007 - Something to Do

The old innkeeper sat alone, blowing soft puffs of smoke from his lips. His pipe rested in one hand, a thick book in the other. His eyes narrowed behind reading glasses as he scanned the page, mumbling under his breath.

“So that’s how the tale of the Renaissance Band began... interesting.”

A breeze creaked the wood outside.

The door opened, but the bell above it, the one that should’ve rung, didn’t make a sound.

The old man squinted, blinking. “Eh? Is this thing broken again?” He took off his glasses and began wiping them with the edge of his tunic.

Behind the counter, just out of sight, two shadows crawled along the floor. Alexia and Lysandros, quiet and careful. The inn’s service table blocked the old man’s view as they hurried toward the guest rooms, moving fast and low.

They reached the last room in the row. Alexia slid the door open silently. Both slipped in. The door closed behind them, again with no sound at all.

Inside, Lysandros stood up, eyes wide in wonder.

“Wow! That was awesome! The way people named your Fracture is really awesome too! It really does absence!”

Alexia pulled off her sheathed sword and hung it on a hook beside the door. She walked over to the lantern, struck it alight, and glanced back at him.

“Well, that’s another thing you’ve learned about my Fracture.”

Lysandros leaned back on his hands, glancing toward the closed window where the moonlight spilled through faint cracks in the curtain. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence settling comfortably in the dim lantern glow. Then, as if a string tugged at a memory, he murmured, “Oh, hey, about our encounter earlier today…”

Alexia cut in without even looking at him. “Nope. Don’t think about it.”

He blinked. “What? Why not?”

She turned her head slightly, her voice steady but low. “They’ll just despise us more if they ever find out we used our fractures for something reckless. People are always waiting for a reason to distrust us. Let’s not hand them one.”

Lysandros frowned. “Right, but what if we run into those same people again?”

Alexia hesitated, then sighed. “I—I don’t know, honestly. It’s been puzzling me too. But I do know I can’t let people like that keep doing what they’re doing. Especially when they’re clearly not using their fractures for anything good.”

His voice grew quieter, sharper, tinged with anger. “And besides that, those people might’ve killed the woman I buried. They’ll kill more if they’re left unchecked.”

Alexia looked at him, then sat forward on the bed. “Relax. For now. Remember what I told you?”

He breathed in, calming. “‘Don’t assume without evidence.’”

“There.” She gave him a small nod. “Good thing you remember that. Just like I remember your name.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We don’t know who they are, or what they are. All we do know is that they’re not exactly righteous, not if they tried to kill us back there.”

She stood, pacing slowly toward the small wooden table. “Good thing the rain came. They panicked. Ran. That old man with the beard, the one in the blue cloak, he flinched the moment the rain fell. I tried to catch some clue, like a symbol or something on his cloak, but… nothing.”

Lysandros tilted his head, grinning. “So what, you’re a detective now?”

“But yeah,” he added, wagging a finger, “Water beats fire. I’ll bring a bucket of water with me wherever I go.”

“Don’t do that.”

He snorted with a silent laugh. “Of course I won’t.”

Alexia finally let herself laugh, barely a breath, but a real one. “But hey. Next time? Don’t just snatch my sword out of nowhere again.”

Lysandros raised both hands innocently. “Sorryyy!”

Her eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “You’ve got to be careful what you say, what you do. We can’t just go around spreading rumors about other Fractureborns using their powers for bad things. Word travels fast here. The wrong word? They’ll start suspecting us.”

“But…” Lysandros shrugged, his smile returning with a teasing edge, “if they do arrest us, you’ve got friends who’ll bust us out, right? A badass squad of yours?”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot.” Her voice stayed dry but affectionate. “They’ve been sent west, remember? By the Lady of the Keep herself. They're helping villagers near Sanlow. Scouting. Probably neck-deep in mud and bureaucracy by now. So if we get ourselves arrested, we’re on our own.”

“Ahh, yeah, those friends of yours you mentioned earlier, three of them, right?” Lysandros leaned closer with curiosity. “What are they like? Are they Fractureborn too? Or are they all badass women warriors like you?”

Alexia smirked. “No. Not all of them. They're not all women like me either. They're all adventurers like me. Two are Fractureborns. One’s just a regular guy. No fractures. But he holds his own.”

Lysandros’s eyes lit up. “OHH! What can their fractures do? And 'he?' Damn, I thought you're all a bunch of hardcore women warriors!”

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Alexia shushed him with a quick glance at the door. “Hey, quiet! It’s still night.”

He winced, whispering, “Sorry…”

She shook her head, still smiling. “You’ll see when they get back. I’ll introduce you. You’ll like them.”

She handed him a small cloth bag.

“Here. The food I promised.”

Lysandros took it, peeked inside. A handful of round loaves and hard rolls, cold but still soft.

“I really don’t know if I should be grateful or feel guilty for how you stole these.”

Alexia smirked and sat on the bed’s edge. “Just take it. I know you’re hungry too. Worry about the shovel, tunic, and cloak tomorrow morning. Just wake up early, okay?”

“Got it!” He held the bread like a treasure chest. “Munch on this all night and wake up early without paying for a room. Perfect plan.”

Alexia smirked as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “You sound like a bandit who just got away with gold.”

Lysandros leaned halfway back through the doorway. “Correction. A handsome bandit with excellent taste in bread.”

“That cloak of mine says otherwise,” she said, eyeing the dirt-streaked hem.

“Hey, don’t hate the earth for loving me,” he said with a dramatic shrug. “Some of us have a magnetic connection to soil.”

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. “Go, before I actually start charging you.”

He gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, Commander.”

Then, softer, as he turned, “Night, Alexia.”

“Night, Lysandros.”

She chuckled quietly. “Now go. The room next door. Check if it’s empty first.”

He gave a playful salute again. “Right!”

Lysandros opened the door, slipped out, and disappeared into the next room.

Alexia exhaled and began removing her armor, unbuckling her shoulder guards, loosening the chest straps. Beneath, she wore a fitted black tunic and breeches. She pulled off her gloves, folded them neatly on the side table, and sat down again, this time facing the mirror.

The moon glowed faintly through the window behind her.

She touched the scar on her forehead with two fingers.

“I hope you guys are safe out there.”

She didn’t say who. But her voice knew the names.

— • — • —

It was still night in the Royal Keep. Quiet, as always.

The girl with red hair sat alone at her writing desk, quill in hand, dipping it into black ink as the candle beside her burned low. Her violet eyes scanned the parchment in front of her with a distant, focused look, and her small hand moved with slow precision as she wrote something only she would read.

When she finished, she blew gently on the page and set the quill aside. Rising from her royal chair, she stepped lightly across the vast chamber, larger than two homes combined. Her bare feet made no sound on the polished stone.

She reached for the clasps of her formal gown, an embroidered velvet surcoat draped over a silk chemise, and undressed with a practiced grace. Beneath it, she wore only a thin, sleeveless linen shift that clung lightly to her petite frame. Without her crown and finery, she looked even smaller, like a figure in a painting too delicate for the world it lived in.

She lay down slowly, letting her back sink into the sheets. Her eyes turned toward the moonlit window, its glass stained with swirling patterns of lilies and stars.

“What a night,” she whispered.

Her voice was faint, as if meant only for the air.

“I have to gather more… or else, it will be too late. For me… and for Agrekya.”

She closed her eyes. And for a moment, there was no crown, no bloodline, no burden, just a girl beneath the moonlight, alone.

— • — • —

Morning crept in, not gently, but with the full orchestra of farm life. Chickens clucked with conviction, birds chirped like they had no concept of restraint, pigs oinked as if protesting something, and cows lowed in reply. The world was awake, alive, and loud.

In the northern district’s modest inn, Alexia stirred under her blanket, hair a tousled mess. She squinted at the dusty ceiling above her and muttered through a yawn, “Morning, peaceful noise.”

Stretching out the sleep from her limbs, she stood and shuffled toward the window. Outside, the village was already humming with life. Farmers hauling sacks of grain. Women sunbathing their babies on warm stone steps. Old folks strolling like they had nowhere better to be. Children raced each other down cobbled paths, laughter trailing behind them. Knights, too, fully armored, glinting in the morning sun, marched in tight patrols down the main road.

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted her armor and sword neatly where she’d left them the night before. A brief nod of approval. “Still here.”

Then her stomach let out a sharp, gurgling protest. “Hungry,” she said, rubbing her belly. “What do I crave now? Something easy to steal, probably.”

She leaned into the window again, scanning the streets. Her eyes settled on the patrols. There were more knights than usual, thicker formation, tighter discipline. And one knight in particular stood out: armor more polished, bearing a sash across his chest, commanding the others. He said something she couldn’t hear, then led the group southward, toward the far district.

Alexia’s brow furrowed. “Knights patrolling this heavy? That’s not normal… What’s Princess Ismene up to now?”

She squinted. The higher-ranking knight’s face was mostly hidden, but from the angle she caught, his eyes were fierce, focused. Then suddenly, all of them broke into a sprint, disappearing into the southern streets.

“They look determined. Wait… don’t tell me—” Her stomach twisted, but not from hunger. Instinct screamed loud in her gut.

Her room’s door burst open with a bang.

Alexia turned fast, hand halfway to her sword, only to find Lysandros standing there, hair disheveled, eyes puffy, and stomach visibly swollen.

“HEY!” she barked. “Don’t barge in like that! You almost scared me to death!”

She eyed his bloated belly with suspicion. “And what’s going on there?! Are you pregnant?”

“I told you,” he groaned dramatically, cradling his stomach like it carried ancient pain. “I munched on every single piece of bread you gave me. Every. Crumb. Every. Crust.”

Alexia crossed her arms. “Right. But seriously, do people in Riverbend just walk into rooms uninvited? Why are you even here?”

“I’m missing my shovel. And tunic.” He scratched his head. “Also, this cloak you lent me? It’s starting to smell like yesterday’s regret.”

“Hey, I didn’t give it to you. I let you borrow it because otherwise you would’ve frozen to death last night. Don’t twist the story again.”

“Sorry, sorry. Bad memory. But!”

His stomach gave a terrifying noise—low, angry, and final. He stood on the spot doing high-knees like a man possessed. “I need to lose weight! Immediately!”

Alexia recoiled, hand covering her mouth in disbelief. “There’s a bathroom on the second floor. Just to the—”

Before she could finish, Lysandros tore off the cloak and tossed it toward her. “Here’s your cloak! You’ll clean it, right? Where do I meet you later to buy the shovel and tunic?!”

She caught the cloak midair. “Tavern in this district! And what fo—”

But he was already gone, sprinting up the stairs like a man fleeing judgment.

“…didn’t even let me finish,” she muttered.

She looked down at the cloak, then placed it gently on the side table. After a moment, she began strapping on her armor—tightening each buckle, securing each plate. Her sword returned to its rightful place at her hip.

Cloak in hand, she stepped out of the room. The innkeeper, still at his desk, still reading his book, barely glanced up.

“Come back again,” the old man said, voice as dry as ever.

“Will do,” Alexia replied.

This time, as she opened the inn’s front door, the little bell above the frame rang clearly.

Her eyes narrowed with mild guilt.

Well, that made me feel bad for not paying.

Outside, the sun was warm, the streets alive with chatter and footsteps and clinking armor. She looked up at the sky, stretching her arms overhead.

“Something to do,” she murmured. “But first…”

Her stomach growled again, louder this time.

“Time to feed myself.”