Chapter 20: And Then, an Idea

The dining area was warm with candlelight and the soft crackle from a nearby hearth. Myrrha’s home, quiet and simple, smelled like herbs and roast meat. Plates clinked lightly as they dug in.

Lysandros had both cheeks puffed up with food like a chipmunk storing for winter.

“Urhm! Urhm! Delicious!! Yummy!” he mumbled, barely chewing.

Alexia leaned over with narrowed eyes. “Hey. Manners. You’re not five.”

Lysandros glanced at her and kept chewing. “Can’t help it. My mouth moves faster than my brain.”

Myrrha, sitting across from them, calmly sliced a piece of chicken while her eyes skimmed a book lying open beside her plate. “It’s okay. It’s just the three of us here. No need to be proper.”

Lysandros swallowed triumphantly. “See?! Even the boss said it’s fine. Boss beats Bully. That’s the rule! And besides, manners don’t taste as good as food, you know? They’re like… seasoning you pretend to sprinkle on but actually forget. And do you know what happens when I try to eat politely? My stomach cries. It whimpers. It says, ‘Why are we pretending to be nobles? We are not nobles! We are hungry commoners!’”

Alexia sighed and rolled her eyes without a word.

Myrrha smiled faintly, still reading. “So, how’s the training going? Especially you,” she looked at Alexia briefly, “the side effects not kicking in too early now?”

Alexia wiped her mouth gently with a cloth. “Not yet. I’m getting better at keeping control. I’ve been working on cutting it off before the fading starts.”

“That’s good.” Myrrha nodded.

Lysandros, mouth full again, said through half-chewed veggies, “As for me, well, same old same old. I think my Fracture’s just lazy. Or maybe I’m lazy. Or maybe both of us are lazy and we made a secret pact behind my back.”

Myrrha paused midbite. She put her utensils down and folded her hands, thoughtful. “Hmm. A plateau, maybe.”

Lysandros blinked. “Pl-pla-platoon? Plateen? What is that? Is that some kind of cooking style?”

Alexia didn’t even look up. “Plateau, idiot.”

“Ohhh.” Lysandros looked thoughtful for about two seconds. “Wait. What?”

“Plateau,” Myrrha repeated calmly, “means you’ve reached a flat line in growth. You’re not going forward or backward. Just stuck.”

Lysandros frowned and slowly put down his fork. “Wait. Wait wait wait. So you’re telling me I’ve become… the soggy bread of Fractureborns? No sauce? No spice? No crust?”

Alexia gave him a long stare, one eyebrow rising like a threat. He froze.

“Okay, okay, my bad.” He gave her an awkward grin and went back to nibbling.

Alexia turned back to Myrrha. “How can you tell though? It’s not like we have a level chart floating above our heads.”

Myrrha tilted her head slightly and gave a small shrug. “Experience. Curiosity. And… being a rat.”

Lysandros dropped his fork. “Hey! Don’t say disgusting words while I’m trying to enjoy my sacred roast chicken!”

Myrrha raised an amused brow. “I meant the curious kind. The sneaky one. The one who digs and scratches where people tell them not to.”

Alexia looked at him again, this time with silent judgment sharp as her dagger.

Lysandros shrank a little in his seat. “Okay okay. I'm shutting up.”

Myrrha sipped her wine slowly. “As I was saying, my Fracture, it lets me control only one person or animal at a time. Only if I write on their skin. That’s my limit. No matter how many years I train or how hard I push—it stays one. That’s the edge of what my Fracture allows. That’s the plateau.”

Alexia listened with interest now, her food forgotten. “So there’s no way to go beyond that? Ever?”

“I tried everything,” Myrrha said softly. “Wrote bigger words. Carved deeper lines. Used stronger ink. Tried more pain. But no matter what I did, one was always the limit. So I changed my focus. Not on making it stronger, but smarter.”

Lysandros leaned forward suddenly with wide eyes. “OH! I GET IT NOW! So you’re saying I’m like Tier II right?! Like, two versions of me! I can summon Two Lysandroses! And that’s the limit! It can’t go to three! Can’t go down to one! Two Lysandroses always equals Lysandros squared! Hah!”

The room fell dead quiet.

Myrrha blinked.

Alexia stared.

Even the dead, cooked chicken seemed confused.

“…What?” Alexia asked flatly.

Lysandros looked around. “What? That makes sense, right? Mathematically? Spiritually? Digestively?”

“No,” Myrrha said plainly.

Alexia picked up her spoon and tapped it once, slowly, against her plate.

Lysandros straightened up and held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Forget I said anything. Just let me eat my plateau in peace.”

Myrrha smiled faintly again. “We’ll figure it out. For now, just eat.”

— • — • —

The lanterns hanging from the ceiling gave off a soft, orange glow that swayed gently with the breeze slipping through the window. Shadows danced against the stone walls, and the smell of soap and herbs lingered in the warm air.

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Myrrha stood quietly at the basin, sleeves rolled up, washing the dishes from their meal. The soft sounds of water flowing, plates clinking, and soap lathering filled the kitchen, mixing with the distant chirps of insects from the wide lawn outside.

Alexia leaned on the side of a wooden shelf where the cleaned plates were kept. Her arms were folded, her eyes unfocused, staring at the wooden beams above as if deep in thought.

It was quiet for a while.

Then Myrrha glanced over. Her hands didn’t stop scrubbing, but her tone was calm.

“Hmm? What is it?”

Alexia took a slow breath. “I’ve been thinking about the knights patrolling both the southern and northern districts.”

Myrrha gave a short hum, rinsing off the plate in her hands. “Ahh, that. That’s been on my mind lately too.”

Alexia shifted her stance a little. “What do you think about it? I mean, despite being a swordswoman, I’m still a commoner. Not a noble. Do you think you could find anything out about it? Maybe through noble connections? Since nobles are ranked third under the law and all that.”

She paused. “Sorry if I’m wrong. I’ve never really studied the law. But from where I stand, I can’t just go around asking questions to people I don’t know. Especially about rumors. If I press too hard, people might get suspicious. Or worse—start to hate us even more.”

She looked down for a moment.

“After all, we only have one thing tying us together. We’re Fractureborn.”

Myrrha finished cleaning a plate, lifted it carefully, and placed it into the shelf next to Alexia.

“Excuse me.”

Alexia moved aside slightly, watching as the plate settled into place.

Myrrha’s voice lowered slightly. “I’ve thought about all of that too. But even if I’m a noble by blood, I’m still a Fractureborn, just like you. The only difference is, nobody knows.”

Alexia blinked. “Nobody knows you are?”

“No one,” Myrrha said simply. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

Alexia let out a short breath. “You really are good at hiding things.”

Myrrha gave a slight smile. "I've trained myself to work in the shadows. To strike when no one expects it.”

She dried her hands slowly, then leaned her hip against the table. Her voice turned more serious.

“But the reason I don’t use my title to ask about the knights is simple. If I start pulling on the wrong thread, even by accident, it could risk exposing me. Even if the risk is small, it’s still there. And I can’t afford that.”

“I’ve been going out every day,” she continued, “listening to anyone who talks too much, trying to piece things together. So far, thirteen Fractureborns have been kidnapped this year.”

Alexia’s brows lifted. “Thirteen, huh?”

Myrrha nodded. “That’s just what I’ve confirmed. I’ve been wondering if the kidnappers are going after specific kinds of Fractures. Like one of each type.”

Before she could say more, Alexia’s eyes sharpened.

“You mean the fourteen Fracture types?”

“Bingo,” Myrrha said, tapping her chin with her finger. “If that’s true, then maybe there’s just one left—”

“No,” Alexia said quickly. “That could be true, but the chances are low. We don’t even know if this is only happening here. There could be kidnappings in other places too. Like the Kingdom of Choton. You've been into multiple places, right? When you were undercover?”

Myrrha pinched her chin and nodded slowly. “Oh. You could be right.”

Alexia tilted her head slightly. “Still, what bothers me is what you said before. Why do they kill some, but kidnap others alive? Does it depende on the kidnappers' mood if the fractureborns they are attempting to kidnap, sort of, fights back?”

Myrrha frowned, crossing her arms now. “That’s what we have to figure out. But either way, I can’t directly ask the knights why they’re patrolling. That’s not how it works. The knights follow orders. And it’s possible those orders are coming from the priests.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And if the priests are involved, then it’s even more dangerous. I’d rather not risk being known. If word got out, I wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without eyes on my back.”

Alexia, still calm, said, “The priests aren’t the ones in command.”

Myrrha turned her head sharply, surprised. “How do you know?”

“I was at the Cradle one day with Lysandros,” Alexia explained. “Used my fracture. We made ourselves unnoticeable from the priests, just for a bit. Also used my fracture eavesdrop. The priests were all there unexpectedly. We thought it was strange, so we stuck around. They were talking over drinks, relaxed. And it turns out—they weren’t the ones giving the patrol orders.”

Myrrha’s lips parted slightly. “Then… it’s Princess Ismene.”

Alexia nodded. “Yes.”

Myrrha raised an eyebrow slightly, her tone shifting just enough to tease.

“You know, it’s possible she’s ordering the knights to protect us Fractureborns. Quietly. Lowkey, like you’d say. Maybe she just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Alexia blinked, confused.

Myrrha smirked, playful now. “After all, she does adore you.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes a little. “What!?”

“You used to serve the royal family, remember?” Myrrha tapped her chin dramatically. “The loyal sword-girl, guarding the palace halls, probably glancing at little Ismene while she played with dolls or read her boring little books.”

Alexia sighed. “She wasn’t like that.”

“Ohh, come on,” Myrrha leaned back against the counter, smiling wide now. “You were her knight in shining armor, and she was the tiny princess peeking from behind pillars, watching you train in the courtyard. Blushing. Dreaming.”

Alexia groaned softly, but she was smiling now.

“I bet she cried when you resigned. Wrote you a letter with little flowers drawn on the sides. Or—wait—maybe she kept a lock of your hair.”

Alexia shook her head with a grin, folding her arms. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Aww. I’m just saying,” Myrrha shrugged with a mock-innocent tone. “It all makes sense now. She’s not sending knights to patrol the streets. She’s sending them to keep you safe. Her brave, cool, tall sword lady. Alexia of the Fracturewoman. Get it? Fractureborn and swordswoman.”

Alexia chuckled now, covering her face for a second. “I swear, if you don’t stop talking—”

“—you’ll what? Duel me? In the kitchen? While I’m holding a wet plate?” Myrrha laughed quietly, voice light and warm. “Go ahead, knight me.”

Alexia smiled again, shaking her head like a tired older sister who’d given up trying to stay mad.

Then Myrrha’s tone softened.

“You should go upstairs now,” she said gently. “Lysandros is definitely asleep by now. Go sleep too. After all, you still have some training to do.”

Alexia nodded, the laughter fading slowly from her face. “Right.”

She turned, stepping out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. At the bottom step, she stopped and looked back.

“Goodnight, Myrrha.”

Myrrha looked over her shoulder with a faint smile. “Goodnight.”

As Alexia’s footsteps disappeared upstairs, Myrrha turned back to the sink.

She stared at her hands for a moment. Then she exhaled, long and tired, and muttered under her breath.

“This is hard to figure out.”

The lantern above her flickered slightly.

Outside, the night hummed with insects.

Alexia stepped onto the second floor. The hallway was dim and quiet, with only a faint breeze slipping through the wooden shutters. She rubbed her arms, ready to get some rest.

But she froze.

Lysandros was standing beside his bedroom door. Not asleep. Not even yawning.

Just standing there.

The hallway light flickered softly behind him. His eyes looked wide, serious—too serious for him.

Alexia jumped slightly, heart thumping. “Lysandros! I swear, I’m going to beat you so bad if you do that one more time!”

Lysandros exhaled like he’d been caught doing something terrible.

Then he grinned.

“Whoa, whoa! Don’t let me call Boss on you!” he said, raising his hands like he was about to summon Myrrha herself. “She’ll come up here, sigh deeply, close her book, and give you that disappointed look. You know the one. The ‘I’m not mad, just tired of dealing with children’ one.”

He pointed at Alexia with both hands. “You’ll feel so bad, you’ll cry yourself to sleep. And then I’ll have to comfort you like a good little brother. I’ll make you warm milk and sing a lullaby that goes like, ‘Shh shh shh, scary Alexia’s gone to sleep, please don’t beat me when you wake up’.”

Alexia stared at him, tired but trying not to laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“What are you even doing here?” she asked finally, stepping closer. “We thought you were asleep. Myrrha said you were definitely snoring by now.”

Lysandros scratched his head. “Yeah, I was lying down… but something came to mind. Like, a good something. Like an idea. And I got too excited.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes. “So excited you got out of bed and just stood next to your door like a creep?”

He nodded with a proud smile.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said.

Alexia crossed her arms. “Huh? What kind of idea?”

Lysandros leaned in just a little, shadows brushing under his eyes.

Then he smiled.