Commander Blert Blach was no fool.

Every inch of him wanted to deny it. In the end, he could only pretend to be convinced—but he wasn’t an idiot. That woman was too suspicious for his liking.

It hurt his very core, yes, but he had a legal duty to discover the truth.

Was that black knight a traitor? Was she indeed planning to escape? The commander had to find out.

The muddy trail led to a yellowish meadow, where khaki-colored tents stood amid the remnants of extinguished bonfires, their smoke fading into the bluish sky. Distant figures moved about, carrying supplies and taking down tents.

As Blert and his company neared, knights near the bonfire sprang to attention, and servants paused in their tasks to spread the word: "The Commander is back!"

The campsite was a mess, just as Blert had left it. Most tents had collapsed, their fabric dragging on the ground, trampled by hounds, horses, and people. Maids, in disarray and barely in uniform, rushed to gather scattered bottles, clothing, armor, and food before they had to depart.

Half the order of knights was within the forest, still looking for Penelope Ashdown, while the other half who were left to guard the campsite was now running downhill to join the found prisoner, their companions, and most importantly, Blert, their Commander.

"Commander!"

"Commander Blert, sir!"

Blert's little minions approached him and his riders with open arms.

Blert held back a grin to save face. He couldn't show how proud he was of himself. He had a reputation to uphold as the stoic, monster of a leader he was.

Instead, he held up an arm, signaling the soldiers to halt before they scared the horses.

"Yes, yes, we found her," Blert nodded. "Now calm your—"

"Commander, we're absolutely  done for!" Holison—the youngest, best knight under his charge—cried out.

This statement was a call back to reality for Blert.

After realizing he was snickering from ear to ear despite his mental effort not to do so, he only now saw that the knights' expressions weren't filled with relief and joy at his sight, but with panic and worry instead.

"What is it?" Blert frowned, dismounting his horse and walking up to his armored subordinates.

"Commander Blert, Sir,—" Holison was out of breath, his scarce mustache hair dripping with sweat, eyes trembling in panic. "A man burst into camp some twenty minutes past, claiming to hail from the Merchant Guild. He declared—he declared that their Head Merchant collapsed and now draws no breath!"

Blert's glare softened to let the information simmer.

"Was his pulse examined?" The woman spoke out.

"I cannot say," Hollison replied. "I was told they sought aid the moment he was found."

"Does he have a record of any illnesses in—"

"Who gave you leave to speak?" Blert snapped, making her raise her eyebrows, seemingly taken aback at his as well as her own words.

Her voice was melodic to most ears, but not to his. He needed her to keep her useless mouth shut so he could figure the situation out.

"Holison, what are we to do, put him out of his misery?" Fars, Blert’s toothless subordinate, wrinkled his nose with distaste, resting both hands on his hips and one on the hilt of his sword.

“They require medical aid,” Holison swallowed. “They asked—pleaded, rather—for assistance. But—”

"Our medic is presently incapacitated," Fars chimed in. "He was crawling on the ground uttering nonsense, the last I saw of him. Which was, I believe, an hour ago." 

"... He will get what he is due once he is sober," Blert said, then turned to Holison.

"We can send Melissa," Fars—curse his lineage—suggested. “Her connection to the Korpian order may yet prove useful. Though her talents are modest, they may suffice.”

"Sending Melissa to serve a stranger? Utter folly. We're not a fucking temple," Blert pushed Fars from his shoulder, sending the man a few steps away. “Inform them of our regrets and send them away, Holison.”

"Well..." Holison trailed off, catching Blert's attention. "The patient is unfortunately not someone to be dismissed, Commander, sir. The afflicted gentleman is none other than the eldest son of His Grace, Duke Kimberlye." Holison cringed.

A gasp rippled through the onlookers.

"No!" Two riders chorused.

Blert's eyes flew wide. "What—! Forget everything I just said, send Melissa, AT ONCE! If he dies?!" He yelled out, stepping towards camp. "In fact, I shall accompany her mys—!"

"Oh, we really are screwed..." Truman muttered to no one in particular, eyes wide as plates. "Melissa drank yesterday."

Silence descended.

"Huuh!? What do you mean, she drank?!" Blert's eyes were protruding out of his skull. "Is this true? HOLISON!" Blert fixed the lad with a deadly glare.

"YES, COMMANDER SIR, BLERT!" Holison snapped to attention. "Clergywoman Melissa was found unconscious an hour ago. She is awake now and has confessed, under duress, to the grave offense of drinking last night, SIR!"

A heavy silence fell over the group. The knights behind Holison exchanged pained looks, the riders near Truman whispered among themselves, and Truman felt lightheaded from the turmoil. Then, a whisper caught Blert's ear, pulling him from his thoughts of death.

Now Melissa's holy powers would no longer work, not until she repented at Suttone.

"Ow..." A feminine voice murmured.

Blert's gaze shifted to his prisoner, who observed the scene with a calculating expression, hand on her reddened jaw.

It’s because of her... His head throbbed. I’ll deal with that woman... in due time.

"Holison, escort her back to her carriage," he said, gesturing toward Penelope with a flick of his chin.

"Yes, sir!"

Holison grabbed the prisoner by the arm, but she shook him off with a sneer and started walking on her own, followed by the awkward little knight.

Once the two were out of earshot, Blert began.

"If word of last night’s merrymaking reaches the ears of the clergy, consider your lives forfeit." He pointed to the group. "I'll see it done myself. If the temple finds out about our clergywoman's little... Indiscretion." He whispered. "Your heads shall adorn spikes by week's end."

His would, too.

"FURTHERMORE!" Everyone listening jumped. "If the honourable Fourth Division of the Penalty Forces fails to save its most generous patron—the young Lord Robert Kimberlye—what do you think will become of us?!" His eyes wandered from one paling soldier to another. "The Korpians, no, the Edvins will make us wish for the sweet mercy of death!"

"The commander speaks true." one of the knights said grimly "It is fortunate the messenger did not accept Holison’s offer to accompany him to camp. The clergywoman was rather... vocal regarding her lapse."

"He invited him?" Fars quirked his lips in disbelieve.

"It is only proper," Truman nodded, making the rest of the party unsure whether or not he was being sarcastic.

"No matter," Blert said, "Holison, fetch the knights wandering the woods. Apprise them of the situation, and have them return post-haste to join in the final preparations for our departure.""

"Depart, sir?" Fars interjected. "But how are we to explain our failure to render assistance?"

Blert allowed a thin smile. "I know of quite the tragic solution."

The only excuse to explain the medic and cleric's absence, one not even a Kimberlye could complain about.

Blert's hand was already itching for it.

“As Holison dragged me along, I watched Blert’s fuming expression disappear behind us.”

Walking alongside the young knight, I wondered if I could milk this opportunity.

If I manage to save this nobleman's life, he could be useful in helping me get out of this situation!

... Or not?

I don’t know.

Would it be worth the stakes I’ll be facing once I revealed that this body’s owner, Penelope Ashdown, one of the most useless, dumbest figures in high society, could actually save a dying man using no holy powers?

What if they accuse me of using Chaos energy again? Worse yet, what if they call me a witch and burn me to death!?

I shivered at the mere thought of it...

I mean, let’s be real, I’m in a melodramatic novel.

I possessed a body that has me looking like I do perfume ads for fun. Would it be unrealistic for me to hope—no, to expect that the man I would save will turn out to be a hot dude with a dark past and daddy issues who’ll fall in love with me at first sight and pretend he actually fell in love with our banter or something as false?

Probably not.

Am I confident in my ability to save AND charm someone to save my life?

Absolutely not.

Then, it's decided.

I'm not even done with my residency yet. I wouldn't trust myself with 15 years of experience, let alone eight. What if the nobleman dies in my hands? I would be killed on the spot.

I shook my headd. It's decided. I won't do it.

Shoulders slightly hunching, I dragged my feet, following behind Holison.

Though slow-witted, this lad seems to possess some sort of charm to him.

He's the idiot who gave away the Prison Stones being a bluff last night, too.

"This is where I leave you, lady." He said, turning to me once he was in front of the carriage. "Oh!" He exclaimed, looking at a figure behind me. "Miss Alice!"

"Alice?" I threw a glance back, and there she was. An out-of-breath, monotone lady-in-waiting.

"You." Alice's nostrils were flaring. She stood a few feet away, having just come out of the forest.

"Oh, Jeremy, Alfons!" Holison called out, having caught sight of several other figures following in Alice's trail, also exiting the forest. It was a bunch of armored men, possibly less breathless than she was. "Have you heard—?" Holison ran up to his older colleagues and disappeared into their crowd.

My gaze fell back on Alice.

She didn't look so monotone, closing in on me with glaring pink eyes, rumpled hair, and untidy clothes. There was a handful of tree leaves stuck in her hair.

"Long time no shee," I smiled awkwardly, holding my jaw, a little flustered by her unexpected ability to... uh, human.

Alice's angry gaze broke away from me and landed on the knights who had left the forest moments after she did. Within half a second, she seemed to have remembered or realized something, because her stare softened and her aggressive steps halted.

She sighed and walked towards me.

"Miss Alice, be sure to shackle the criminal and put her in the carriage!" Holison ordered before walking away with his panicking colleagues.

"So," I turned to the lady-in-waiting. "Given your body language, I understand you were worried about me, Alice?" I threw her a smug look.

She was probably looking for her lady in the forest.

She might be disappointed I'm back. I say that's why she seemed mad at first.

"As a matter of course. I was looking for you out of obligation, Lady Penelope. But, I would not dare contradict your anticipations of my concern towards your well-being."

"So you don't care if I disappear or not," I stated.

"You misunderstand my words a great deal, my lady." She took the leaves out of her hair and fixed it straight.

Yeah, because you wish for me to disappear.

I gave her a knowing look.

How cruel is it that this world’s nobles can’t even go to jail alone, they have to drag their servants with them? Like, what punishment is it if they have someone they can order around to carry the burden with them?

Her eyes coldly stared me down, filled with a sense of challenge rather than condescendancy.

"Well, it's good I don't have to worry about you worrying about me, then." I nodded.

I never did. But at least now I never will.

She opened the door for me to get into the carriage, and left to get the shackles.

Once inside the carriage, I sat on the hard wooden seat and leaned back against the wall behind me. I pursed my lips and let my eyes wander around the vehicle's insides. Nothing was interesting to look at, the walls were wooden and old, the windows dirty and their glass was thick, with bars blocking the meadow's view.

But I kept looking around like this vehicle had the most intricate design I had ever seen... Because it felt too awkward to look at her.

The woman loudly sobbing, sitting in front of me.

"Oh, Korpa, forgive me!" She cried, sniffling gross snot in and out with each breath.

~

Thirty minutes later, she was still sobbing. Rocking back and forth with her dull blonde locks, wearing a blue cloak that covered her upper face

"Oh Korpa...!" Melissa, the sinful clergywoman cried into her palms.

"Shut the fuck up." Was all I wanted to ask.

But... I'm bad at kicking people who are down.

I recalled my mother's words. "Most people deserve to fall. Especially if they're above you. But kicking someone who's down isn't suited for the likes of us. We're too familiar with the feeling."

My mother's words echoed a little bit on the dark street, carried by the cold breeze that was slowly freezing us both to death. Our noses were red and our limbs were trembling. We were in a corner of the road, out of sight, wrapped in aluminum foil and waiting for the sun to rise.

"Ma, I'm bad at metaphors."

She turned to me with a roast, but then her expression softened at the sight of my clicking teeth, and so she continued, "People who are down means people... Well, people like you and I." She admitted, giving me her best smile, unaware that ten-year-old Penelope could see the heartbreak and anger behind her eyes.

We had just been kicked out of our home by a group of drug dealers as way to threaten my father. It was my first time seeing a gun.

Ah... The good old days.

"It was him..." Ma's voice traveled out from the pits of my mind, painting a new scene from my past. "Your fucking dad..."

As the memories arose, I began to breathe longer in an attempt to redirect my thoughts.

It's not my fault. It wasn't my fault.

But...

"Are you really okay with this?" A blank-faced man had asked. I clutched my throat, gasping for air. "Your mom died yesterday."

I looked up at the carriage's ceiling, knuckles whitening on the chair. 

It's okay. I just needed to breathe. Focus on now. Blert, the nobleman, the...

"Ugh..." I put a hand on my chest, frowning as I tried not to cry.

How can I be okay with this?

Ma is dead.

I'm dead.

What was the point in...

"I couldn't even run away properly..." I held my head, chest throbbing.

"My lady?" A voice pierced through the screeching in my head.