as she grasped their hands.

She had seen it before, but Ingrid never failed to be amazed at the window. It was a depiction of Carys, the goddess of love, and her two mortal lovers who had joined her in her divine realm. The size and detail of it was ethereal, like she was glimpsing into Carys’s domain itself as she lay with her lovers. Dervla pulled at her arm, snapping her out of her trance. Ingrid mentally cursed herself for allowing something to steal her attention at a time like this, but hurried to the doors of the temple. There was no one outside, which made the creak of the large wooden doors feel even louder. Ingrid cringed at the sound, not liking how much attention it felt like it drew to her.

Dervla gasped as they opened, and immediately rushed forward. “Lady Cecilia!” she cried.

Sure enough, at the altar, hunched in her chair, was the form of Ingrid’s sister. It was apparent from the jerking motions of her shoulders that she was crying, hard. Ingrid felt her stomach tie into a knot as she saw Cecilia like this. She couldn’t help but feel bad for the priestess at the altar as well. She was a short, willowy girl in flowing white robes that looked like she’d be knocked over by a particularly strong breeze. White hair flowed down even further than Ingrid’s, stopping at about her calves, and tied about halfway down. The poor girl was clearly in over her head, looking like a cornered animal as Cecilia clung to her. That look of fear immediately turned to a cry for help upon seeing Dervla rushing forward.

Ingrid walked forward as well, and began to overhear her sister. “...Why, why didn’t she protect them? Why won’t she give them back? She’s supposed to be a goddess of love, I loved them more than anything!” she sobbed. Ingrid winced at the screaming. It made her heart jump into her throat. After all this time, she didn’t even realize her sister was still capable of sounding like she was in that much pain.

The priestess floundered for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Ingrid noticed the sweat beading on her forehead. She looked like she would spontaneously combust if this went on much longer.

Ingrid and Dervla both hurried to Cecilia’s side, Dervla gently taking her hands. “My Lady, it’s alright! I’m here now, it’s alright!” she tried to sound comforting, but a part of her sounded desperate.

Cecilia pulled her hands away, sobbing again. “No! It’s not okay, it hasn’t been okay! You don’t know what this is like! I want to see my husband again, I want to see my daughter again! I-I want to–”

She was quickly cut off by Dervla kneeling down and pulling her into a hug. “Excuse me for the intrusion, My Lady,” she said quietly.

Ingrid looked on, as dumbfounded as the priestess at the scene. Cecilia continued to rage, hitting Dervla a few times, but the maid held strong.

“It must be so painful. I can’t even begin to understand it. I’m so sorry,” Dervla continued, seemingly unbothered by any of the hits. Ingrid was familiar with them, and was certain that they hurt, a lot. It was astounding how Dervla didn’t even flinch.

Cecilia’s hysterics gradually died down, until eventually, she buried her face in Dervla’s shoulder. “...I miss them so much…” she whimpered.

“I know, My Lady.”

“I loved them. I miss hearing them laugh.”

“I know, My Lady.”

“I wish I had died with them.”

“I know, My Lady,” Dervla remained calm, using a soothing tone while not coming off as condescending. She continued to hold Cecilia, stroking her hair. The two stayed like that for what felt like a long time. It kind of reminded Ingrid of some of her nights with Alice.

Ingrid couldn’t help but feel useless. She was supposed to be the head of the family, yet her sister’s servant was the one helping her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. What a mess of a family head she was. Even as Cecilia stopped crying, it was clear that it wasn’t particularly from feeling better, and more from fatigue. There was simply nothing left to give.

Seeing this, Dervla separated slightly. “Would you like to return home, My Lady? I can run the bath extra hot. You can stay in as long as you’d like,” despite it all, she said it with a smile.

Clearly the fatigue didn’t extend just to her tears, as the only response Cecilia could give was a tiny nod.

Dervla nodded, then stood up, turning to the priestess, who seemed less anxious now. She gave a deep bow, “Pardon us for the intrusion. We will be returning home now. I wish you a wonderful day,” she said politely. She then walked behind Cecilia’s chair and began to push her out of the church. “Come, My Lady. Let’s go home.”

Cecilia didn’t object as she was wheeled away, only giving Ingrid a brief glimpse of the misery that stayed in her eyes. The sound of the wheels squeaking and rolling across the marble felt as though it was deafening. She couldn’t do anything but watch as the two headed to the doors of the church, then left.

What a mess of a family head she was.