“Hold it tight, don’t let go.”

Livia only nodded, struggling to choke back panic, as warm blood poured over her hands. The wound didn’t seem horribly deep, but it was wide, and no matter how she tried to close it, the bleeding would not stop. Aeriel’s breathing was accelerated, and she shivered like a leaf in the breeze.

“Damn it!” Livia raised her gaze to Gareth. His breathing was picking up the pace as he dug through his pouch, evidently searching for a healing potion, but failing to find anything. His eyes momentarily flashed as he pulled out a small bottle, only to lose their lustre when the colour of the fluid was wrong. With a wordless shout, he flung it to the floor. It shattered, splashing beige liquid and glass grains everywhere. Livia winced.

Gareth clenched his fist and slowly took in a deep breath. He then rummaged through the pouch again, before producing another, much smaller bottle, filled with red liquid. He kneeled next to Aeriel’s shaking body, and uncorked it. The air filled with a smell similar to wheat porridge. Gently, he lifted Aeriel’s head, and pushed the vial to her lips.

“Aeri, if you can hear me, drink this,” he said. Whether she heard him or not, he parted her lips and poured the liquid in. She swallowed, and started coughing violently. The blood started pouring more strongly, and Livia pressed the wound in panic.

“Don’t push,” Gareth commanded. His face was stern like a marble statue: the expression that left no place to non-compliance. “Keep the pressure, but don’t push. You’ll only hurt her further.”

Livia obliged, and in a dozen or so seconds, the bleeding slowed down, and finally stopped at a mere trickle. Aeriel stopped shaking, and her breathing relaxed. Gareth sighed in relief. He pulled out another identical vial and handed it to Livia.

“Rub it into the wound,” he instructed her. “Gently. Don’t leave her side.”

Livia nodded, and tried to uncork the vial, but her hands shook too much, and her bloodied fingers slid off the cork repeatedly. Noticing her struggle, Gareth took the vial, uncorked it himself, and handed it back to her, before rushing to the nearest draugr. Livia watched as he grabbed the corpse’s feet and started dragging it away.

“Livia, there’s no time to waste,” he warned when he saw her looking. She snapped back and focused on the woman before her. She poured a few drops of potion on the wound and tried to gently massage it in. She worked fast, fully aware of what was at stake.

And also fully aware that it was all her fault. It never left her mind. She applied the fluid mechanically, only half aware of what she was doing. The only coherent thought in her head was a frantic litany that repeated the same three words over and over again.

Please don't die.

Pouring out the last few remaining drops, she discarded the vial. The bleeding had fully stopped now, and the wound looked a little less bad. But it was still open, and Livia only now became aware that she was kneeling in a puddle of blood. Her eyes filled with tears anew.

Footsteps behind her: she turned. Gareth was hurriedly pacing towards them through a now surprisingly empty chamber.

“How is she?” he asked, kneeling next to them. Livia was about to say ‘fine’ when she became aware of the stupidity of that statement: nobody who lost that much blood could possibly be fine. Tears welled up in her eyes again, pushing the ones already present into streams down her cheeks. Gareth gently stroked Aeriel’s cheek. Her closed eyelids twitched, and her head moved slightly. Gareth stopped and waited. She took in a long, taxed breath.

“Bad raspberries,” she moaned. “Stomach aches.”

Gareth’s lips curled into a broken smile. He let out a pained chuckle before leaning down and kissing her forehead. Livia didn’t know what to say.

“Will she live?” she asked sheepishly.

Gareth looked at her sombrely. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Her bleeding stopped, but she already lost so much blood. And we didn’t bring any potions big enough: figured we’d have her to cover for that. Then there’s also the draugar issue.”

“What do you mean ‘draugar issue’?” asked Livia. “You took them out.”

“We took them down,” Gareth corrected, “but not out. Those that she took out, maybe. But the ones I cut down will be back up soon enough.”

Livia felt like her stomach tied itself in a knot. “How?”

Gareth crossed his legs. “Forget all you think you know about the draugar. They aren’t true undead, like wraiths or zombies. They were once men, cursed for their misdeeds never to know the peace of death. And so, no weapon can kill them: iron and steel are useless, and so are most others. Dwemer metal, silver, and ebony can temporarily disrupt the dark magic that keeps them alive. But eventually, it sets back in its flow, and they rise again.”

Livia's pulse quickened. Her head shot back to see if any were rising, only to remember that they were all gone.

“I dragged them away to a side chamber and set up what barricades I could,” Gareth explained. “The only way to make sure they stay dead is to burn them. But we didn’t bring any oil with us, and candles aren’t strong enough. We can only wait here to be rescued.”

Livia felt tears well up in her eyes again. She leaped to her feet, suddenly angry, forgetting about the fading girl at her feet. “Why didn’t you bring any, then!?” she screamed.

Gareth shot up, and Livia immediately regretted raising her voice. Bathed in the pale candlelight, her master’s visage was monstrous. But when he spoke, his voice was broken. “Because we had to save you.”

As if strength suddenly left him, he leaned onto the wall behind him. “We didn’t expect that the tunnel would cave in. And even when it did, Aeri could’ve just dug us out. But now…” He clenched his fists. “What were you thinking?”

Livia had trouble forcing the words out. “I… I just wanted to scout ahead-”

“Not that,” Gareth interrupted. “Why did you engage, when we specifically told you not to? If it weren’t for you, she would have won.”

Livia felt angry again. “She fell flat on her back!” she screamed. “He was about to kill her!”

“Then she fell on purpose,” Gareth snapped back. “She never stays down for that long unless she wants to. I’ve seen her do it dozens of times, it’s a trick: when the opponent raises his weapon, his entire front is open. If she had a second more, she’d have gutted him like a fish.” He looked down into his hands. “She’s the best fighter I know,” he said silently.

As if she knew they were talking about her, Aeriel squirmed. Her face contorted, and she moaned silently.

“Ow,” she whispered.

Gareth moved away and walked up to the stone altar, apparently only now noticing the two wrapped men laying there.

“They’re hurt,” Livia said hurriedly. “The draugar did something to them, but they’re still alive. Can you help them?”

Instead of answering, Gareth ran his finger under the man’s nose. When he brought it to his face, it was stained with the amber liquid. He took a whiff and cringed. Grunting, he reached to his belt and pulled out his knife.

“What are you…?” started Livia, but before she could finish, Gareth lined the knife’s edge with the man’s throat. Livia’s eyes widened. “No don-!”

The silent swish of the silvery blade was lost in her scream. But the sound of gurgling and choking was all too loud in the silence that ensued. Another one, and the body next to the first one squirted blood and the amber fluid on the wall.

Silence dominated the room for good ten seconds. “Why?” Livia pushed out, too numb to say anything else. Gareth wiped the blade off the fresh corpse’s linen wrap before returning it to scabbards.

“This,” he raised his stained finger to emphasize, “is Dinokaaz, or Death Water in common speech. It's made from ingredients that aren’t yet fully known, and mixed with wood alcohol to prevent spoiling and increase dehydration.” He paused for breath and wiped the fluid on the linen. “Once enough of it gets into the body in any way, it’s over: the body’s senses will start numbing, the organs will start giving out, and soon enough, the victim will become more alike to a plant. At that point, it’s safe to remove most internal organs without killing the victim, like what they did to that one there.” He gestured to the second corpse, which was, as Livia now saw, almost completely disembowelled. Her stomach jumped into her throat. “After that, all that it takes is a bit of time and some ancient magic, and the man rises as a new draugr.” He walked back to his place on the floor. “These men were past saving. Believe me, I did them a favour.”

A shiver went down Livia’s spine. The knowledge of the fate that she narrowly avoided was something she could’ve very well done without.

All of a sudden, Aeriel shook. Before Livia could even blink, she started convulsing, screaming incoherently.

“Hold her down! Don’t let her move!” Gareth was already rushing towards them. Livia pushed down on Aeriel’s shoulders, but it was far easier said than done: for someone just a bit taller than herself, the girl was monstrously strong. It felt as if the bones in her arm were going to snap like twigs. Even when Gareth arrived to help her, it wasn’t much easier. Livia barely dodged a kick in the head: she reckoned the concussion would be the very least she’d suffer had it connected.

Eventually, she calmed down. But the damage has already been done: both Livia and Gareth were sore and out of breath. Worse still, the wound on her belly has opened anew. It didn’t bleed much, but given the previous blood loss, it didn’t even matter.

“Her breathing is getting shallow,” Gareth noted. “She won’t last long.”

Livia finally broke. Tears that she struggled to hold back now broke loose, and she didn’t even try to stop them. She fell to her knees and cried. It was a wail of despair, regret, of burning sadness born out of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she pushed out through the tears, choking on her own words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-”

She was silenced by a pair of strong arms embracing her. She stopped crying, too shocked to continue. She expected anything but this.

“Regrets are useless,” a calm voice spoke in her ear. “No point in them. You can’t change what happened. Instead, let it be a lesson to you, so you know not to repeat your mistakes.”

She sniffled, and broke down crying again. The arms embraced her more firmly. One patted her on the back.

"You have to get your head out of the clouds," he spoke. The arms released her and he stepped back. Green eyes wet with tears met green eyes as hard as jade. "This job that we do, it's nothing like the heroic exploits your mother read you of when you were small. It is a dirty and dangerous work. There's no place for honour or sympathy in it. If you decide to continue walking down this road, understand that it will be paved with bones and mortared with blood and entrails. People will die. Horrible, messy deaths. And if you continue being as careless as you were today, those deaths will be on you. And one day, long before your due time, you will join them, and stand before those who died on your account. And all the while, your corpse will be pulled apart by whatever did you in. "He paused. His eyes no longer looked at her, focusing rather on some point far away that only he could see. "I have seen too much to lie to you." His voice was tired. A voice of a man much older than he was. Painfully resigned. He turned towards her. "If we survive this, you will get better, or you will die. And I don't mean just your skills."

She nodded and knelt next to Aeriel’s body. Her skin, paler than usual, was breaking out in a sweat again. Livia dried her forehead with her sleeve. Aeriel giggled silently.

A clink broke the silence. Then a hoarse, raspy grunt, followed immediately by a dozen other alike, coming from the side chamber: the draugar were awakening.

“Well, ain’t that nice,” Gareth chuckled sardonically. He drew his sword and stood straight. “I'll die exactly twenty six years after I was born.”

Livia barely registered what he said. Her thoughts were focused on the increasing amount of noise coming from behind the piled up crates and furniture. Tears welled up in her eyes again. She didn’t want to die. But she wiped them off. She picked up a rusted sword that one of the draugar dropped and positioned herself between Aeriel’s body and the barricade. A defiant frown settled on her face. She failed her once. She would not do it again.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Both Gareth and Livia lost focus of the awakening draugar and turned towards the source of the sound. It came from the cave-in.

“Come on you lilies, faster!” a commanding voice rang out from behind the rock pile.

“Hunferth,” Gareth gasped, seemingly unable to believe. Livia's heart bloomed.

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“In here!” she bellowed as strongly as she could. “Hurry! We’re in here! She needs help!”

“You heard her! Faster!” A stone at the top of the pile vanished. Torchlight poured in through the crack.

Livia almost broke into tears again. But this time, it was from joy. They would be saved. Aeriel would live. They’d even complete their mission!

The rock pile finally collapsed, revealing several workers with picks, a half dozen guards, and Hunferth himself.

“Oil!” Gareth yelled before anyone could say anything. “Quick, where’s the oil!?”

A guard ran towards him, bringing a small barrel of about five quarts. Gareth snatched it from him, and rushed towards the barricaded arch just as something behind it started growling. He tossed it over the piled wood. The unmistakable sound of shattering and splashing on the other side confirmed its fate. Not wasting a moment, Gareth grabbed a torch from another guard.

“Cover your ears!” he commanded. Livia immediately obliged, throwing the sword away and clasping her ears shut. Not waiting to see if anyone else heard him, he flung the torch in the same direction before clasping his own ears.

Even through her palms, Livia could hear a cacophony of shrieks that ensued as soon as the light of the fire flashed. It sounded like someone put a choir of wispmothers into a sack filled with angry sabrecats and then set it all on fire. Something threw itself on the barricade, and it shook, but endured. A burning hand found its way through a crack and started clawing at a cupboard before falling lifeless a few seconds later. A wave of stench flooded the chamber: foul, hideous stench of burning flesh, mixed with something that Livia couldn't identify. Her eyes watered and her stomach rebelled in protest, and she silently prayed it wouldn't riot.

After about a minute, Gareth removed his hands from his ears. Seeing him do it, Livia felt confident to do the same. She looked around. One of the workers vomited in the corner, with a guard standing next to him. Another guard massaged his temples, cussing under his breath.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, a little louder than it was necessary. Livia immediately guessed that he didn’t cover his ears.

“That, officer!” responded Gareth just as loudly, coming to the same conclusion, “was the sound that draugar make when burning to death." A smile crept its way on his face. ”Downright musical, isn't it?"

He caught Hunferth’s gaze and they both chuckled. Livia stood in silence for a moment before remembering Aeriel.

“Master Thane!” she called out, panicked. All heads turned towards her. “We have an injured. She needs help!”

Hunferth turned to one of his guards. “Find de Rennois. Bring her here right now. If she refuses to get out, drag her out. Move.” The guard quickly saluted before running out. Hunferth himself knelt next to Aeriel and positioned his hands over her abdomen. Faint blue light started emanating from his palms. Aeriel groaned in relief.

Gareth smiled. “A Thane, a businessman, and a mage too?” he asked.

Hunferth chuckled. “To call me a mage would be like calling a drizzle a deluge. I can’t even light a common fire without flint and tinder,” he confessed. “But I did learn some Restoration. Useful skill to have when first aid needs to be given.” Livia nodded in agreement.

Hunferth stood up. Livia noticed his hands were slightly shaking. “I did what I could,” he announced. “her fate is now in the hands of the Divines, at least until our healer arrives. Jorek!” he called out. One of the guards straightened up. Livia stiffened: it was the same guard that let her out.

“This brave man,” started Hunferth theatrically, “was the one that brought it to my attention that you left. In all truth, it is him you should thank for your timely rescue. It would seem we arrived at the nick of time.” The guard called Jorek looked away, clearly considering himself unworthy of praise. Livia couldn’t blame him. If Hunferth found out that he’d accepted her bribe, he’d likely be looked on far less favourably.

“Which reminds me,” said Hunferth with a trace of accusation in his voice, “how did you know where they went?”

Livia could see the growing unease in the guard’s eyes. Fortunately, Gareth stepped in before things could go south.

“I woke up at night to find my apprentice gone. I guessed where she went and roused my companion. We went after her, and Jorek here opened the door for us.”

“He willingly violated my order of opening the door before sunrise?” Hunferth questioned.

“That he did,” said Gareth. “But can you really blame him? As it turns out, my apprentice was in mortal danger. Had this man not let us out, or let us out a minute later, this young lady would have perished. This man broke the law for the greater good.”

“And how did this young lady find herself outside the walls?”

“I climbed over the palisade,” said Livia before Gareth could even start. The lie came easy to her, and her courage surprised her. “I found a spot on the east part, waited for the guard to look away, and then climbed and jumped to the other side.”

Hunferth’s gaze locked with her own. Jorek looked stupefied, but didn't bother correcting her story.

“I see,” Hunferth said finally. “And yet, disobeying your master and sneaking away like that is a sign of deep disrespect, young lady.” He turned to Gareth. “I trust you’ll make sure that she’s adequately punished for her transgression.”

Gareth smiled bitterly. “With what transpired here, I’d say she’s been punished enough.”

Livia turned to the guard. “Thank you, master Jorek!” she squeaked, trying her best to sound like a sweet, relieved child. “We owe your our lives.”

Jorek looked at her, dumbfounded, before remembering to play along. “I’s only doing my duty, miss,” he said flatly, staring straight ahead of himself.

Hunferth seemed amused. “Very well, very well. Jorek can look forward to a fortnight of scrubbing the barracks for his disobedience. But in light of recent events, I might consider shortening it to a week.”

The rest of the evening was like a haze to Livia. She could faintly recall a grumpy Breton woman in an overabundance of clothes and a silken shawl coming and kneeling over Aeriel’s body, Aeriel being taken out on a stretcher, someone supporting her as they walked back to the village, and Gareth and Hunferth in a heated discussion that involved a lot of hand motions and head shaking. She fell asleep as soon as she was laid in the bed.

She awoke to a beam of sunlight hitting her in the face. She moaned and rolled to her side to get out of its way, to not much use: the window was too wide for that. She stood up, put her boots on, and walked out of her room, and downstairs.

Gareth was sitting at the table, frowning as he signed something under Hunferth’s watchful eye. And to her relief, Aeriel was there too. She looked paler than usual and somewhat tired, but otherwise fine. When she saw her, she smiled weakly. She was still dressed in her armour, and Livia noticed a thin dark strap on her moonlit skin where the leather was torn. She forced herself to smile back, even though she didn't really feel it.

“Excellent!” cried Hunferth as Gareth put down a pen and sighed in relief. “Saadi, my chamberlain, shall fetch your payment. Now, if you’d excuse me, I must return to my duties.”

Gareth nodded politely, though Livia could tell that he was glad to finally be rid of him.

“Bureaucrats,” he muttered, “and their papers. How’re you, Livia?”

“I’m fine,” she responded, taking a seat. She didn't really feel fine, but had no intention of sharing that.

“Oh, by the way,” Gareth said with a mischievous smile. “Jorek, the guard. He asked to see you.”

Seriously, thought Livia. Couldn’t you tell me that before I sat? To her side, Aeriel giggled. Sighing, she stood up and walked out.

Jorek stood by the door. As she walked out, he straightened up.

“You wanted to see me?” asked Livia.

“Aye, that I did,” said Jorek. He unfastened a coinpurse from his belt an threw it to her. She caught it and only then realized it was her own coinpurse. She looked at him, confused.

“I can’t keep this,” he said. “It wasn’t right for me to take it, and I don’t no deserve it. So I’m returnin’ it to you.”

“But-”

“No buts there, little lady. Or you’ll do offend me.”

For gods know which time in the last few days, Livia found herself lost for words, so she just fastened the coinpurse to her belt and tried to muster a smile.

Just then, the doors opened, and Gareth and Aeriel walked out. Gareth caught Livia’s sight and gestured her to follow him. She obliged, only turning to get one last look at Jorek. He no longer paid her any heed, now completely immersed in his guard duties. They walked out of the gate and proceeded towards the stables. Their horses were already saddled.

“We’re leaving already?” said Livia with a trace of regret in her voice. Despite the bad experience of the previous night, she wanted to stay in Illinstead a bit more. It was the most colourful town she’d ever been to, and if she remembered correctly, a fair would take place there in a few days.

“If you’d rather stay,” said Gareth as he mounted his steed, “you’re welcome to. But you’ll have to find your way back to the castle by yourself. Let’s go, Tempest,” he spoke to his horse, spurring him forward.

Livia watched helplessly as the raven horse gaited down the road. She turned to Aeriel, who was also already mounted. She smiled and stroked her mare’s mane.

“After him, Sieglind,” she said gently, and the snow mare took off, rushing to catch up.

“W-wait!” Livia cried, as she struggled to mount her gidran. A Cyrod stable worker laughed at her exertions, and she shot a venomous glare in his direction. She finally managed to get into the saddle, and she roughly spurred the horse into the gallop. The pair already disappeared in the forest.

“Move!” she urged. The horse quickened his pace. Wind howled in her ears as her heart beat faster. They wouldn’t really leave her.

Right?

They waited for her a quarter of a mile away. When they saw her red face and wind-rustled hair, they broke into a fit of giggles

“Not so nice nice when you get left behind, eh?” Gareth asked, spurring his horse into a trot. To the right of him, Aeriel, followed suit, grinning devilishly. Livia said nothing.

“All in all, I’d call it a success,” said Gareth, patting a saddle bag. “Six hundred Haralds,” he said. “After the ‘deduction of honourable and normative taxes’,” he added mockingly. “Which brings us to a grand total of six hundred and seven.”

He reached into the bag and pulled out another one, much smaller. It was a coinpurse. Livia’s eyes widened. Her eyes dropped, and she patted her waist. No mistake, her coinpurse was gone. When she looked back, Gareth was lazily twirling it between his fingers.

“How did you-?”

“Let’s just say it was something I had to learn as a boy,” Gareth said.

“Give it back!” she demanded.

“So you can bribe someone else into having your way?” Gareth asked strictly. “Aeri will manage your finances 'till the next hunt. If you don’t mess up then, you get your cut. And you get this back.” He tossed the coinpurse to Aeriel.

Livia wanted to ride up to him and smack him. But all things considered, he was probably right.

“Well,” he said, after a few miles of silence, “since we’re all well rested, how’s about we race back to the castle?” Aeriel nodded in agreement. “Alright!” he exclaimed loudly. “Last one there unsaddles the horses!” He spurred Tempest and galloped away.

“Hey, no fair!” cried Aeriel. “Get him, Sieglind!” she commanded, and they rushed after him. Left with little choice, Livia sighed and spurred her horse.

“Come on now, uhm… horse. Move!”

She caught up to them almost a mile later. This time, they didn’t wait for her, or even slow down. They rushed like they had a deadline to meet, and their time was running out. Livia never rode this hard in her life: it wasn't long before she could hardly feel anything between her waist and knees, and she was glanced and caught by more branches than she could count.

They didn’t stop or slow down until it the darkness was already thick. The sun has long since set behind Druadach mountains when they arrived to the shore of the Sea of Ghosts. The horses panted in exhaustion, and Livia couldn't blame them. Aeriel, who arrived there first, raised her hands to the sky and howled in triumph. As a response, Edgtho rushed out of his shack, bow drawn. And his mood didn’t improve when he realize it wasn’t the wolves. Livia laughed joyously as Aeriel fled from the limping old man, giggling like a girl much younger as he tried his best to club her to death with an oar. Maybe… maybe they weren’t so bad after all.

The passage to the castle isle was equally as pleasant. Edgtho seemed to have gotten over his anger and murderous desire and talked and joked with Aeriel like they were friends of a lifetime. Livia would occasionally pitch in, but Gareth remained silent. He was smiling, his gaze was fixed on the castle.

They disembarked, bid Edgtho goodbye, and made their way to the castle, slipping more than once on the cobblestone path. But when they reached the castle entrance, Gareth’s smile melted away. And Livia couldn’t say she blamed him: the expression of red-haired woman who stood at the entrance gave a quite literal meaning to the phrase ‘if looks could kill.’

“Helena,” Gareth stuttered. “H-how’ve you been?”

Livia felt the irresistible urge to laugh again: a man who charged headfirst into the metal-clad death now crumbled into a gibbering mess before this diminutive woman.

“Helena, I’m sorry,” he continued. “I never wanted to-”

Before he could finish, the woman stepped to the side, revealing another woman behind her: even shorter than Helena, her olive skin gleamed like polished malachite in the pale moonlight. Her grassy hair was tucked away behind her pointy ears, and her whisky eyes watched him as if she wanted to devour him with her gaze.

“Findel!” Gareth cried. Livia thought she could hear genuine fear in his voice. He turned towards the taller woman. “Helena, what is this?”

“Funny story, really,” the woman named Findel started.

“We got together to decide what kind of present to get to you for your birthday,” Helena took over.

“But we couldn’t think of anything,” Findel continued.

“Seeing how picky you are with those things,” Helena tied in.

“But then,” Findel perked up, “I had an amazing idea.”

“Something you couldn’t say no to,” Helena finished, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice.

Before Gareth could connect the dots, each of the women took one of his hands and started dragging him towards the castle. He only managed to shoot one last horrified glare towards the girls before he disappeared inside.

Aeriel and Livia stayed outside, glaring incredulously at the door.

“Should we… go and help him?” Aeriel asked with genuine concern in her voice.

“I don’t think he’d ever forgive us if we did,” responded Livia, still staring at the door.

They stood in silence for a few moments as a snowfall began around them.

“Want to take a walk with me?” Aeriel asked.

Livia nodded. As much as the suggestion was out of the blue, it sounded like a good idea.

They walked down to the side of the castle, near the refurbished dock. Aeriel crossed her legs on a large boulder. Livia sat in the same was opposite of her.

“So, how was your experience with the first hunt?” asked Aeriel.

Livia said nothing for a few moments, searching for the right words to express herself.

“Horrifying,” she finally concluded. “I almost died. You almost died. We got buried alive and barely escaped with our lives.”

Aeriel nodded, listening attentively. “And do you want to continue?” she asked.

“Yeah.” The answer came to her immediately. “I have nowhere else to go. And here I have a brother. And I have Gareth. And you.” She briefly paused. “Master.”

Aeriel’s lips stretched into a smile. She jumped off of her rock and hugged her. Livia counted at least three fractured ribs by the time they separated.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Aeriel said. “I had something prepared for you. Stay here.”

Before Livia could ask what this was all about, Aeriel took off sprinting towards the castle entrance. She came back a few minutes later, carrying something wrapped in brown cloth. She handed it to Livia who took it with a puzzled expression. It was surprisingly heavy for its size.

“Since your first mission was a success, you’ll be allowed to accompany me on more tasks from tomorrow,” said Aeriel. “And I can’t let you do it unarmed.”

Livia’s eyes lit up and she tugged on the wrap, revealing the object inside. It was a sword. Little under a metre long, with a wide, heavy blade made out of tarnished, silvery metal, and a guard made out of the same material. The hilt was old and almost crumbling, but long enough for her to hold it with both hands. Smiling, she took it out and held it out in front of herself, trying the balance. It was a bit too heavy. She’d have to see the smith for that.

“After I was well enough to stand,” Aeriel said, “I went back to the mine and got this. Hope you like it.”

Livia’s smile melted away as she realized to whom the sword belonged to. What the sword did. Her eyes dropped to Aeriel’s abdomen, where the gash of darkened skin stood out like a streak of blood on the snow. She lowered the sword.

“Listen, I...” she started. I’m sor-”

Her words were cut short with another hug.

“Don’t even mention it,” said Aeriel. “I’m alive and you’re wiser for it.”

Livia nodded. She couldn’t believe that she’d hated this woman just two days ago.

“Now go up to the hall,” Aeriel commanded, smirking. “Your brothers and sisters await you.”

Livia’s eyes lit up again. With one last hug, she ran down the shore towards the castle stairs, swinging her new sword around, no doubt slaying scores of imaginary monsters.

Aeriel stood in the empty dock, devoid of any soul but for herself. She took in a long breath of crisp winter air, only slightly polluted by the salty smell of the sea. Her right arm absently wandered to her tummy, and her index finger caressed the place where she was cut. She smiled: by the next morning, not even a scar would remain. Nothing would be there to ever indicate that Aeriel Emberstar was ever injured in battle. But she had been, and that was what finally brought Livia to her senses. And if that was the price that had to be paid for it, Aeriel didn’t mind that she had to pay it.

It seemed that, in the end, she managed to win her after all.