Ventren woke before dawn. He sat up slowly, expecting to hear Gwen's breathing from the bed above him. Instead, the room was quiet. He rose to his feet and saw that the bed was empty, sheets disturbed but neatly folded aside. Some of her armor was gone from its place by the wall.
After securing his gear, Ventren left the room and followed the sound of voices drifting through the castle halls. The dining area was already in use.
Gwen sat at the table, helmet off, hair loosely tied back, laughing softly as she spoke. Across from her sat Lord Thadeus Menzo, composed as ever, hands folded neatly before him. He was listening intently, nodding at appropriate moments, his expression looked sympathetic.
"…and I just don't know how you tell someone," Gwen was saying, gesturing with a piece of bread. "Like, how do you even bring it up without sounding ridiculous? Or like an idiot?"
Thadeus smiled. "My lady, sincerity oft sounds ridiculous only to those unprepared to hear it. Speak plainly, and if he is worthy, he shall listen."
Gwen groaned. "See? You make it sound so easy, m'lord."
"It is rarely easy," Thadeus replied. "But difficulty does not excuse silence."
Ventren stepped into the room. Both of them looked up.
"Morning," Gwen said quickly, straightening in her seat.
"Sir Ventren," Thadeus greeted. "I trust you rested well. Sir Gwendolyn here graced me with her presence."
"Well enough," Ventren replied, taking a seat and accepting a plate of roasted chicken from a servant.
Well, I don't need food but this roasted chicken is some noble type meal. Best enjoy it.
He ate quietly while Gwen and Thadeus continued their conversation, the topic drifting but never fully leaving the subject of relationships. Thadeus spoke in measured, careful tones, offering advice without prying. Gwen listened more than she spoke now, nodding thoughtfully.
As usual, Ventren said nothing. He focused on the food, on the sounds of cutlery, on the steady rhythm of the morning. After breakfast, they returned to their room to suit up. Armor went on with practiced efficiency. Gwen complained about stiffness in her shoulders. Ventren adjusted a strap she couldn't quite reach.
They met Lord Thadeus and Lady Azalae in the courtyard shortly after.
Azalae sat on a cushioned bench near the garden path. Thadeus sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, her head resting against his thigh. He stroked her hair gently, his movements slow and deliberate.
"She cannot speak," Thadeus said calmly, noticing their attention. "Nor see. Her health has been… frail these many years."
Azalae smiled faintly at the sound of his voice. Ventren nodded. Gwen's expression softened.
"And your daughter?" Ventren asked. "We would like to see her today."
Thadeus did not hesitate this time. "She has gone into the village. Youthful restlessness. She should return before dusk."
Ventren inclined his head. "Very well."
As they turned to leave, Ventren felt unease settle in his gut. He dismissed it outwardly, but it stayed with him as he and Gwen walked away from the main grounds. Gwen began talking almost immediately.
"He's so devoted to her," she said. "Did you see how careful he was? A pretty wife and a pretty husband~"
Ventren grunted in response.
"And the way they met," Gwen continued. "He told me earlier. Even though they were betrothed, he said he fell for her because she was kind and has a sexy foreign accent that he liked, well uh, of course he said it a more refined manner—"
Ventren listened, half-focused, eyes scanning the outskirts of the castle grounds.
"Focus, Gwen."
"Sorry, it's just so interesting…" she frowned in slight disappointment at his reaction.
They wandered farther from the main paths, toward the rear of the property where storage buildings and old sheds stood unused. One structure caught Ventren's attention. A small tool shack, half-hidden by overgrown weeds and ivy. The air around it carried a foul odor.
"Eugh, that smells disgusting," Gwen said, wrinkling her nose.
Ventren nodded. "Let's check it out."
They approached cautiously. The door was old, reinforced with iron bands. Ventren broke the lock with his hands. As they stepped inside, Gwen spoke casually, as if finishing a thought from earlier.
"Oh, also did you know?" she said. "The Lord has a prosthetic arm."
"What?" he said quietly.
She glanced at him. "Yeah. I noticed when he reached for his cup earlier. It's well made. Metal, I think. I wouldn't have spotted it if he hadn't shifted wrong."
Ventren's mind raced.
The height. The build. The expensive claymore. The pavise. The missing arm.
His grip tightened on his axe.
The interior of the shed was dim. Chains hung from the walls. The smell grew worse. At the far end, a young woman sat bound to a wooden post. Her clothing was torn, her hair matted. A noblewoman, judging by her features and the remnants of fine fabric beneath the dirt.
Beside her, laid carefully on a stone table, was a dagger.
The blade was dark, etched with symbols Ventren did not recognise.
Gwen sucked in a breath. "That's… his daughter. She looks just like Lady Azalae."
The door slammed shut behind them. They turned.
Lord Thadeus stood there, flanked by two heavily armed men. He wore no cape now. His left arm was exposed, metal and jointed, crafted with care. In his right hand, he held a claymore coated in oil.
His expression was no longer polite.
"It seems," he said flatly, "that I have been careless. Perhaps I should've poisoned you both instead, but I can't risk the capital finding out their knights vanished after visiting my castle."
The sword ignited with a low roar.
"My wife," Thadeus continued, stepping forward, "was healthy once. Whole and strong. The birth of Elizabeth took that from her, it took EVERYTHING!"
Azalae's name was spoken with something close to desperation.
"I would give anything to restore her," he said. "Anything. Even our own daughter."
Ventren stepped forward slightly, positioning himself between Thadeus and Gwen.
"You're the Marauder," Ventren said.
Thadeus smiled thinly. "Indeed. This is our third meeting, Sir Ventren and Sir Gwen."
"I did not expect to see you here… Nor did I expect you to find this shack." He glanced toward the dagger. "That blade promises miracles. Life for life."
He turned to look at the both of them. "I wanted to usher you both to leave quickly, but unfortunately things have turned out this way."
Gwen's voice shook. "But she is your daughter! Your blood—your wife's blood!"
"I don't give a shit. She is a curse, not a blessing." Thadeus replied angrily. "If I had to choose between my darling flower and that child…"
He lowered the sword slightly, fire still burning. "When slavery was lawful, I had gold. I could treat my dear wife without sacrificing the daughter. Now? This county starves. The Crown took my livelihood and left me with nothing."
His eyes locked onto Ventren.
"So, that's why you turned to banditry."
"Precisely. See, you understand."
"Doesn't mean I agree."
Gwendolyn knelt beside the young woman bound to the post and pressed two fingers to her neck, then to her wrist. Her brow furrowed. She checked again, slower this time, then leaned back.
"You're an idiot, Lord Thadeus. She's dead," Gwen said quietly. "Has been for a while."
Ventren looked at the body more closely now. The sunken cheeks. The stiffness is beginning to set in. The way the chains bit into flesh that had wasted away.
"Starvation," Gwen added. "Or dehydration. Maybe both."
Ventren nodded once. "That explains the smell."
Thadeus stared at them.
For a moment, he did not seem to understand the words. His eyes moved from Gwen's face to Elizabeth's body, then back again, as if waiting for something to change.
"No," he said. His voice was flat. "No, she was breathing yesterday."
Ventren said nothing and observed.
Thadeus stepped forward, then stumbled, dropping to his knees beside his daughter. He reached out with his living hand and shook her shoulder once, then harder.
"Elizabeth," he said. "Get up."
She did not move.
The fire on his sword sputtered as oil dripped onto the dirt. His shoulders began to shake. He bowed his head, teeth clenched, and a sound tore out of his throat that had no restraint left in it.
"I fucked something up," he said, voice breaking. "I did everything. Everything."
He slammed his fist into the ground. Dirt scattered.
"I did this for my wife," he shouted, not looking at anyone. "I sold men, women and children. I sacrificed countless elves. I broke the kingdom's laws and worse of all, I broke Matrem Myriam's laws. And what does it all mean in the end…?"
His tears fell freely now. Rage followed them.
He rose to his feet and turned on Ventren and Gwen, eyes red, face twisted.
"There is nothing left here," Thadeus said. "Leave. Both of you."
He turned to his men. "Go. Now."
The two guards hesitated only a second before obeying. They backed away, then left through the door that Thadeus had opened for them. Thadeus dragged the flat of his burning sword across the wooden wall, spreading fire along the planks. Flames caught quickly.
"You've won nothing," he said without looking back. "My wife will die soon. And when she does, I will burn this county to the ground."
He left. The door slammed shut behind him.
Ventren moved immediately. He stepped to the stone table and grabbed the dagger.
"We need to go," he said.
The fire spread fast. Smoke filled the shack. The roof creaked. Gwen looked at Elizabeth's body once more, jaw tight. "We can't carry her."
"I know," Ventren said.
The heat increased and a beam cracked overhead. Ventren stepped back, planted his feet, and lowered his shoulder.
"Stand back," he told Gwen. She complied.
He hit the wall facing opposite the door with full force. Wood splintered. On the second impact, the wall gave way. Ventren tore through it, ripping boards loose with his hands, widening the gap until Gwen could follow. They burst into the open air as the shack collapsed inward, fire consuming what remained. They ran towards the thickets.
The forest swallowed them quickly as branches whipped past. Visible smoke rose behind them.
"Riders!" Gwen yelled.
Ventren heard them then whistled sharply. Once. Twice.
Vesper answered first, crashing through brush with armor clanking. Gwen's mare followed moments later. They mounted in motion and spurred forward. Three riders broke from the treeline behind them, wearing Menzo colors and carrying spears.
Ventren slowed just enough to let the first rider close distance. The soldier thrust.
Ventren leaned aside and caught the shaft with his axe, twisting hard. The spear wrenched free from the rider's hands. Ventren swung up and buried the axe into the man's chest. He fell from the saddle and did not get up. The second rider circled. Gwen fired a bolt—it missed.
"Damn it," she shouted. "Matrem, guide my bolts against the heretics, please!"
Ventren urged Vesper forward, then turned sharply. The third rider tried to cut him off. Ventren rose in the stirrups and brought the axe down on the man's shoulder. Bone protruded as the rider screamed and fell.
The second rider hesitated. Ventren charged straight at him.
The man's morale broke and he fled in fear. Gwen somehow manages to put a bolt into his back. He slumped over his horse and slid off moments later.
They rode hard until the forest thinned and the road opened ahead of them. The Great Walls of Palma Nova rose in the distance by dusk. They passed through the gates without trouble. Royal Guard cloaks were recognised.
Inside the city, they went straight to the bailiff's office. Ventren spoke plainly, with no ceremony, laying out what they had seen in the County of Menzo: the slavers, the heretical dagger, the dead daughter, and Lord Thadeus's involvement and his role as the Marauder. Gwen confirmed every detail. The bailiff's face tightened as he listened. Ventren finished by invoking Royal Guard authority and ordered him to inform the Archduke of Ironhold immediately and compel him to rein in his vassal. The bailiff bowed stiffly and promised the report would be sent to the Archduke William before nightfall.
Then they went to an inn near the inner wall. It was crowded. Conversation died when they entered. Eyes followed them to their table. Ventren ignored it. Gwen ate slow and tensely. When they finished, Ventren reached into his satchel and pulled out a parchment. He unfurled it on the table.
Inside was a drawing of a man's face. He had facial hair and a scar along the jaw.
Even the illiterate could tell it was clearly an execution order.
Gwen leaned in. "That's for you? Is he one of the guys that betrayed you?"
"Yes," Ventren said. "A gift from the Prince."
She nodded slowly. "So this is it."
"I won't drag you into this," Ventren said. "You can stay here. Rest. Learn to read properly in the meantime. Would save us both the trouble in the long run."
Gwen glanced at the stack of picture books inside her satchel. "About time."
She looked back at him. "As usual, be careful. Need you alive, buddy."
The word buddy tensed Ventren up a bit. He stood, ready to leave.
"I will, of course. Friend."
He fastened his cloak and turned. Gwen raised a hand and waved. He nodded once in return and left. As Ventren rode out of Palma Nova alone, his thoughts narrowed to a single name.
Richard Green.
The first to betray him. The first to draw blood. He will die painfully.