Chapter 15:
THREE WEEKS AFTER THE BLOODY TAVERN INCIDENT.
The training yard was empty except for the sound of steel cutting through air.
Lhoralaine's swords traced patterns in the fading light, each movement precise, relentless. Sweat soaked through her training clothes, muscles screaming protests she refused to hear. Her hands had bled hours ago—the makeshift bandages were crimson-dark now, soaked through.
She didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
Three weeks since Fred died. Three weeks since Hexia rejected her. Three weeks of this—training until her body gave out, until exhaustion dragged her into dreamless sleep, until the pain in her muscles drowned out the pain in her chest.
"Again," she whispered to herself, resetting her stance.
The blonde woman moved through the forms with desperate intensity. Strike. Parry. Thrust. Each motion perfect, each movement hollow.
The other adventurers had stopped trying to talk to her days ago. They'd learned to recognize the look in her black eyes—something broken, something dangerous, something that might shatter completely if touched wrong.
Her party members watched from the inn windows above, concern etched deep into their faces.
"She's going to hurt herself," Vera murmured, the healer's hands pressed against the glass.
"She already has" Simon replied, his grizzled face drawn. "Question is whether we can reach her before she goes too far."
"Should we intervene?"
"And say what? 'Stop grieving'? 'Get over it'?" He shook his head. "She needs to work through this. We just need to be ready to catch her when she falls."
THE GUARDS' CONVERSATION
Night had fallen over Briarkeep by the time Lhoralaine finally sheathed her sword. Her hands trembled—from exhaustion or rage or grief, she couldn't tell anymore. All the emotions had blurred together into one dull, constant ache.
The cobblestone streets were quiet as she walked back toward the inn. Torches cast dancing shadows on the walls. Her body moved on autopilot, muscle memory carrying her home while her mind replayed the same scenes over and over.
Fred's head rolling across the tavern floor.
Hexia's empty eyes as he walked past her.
Sirenia's hand in his.
The future she'd destroyed with her own choices.
Then she heard them.
Two local guards stood at the corner, their voices carrying in the quiet evening. They didn't notice her approaching from the side street, didn't see her steps slow as their words registered.
"So who actually killed Fred Butlix? Wasn't he in a party with one of the known adventurers here in town?"
Lhoralaine's breath caught. Her fists clenched.
"Yes! Fred Butlix. He was the lover of that B-rank adventurer, Lhoralaine." The younger guard laughed—casual, thoughtless. "I bet she must be devastated."
The older guard snorted. "Maybe. But I heard Fred wasn't actually faithful to her the whole time. Poor girl was being manipulated for years and didn't even know it."
"Yeah, that's what happens when you let yourself be used and think you're doing fine even though you're clearly not, right?" More laughter, grating like broken glass. "I heard she's not been herself these days. Like she's been broken or something—"
"WHO WOULDN'T BE?!"
The words ripped from Lhoralaine's throat before she could stop them.
Both guards spun around, hands going to their weapons. Their eyes widened as Lhoralaine stepped from the shadows, her face twisted with rage and anguish and three weeks of suppressed pain erupting all at once.
"Tell me!" Her voice rose, cracking. "If you two were in my situation, what would you have done? What?!"
The older guard raised his hands, taking a step back. "Ms. Lhoralaine, please—"
"I know!" Tears streamed down her face as she advanced on them, the dam finally breaking. "I've made a terrible mistake by believing that son of a bitch! I know that! And I've regretted it every single day! And hell—I'm glad he's actually fucking dead! Thank the gods for that bastard being dead!"
Her voice echoed through the street. Windows opened. Faces appeared, drawn by the commotion.
"And now look at me! Broken!" She was in their faces now, close enough that they could see the raw devastation in her eyes, the three weeks of sleepless nights and obsessive training. "So what? Are you going to make fun of me now? Are you?!"
The older guard's voice softened, his expression shifting from alarm to something like pity. "Ms. Lhoralaine, please calm down for a moment—"
"No! I'm perfectly calm!" A laugh burst from her lips—manic, hollow, the sound of something cracking. "And I'm grateful that Hexia killed Fred, because I'm free now! I can do whatever I want!"
The younger guard shifted nervously, exchanging glances with his partner. "Uh, about that, Ms. Lhoralaine... We heard that the man named Hexia was the murderer. The local lord wishes to arrest him for the crime he committed. Capital punishment will be his sentence."
The rage drained from Lhoralaine's face like water from a broken vessel. Something else replaced it—something calculating, desperate, barely controlled.
"What did you just say?"
"I heard he's going to be executed here in Briarkeep—at the plaza—after his arrest," the younger guard continued, unnerved by the sudden shift in her demeanor.
A smile spread across Lhoralaine's lips. Not joy—something stranger, more unsettling.
"The local lord of Briarkeep, you say?" Her voice had gone unnaturally calm, the eye of the storm. "When will they be arresting Hexia?"
The younger guard took an unconscious step backward. "I... I heard the guards are moving in two days. To travel to Korn Village and formally arrest him."
"Really?" Lhoralaine's mind raced, pieces falling into place with crystal clarity. This was it. This was her chance. "I could talk to the local lord and ask him to pardon Hexia! Fred was the one who started it! It was self-defense!"
Yes! Perfect! This can work out! I get to save him, and maybe—maybe—he might change his mind about us! And that Sirenia—I need to get her out of the way! She's manipulating him! She's using his past to get him for herself! I'm the one who really knows him! I'm the one who loved him first!
I'm saving him! Yes! I am protecting him! And when he sees that—when he understands that I'm the one fighting for him—he'll realize. He'll understand that I'm the one who deserves to be with him!
"But the lord has made the deci—"
"Shut it! I'll be going to the lord's house now! I'll talk to him!" She turned and ran into the night, leaving the guards staring after her.
"Should we... stop her?" the younger one asked.
The older guard shook his head slowly. "And get between that and whatever she's about to do? I like being alive, thank you."
LORD CRUXXE'S MANSION
The mansion stood solid and imposing in the darkness, its windows glowing with warm light that spilled onto the manicured grounds. Guards at the gate looked up as Lhoralaine approached, her face flushed from running, her training clothes still sweat-stained and bloodied.
"I need to see Lord Cruxxe." She fought to control her breathing. "It's urgent."
The guards exchanged glances. It was late—unusual for visitors. But they recognized her. B-rank adventurer. One of Fred's party members.
One nodded and led her inside.
The mansion's interior was elegant—tasteful decorations, expensive furniture, the kind of wealth that came from generations of careful management rather than sudden fortune. Lord Cruxxe sat in his study, surrounded by paperwork and ledgers, the eternal burden of governance.
A knock came at the door. "My lord, Lady Lhoralaine wishes to speak with you."
He frowned. It was late. Highly unusual. But he was a fair man, and the guards wouldn't have brought her if it wasn't important. "Let her in."
The door opened and Lhoralaine entered, composed now despite her disheveled appearance. The manic energy was hidden behind a practiced mask of grief and determination. She looked every inch the grieving lover seeking justice.
"Good evening, Lord Cruxxe."
"Ah, yes! Good evening to you too! Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair across from his desk, genuine concern in his voice. He'd heard about Fred's death—the whole town had heard about it.
"I heard that you have not been yourself lately. It was unfortunate that your lover, Fred, died from that murderer named Hexia! Don't you worry—I'll make sure he'll pay for his crime with his life!"
Lhoralaine sat, folding her hands in her lap with deliberate care. "No! No, my lord, I must tell you something."
Lord Cruxxe leaned back in his chair, stroking his graying beard. "What is it, dear? Please, go on."
"You see, my lord..." She leaned forward, her voice earnest, each word carefully chosen. "The truth is that Fred was actually manipulating me right from the start. He did it to exact his revenge on Hexia. He had it coming. And he deserved what happened to him."
Lord Cruxxe's eyebrows rose, his expression shifting to surprise.
"And to be honest, I was miserable in Fred's hands. It was all a lie. He lied to me! Everything—it was all just so he could exact his petty revenge!" Her voice gained strength, conviction. "So if you'd be so kind as to refrain from executing Hexia, he could be a valuable asset for our town!"
She was building her case now, each word a brick in the foundation of her argument.
"Did you know, my lord, about what the captured bandits are talking about? The ones our adventurers captured?"
Lord Cruxxe leaned forward, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He had been hearing rumors. Strange rumors that made him uneasy.
"Ah, yes... I've been hearing about the 'swordsman of rolling heads,' the protector of Korn Village." He paused, recounting the various nicknames that had reached his ears.
"People say this swordsman looks as warm and gentle as an angel, but fights like a demon and is cold as ice. People are calling him the 'Blade Dancer.' Some call him the 'Swordsman of Rolling Heads.' I don't exactly know if that person is an angel or a demon, and I don't have any clue who that person is."
He looked at Lhoralaine curiously. "Anyway, why have you brought that up? What are you talking about?"
Lhoralaine smiled—the smile of someone holding all the cards. "Well, you see, my lord... The protector of that village was actually our childhood friend. Mine and Fred's. And I loved him since we were children. And he loved me too."
Lord Cruxxe's eyes widened. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping back against the floor. "Oh?! Really now?! Color me surprised!"
"Yes. Well, you see... His name is actually Hexia."
Silence descended like a physical weight.
Lord Cruxxe stood frozen for a moment, processing. "What?! Are you serious?! So the protector of Korn Village and the man who murdered Fred are the same person?! Hexia?!"
"Yes, my lord. It's true."
He sat back down slowly, his mind racing through the implications. This changed everything. If Hexia was the protector—if he'd been defending an entire village single-handedly—then executing him might be a terrible mistake. But Fred was murdered in his town. There were laws. Justice. His reputation to consider.
"Oh my. Well, this is a surprise. But you see, I could not just let him get away with the crime of murder. People are going to question my authority if I did that. The people would think I'm being biased in my governing. And I don't want my reputation to be tarnished. You know that, right?"
"Yes, I know that, my lord. That's why I have a proposal for you."
He leaned forward, genuinely interested. "Oh, do you now? Go on. I'm listening."
"Well, why don't we have a public trial for him instead of executing him right away? I can vouch for him in the trial. And so can some of the other adventurers—like the group of adventurers who call themselves Silver Blades."
Lord Cruxxe froze. His entire expression changed, shifting from curiosity to something else entirely.
"Wait. Wait, wait! Did you say Silver Blades?! Do you mean Silver Blades? The party of Sirenia?!"
Lhoralaine's confident expression cracked. Her eyes widened slightly, confusion and alarm flooding through her. "Wait—what?! Hold on, my lord. You know Sirenia?! A girl who has silver hair and blue eyes?!"
Lord Cruxxe smiled proudly, completely oblivious to the bomb he was about to drop. "Well, of course! She's my daughter!"
The blood drained from Lhoralaine's face.
Then realization hits Lord Cruxxe. "Wait, wait, wait! You mean my daughter Sirenia is seeing the suspect?!"
To be continued…