“Let’s start with what you two were doing first.”

  Honestly, if Vierna could, she would have preferred to rest first—maybe even ask Fenric to play along so Loran’del wouldn’t grow suspicious. But she knew better. Despite his polite tone, it was clear he was ready to pounce on the slightest inconsistency, possibly even using it as grounds to expel them from the village.

  Vierna could tell that, even after yesterday’s interrogation, he couldn’t do that outright. The villagers were still stirred up by the spectacle with Korrn. But now, if she slipped—especially in front of the whole crowd—it would give him exactly the opening he needed.

  That was likely why he pushed for the interrogation immediately, before she had time to rest or steady herself.

  “Ah, my apologies. You must be thirsty. Please, have some tea first.”

  Loran’del conjured two glasses of tea and placed them in front of Fenric and Vierna.

  Vierna stared at the tea. She knew exactly what it was—the same brew that had hurt Moony during Loran’del’s interrogation. Now being offered it herself felt like being told to kill her own spirit. Sweat gathered at her temples, and her mind raced for an excuse, any excuse, to avoid drinking the truth-forcing tea.

  “Hairon Root tea? Seriously, Loran’del, after what they’ve been through?”

  The entire room turned toward the entrance.

  A beastkin stood there, lion-like and tall, her fur a deep golden hue that shimmered under the torchlight. Scars traced her arms and throat like faded ink. Her stance was relaxed, yet it carried the kind of weight that made even seasoned soldiers straighten without thinking.

  Her crimson eyes swept across the room, slow and deliberate. She carried no visible weapon, but her very presence cut sharper than steel. There was something in her bearing, a balance between grace and violence that made people feel both drawn to her and afraid to speak in her presence.

  Vierna glanced back toward Loran’del. His usual politeness was gone, veins standing out on his temple. It was clear that whoever this was, they were not on good terms. However, he quickly regained his composure and returned to his usual demeanor.

  She scanned the room, trying to read the mood this new “guest” brought with her. Most of the villagers were tense, as if her arrival was bound to stir trouble with Loran’del.

  The beastkin, however, were even more tense than the others. Now that Vierna noticed it, most of them resembled herbivores; the closest thing to a carnivore among them were a few half-dogs, and even they were scarce. They watched the guest as if she had come not merely to stir trouble, but to prey on them.

  Vierna didn’t know the full details of beastkin politics, but she could guess that herbivores and carnivores were rarely on friendly terms. Perhaps this was why Fenric had asked her to keep his true form and his bloodlust a secret.

  “Ylvaine. I did not expect you back so soon. After wandering off to who knows where, abandoning Rolbart when it needed you most, chasing that dream of yours with your misguided friends.”

  “Loran’del, I never abandoned Rolbart, and you know that. Who do you think has been killing those mana beasts whose escape from Schattwald Forest? It was me and my friends.”

  “And you expect me to believe you did that for the benefit of this village? And not for some vendetta effort?”

  “Vendetta effort? My friends and I are out there risking our lives for this village, and that’s all. Are you implying something else, Loran’del?”

  Vierna felt the air vibrate between them, a silent war of conviction neither could win. Mana poured out from both of them, invisible yet suffocating.

  The clash of their presence filled the hall—cold against heat, abyss against flame. The pressure of it made the villagers shrink back, their voices dying in their throats. Even the wooden beams of the meeting hall groaned under the unseen weight. Vierna could feel it too, prickling against her skin, like standing between winter and wildfire at once.

  It was Loran’del gaze towards Vierna and Lina that breaks his staring contest with Yvlaine. Vierna was confused. The way Ylvaine spoke made it sound as if she didn’t bother hiding the fact that she was part of the revolutionaries in Schattwald Forest—and yet, despite her admission, Loran’del didn’t press the issue. Why?

  “Now, Loran’del, I heard what the girl did yesterday and today… and I’m sure you already gave her that tea. Are you trying to make her unable to use magic at all?” Ylvaine’s tone was serious when she said this.

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  “We have to be sure, Ylvaine! Would you take responsibility if something happened to Rolbart?”

  “Something would have happened to Rolbart if they hadn’t done what they did! You keep saying ‘cautious, cautious,’ but these two girls; one of them have already been whipped trying to help Rolbart, and the others killed a threat, and the least you can do is not feed them literal poison!”

  “I WILL NOT HAVE SOME OUTLAW QUESTION HOW I PROTECT MY PEOPLE!” Loran’del shouted, standing up.

  And yet, Vierna couldn’t quite understand why. His rage didn’t seem to stem from his authority being challenged, but from the conviction that Yvlaine was endangering Rolbart.

  “I’ll let that comment slide, Loran’del. But I’m warning you—one more accusation, and I’ll take it personally.”

  Seeing the intensity in Yvlaine’s eyes, Loran’del exhaled slowly, his voice regaining its composure. “You do understand why I have to do this. The people of Rolbart would agree with me.”

  “Then why don’t we ask them directly?” Yvlaine stepped forward and turned to face the crowd. “You all know how Loran’del is. It’s always been the same with him. Every time a someone comes to Rolbart, he forces that tea on them. This time is no different—it must be the same with this girl.

  If she lied yesterday and somehow managed to withstand the pain—which is almost impossible—she should’ve had black veins from the mana she used in the fight. So tell me… should he really force her to drink Hairon Root again?”

  Vierna looked towards the crowd. There was something in their expression that told Vierna that they knew it was Loran’del modus operandi even without him confirming it.

  The crowd murmured uncertainly. She could sense it—their hesitation, the way they looked at one another but refused to speak. It stirred something deep inside her. She had been whipped because she tried to help these very people yesterday, and yet they still looked at her with caution.

  And maybe they were right to doubt. After all, Lina and she were spies— infiltrators acting under orders. But knowing that didn’t make it sting any less. It still hurt that kindness was met with suspicion, that Lina’s flagellation the day before still hadn’t been enough to buy their trust completely.

  Bitterness rose in her chest, but she swallowed it down, forcing her breath steady. Getting angry wouldn’t help. If they wouldn’t listen to reason, then she would have to plead to their hearts instead.

  Suddenly, Lina stepped forward. Her voice cut through the whispers. “I know we only arrived yesterday, and that we came as suspicious person. Two girls out of nowhere suddenly try to help a place that they never set foot on. It was right for Loran’del and everyone here to be suspicious. I don’t blame the suspicion, and I can’t blame herr Loran’del to give Vierna Hairon Roots tea yesterday.

  And believe it or not, we couldn’t help it. The moment we set foot in Rolbart, we saw what kind of place this was—a melting pot of people and cultures, all working together just to survive. Something modern towns have long forgotten. And for us, that was something worth protecting.”

  She looked towards the crowd. She recalled what Vierna told her about her interrogation with Loran’del before. “When we saw Korrn trempled all over that kind of place, extort up to the point of poverty and starvation, we just couldn’t let him. We were told that officer of the Reich should nurture and protect its people. And maybe we are dumb, maybe we are na?ve that we tried to do such thing by somehow alleviating the uncessary burden in this place.

  Everyone has every right to be suspicious of us. But if you plan to give it to her again, knowing it could destroy her ability to use magic, then just throw us out of here right this second. Because there is nothing Vierna loves more than magic.”

  A heavy silence fell. Faces turned inward, villagers exchanging uncertain glances. Some frowned, thinking of the risk; others whispered about the raids and what could happen if a threat were missed. A few elders muttered that safety must come first. For a long moment no one spoke, the hall full of measured breaths and the soft rustle of clothing as people shifted on their benches.

  Finally, a female beastkin stepped forward, clearing her throat. “Herr Loran’del, it would not be wise to force the tea on Vierna again so soon. Let her rest. Give her time to recover after the fight.”

  Heads nodded slowly, but not all at once. Then she added, voice firmer now, “Fenric was there. If the girls lie, Fenric will tell us.”

  Loran’del observed the mood of the people around him. He exhaled and wave his hand to the air. In an instant the tea was gone.

  “Now, tell us everything,” Loran’del said to Vierna. His gaze was as sharp as a storm—unrelenting, filled with rage and disbelief.

  Vierna began recounting the story from the day of the hunt. When Loran’del told her to skip ahead to the part where she and Fenric found the group, she insisted it was important to explain everything for them to understand the full picture. He sighed but allowed her to continue.

  Vierna carefully avoided mentioning Fenric’s true nature during their hunt together. She wove lies to mask the deer incident. More than once, Loran’del’s gaze sharpened when she spoke, as if he sensed something. Vierna tried to ignore it. A good liar, after all, must believe their own story. Whether Loran’del was baiting her or truly knew the truth, she decided she would stick to her version.

  Fenric, on his part, supported her lies as best he could. Vierna could guess that if his peculiarities were ever exposed, life in Rolbart would become difficult for him. She had seen his wolf side, and almost all the beastkin in the village—except for Ylvaine and Fenric—were of half-herbivore type.

  Despite the detail and length of her account, everyone in the room listened closely, hands clenched, eyes fixed on her, hanging on every word.

  “I see…” Loran’del said when Vierna finally reached the part where she returned after failing the deer hunt. “So you were going back to the village, and something caught your attention from behind, prompting you to return to the forest?”

  “Yes, Herr Loran’del.”

  “And just to be clear—it caught your attention?”

  “Yes—”

  The word slipped before she could stop it. Vierna froze. Fenric was there too, and everyone knew that a beastkin’s senses were far sharper than a human’s. She had just claimed she noticed something he hadn’t, something that was impossible.