I was carried to a room that was a short walk down one flight of stairs and through two hallways. I wanted to thank Henrietta, ask her why she did it, but my paralysis didn't wear off until a while after I was brought to the room which held the children. By then Henrietta had already locked the door and was long gone.

I decided to take the pieces of advice she gave me on our brief trip: 'Only refer to her as Mistress and only speak when spoken to. If you get on her bad side try showering her with compliments, it's gotten me out of a couple of precarious situations.' There was no hope of me challenging the Mistress again as I was. Temporary cooperation was my only choice for now.

The relief and excitement on the children's faces when they saw the little one return unharmed was proof that I'd made the right choice coming here. There were fifteen kids in total, though calling them kids was a little strange when one of them was a boy only a year younger than me and two were thirteen-year-old girls.

If nothing else the Mistress honoured her word. Each child had ill-fitting but nice clothes and there were snacks of bread and fruit that sat on the centre table. The room itself was back to normal in terms of decor, there wasn't a single red cloth or decoration in sight.

Along the walls were bunk beds and there were fabric dividers between them for privacy. The room was even lit by the familiar blue glow of crystals, probably because we couldn't be trusted with fire-based lighting.

When the paralysis finally wore off I was able to stretch and properly greet them all. Every single one of them had clean bandages on both hands where their thumbs were removed. It was one of the more disgusting acts someone could perform. Even if they got an excellent Animus-Blade at the rite they would have a hard time wielding it to its full potential now. They were all crippled just to send me a message. I was too hot-headed. From now on I needed to think more about how my actions would harm them in the future. Attacking the Mistress was stupid of me, the child was going to pay dearly for my actions if Henrietta didn't buy me time.

Amongst the kids, opinions were split between elder and younger. Most of the kids too young to properly understand the magnitude of their injuries were happy to have full bellies, warmth and apparent safety all for the cost of a finger. Only a couple had parents and a lot of them had suffered all sorts of unspeakable abuse, so most of them had no attachment to the slums. The older ones knew their loss well. The three oldest kids had asked to privately speak with me.

"What a load of crap."

The pale boy lamented, he spoke quietly to not upset the young ones. His name was Art, he was slightly taller than me and had long jet black hair and blue eyes. We didn't speak much in the slums, he used to just watch me sing from a distance and would leave when I started having conversations.

"One more year, that's all I needed. Do you have any clue what I've done just to survive until now? No, because you're as thick as the mud you eat you hick. They said that this is my life now, even if I beat you to a pulp it wouldn't do anything except get me killed. Why couldn't you have just died face down in a ditch somewhere far away?"

He spoke fast, his words a constant barrage of hate.

"This isn't my fault but I–“

"Then whose is it? I've heard them speaking and look at you!"

He grabbed my hand and yanked it in front of my face.

"Why are you fine? Why are you the only one? It looks like I'm blaming exactly the right person."

The same as when I spoke with the parents, all I could do was give hollow promises and empty platitudes,

"I came here to buy you guys time, I can find a way to get all of you out. I know it. Just please work with me, give me some time."

"And then what? Will I be healed? Can you fix me or are you just going to pretend that everything will be fine you bit–"

He bit his tongue and ground his teeth before retreating into himself,

"You're not worth my breath."

He didn't believe a word I spoke and I couldn't give him his thumbs back, his face didn't try to hide how he felt but he held back for now.

He brought up a good point: What would happen after I freed them? They go back to living in filth and poverty with an extra disability? The Mistress' words were poison, I knew that. But they seeped into my mind, corrupting every thought they encountered. If I was really sorry wouldn't I be trying to give them the highest quality of life possible? Was I doing what was best for them or was I just trying to feel better about myself? Was I being selfish? Just my nights and my–

"Art, apologise to the Angel right now."

Cala demanded.

"Make me."

Exa walked up and poked Art's head repeatedly. The two girls were near identical twins. The only differences that I could notice were that Exa's eyes were bigger than normal and she was a mute. The duo were a little on the shorter side and had medium length brown hair and brown eyes, just like most of the people in the dwelling they had very pale skin.

"If the Angel says it'll be fine, then we'll trust her right?"

Exa nodded in response to her sister but Art stayed silent under the continuing barrage of pokes.

"Could you not call me 'the Angel'? Call me Joan or Jo. It's too hard to live up to that nickname."

I tried to play it off jokingly but the name irked me more than I let on. Angels were the forge mothers' messengers. The nickname came from a little one who overheard an adult saying 'She has the voice of an angel.' Most slum folks knew who was being referenced if someone mentioned the angel, though mercifully few people openly said it when they knew my name.

"We like Angel better."

Exa was enthusiastically nodding off to the side, still poking away. I was slightly scared that she might be struck by Art but he ignored her completely.

"It's going to be confusing, just use Joan please."

Exa exaggeratedly looked around using her hands to imitate glasses while Cala spoke,

"We don't know who this 'Joan' is, Angel but we'll keep an eye out."

Cala was almost like a statue with how little she moved, it was a strange experience watching the twins act in tandem. It was probably better to think of the angel thing as proof of their faith in me. People seemed allergic to using my name and I was starting to get used to it.

As long as I stayed out of trouble these guys were safe. Ten months was plenty to formulate an escape. If I spent at least four or five months securing an escape route and safe haven, that should be more than enough time for the kids to get to a healthy weight. I didn't know how long it took to recover from their level of starvation but about a third of a year felt like it was good enough.

If I stayed here they wouldn't need to worry about starvation again or was sacrificing myself for them just a self-serving fantasy? The rancid question nagged at the back of my mind but I couldn't refute it. I just did my best to bury it.

To keep their morale high I sang for them as usual. I liked watching the enthralled faces of the children as I performed, plus it helped to keep me distracted. After a month and a bit of hearing my limited songs, many of them knew enough of my material to join in. During my performances, I would always circle back to my favourite nursery rhyme at least once.

"Clinkity clank, clunkity clink,

Lord Ferron mines the ore.

Clinkity clank, clunkity clink,

Lord Ferron mines the ore.

He piles it high,

Beyond the sky,

Lord Ferron mines the ore.

Scritchity scratch, Scrutchity scritch,

Lord Qualus checks the ore.

Scritchity scratch, Scrutchity scritch,

Lord Qualus checks the ore.

He checks it out,

So there's no doubt,

Lord Qualus checks the ore.

We've just started the fun,

We're not yet done,

Onto the shaping we go!

Blibbity blab, blubbity blib,

Lord Therma melts the ore.

Blibbity blab, blubbity blib,

Lord Therma melts the ore.

He melts it good,

Just like he should,

Lord Therma melts the ore.

Dinkity dank, dunkity dink,

Lord Form–"

Clack! The distinct sound of the door unlocking cut our song short. As every head turned to look at the intruder.

"Uh, little Rose? Is little Rose here?"

Two unknown women stood in the doorway, they both wore the same red robes as the Mistress and her harem, one was scarily tall and had to duck to enter, while the other seemed like the type of person you could pass on the street without a second thought.

The little ones crowded around me for comfort, some started crying while the braver ones buried their faces in my dress or hid behind me. Meanwhile, Art, Cala and Exa were on guard. Henrietta never made the kids quake in fear as these two did. Judging by the hostile reactions I could only assume that these women were kidnappers or the ones who sliced off thumbs. Either way, I had no desire to leave them alone with the kids.

"Ah, that's her over there! Little Rose! That's you right? You've still got your thumbs."

The average one wiggled her thumbs while grinning at me which caused the kids that saw it to break down. I committed her forgettable face to memory. If I was ever in a position to dish out revenge she would be right near the top of the list.

As angry as the older trio were, they knew that they were powerless, still, they kept themselves between the little ones and the threat. The old me wouldn't have been able to show the same bravery as them. I had immense respect for those with the strength of character to stand up for what they believed.

"Little Rose, Lady Olma here will be your tutor from now on. She'll fix you up. Make you look less… poor. Then it's off to the training hall, you're one of us now. Oh and don't worry, I'll look after the munchkins while you're away. Behave yourself!"

I wanted to run up and knock her lights out but the repercussions wouldn't be worth it. So I decided to double-check my suspicions,

"Don't hurt them."

I said while making direct eye contact. Ms Average didn't retreat from my gaze, she matched it.

"Well that all depends on you doesn't it?"

She said gleefully while snipping the air with two fingers. Up until now the evil actions I had seen were in service of a goal, maybe not a good or logical goal but a goal nonetheless. But she just appeared to be pure evil, she took a twisted pride in letting me know her intentions. If she was remorseful or even just professional and serious then maybe I could have understood her actions. After all, the Mistress didn't hesitate to punish those that defied her but Ms Average looked like the type of person that just enjoyed causing pain.

"I don't want you anywhere near the kids, I'll take you as my tutor instead."

Ms average raised her eyebrows but maintained her giggly persona,

"That's not how this works and even if it was, you don't want Olma here. Trust me. Unless you're okay with all the girls being a little black and blue when you get back. In that case I wouldn't mind swapping."