Chapter 15: Terms and Conditions

It was morning.

Sunlight peeked through the wooden blinds. The sound of birds and chatter from the streets below filled the room. Alexia sat up on the bed, blinking slowly.

Her sword rested beside the pillow, and her armor was still on.

“Another morning,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. She looked down at herself. “I forgot to take this off when me and Lysandros got here. Oh boy, it's been a while since I've fought with that much intensity. That fight was really tiring.”

The door suddenly slammed open.

Lysandros burst in, holding one hand up, other holding his shovel. “Good morning! The sun is shining, I’m starving, and I’m—”

“Hey!” Alexia snapped. “Didn’t I just tell you yesterday to knock first?!”

“Ohhh! My bad, my bad!” Lysandros waved his hands. “A thousand apologies! I swear by the holy goats of the western hills, I shall never barge in again! May my shovel turn into a spoon if I do it again! Forgive me, noble swordswoman!”

Alexia stood, sighing, and strapped her sword to her hip. “So? Ready for today?”

“Absolutely!” Lysandros grinned. “But first...”

Grrrrruuummble.

His stomach let out a loud growl.

Alexia raised a brow.

“Alright, alright. Here.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a single gold coin, and lightly tossed it to him.

Lysandros caught it like it was treasure from the gods.

“One gold coin!” he shouted. “Ohhh! My whispers! Never had this much in my life! This shines brighter than my future! I can buy food! A coat! A dream! I’ll call this coin ‘Hope.’ Wait—”

He paused, squinting at it.

“Only one gold coin?!” he cried. “We got twenty total! Twenty! And I only get one?! That’s five percent, Alexia! FIVE! That’s not even enough to bribe a rat!”

Alexia crossed her arms. “I’m keeping the rest in my purse so it doesn’t get spent on useless things.”

Lysandros blinked. Then remembered. “…Oh. The rug. That fake magic rug. Right.”

Alexia nodded, turning toward the window. “Exactly.”

“…Okay.” He slumped for a second, then perked back up. “Well, I’ll buy food! Maybe some clothes! A small rug! Oh—what did you want again?”

“Cooked steak,” she said. “I’ll eat it on the way to Myrrha’s house. Then some foods that you are craving.”

“Got it!”

Lysandros ran out, slamming the door behind him.

Downstairs, the old innkeeper blinked as the young man sprinted past.

“Come back again—woah, he runs fast. What a kid.”

Back upstairs, Alexia stood by the window.

She watched the street. Families walked their children. Kids laughed and played. Farmers and merchants passed by, carrying baskets, crates, and stories.

The world kept moving.

Alexia narrowed her eyes.

“Can we even trust her?” she whispered.

— • — • —

The sun was still rising.

Myrrha stood on the balcony of her two-storey house, a leather-bound book open in one hand, a dark feathered quill in the other. Below her, in the wide grassy yard, a group of construction men were finishing up the wall that had been shattered the night before.

The men wore thick wool tunics, most of them gray or brown, with leather belts that held pouches or small tools. Some had gloves, some didn't. Their boots were covered in dried mud and bits of straw. A few wore metal caps, though they were dented and clearly used more for sunshade than protection. One man lifted a wooden beam with the help of two others. Another hammered a flat nail into a plank with a heavy iron mallet. Nearby, a younger worker mixed mortar in a stone bowl using a long paddle. The smell of earth, sweat, and dust floated in the air.

Myrrha scribbled down notes in her book, standing upright, watching closely.

“Alexia Lethiane and that man,” she muttered to herself, “the same age as I am. Both Fractureborns.”

She paused, tapping her chin with the quill.

“Never in my life did I think I’d end up working with others like me. But maybe this time, it’s worth the try. After all, the more Fractures, the easier the tasks. Right?”

She kept writing, but her eyes narrowed.

“No, that depends. It depends on how well the Fractureborn can use their Fracture. Some break after one use. Others don’t even understand theirs.”

Her voice turned quiet, thoughtful.

“But in my years hiding as an assassin, working alone, I’ve learned a lot. About Fractures. About Fractureborns. And maybe it’s finally time to share what I know. Not to the public, no. But maybe with others like me. Not just anyone, though. Only the ones with the same goal.”

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Her writing slowed.

“Finding out the reason behind the kidnappings.”

She looked at the workers again.

“Those two men who came here last night, the ones Alexia and he killed, they didn’t look like nobles. Not priests either. Which already tells me something. These kidnappers—they aren’t just from one place. And the Fractureborns being taken, they’re from different lands. Just like us.”

She closed the book with a soft thud.

“It’ll be hard to understand it all. But it’s better to try than to live with something inside you and never know why.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking to no one.

“Better to seek truth than rot in mystery.”

One of the men below called out, “Hey, ma’am! We’ve finished the wall. All patched up. That’ll be fifteen gold coins total—for the labor and materials.”

Myrrha didn’t answer right away. She placed her quill inside the book and shut it.

“Alright,” she said calmly. “Wait there.”

She turned and stepped back into her room. The wood creaked under her feet as she went to the corner chest. She opened it.

Inside, dozens of gold coins shimmered, catching the morning light. She took fifteen of them, placed them into a small leather purse, and tied the string tight.

She walked out with the purse in one hand, her book tucked under her arm. Down the stairs. Past the dining area. Through the quiet hallway. To the main door.

She stepped outside and tossed the purse toward the worker.

He caught it with both hands. “Thank you, ma’am! We’ll be on our way now.”

The men began gathering their tools—wooden hammers, buckets, ropes, brushes caked with dry lime. They loaded up their wagon and rolled it away, out the gate.

Myrrha stood still. She looked up at the sky, the sun now fully above the rooftops.

“What happened to them now?” she whispered, thinking of Alexia and Lysandros.

She sighed and shook her head slightly. “But oh well. It’s too early to overthink these things. Maybe they’re just enjoying their reward. Twenty gold coins can make a person forget time.”

Just as the construction men disappeared down the road, Myrrha looked back at the gate.

And there they were.

Alexia and Lysandros stood outside, both holding small paper bags of food.

Myrrha smiled.

She raised her voice. “Come in!”

They opened the gate, stepped inside, and closed it behind them.

The three of them were together again. But now, the real work would begin.

Alexia was the first to speak.

“We brought breakfast,” she said, lifting the small paper bag. “Well, it’s more like bread and cheese, but it’s warm.”

Lysandros grinned and held up his bag too. “I also grabbed some honey rolls. Figured we’d need something sweet before diving back into nightmares.”

Myrrha nodded once, then stepped aside so they could enter the house. Her eyes lingered on them—not coldly, just carefully. She had always watched people that way.

Inside, the air smelled like old paper, ink, and dried herbs. Sunlight touched the wooden floor through the open windows. The walls were lined with bookshelves. Some shelves were neat. Others were messy, with papers half-folded and corners poking out like they were trying to escape.

They sat down around a short, square table in the main room.

Alexia took a bite of her bread, chewing slowly.

“So,” she said with her mouth half-full, “have you already decided whether or not we’ll work together?”

Lysandros tore off a chunk of his honey roll with his teeth.

“I bet she is,” he said, grinning. “After all, nobles with too much money get bored, right? They probably sit in their big lonely chairs in fancy robes, sipping bitter wine and talking to their houseplants like, ‘Tell me, dear fern, what should I do today?’ Then suddenly they remember—oh! There are Fractureborns out there, might as well collect a few like stray cats. Give them bread, throw some gold at their faces, maybe even let them sleep indoors.”

Neither Myrrha nor Alexia reacted. Myrrha calmly opened her book and placed it on the table in front of her. Alexia kept chewing like nothing happened.

Lysandros blinked. “Rough crowd.”

Myrrha stared at a page she had already written on.

“Yes,” she said plainly. “But only under one condition.”

Alexia, still chewing, raised an eyebrow.

“What condition?”

“You two,” Myrrha said, tapping the page with her quill, “will work under me.”

Lysandros leaned back, eyebrows up.

“Whoa. Extreme kink right there. Do you want us both to kneel for you? Should I wear something silky while Alexia bows beside me? Or is this more of a ‘call me mistress’ type of command? Because listen—I’m flexible, but I draw the line at wearing bells.”

Alexia, sitting beside him, smacked him hard in the chest with the back of her hand.

“Hey! Okay! My bad, my bad!” Lysandros laughed, holding his chest like she broke his ribs. “I was just being supportive of her leadership style!”

Alexia glared. “I just told you yesterday to stop saying weird things!”

“I know, I know,” Lysandros groaned dramatically. “But the weird things keep me charming. Without them, I’m just a tall guy who digs holes and eats too much.”

Myrrha gave a soft, rare laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it was real. The kind of laugh that slipped out before she could stop it. She looked at the two of them, like watching two younger siblings bicker over a chair.

“So,” she said again, voice lighter now, “are you two going to work under me?”

Alexia didn’t answer right away. She leaned back slightly and stared at the floor, thinking. Lysandros, for once, stayed quiet. He looked at her too, serious now.

Alexia spoke slowly. “What are we in for?”

Myrrha nodded, ready. “Good question. First, you both get to live upstairs. I have two guest rooms. One for each of you. Second, all necessities—food, clothes, armor, weapons, water—will be covered with my coins. As long as you both agree to work for me, under me, and no one else.”

Lysandros’ eyes widened. “What in the name of every kingdom, you are rich!”

He turned to Alexia, eyes sparkling. “Did you hear that? It’s like we’re in a fairy tale. Free rooms, free food, someone else paying the bills? I haven’t even had a mattress in weeks. I’ve been sleeping on grass like a glorified sheep.”

But Alexia didn’t smile. She was still thinking. Serious.

Myrrha noticed.

“So,” she said, quiet but firm, “are you in?”

Alexia looked up. “That’s only the benefits. But does working for you mean we’ll share information openly? No secrets? Like how you didn’t tell us yesterday that the stalkers we’d face were Fractureborns?”

Myrrha tilted her head slightly. A short chuckle escaped her lips, almost like approval.

“What can I say, you really are smart, aren’t you, Lethiane?”

“But?” Alexia pressed.

“But,” Myrrha said, “I can’t promise I’ll tell you everything. Only almost all of it.”

Alexia nodded slowly. “Hmm. That seems enough. You said you were an undercover assassin, right?”

“Yes.”

As they talked, Lysandros kept munching on his food, eyes going back and forth between the two of them like a child watching adults argue about bedtime.

Alexia turned back to Myrrha. “Then your information will be useful. We’ll take that.”

“Then I guess we’re on the same page.”

Myrrha leaned back slightly in her chair.

“So? Will you work for me? It’s not a hard question. Seems favorable and beneficial for both of you. But fine. I’ll give you time to think about it.”

Lysandros wiped crumbs from his mouth.

“Hey, Alexia,” he said, smiling, “it doesn’t sound bad at all. Three Fractureborns, working together with the same goal. It sounds cool. It sounds safe. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Alexia glanced at him, then back at Myrrha. There was something on her mind.

“Palignōsis, was it?”

Myrrha shook her head lightly. “Just call me by my first name. And I’ll call you by yours, Lethiane.”

Alexia nodded. “Myrrha, then I guess we’ll be working together from now on.”

Myrrha smiled, just a little. It was the closest she had come to being openly warm.

“It’ll be nice to work with you, Alexia. And—” she turned to Lysandros, still chewing, “your name?”

Lysandros swallowed his last bite. “Lysandros Damarchos. From Riverbend Village.”

“Ohh,” Myrrha said, interested. “Riverbend, you say?”

“Yeah. Lived there as a kid. Became a traveler. Make money digging graves. Nothing too exciting.”

“Interesting,” Myrrha said, leaning back. “We’ve got quite the trio. A noble—me. A warrior—you,” she looked at Alexia. “And a villager—you,” she added, pointing at Lysandros.

Lysandros gasped, hand on his heart.

“Wow. I don’t even know if that’s a compliment or an insult. You just said your names like some highborn titles and then hit me with ‘villager’ like I’m the random farmer that shows up to die in chapter one.”

Alexia, who usually stayed serious, burst out laughing. Myrrha followed with a light laugh of her own.

Lysandros looked at them, confused.

“What? What’s so funny?!”