Under William’s expedient guidance, orders were sent to the responsible authorities and from them passed down to the population of Yalda. Cryers ran down the streets, drumming on large drums and tearing their lungs, announcing that the Duke himself was going to address the populace at noon the next day and allot punishments in retaliation for the committed wrongs. The city buzzed with fear, curiosity, and excitement as more and more rumors, one more incredulous than the other, began circulating again.

The Duchess was dead, killed by that magical black lightning, and now a purge of the Binshi would follow. The Duchess was actually alive but maimed and was now demanding blood compensation for the inflicted injuries. An army of the kush-turgans was riding towards the city in retaliation for their destroyed holy object, ready to slaughter any Limerian in their way. The Star-gazer had awakened and foretold doom and the death of the ducal house.

The rumors flew and the fears grew. The fact that all four city gates were tightly shut for a second day already, with the gray-clad Shadows under the Duke’s command sieving through the city, didn’t ease the tensions. Still, under the watchful eye and heavy spears of the town’s guards and the knights sent from Ildemar, not even a drunken squabble disturbed the ostensible peace.

The time of reckoning was closing in, gnawing on the minutes and seconds like a hungry beast. The pressure rose by the hour as day turned to night and back to day. Sleeplessness plagued many minds and anxiety gripped many hearts as the fear of the unknown reigned over Yalda. Yet the one person who knew exactly what was going to happen was even more restless.

Noah sat in a chair in his bedroom, his bed untouched, and peered out of the window at the graying sky and the only star still defying the onset of dawn. As tradition dictated, a convict was supposed to confess his sins and beg the gods for mercy before the sentence was carried out. He was supposed to prepare his soul before the ordeal so that although his earthly body would suffer, his spirit would rise above the pain and be cleansed…

The mere thought of praying for protection to anyone made Noah’s lips quiver momentarily in a deprecating smile. The Duke of Norden had to stay strong, never showing his fear to the common folk. He was the rock that had no weakness. The sword that cuts any enemy. The mountain that shields the blades of grass from the harsh winds. He was not a sniveling little man, crying and begging for mercy. Besides, who would listen to his prayers? He didn’t know the gods of his mother and the gods of his father… would have probably already forsaken him as a traitor of his kind. The one god that was left was the one he least had the right to request anything from. And yet… he was still just human.

“Mother Above,” Noah whispered with a gravelly voice, “I know I’ve failed you many times. But there are still things and people I need to protect. Mother Above, when today passes… let me see them again.”

The Morning Star hung in the mauve sky like a gleaming diamond, its silver light slowly fading with the arriving day.

Noah sighed and rubbed his face, listless laughter escaping his lips. He was acting like a child. It was a fake consolation to think that some deity would spend time on the plights of one mortal when whole wars didn’t move them. He was alone.

The chair creaked under Noah’s weight as he stood up and poked the dying embers in the fireplace. While he was busying himself, a polite knock announced the arrival of the morning servant, followed by hesitant steps and the quiet splashing of water. Steps Noah could easily recognize.

“Good morning, Jess,” he greeted the youth without lifting his head. “Leave the basin on the table before you flood the room.”

“Yes master,” came the muffled response.

Turning around, Noah measured up his squire. Disheveled curly hair fell in the boy’s eyes and the freckled face was slowly beginning to lose its baby-roundness. His arms had already outgrown the tunic’s sleeves by four fingers and his disproportionately large hands were now clumsily mixing soap for his shaving, adding in some unusual ingredients.

“One normally uses water to foam the soap and not tears, Jess.” Noah came closer and put a hand on the boy’s head. “What’s with you today?”

“How can you be so calm, master!?” The youth bit his lip and sniffled. “Even fifty lashes can maim a person. Three hundred…”

“You eavesdropped.”

“Don’t do it, master!” Jessup didn’t try to deny it and instead turned his wet pleading face to Noah. “There must be another way. I can’t… We can’t lose you like this!”

“You are speaking like I’m a dead man already.” Noah ruffled the boy’s messy hair. “Have more faith in your master. My hide is thick. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Jessup sniffled again but remained silent, using the soap bowl to stir out his frustration. As he then picked up the razor, Noah could clearly see his hands shaking and hurried to give the boy another task before he accidentally slit his throat.

“I’ll do the rest myself. You go on and prepare my clothes. Choose something simple but not too shabby.”

Still keeping his silence, Jessup nodded and began rummaging through the crates and drawers. By the time Noah finished shaving, his attire was already prepared - a black sleeveless doublet with dark-red embroidery, a black shirt of thinly woven cotton, a pair of trousers, and a short midnight-blue cape with the ducal crest.

Eyeing the clothes, Noah nodded in appreciation and began dressing up with Jessup's help, neither of them uttering a word the whole time.

“Should I bring breakfast?” asked the boy quietly while tying the last laces.

“Better not. A cup of honey milk would be enough.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Jessup darted out, leaving Noah alone with his thoughts. He went to a small chest near his bed. Feeling like a fraud, he took out a vial filled with muddy liquid, containing what the locals called bezbolek. His face shriveled as he downed it, the potion’s taste reflective of its looks. According to Baba Marishka, it would take a few minutes for the numbness to set in and it would last for about a day. The Binshi used the bezbolek when going into battle to dull pain, with its small drawback being that when the potion’s effects wore off, the user’s body would start cramping for an hour or two, rendering them completely helpless. Still, the potion had the added effect of enhancing the rest of one’s senses and right now Noah’s sensitive ears could hear a few sets of steps approaching even before the knock landed on his door.

Neli and Kash-baba entered the room after Jessup, their expressions just as gloomy as the boy’s. Giving Noah a tight hug, Neli began to straighten some non-existent creases in his attire. Next to her, Kash-baba sighed and clicked her tongue.

“Noble foolish cub.”

“But I found a solution, baba.”

“I thought you wanted to keep the child out of the kush-turgans’ hands. If you die today, the problem would be nonexistent.”

“How is Shana doing?” Noah let the old shaman’s words glide past his ears.

“Her body is fine but she has closed herself to the world. And until we know what Akh-Moren did it would be difficult to come through to her.”

“Still, thank you for your effort, baba.” Noah bowed deeply before the woman. “Please, look after Shana while I’m gone.”

“I had no intention to bear witness to your self-mutilation anyway. My granddaughter will be representing me.”

“Thank you.” He turned to Neli and gave her a final hug. “You stay here too, mother. I don’t want you to see…”

“Ah, shekri! My sweet boy!” Neli cupped his face and pressed her forehead against his. “My foolish little prince! Promise me you’ll come back.”

Noah didn’t answer. He kissed her cheeks and stepped back. Grabbing the cup from Jessup’s hand, he drank it in three big gulps and then walked briskly out of the room. At the entrance to his chambers stood Duncan and William, who he greeted curtly. The three prepared to set out still discussing the final points of their plan when Jessup’s voice reached them.

“Should I inform the Duchess?”

Noah stiffened. Without turning back, he replied:

“Let her rest. There is no need to burden her with this matter.”

With that, the three knights quickly disappeared down the next flight of stairs that would lead them to the courtyard.

Jessup ran towards the window and glued his face on the faceted glass. In a few minutes, he saw his elders exiting the building and making their way towards the game master’s quarters where Andrash and his children resided. The young squire bit his lips. Why was his master so stubborn? Why was everyone so stubborn? Why was shedding blood the only way to prevent upheaval? His eyes stung, but all of a sudden, his mind became crystal clear. There was someone who would listen!

Spinning around, the youth bolted out of the room, followed by Neli’s surprised shout.

***

Lorelei sat on the floor before the booming hearth huddled in a blanket but her body shivered despite the heat, the chill lingering deep in her bones like a sleeping beast. Whenever she closed her eyes, the cold darkness of the sea engulfed and drowned her. Her fingers cupped the steaming tea and she breathed in the sweet aroma of linden and hypericum, trying to scramble some much-needed peace. Unfortunately, there was more than her own plight weighing on her shoulders.

“You should be with your family, Rish,” she spoke in a low voice, throwing a side glance at her friend. “I can manage without you.”

“I… can’t.” The young Binshi sat on the carpet next to her, hunched down and hugging her knees. “I can’t see Saya crying like this and Gerash… with that thing on his chest…”

She remained silent for a while before adding even quieter:

“Even more… I can’t face Rasha. I… didn’t even feel she was in danger. I always feel when something is wrong with her. Now… When I saw her and aunty, and uncle - unconscious and under a hex - I was… surprised. Terrified! I didn’t sense how or when Rasha was harmed.” Rish wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, Lorelei. I’m pathetic. But… guarding you is the only thing keeping me running.”

“And I’m happy to have you by my side.” Lorelei threw the end of her blanket around her friend’s shoulders and huddled closer to her. “Heads up. I’m sure that Gregor will be better in no time. And both you and Rasha have been through a lot. After some rest, you will be back like you used to be.”

“Now I feel even worse. It was my job to look after you and lift your spirits.”

“Too much uplifting and my spirit might ascend.”

Lorelei tried to sound cheerful but the moment the words left her mouth, she shuddered. This was not something she could afford to joke about. She tried to shake the troubling thought away and was about to change the topic when a loud crash and shouts came from the anteroom.

Rish sprang up, blades in hand, and barred the way between her mistress and the door. Over the drumming of her heart, Lorelei recognized the muffled voices of Milly, Sir Lucas, and Jessup.

“H-Heavens! What has gotten into you?”

“Let me through! I have to talk with the Duchess!”

“Damn it, Jessup, stop this! The Duke’s orders are clear. The lady needs rest.”

“To hell with your orders! Let me through!”

“Calm down! Don’t make me hurt you!”

A slew of loud curses followed up, accompanied by further sounds of struggle.

Exchanging confused looks, Rish and Lorelei inched towards the door, the young warrior taking the lead with her weapons still ready for surprise attacks. As they entered the anteroom, the two were met with an incredible scene. Milly, holding a tablet before her chest like a shield, hoovered over two bodies struggling on the carpet. With bloodied nose and fierce expression, Sir Lucas was pressing the enraged and disheveled Jessup on the ground, bending his right arm behind his back.

“What’s going on!?” Lorelei’s demanding voice gathered their attention.

“My lady,” Sir Lucas huffed and tried to hold the struggling boy down, “I’m sorry for the distur-”

“My lady!” Jessup twisted his neck to look at Lorelei, his face - solemn and pale. “My lady, please help! Please, save the Duke!”