Since there had been no news from Kingdom Zafarya, the people of Valtheris refused to lower their guard. Weapons remained sharpened, soldiers stayed alert, and strategies were reviewed daily in case of a sudden attack.
With nothing immediate to act upon, Duncan decided to use the quiet as an opportunity to spend time with Maya. They went on several outings together, trying to enjoy moments of normalcy amidst the tension hanging over the kingdom. One afternoon, he surprised her by taking her to a bakery.
As usual, the place was bustling with activity.
The bakery was large and well-organized, with workers assigned to different tasks. Apart from bread, they baked pastries and other delicacies. A wooden boundary separated customers from the working area. Duncan observed quietly as the workers moved around with practiced efficiency before placing his order.
Whispers immediately followed.
It was rare — almost unheard of — for a lord to visit such a place himself. Usually, servants handled such errands. Even Maya felt out of place. Though she had eaten baked goods countless times, standing among commoners made her uneasy. Still, she said nothing. Drawing attention was the last thing she wanted.
Duncan, however, had two reasons for being there.
The bread… and her.
His eyes scanned the bakery unconsciously, searching for a familiar face. But she was nowhere to be seen.
Why am I even looking for her? he asked himself. I came here with Maya. I only wanted the bread.
Just as the thought settled, a soft voice interrupted him.
"Good afternoon, my Lord. Here is your order."
Duncan looked up.
Standing before him was a slender young woman — no more than a teenager — with long, deep black hair and soft, expressive eyes. There was something about those eyes; they carried emotions far beyond her years.
"Good afternoon," Duncan replied, taking the package from her. Then he smiled lightly.
"You don't always have to bow your head. I promise I won't have you beheaded."
Alora chuckled nervously. "Yes, my Lord—"
"Duncan," he corrected gently. "You may call me Lord Duncan. What's your name?"
The question caught her completely off guard.
Since when do lords care about names like mine?
Her heart raced as she debated whether to answer or lie. She wanted no ties to royalty — not after everything her family had lost.
Before she could decide, a harsh voice called out behind her.
"Alora! What's taking you so long? Do you know how many orders are left?"
Benjamin stormed toward her, eyes fixed on the ledger in his hand. He only realized his mistake when he stopped short and noticed the tall, dark figure standing before her.
"Oh— my Lord!" he stammered. "My apologies. If you don't like the bread, I can replace it immediately. We take our customers very seriously here."
Duncan's expression hardened.
"I see you haven't changed your manners, have you?"
Benjamin swallowed. "It's not like that, my Lord. We simply have many deliveries to attend to."
Before the tension could worsen, Alora stepped forward quickly.
"My Lord, it's my fault," she said. "We truly are very busy today. That's why he was upset. We didn't mean any disrespect."
Duncan studied her for a moment — calm, composed, shielding someone who had just scolded her.
"Very well," he said finally. "I've taken enough of your time. Have a pleasant day."
Then, with a final warning glance at Benjamin, he turned and walked away with Maya.
Maya remained silent all the way home — but her thoughts were anything but calm.
Later that evening, the silence became unbearable.
"Do you know her?" Maya asked abruptly.
"Kind of," Duncan replied.
"From where?"
He told her about his sister's celebration and the incident at the mansion.
Maya scoffed. "That means nothing. She's his worker. He can speak to her however he wants. And did you see the way people stared at us today? Disgusting. Commoners have no shame."
Duncan frowned. "I just remembered something my mother once told me. How she suffered when she was younger… how no one stood up for her. I couldn't ignore it."
Maya leaned closer. "You spoke too kindly. Girls like her don't miss opportunities like that."
"I don't think so," Duncan replied calmly. "She was nervous, respectful… not eager for attention."
"Don't be fooled," Maya snapped. "And don't meet her again."
Duncan's eyes darkened. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Maya. I'm a man."
"Fine. Go to hell," she spat before storming out.
Duncan didn't follow.
Later that night, as he lay in bed, one name lingered in his thoughts.
Alora.
She spoke with discipline. Walked with grace. Nothing about her resembled hardship.
She wasn't raised like a commoner…
Across the town, Alora lay awake on a thin mat, staring into the darkness.
"Today was… dramatic," she murmured.
I hope we meet again.
The words echoed in her mind, unsettling her. No one had ever wanted to see her again — not since they fled their kingdom.
She sighed and turned over.
Duncan…
The name suited him far too well.
Exhaustion finally claimed her.