Leaving Sylvia’s room a while later, Theodorus made his way though the downstairs bar, and strolled along the street. Terrible things had happened today, but death had lost its horror long ago. Love, however, was a thrill which was entirely new to him. Curiosity was prominent in him, and there was some care, but all the other emotions were very dull. They were but a whisper at the back of his mind, occasionally reminding him that he was human after all. He had never felt truly drawn to anyone. Not until he met Sylvia. He made sure not to smile outwardly. He knew better than to appear joyous while everyone else grieved the lives lost.

Before he could make it home, an unusual sound caught his attention. He stopped to listen. Could it be? Yes. There was no mistaking it. It really was her.

Theodorus contemplated his options. He could just walk away, but that seemed like a terrible waste. People were most talkative and pliable when they were distressed. She was probably going to threaten him with violence, or simply punch him right away, but it was worth a shot.

Looking around, he found a favourable ledge and sprinted toward the building in question. Running two steps up the wall, he grabbed a hold of the roofing and pulled himself up. His wound complained a little, but the sap kept it from opening. He sent his thanks to Sylvia. From this roof, Theodorus could already see her. She was sitting in the grove between two houses, her shoulders shaking. Skipping across the tiles, Theodorus landed a few metres from Yri and she turned around with her axe in hand.

“Curse you! You scared the life out of me you creep!”

Theodorus held his hands in front of himself in apology and Yri dropped her weapon. Turning away, she wiped at her face with her sleeves.

Coming closer, Theodorus noticed the smell of alcohol. Clearly, Yri had partaken in the customary festivities to honour the dead. Theodorus took a seat beside her on the uneven roofing tiles and looked out over the city.

Any city lay bare when looked upon from above. You could see how the place was organised, what buildings were noteworthy, and more importantly, which were hidden. You could observe the flow of the city, the movement of people and goods. Fristad was a masterful example of city planning. The districts were well isolated and there were plenty of choke points. The flow of goods was dictated by the main roads, which connected the entire place like a spiderweb. Everything centred around the main yard, where the books were kept. On an ordinary day, it was highly entertaining to watch the bustle below. Today, however, the flow was disrupted. Barely anyone moved the way Theodorus would have expected them to. Least of all Yri. He had never seen Yri seek solitude.

“Why the fuck are you here?”, Yri demanded.

“I just thought you might want some company”, Theodorus lied.

“Why the fuck would I want your company?”

“I asked myself the same thing”, Theodorus jested.

Yri glared at him. “I do not require nor wish your presence while I mourn the fallen.”

“Is that what you are doing?”, Theodorus challenged.

“Leave me alone”, Yri grumbled.

Theodorus shook his head. “Many died, but you knew that would happen sooner or later. You are accustomed to death. I am pretty sure you are only concerned about specific deaths, such as the death of your sister, Kaija.”

“Fuck you.”

“When did you figure out that you were related?”, Theodorus asked. He looked over at Yri. “Or did you always know?”

Yri sighed deeply. “I was not supposed to know who gave birth to me, but I could always tell that Heida was family. I felt it. When Kaija was born, it merely confirmed what I already knew in my soul. She looked just like me.”

“Did Thorun know?”, Theodorus wondered.

Yri nodded. “People keep assuming that Thorun came to Lesa for me. She was there for Heida, the woman her father had abandoned. When she found out that she had more bastard siblings, she was livid. She did unspeakable things to the owner, and I was happy to help. When we left, Thorun insisted that we keep this to ourselves. Heida agreed, of course. This way, at least some of her children would not be on Gramr’s hit list. Not that it helped in the end.”

“It must be tough to loose someone close to your soul”, Theodorus commented.

“Close”, Yri repeated. “A part of me has been ripped away, torn out of my chest. I felt it leave my body”, she said flatly.

Theodorus inspected her face. Sure enough, her eyes had changed. The bright honey colour of her irises had clouded over. Despite her inebriation and her loss, she was keeping a remarkably cool head. Theodorus was pretty sure he could change that. If he poked her just a little more, that calm exterior ought to crack. “Your collectedness is admirable”, he said.

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“Admirable?!”, Yri spat. “It is my fault that she is dead. She only died because of me. She was my responsibility, my sworn. And Bothilder, with his bullshit about duty.” Yri shook her head. “She did not die protecting me. She did not die for a cause. She died because she looks like me! I should never have taken them. Thorun was right not to accept their oath. They should not be here. This is all wrong. It is all wrong and it is all my fault.”

“It is not your fault that Kaija was assassinated. That is on her killer.”

“Oh, do not give me that shit!”, Yri scoffed.

Neither one of them said anything further, but the conversation was continued in glares, shrugs and profane hand gestures.

Yri took a hold of Theodorus’s shoulder and pushed him onto his back. She nestled against his side and hid her face in the soft cloth of his coat. Wrapping an arm around Yri, Theodorus held her tight while her body shook and her tears stained his clothes. For over and hour they lay there, arm in arm, her body quivering against his. First when the sun sank into the ocean did Yri get up. She cleared her throat and straightened out her tunic.

“Tell anyone and I will do unspeakable things to you.”

“I know”, Theodorus nodded.

Yri watched him for a while. A frown wrinkled her forehead. Eventually she asked, “Are you going to tell me the truth about your miraculous return?”

“It is just as I told you all. I was injured, passed out, and Sylvia saved me. Her and Afi stayed with me in the woods, and we rode back together as soon as I woke up.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that Sylvia risked her own and her sworn’s life for you? Some creep who is trying to bed her?”, Yri snarled.

“Maybe I am just that good”, Theodorus jested.

“You disgust me.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?”, Theodorus asked. “Or surprised maybe?” He placed a hand on his chest and gasped theatrically.

Looking down at him, and the wet stain across his chest, Yri sighed. “Maybe not. Thank you for this, I suppose.”

Theodorus smiled. “At your service, Honoured Fri.”

“Do you even know what that title means?”

“It is a name?”, Theodorus suggested.

“It is a lot more than that”, Yri stated. She turned to look over the high walls of Fristad. “Thorun not only brought me home. She rejected her name, her bloodline, just to stand with me. Söderborg fell with that name. A new name was born out of the ashes. Fri. Never to be caged again. Never to be held down by any man.”

“The name is real, with gift, bond, and promise”, Theodorus realised. “The gift, the freedom. The bond, the sisters. The promise, the sworn. That is some powerful magic. No wonder the oath your sworn take is so strong.”

“Right. I figured you would understand”, Yri confirmed.

“Really? Why me?”, Theodorus inquired.

Yri gave him a meaning look. “Oh come on. You may try hard to be mysterious, but you are clearly well read and well travelled.”

“I suppose I am. May I ask? Is it true that the name came to Thorun at Söderborg? I always thought that seemed a bit too convenient.”

“Let me guess? The Origin of Fri?”, Yri asked.

Theodorus nodded.

“Nonsense. The name came to Kvist in Lesa.”

“Kvist, eh? So she is a sister too. That does explain a lot”, Theodorus commented.

“She told me about your little stalking incident in the bath”, Yri teased.

“I was merely observing.”

“In the bath”, Yri emphasised.

“I thought this was the south”, Theodorus teased.

Yri huffed a laugh. “So it is.” She eyed Theodorus for a long moment before she spoke again. “I need your insight. You know Oskar better than anyone, right?”

“Not better than Tone.”

Yri shook her head. “Tone is a lover. Love blinds you. I am more interested in your opinion.”

Theodorus hummed to himself. “Does that mean you trust me?”

“Hardly.”

Theodorus chuckled at that. “Of course not. What do you want to know?”

“What do you say is his view of women?”, Yri asked.

“He respects you, of course”, Theodorus responded.

“Not me. Not Fri. Women. All women. Married. Unmarried. Craftswomen. Soldiers. Whores. All of us”, Yri insisted.

“He greatly respects all women, I am sure.”

“More than men?”

Theodorus opened his mouth to respond, but seeing the intensity in Yri’s eyes, he took another second to think before he responded. He did not want to speak against Oskar, but he also did not want to lie to Yri. This question was clearly of utmost importance to her. Oskar was after all using her true name to benefit his campaign. It would be a grave insult to misinform her. Theodorus wondered if he should remain silent instead.

“Well?”, Yri pressed. “Does he respect women or men more?”

“Neither, I think. He has the greatest respect for women, but I do not think that it is more than for men. I am pretty confident that he respects men and women equally.”

“Good”, Yri nodded. “Then there is hope for Sev still.”

“You are a lot less aggressive than Thorun, if I may say so”, Theodorus commented.

Yri scoffed in his general direction. She turned away and looked over her shoulder. “Sneak up on me again and I will gut you like a pig”, she warned, before walking to the edge of the building and climbing down.

Theodorus lay on the roof until darkness settled. He pondered the fact that Yri had made more concerning threats to keep him from speaking about their cuddle, than she had to keep him from scaring her again. He concluded that the sneaking up and scaring her part was not something he needed to be concerned about repeating. He most certainly ought to take the secret that he had comforted her to the grave, though.

He also pondered how appropriate it would be to speak about him and Sylvia to anyone else. Would she take offence? He had noticed that some people valued their privacy when it came to these things, even when they did not have a specific reason, such as the need to save face in front of an army. Did that mean he could not make any advances on Sylvia in public? For that matter, he wondered if Sylvia would mind him cuddling with someone else, even if it was solely for comfort.

Ruffling his hair, he sighed. When did humans become so complicated? It was so easy before. Humans breathe. They fear. They have money. They can die. That was all he ever needed to understand. Language was hard, and culture was even worse. There were so many rules, but no rulebook. It was very frustrating.

Theodorus lay still, feeling the cold evening air caress his skin. It was like a ghosting memory of Sylvia's hands, acting with the same gentle care. She ran her fingers over his skin, sparking pleasure even while his wound was only just beginning to heal. He knew how the human body operated. He knew where blood flowed and how breathing worked, how to close a wound or mix a poison, but Sylvia understood something far more fundamental. She knew skin and warmth and sensation. She knew touch. Theodorus wanted to learn. Pulling his sleeve over his hand, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled the lingering scent of Sylvia. To think life had moments as sweet as this to offer even to a man like him, even in times like these.