The Wicked House of Caroline

Two drivers returned, frustrated and confused. One of their prison carriages had gone missing while the other was left abandoned by the side of the road. There were seventeen ‘royal guards’ and the other two drivers. Granted, one of those missing drivers was accounted for because of an accidental drowning after drinking. It was just that his body wasn’t found. The driver that went east with the former duke was also missing and there was no news of him by the border.

Iris tapped her fingertips on the tabletop, her eyes closed and brows knit together.

Her paladin guard was made of paladins from different groups. All were hand chosen by Captain St. Moore for their skill and loyalty. Oracle Paladins were the private guard of their oracle and her orders were absolute.

To an extent.

To suddenly lose almost half of them at once, the Temple would have questions before they would authorize new paladins to join her guard. Iris would have to answer to the Temple, but she couldn’t brazenly tell them that she’d sent her paladins to assassinate Kadmus exiles, including two children.

Since when did assassination fall into ‘protecting the Oracle’? If she couldn’t properly explain it or if her explanation was not good enough, the Temple would need to be further involved, which was the last thing she wanted, as while she wanted their backing, she did not want them to control her every move.

The Temple claimed to be neutral in political matters, but in truth, they held a great deal of subtle influence. It simply wasn’t flaunted in order to avoid attention and be seen as a threat by the larger kingdoms. If a non-political entity was perceived to wield too much power, they would either be wooed or targeted.

It was fine if countries wanted to win them over, but if they became an enemy to a sizable kingdom with a large military force, it wasn’t certain if they’d remain standing. The institution was thousands of years old, older than most kingdoms on the continent. It wasn’t going to risk itself for a new oracle who had yet to prove she was the next ‘Great’ one.

Oracles were held on pedestals, but the moment those pedestals cracked, the Temple itself would tear them down to protect itself.

Nothing was infallible, after all.

Not Kadmus. Not the Temple. And not her.

“What do you think?” Iris asked as she opened her eyes and looked at the middle-aged man seated across from her.

The Third Consort was dressed in a rather eye-catching manner. While he technically had no political standing even as the king’s father, he held influence. Everyone at court knew that the new king listened to his father well.

The man leaned back against a carved, gilded seat with plush red cushions. One leg was crossed over the other and he seemed relaxed.

“How is this a problem?”

His words made Iris sit up and her eyes darken. Standing at guard on her left, Captain St. Moore’s eyes narrowed and bore into the middle-aged man.

“Is that all you can say after over a dozen men went missing?” the Captain nearly barked at the other man and Iris raised her hand to calm him. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward.

“Brother, calm down. I’m sure if the Third Consort is so at ease about this, then he has a solution,” Iris said. Her voice lowered. “Don’t you?”

The Third Consort raised a brow and the corner of his lip curled up. “Isn’t it just a matter of reporting to the Temple that those men were lost?” “Those men were to stay at the Oracle’s side. What business did they have to join an escort to the Kadmus borders to send off exiles?” Captain St. Moore said in a low, graveled voice.

The Third Consort’s eyes shifted towards him. “A bout of food poisoning spread across the Royal Guard, causing a significant number of them to be bedridden with illness for several days. Is this true?”

“Yes,” Captain St. Moore replied. “What’s your-”

“This put available royal guards in short supply, right?”

Iris frowned. “That’s right.”

“However, the exile could not wait, so...did Kadmus not ask for assistance to simply ‘escort’ the prison carriages from the benevolent Oracle?”

The Third Consort was smiling, but Iris drew her head back. Most of what he said was true. In fact, in a way, what the Third Consort was saying wastrue.

“They weren’t sent to merely escort the exiles,” Captain St. Moore said in a low voice.

The Third Consort’s eyes rose to his as he continued to give a self-satisfied smile. “My dear boy, does that need to be said? At its core, was the Oracle’s paladin guard simply doing us a favor to ensure that prisoners were properly exiled? After all, the Oracle was involved with my son while my son was engaged to Lady Rebecca. This is an insult to her and her entire family. Would that not be enough reason to suspect that they could retaliate against the Oracle?”

Iris narrowed her eyes. That was their reason to begin with to justify the paladins. “You’re telling us to tell them the truth?”

“Only most of it,” the man replied in a cool voice. “It’s not a lie, is it?”

“Those men knew they had a mission other than to simply ‘escort’ the exiles,” Captain St. Moore replied.

The Third Consort raised a brow. “Yes, and where are they now? Are they going to contest your words?” He almost sneered and Iris clenched her jaw. Beside her, Captain St. Moore’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword at his side. The Third Consort let out a low, heavy sigh, and gave them a sympathetic look. “You two are young,” he said, almost lacing his voice with affection of an elder for his juniors. “And both of you were raised within the Temple. It is understandable that you don’t know how...muddled this sort of situation can be.

“The more truth your explanation has, the more it can be proven and thus, questioned less. Besides, I’m not asking you to lie or even hide what happened. You are just omitting parts of the truth. Parts that can’t be verified...unless of course, you open your mouths.” The Third Consort cocked his head to the side and gave them a curious look. “Would you?”

He knew very well that they couldn’t.

“Then how do you explain what happened to the missing paladins?” Iris asked.

The Third Consort’s smile grew even wider and Iris began to wonder if he had planned this all out to begin with.

“The men who are missing escorted two of the most experienced warriors from Sagittate. Is it not a simple matter to say that the exiles rebelled and escaped?”

Captain St. Moore let out a low scoff and sneered. “Six paladins against one man? Perhaps if the former Duke and his son’s biha hadn’t been suppressed, but they were. They also didn’t have any weapons and were properly chained.”

The Third Consort let out another sigh, this time more exasperated. He leaned forward and shook his head. “You see, this is why they’re no longer with us,” he said, earning him a hateful look from the Captain. “You and your men underestimated them. Greatly underestimated them.”

Iris clenched her fists beneath the desk. She already knew that, but it was too late. “Unfortunately, the time to make an adjustment to properly deal with them has passed.

“So, it has,” the Third Consort replied. “But that doesn’t mean their deaths have to have been made in vain. After all, it is a few exiles who have wronged you. Was it necessary for the paladins to die?”

“No one says they’re dead!” Captain St. Moore shouted as he slammed his fist on the table.

“Brother, do not be angry!” Iris gasped and stood up, pulling him back. “The paladins know how to contact us if there was a delay in the matter. I don’t want to believe it, but there is a possibility that something worse has happened than simply going missing.”

Captain St. Moore’s eyes reddened and he looked at her. “You believe my brothers are gone, too?” he asked in a choked voice.

Iris drew her lips inward and shook them. “I don’t want to believe it, but it has been weeks. They should’ve contacted us by now.”

“The northern and eastern borders aren’t far from turbulent areas. It is always possible that they were swept up in another kingdom’s affairs,” the Third Consort told them. “However, unless you send someone to check, you can’t be certain.”

“With whom do we have left to check with?” Iris snapped her head back towards the middle-aged man and glared. “My remaining paladins are spread thin as is!” A few were still trying to find the whereabouts of the twin princes. Until she saw their bodies, she wasn’t convinced that they were dead.

After all, in her past life, both men had been lucky beyond belief. They’d survived various attacks and assassinations only to return to the palace to take their places in the royal family. The second prince had ultimately been injured to the point that it was difficult for him to stand for long periods of time, and needed a wheelchair, but he still held some power.

In fact, he had been the one to marry Lady Rebecca because his twin brother could not have children despite being in perfect health otherwise.

“All the more reason to spread that they are no longer with us.” The looks on her and the Captain’s faces twisted with anger, but the Third Consort continued quickly. “Whether or not it’s true, what matters is that it can’t be validated, but will also mark the exiles as having insulted the Temple by attacking its paladins. The Temple will not stand for this, will it?”

Iris’ shoulders relaxed. She squinted her eyes at the old man and pursed her lips. He had a point. The paladins were a holy order. If they were wronged, the Temple hunted down those who wronged them in retribution and to show the strength of the Temple.

“What about the missing paladins that escorted the former Duchess?” Captain St. Moore asked with a frown. From his tense expression, he wasn’t comfortable using his brothers as an excuse to send more people after the exiles.

“The report said that the carriage was found abandoned not far from the Port of Black Sands. There have been no reports of the former Duchess or her two small children being sighted anywhere near the port. It is possible that they’d fled before they could be exiled,” the Third Consort said with a frown of his own. “You can’t use the same excuse. The former Duchess was just a simple woman from an old and fallen magistrate house in the West Islands. She has neither strength nor influence, let alone ability.”

“Then how do we explain the missing paladins that were escorting her?” Iris asked.

This time, the Third Consort seemed more irritated. If the Duchess couldn’t kill the paladins, it made it difficult to use the same excuse as they used with the former Duke and his son. “Spread a rumor that she fled with her children and used contacts from the West Islands to hide. The paladins went missing looking for her.”

“I thought you said she came from a fallen house with no strength or influence?”

“Even rats have friends,” the Third Consort replied. “What is most important is that if they are on the continent, everyone is hunting for them. It will make it difficult for them to survive. The woman is being weighed down by two children. Perhaps if she were by herself, she’d be able to hide, but she has to take into consideration the safety of the children, which puts her in a vulnerable position.”

In this way, it wouldn’t necessarily have been the royal family’s resources or the Temple doing the busy work of looking for the former Duchess and her children.

Iris nodded her head. “That will work.”

A wide smile spread across the Third Consort’s face. “What did I tell you? This is an easy matter to deal with.” He patted his legs and stood up, brushing off his pants. “I will return to the Gilded Palace now.”

There was a knock on the door and Iris looked over. “Enter.”

Attendants pushed the door to the study open and Luther stepped through the threshold, smiling. He paused for a moment as he walked forward and saw his father standing in front of the desk.

“Iris. Father.” He greeted both of them and then gave a curt nod to Captain St. Moore. He looked back at his father. “What are you doing here?”

Without the slightest hesitation, the Third Consort let out a heavy sigh. “The all-consuming work of planning your wedding, my son,” he replied, as if he’d taken on a tireless task.

Luther’s smile widened as he let out a laugh and walked in. He patted his father’s arm and beamed. “Thank you for your hard work, Father, but don’t work too hard. Your efforts are better put elsewhere.”

“What else is more important than my son’s wedding?” The Third Consort looked so pleased, even down to the sparkle in his eye, that Iris wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. The Third Consort glanced at her and then at his son, before his smile grew and he put his hand on Luther’s shoulder. “You’ve had a long day. I should leave you some time with your fiancée.”

At his words, Luther’s cheeks reddened a bit, and despite herself, Iris felt her own face heating up.

“Thank you, Father.”

“I’ll see you two at dinner!” The Third Consort strode out of the room. Captain St. Moore bowed his head and excused himself. The door closed behind him and Luther stretched out his arms.

Iris quickly rounded the table to run into them. As she felt his arms wrap around her, the tension in her body seeped out. She closed her eyes and rested her head against him, tucking it beneath his chin. Her arms held him tight.

“Did you have a tiring time?”

“Planning a wedding is more difficult than I imagined,” she said. At least, it was when she was dealing with missing paladins and the discomfort of knowing that the late Duke and his son were exiled, but likely still alive. Had she known their abilities, she would’ve taken additional precautions to ensure their deaths. She looked up at Luther and smiled. “What about you? How was court?”

The joy in Luther’s face momentarily vanished. His shoulders slumped and he lowered his head. “There is so much to do and so many proposals. My eyes have started to ache reading into the night.”

“Luther.” Iris stepped back and gave him a frown. “I told you not to stay up late. You’re already in a stressful position. You should rest.”

His expression softened as he looked at her. “Right now, there are many renewals to existing programs and projects that need to be reviewed. Before my brother and Lady Rebecca were handling them, but now....I don’t have as many resources to depend on.”

Iris’ eyes crinkled up. She studied his handsome face and raised her hand to touch it. There were bags under his eyes and he looked a bit gaunt. “I heard that many leaders have plans several years out that only need minor adjustments. Have you tried to find anything in their studies that may help?”

Luther’s eyes suddenly filled with light. “The annual operating plans....” He muttered. His face broke out with a wide smile. He lifted his hands and cupped the sides of her face before lowering his head and giving her a long kiss on the lips. “Iris, you are brilliant! How could I have forgotten! My brother works within a pre-planned budget every year and makes adjustments to it. I remember hearing him and Beks discussing this as my mother taught them. If their ongoing budgets remain, I can simply use them with a few adjustments! There is need to start from nothing!”

“That’ll also give you something to study to base future plans on,” Iris added.

Luther looked at her with eyes filled with affection. “You are too good. What would I do without you?” He kissed her again, this time longer and deeper. Blood rushed to her ears as her heart slammed against his chest.

Her hands curled into his clothes as she held onto him, relishing his warmth against her. After a few moments, he released her, his face also flushed. They both giggled and he took a step back, still holding her hand.

“Do you feel better now?” she asked in a thoughtful voice as she raised her hand brushed back his hair.

Luther nodded. “Aside from the demands of today’s court session, I also received troubling news a few moments ago.” No wonder he’d come to see her. Whenever he was tired or in a frustrating position, he would come to see her to ‘soothe him’, as he put it. Iris softened her face and caressed his cheek once more.

“Is it something you can tell me? I am willing to share your burdens, Luther. I am going to be your wife.” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she said it and a wave of embarrassment swept over her.

Luther hesitated, but nodded. She felt him squeeze her hands as he lowered his eyes. “In order to secure the loyalty of Sagittate after the Carolines were exiled and stripped of their position, the Marquis De Riviere was sent to govern until a more suitable noble with royal merit, but no land, can be determined. Sagittate is connected to the mainland by an isthmus When our men arrived, they couldn’t get to Sagittate.”

Iris furrowed her brows. “Did the Caroline’s people block the road?”

Luther’s eyes crinkled up and he seemed at a loss for words. “That is a strange thing. There is no road. The land route is gone.”

Iris drew her head back with disbelief on her face. “How can that be? Did a storm cover it with snow-”

“It sank into the ocean,” Luther said, making her eyes widen. “At least, that is what it seems like. The road leads into the sea.”

“The sea!”

Luther nodded. “No one understands what happened, or how such a piece of land could suddenly disappear into the water, but across they were able to see the peaks of mountains in the distance.”

“How is that possible?” Iris choked out.

Luther shifted in front of her, as if he himself was unsure how to answer. “Sagittate is rich in biha. There are more biha-users in Sagittate than anywhere else in the kingdom, but in addition to that, they are stronger....”

Iris narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that earth biha was used to collapse the isthmus?”

Luther nodded, but still appeared uncertain. “There is a large fluctuation of bihar there, but no one on our side can say for certain. We’ve tried contacting the Sacred Valley, but our urapearls cannot reach them at all.”

Iris gritted her teeth. “They’re ignoring us. They know what happened and they want to break free from the kingdom because their Carolines have been disposed of?”

“I won’t let them!” Luther said, stomping his feet. “Sagittate has been part of the kingdom for hundreds of years!”

He couldn’t lose such a territory when he first became king.

Iris nodded and lowered her eyes. “Then, if we can’t get through by land...what about by sea?”

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“Tempest, I can only depend on you and Thunder. If I can’t get across by sea, I need to cross by air,” Beks said as she put a large woven basket on the ground. The two rokh chick approached to examine. “So, here is the plan. I will train you to carry a basket similar to this with me inside. Watch carefully.” She looked at the larger of the chicks. “Cloud, get in the basket.”

The chicken stumbled forward and leaned into the top of the basket, crushing one side of it at once. Beks pursed her lips.

Jargal was a liar. He said the basket would be able to hold at least one rokh chick.

Was he humoring me when I said I wanted to train the rokhs? Beks frowned and bent down, lifting the chick up and off the basket that Jargal had spent a considerable amount of time weaving. When she first lifted it, it seemed sturdy enough. The leaf fibers were woven together to create a braided rope before Jargal wove the basket with them.

She put Cloud down and knelt beside the basket. It had been bent awkwardly to the side, but it didn’t tear. It seemed as if the weight simply was too much for the wall to hold up. She looked back at Cloud and lifted him up, then put him in the basket. The chick appeared confused and squawked a bit.

“Stay still. I’m going to lift it.” She grasped on to the woven handles on either side of the basket and lifted it up. Cloud stumbled a bit and then looked around with his big eyes, as if unsure what was happening. He let out another loud squawk and this time, Tempest, who was on her nest, squawked back.

Beks carried Cloud around in front of the female rokh for a bit before stopping in front of her. Before she could lecture the legendary beast, Cloud nudged her hand and let out another squawk before nipping at the handles and looking at her.

That was how she ended up carrying around Cloud for part of the afternoon. When she decided to give Wisp a ride, she carried Cloud off and replaced him with his sister. Wisp enjoyed it in her own lazy way and any time Beks put the basket down to rest, the two chicks fought over the basket.

There were down feathers and broken leaf ropes all over the roost. It was enough for her to give up for the time being.

Beks returned to the ruins where she lived, tired as she climbed up the steps to get to the table. She sat down and draped herself across. Legendary beasts were supposed to be able to understand people. Did rokhs just not understand more complicated concepts? Did they not understand at all or weren’t as intelligent as a horned serpent like Snowflake?

“I thought I heard a noise.” A head stuck out from the kitchen’s smoky entrance and a man smiled at her. “Did the rokhs understand your example?”

She turned her head to look at the kitchen. Jargal was leaning out, but most of his body was inside. He seemed to have been cooking from the delicious scent in the air. He was in his ‘cooking’ clothes.

She hadn’t noticed before since she rarely went into the kitchen. She had no reason to. Jargal had a small bundle with him, including another set of clothes, when he left. It had been strapped to his back, so it didn’t fall off and get lost when he was coming to the island. Usually, he was in a sleeveless black linen shirt, but when he cooked, he wore a long sleeve, stained off-white shirt of coarse fabric.

He said it was because the fabric carried scents and when he was cooking, the scents would get on his clothes. The scent of food made it difficult for him to sleep, so he would change into a specific set of clothes when he cooked. She was a bit envious. At least he had another set of clothes.

She would take turns washing the different layers of her clothing, as she only had one set. She made a mental promise to herself that once she was back on the mainland, she would buy herself some new clothes. She had to anyway, as she couldn’t run around in stained rags, but she planned to buy something nice.

“I don’t think they quite grasp the concept of carrying a basket,” Beks said in a dull voice. “What’s for dinner?” Only a good meal would relieve her burden.

Jargal’s mouth curled up. “I cooked some jungle fowl with a sweet fruit glaze and toasted bread fruit.”

She licked her lips. “When are we eating?” That was the next more important question.

Jargal tilted his head back and let out a laugh. When he was in the kitchen, he seemed much louder and unrestrained. His tone was more relaxed and even his expressions seemed brighter. Usually, he was much calmer. Perhaps the excitement of his improved cooking had a good effect on him.

“The same time as usual,” he told her. “If you’re hungry, I have some berries.”

“Berries are good!” She perked up and stood up to get them. Jargal leaned past the door and handed her a woven leaf basket of a few berries.

“You have time before dinner. I can call you when it’s time to eat.”

Beks let out a small hum and plucked a berry before tossing it into her mouth. She wasn’t suffering too badly on her exile. There were worse environments than a tropical island. She had warm meals and a place to sleep. There weren’t any dangerous animals that she knew of that would enter the ruins to attack her. She also had good company, so she didn’t feel lonely.

She also didn’t need to forage for her own food. Snowflake and Jargal took care of that.

All she needed to do was study, look for useful items, and do her own laundry.

She looked up at the sky and wrinkled her nose. It was too late to do laundry, and so she made a mental note to do so first thing in the morning.

After borrowing Jargal’s broom to sweep out the rotunda, she was called for dinner. Jargal had changed back into his black shirt and served her a meal that didn’t just smell good, but also appeared aesthetically pleasing.

Beks couldn’t help but smile at the presentation of the meal. The bread fruit had been sliced and layered on to the fruit glazed jungle fowl. There was even a garnish made of what appeared to be a flower shaped out of a leaf. The excess glaze was drizzled on, like the palace chefs did.

“I see that now you’re so comfortable with the taste, that you’ve moved on to the sight.”

“I drizzled on the glaze myself. I think it came out very well.”

“It’s the taste that matters.” Beks carefully brought a partial spoonful to her lips and narrowed her eyes. Across from her Jargal watched her face expectantly. He hadn’t touched his food yet. After a few moments, Beks gave him a nod. “I approve.”

“Hah!” Jargal let out a laugh and smiled. “Well, until you are able to train a rokh to take you across the sea, at least you won’t suffer during your meals.”

Beks shot him a look as she chewed. After she swallowed, she gave him an incredulous look. “Are you saying that if I were alone, I would suffer?” Jargal gave her a gentle, knowing look and she let out a sigh. “You’re right, but I’d rather not hear it. It’s a waste of resources if I cook a meal.”

“Consider your dagger being used as a kitchen knife to be your contribution to the meal,” he told her. “I almost worry about how you’ll fare when you’re on your own.”

Beks knit her brows together. “Aren’t you coming with me?” He wasn't exiled. He could go back to the mainland without a problem. Even if he was exiled from Kadmus, as she was, he didn’t need to go back there.

He looked up and gave her a wry smile. “Do you want me to come with you? I don’t know if they’re still looking for me, after all.” His voice trailed off and he tried to focus on his food. Beks chewed on her lower lip for a moment.

“Can you tell me more about it? If I get back, I can investigate for you.” All she needed to do was connect her urapearl to a communication base and she could get Nexus to find out.

“Perhaps some other time, Beks.” There was no promise of some other time in his voice and she look it as a signal to drop the topic. “Aside from that, how goes your Classic Esuser?”

After the meal, they spent an hour by light pearl reviewing what she had learned. Jargal wrote some characters with damp ash from the kitchen and Beks was able to translate it. “The only thing left is to find a document written in both Classic Esuser and High Besup.”

“I found on the lower tier, there is a complex that has several shelves carved into the wall with features similar to that in the study. There tablets littering multiple rooms and I haven’t scraped the surface of what’s there, but some of the carvings are different. It may have been my wishful thinking, but I may have seen some tablets that had character similar to what I’ve seen in ancient works in the Langshe palace. Unfortunately, I’m not fully convinced the two scripts are the same or even related,” Jargal told her. “However, perhaps you can find something there.”

Beks nodded, though she didn’t have much hope. Still, it was worth a try.

The next morning, Beks sniffed her clothes upon rolling off her sleeping mat and confirmed that it was time to wash her clothes.

Each tier of the mountain top ruins had several water sources. Beks maintained that whoever built it had impressive skill in city planning. There were fountains, though some of the ornamental pieces had long toppled over, and various wells and ponds. After some exploration, Beks and Jargal decided that some of the shallower ponds lined with slanted stone blocks with rows of ridges could be used to wash clothing.

The more Beks studied it, the more she felt that such ponds had been used for laundry to begin with and was more impressed with whoever built the ruins. Since she didn’t have a spare set of clothing, when she washed her clothes, she’d have to do it in the morning to give the clothes as much drying as possible.

However, though there was only one person on the island with her, she still didn’t feel comfortable walking around in just underwear, so when it was time to wash her outer layer of clothing, she summoned her helper, Snowflake.

He was just big enough that he could coil around the laundry pond to create a wall out of his body that would shield her while she scrubbed and beat her clothes. Beks walked around the back of the main building that the rotunda was connected to, as the path down to the nearest laundry pond was on the back side.

She passed the inner area and caught sight of the doorless room where Jargal slept. He was quite a neat man and when he was inside, he would leave his shoes at the door. He’d even managed to create a broom out of a bundle of leaves, which she borrowed.

A small woven basket was just outside his door that had a bundle of stained white cloth. She remembered when she’d woken up, she’d been using it as a pillow. Jargal had been somewhat embarrassed, as he said it was stained and smelled strange, but she had appreciated the gesture.

She furrowed her brows. She didn’t remember seeing him wearing the clothes.

She looked around and didn’t see him anywhere. She walked over and picked up the basket. If it was outside, it must’ve been dirty.

Since he’d been the one to show her how to hand wash her clothes, she decided to return the favor. She tucked the basket under her arm and continued on her way down. She passed the side of the kitchen and could already see smoke coming out.

“Jargal! I’m going to do laundry down below!”

“All right!” She heard him shout in response.

Beks made her way down the steps and saw the white horned serpent already on the lower tier. He had yet to coil around the pool and was stretched out lengthwise, appearing longer than she thought he was.

She walked down the steps and approached, calling out for the serpent before approaching the pool.

Snowflake flicked out his tongue and once Beks was ankle deep in the pool, he coiled around and rested his chin on his languid body. With her privacy wall up, Beks stripped down to her underpants.

In the warm, humid air she didn’t feel any discomfort. In fact, it was a bit refreshing to feel the breeze against her bare skin. Once she scrubbed and rinsed her clothes, she laid them across Snowflake’s back, on the topmost coils, to dry in the sun while she sat around and tried to concentrate on the book pages she’d memorized.

“We got an early start today, Snowflake. The dress shouldn’t take long to dry. It should be ready to wear by lunch,” Beks said as she draped her clothes over Snowflake’s back. She then went to the basket on a stone bench next to the pool and grabbed Jargal’s bundle of cloth. She unfurled it and noticed at once that it was long sleeved and rather long.

No wonder she never saw him wearing it. She ran her hand across the fabric. It wasn’t thick or thin, but it would take longer to dry than her dress. She flipped it around and prepared to dunk it into the pool, when she froze.

At first, she’d thought it was a jacket of some sort, but now that she saw it clearly, it was a layer of outer robe. The stitching was well done and there was embroidery on the cuffs, hems, and collar. Beks furrowed her brows as her pruned fingers touched the gold thread of a pattern she’d see numerous times.

Her chest began to tighten as she took in a shallow breath, and her eyes crinkled up.

This was a priest’s vestment.

The pale fabric didn’t look much at first, but the fine details included gold embroidery with blessings in Classic Esuser and various sigils. The metal buttons also had a familiar Temple seal.

Dozens of scenarios shot through Beks’ head from that he stole the garments to he was given them by the passing priest. After all, the fabric was stained and worn, with a few tears and frayed edges. Her eyes reddened.

But how long had he been wearing them and through what?

Her dress was new when she wore it the first time. It was only when she went down with the carriage and started scraping and snagging the fabric against the sharp rocks and barnacles did it start to get visibly damaged. Any ordeal like hers was guaranteed to take a toll on one’s clothing.

The stitching on the vestment had not been worn and the gold thread still had some luster. The seal on the buttons wasn’t worn down by constant use, nor had it discolored. It wasn’t new, but it wasn’t old or worn out, either.

She closed her eyes and took low, deep breaths. She had to calm down.

Jargal had told her that he was running from something related to inheritance. The Temple usually wouldn’t be involved in such a thing. It really had no reason to. However, they did keep record of where all their clergy were. If Jargal needed to hide, he’d also have to hide from the Temple.

Beks stared at the outer robe, her body heavy and listless, as if all her energy had been taken from her the moment she realized what the fabric in her hands was.

No matter what was considered, it was still very likely that Jargal was a priest.

She cocked her head to the side. But that was surprising, as Jargal was from Langshe. In Kadmus, priests wore pale color. The vestment was white, or used to be white when it wasn’t stained. It was a very normal, average piece of clothing for a priest of the Temple, but in Langshe white was considered a bad omen color, and it should never be the main color in an ensemble.

It was why Uncle Timur’s clothes were also deep, rich and earthy colors and he never wore white.

Therefore, Langshe and several eastern countries’ priests wore black vestments.

If Jargal really was a priest, he either lied to her about being from Langshe, or he just had Langshe blood and was raised outside the culture. It could even be possible that he was an orphan. The Temple ran many orphanages and many attendants, servants, and paladins often came from the orphanages as a way to repay having food to eat and a roof over their heads.

It wasn’t unheard of for an orphan to join the clergy itself.

Wasn’t the new oracle an orphan, too? Beks had read that nearly all the Great Oracles of the past were.

She sat in place and took a deep breath.

She could pretend she didn’t see it. She could roll the vestment back into a ball, place it back in the basket, and drop it off at Jargal’s door.

But how could she stand the unknown?

She was in a precarious situation and she didn’t want any more unexpected variables to appear, especially regarding someone she was living with.

All things considered, Jargal hadn’t shown any animosity towards her since they met. Even if he didn’t know who she was when he dragged her out of the pool, he had three days to kill her before she woke up. It could be that Jargal was just a regular priest who was running from his family.

She could only imagine him waking up to an assassination attempt one morning and being forced to flee as soon as possible.

Without a word, Beks dunked the garment into the water and began to scrub it against the stone washboard. Jargal had been good to her since they met. He saved her life. He had opportunities to hurt her, but he didn’t. Experience told her he didn’t mean any harm. Simply because one was a Temple priest didn’t mean that he was there to kill her.

In fact, since the paladins had been dressed as royal guards, it was unlikely that the Temple itself would give the order to assassinate her.

With these thoughts quelling her worry, she draped the white vestment over Snowflake and took her seat on the bench to review Classic Esuser in her head.

Usually, her stomach would tell her that it was time to eat, but today, seemed distracted by the priest's garb and lost herself in her review. It was Jargal’s voice calling for her from outside of the wall of Snowflake that brought her out of her thoughts and opened her eyes.

“Beks! Beks, where are you? You haven’t come for lunch!” He sounded a bit worried.

It was somewhat embarrassing, but she hadn’t been late for a meal yet.

“I’m still doing laundry!” Beks uncrossed her legs and stood up, wading across the shallow pool to check on her clothes. They were dry and she pulled them down.

“All right. When you’re done, come to the kitchen!”

She’d told Jargal before that though he’d already seen her naked, she would still require privacy for bathing and laundry. He’d laughed and assured her he would respect her wishes. He’d then casually told her that this meant she’d have to give him her privacy, too.

She put her dried petti skirt and dress on before checking on the vestments. They were still a little damp, mainly because the fabric was thicker, especially along the embroidered areas. Beks tapped Snowflake.

“I’m going to eat. Let me out, but keep drying his clothes.”

Snowflake flickered his tongue and Beks put on her shoes and headed back to the upper tier. Jargal was sitting in place. When he saw her, he got up to fetch her some food and brought it out for her.

As he placed the bowl in front of her, Beks couldn’t help the slight guilt that came with distrusting him. He was so kind to her and she’d been unsettled by his clothing. She thanked him as she sat down and began to eat.

Halfway through, as she listened to Jargal describe his most recent net, Beks approached the topic of his priest vestments as smoothly as she could.

“Oh, by the way, speaking of water, I passed by your room when I went to wash my clothes this morning and saw that you had left some dirty clothes out. I hope you don’t mind that I washed it.”

She could almost feel the air cool around her. She gathered all her strength to raise her eyes to meet his.

“You...washed my dirty clothes?” A serious look had taken over his earlier relaxed face and she let out a small cough.

“If I overstepped, I apologize. It’s just that you’ve done so much for me, I thought the least I could do was wash a garment.”

He remained tense in his seat, his eyes unreadable. “Then...you know what it is.”

Beks lowered her spoon and slowly nodded her head. “Temple priest vestments.” He took a deep breath. “You didn’t want me to know.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary to bring it up,” he replied.

“This explains why you know Classic Esuser.”

He furrowed his brows and lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry I hid it from you.”

“May I ask why?” Beks asked as her eyes narrowed. She was sincerely curious. Being part of the Temple was the life of a clergyman. At this point, he should’ve mentioned it at least a few times, unless he really did mean to hide it from her.

“There was some work I was doing for the Temple that is sensitive in nature,” he said.

She frowned and sat up straight. “What do you mean by sensitive?” Sensitive wasn’t a good description in this case.

Jargal took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly and offered her a smile. “Does it matter?”

“It depends on what it is.” Beks looked him up and down, her meal forgotten. “You seem to know a bit about me, but I don’t know about you.” She could feel her skin begin to curl and she wanted to put some distance between them.

“Beks, I’m not dangerous.”

“That’s something a dangerous person would say.”

“I....” He couldn’t help but laugh tiredly at her words. He met her eyes and shook his head. “Beks, you must believe me. I don’t mean any harm.”

“For now,” Beks said. “People change. Their goals and motives shift.” She knew that firsthand.

As if noticing how defensive she was becoming, Jargal remained in his seat. He seemed to take a moment to think about what he’d say next.

“Can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt and trust me?” Jargal asked as he gave her a beseeching look.

This only made her more nervous. Beks slowly stood up, as if trying not to make any sudden movements so as not to startle an animal. “It’s hard to trust someone who refuses to tell the truth. You’ll forgive me, but I’ve been betrayed before, so I’m a bit unwilling to take the risk.”

Jargal stood up. “Beks-”

“Stay where you are!”

“Beks-”

“All right, that’s enough.” A second voice identical to Jargal’s cut him off and made him freeze in place. Beks snapped her head towards the sound of the voice and saw a figure peer out from the doorway. Her eyes went wide as she looked from Jargal across the table to Jargal at the doorway.

Jargal across the tablet lowered his head and let out a low breath. “I thought you’d wait a few more days before you were ready to tell her.”

“She wasn’t uncomfortable, but now she is. I’d rather tell her the truth than make it worse,” the Jargal at the kitchen doorway replied. He looked at Beks with a helpless expression and opened his mouth, appearing to try to figure out what to say.

It was then that she realized that he was wearing the ‘cooking clothes’. Jargal didn’t have another set of clothing, he had another him. No wonder she felt that there was something different about him when she saw him in different places.

No wonder the food was drastically different, too!

“You lied to me!”

“You didn’t recognize me and I was worried you’d panic if you did.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean recognize you? Who are you?”

The Jargal at the kitchen winced. “Well...that hurts.” He stepped out of the doorway and the first thing she noticed was that his right hand was missing. At once, her wariness faded as she saw the stump bandaged with stained strips of cloth.

Whenever she saw this Jargal in the pale shirt, she’d only see his left side. Part of him was always hidden from view. He kept his right side hidden.

“What....” Her voice was breathy for a moment as her eyes crinkled up. “What happened to your....” She looked at the two of them, putting their identical faces together. Independently, it didn’t cross her mind, but now that she saw them together, she was instantly reminded. Every time she saw twins, she’d think of them. They were her default. She hadn’t seen them for fifteen or so years, and they’d grown taller, their features sharper and more distinct. One was missing a hand. Her eyes began to water as her lips trembled. “Second and Third?”

The one who lost his hand gave her a familiar smile. He held up his arms in a welcoming motion, seemingly unbothered by his missing hand. “Hello, my little egg tart monster. Did you miss me?”