"Master must be in trouble," Eyna's purple eyes scanned the treeline.
They agreed to meet up on a clearing by the highway, one mile from Halaima, but sure enough, Konrad wasn't there. He could only see traces of the destruction he caused earlier.
Welf scratched his head—they rushed to leave the council for nothing.
"He must be negotiating with the Inquisition," he guessed. "The best would be to split up, and—"
"No," Eyna protested right away. "You said that was a bad idea."
True. But what other option did they have?
"Well, if he ain't coming," the blacksmith shrugged. "I want to check Halaima, and going there would be risky. Plus, it'd take time—we have the tribe's food issues to sort out, too."
"Exactly," the girl nodded. "That's why we should go to Haiten instead."
The redhead raised an eyebrow. "You'd want to abandon him?"
"I would never," Eyna protested louder than necessary. Then, he caught a little blush—despite her dark skin. "But in the dungeon, too, he told us to get out of his way so he could fight."
"Right," Welf scratched his head. So Liliske never told her what happened.
If she knew that her beloved 'master' almost died in a dragon's breath—but he didn't want to burst her bubble. Besides, Konrad had a ton of mana now. He could handle things himself.
But still—
"And what will you do in Haiten? We have one gold and some change. The food for the tribes would cost a lot more," Welf pointed out. The plan was to use Konrad's connections, but—
"Master is Haiten's Prodigy," she stated the obvious. "I'm sure the merchants'd give him a loan—"
"Okay, but we ain't him," the blacksmith shook his head.
"Oh, but we are his trusted servants," Eyna pulled out a parchment with Lord Schwertburg's seal. Not like Welf could read it. "This is the lease on the relay horses."
"And?" Hold on, "did they sign it with your name?! As Lord Halstadt's representative?!"
Her smug grin said it all. That had to be a first.
Her confidence grew with every day—and so did her sense of purpose.
"Indeed. And who'd say no to the servants of Haiten's Prodigy, who's also a lord now?"
"Servants," Welf smirked, "whatever, you have this figured out. And as you said it before, I'd be only in the way—" He handed over Konrad's purse. "I'll be in Halaima to check on him."
The girl pouted, her purple eyes flashing. She was adorable—and determined.
"What did I say about splitting up and dangers?!" Eyna demanded, staring him down.
"Sorry, I'm a terrible 'servant,'" the blacksmith grinned. He had no idea why, either, but for some reason, "It feels like I must go to Halaima, no matter what."
It was almost as if Liliske pestered him about it, even though she wasn't there.
Did she wake up already?
"I also feel like it's dumb, and I have to go to Haiten," the girl doubled down.
"Then splitting it is," Welf nodded. "I'll leave the carriage here and take the horses. You take one, too, and we'll meet up here tomorrow."
Eyna puffed her cheeks, but didn't protest.
"Fine. Tomorrow at noon. And if you aren't here, I'll tell Master that you caused trouble."
***
"Now we're talking," Sister Stella chirped, eyes glinting in the torchlight. "Three whole pounds of adamantite? I'd better snap on this new bracelet before the other one breaks."
Crap. Now he had to overcharge two at once?
And—did her arrival mark another day's passing? Time flew when people had fun—
"See, I'm an expert at motivating people," she claimed, the scourge snapping in her palm. "You played the tough guy while I was whipping you, but here we are, you pulled yourself together."
Konrad almost scoffed, but caught himself in the last moment.
Right. They were greedier than smart. The adamantite he made must've cost a fortune.
If that was his ticket out of this smelly pit—
"I-I'll be good, I promise," he rasped, trying to sound as submissive as possible. "I could've made more, but mana doesn't regenerate when I'm starving—I'm so sorry."
The executioner laughed. Did she buy it?
If only he were a better actor, he might've even produced a tear—but in the darkness, this should've been enough. All he needed was some time, and a way out of here—
"You nobles are the same," Stella claimed, as if he were one. "You didn't even touch the food yet."
Well, sure, because that moldy thing was disgusting.
Should he say that Father Alastair stole his food while he passed out? It's not like he would've felt bad about the corrupt priest, but if he denied it, he would've been in trouble.
"S-spoiled food poisons the mana, too," he came up with an explanation, staring at the ground.
At least that matched his broken submissive play—
"You sorcerers are weird," Sister Stella snorted, kicking him. "What's next? You want a more comfortable cell? With a view of the town? A bed?!"
It took him so much effort not to snap back at that, but he managed.
"I-I could make more adamantite, if you'd let me," he pretended to beg instead.
Was it shameful? Sure, but he already knew that once he was out of here, he'd burn the whole Inquisition to the ground. Like his father tried—according to Father Alastair.
Even if he didn't know the old man, he was starting to realize some similarities—
"I tell you what, Ser Prodigy," Stella leaned closer, yanking his face up. "You're a ballsy one, and also more useful than the rest of these animals. If you sign something for me, I'll consider it."
Uh, oh. That could've meant only one thing. Did he miscalculate again?
With the constant headache and the world spinning around him, it wasn't surprising.
"Sign that you're joining the Church, forsaking all your possessions and titles, and—"
Yep, they weren't as dumb as he hoped. That would've defeated the whole purpose, and if he refused, she'd know he was only acting. The only thing he could do was to double down.
"I'll sign it," he gritted out, "I'll sigh everything. I never wanted anything to do with Halaima anyway. The duke of Aset roped me into this. I was always loyal to the Church—"
Was that too much? Sister Stella smirked, letting go of his face.
If she needed him to sign something, they might've had to bring him to the surface—
"The Prodigy of Haiten," she laughed. "More like a spineless little worm. Broken in only two days—but still useful. Fine, I'll bring you the documents and a quill tomorrow."
Crap. Well, he couldn't have anything—or rather, he cornered himself into a trap.
"Once you sign it, I'll take you to a better cell, give you more food—so you better keep that promise about the adamantite." She demanded, tossing him to the ground.
At least the threat was motivating—and something more.
He imagined the executioner tied up and getting her own medicine—
"I'll do anything to make that happen," Konrad promised, the torchlight glinting in his eyes.
Sister Stella smirked, then walked off, her confident steps echoing in the catacombs.
One day, and she'll be either less confident, or—