Lina tried to mask her surprise — to think that their first patient would be the very man who had tried to drive them out just yesterday. Her body tensed as Aila spoke his name. Her stomach tightened; for a moment, she could almost taste that bitter, metallic trace of Hairon Root in the air and hear Fenric’s strangled breaths echoing in her mind.

  “Ah… I see,” Lina said reluctantly.

  Aila caught the hesitation in her voice. “Well, you could use this chance to make peace with him. He is not a bad man.”

  Just remembering how Loran’del had screamed at Fenric, commanding him to drank the Hairon Root tea sent a shiver down Lina’s spine. But refusing too strongly would only raise suspicion — after all, if she had nothing to hide, why should she fear meeting the man whose just throwing random accusation?

  “Okay,” Lina murmured. “I’ll just try not to get in your way.”

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  The two walked toward the communal kitchen. It was a large open structure built from timber and clay, with smoke drifting lazily through the gaps in the thatched roof. A long stone hearth ran down the center, where several blackened pots simmered over steady embers. The air smelled of broth, herbs, and wood ash.

  Benches and tables, uneven from years of use, filled the space in loose rows. Despite its roughness, the place carried a homely warmth — the quiet clatter of bowls, the faint laughter, and the sense of shared hunger binding everyone together.

  At this hour, only a few people were still eating. Apparently, Aila always ate late — only after finishing her medicine-making. Most of those who remained were younger villagers, probably the ones who had stayed up too long and missed the morning call. Still, they greeted the two girls with warm smiles.

  The menu was simple: a thin soup with bits of meat floating in it and a few slices of coarse bread on the side.

  Lina rubbed her chin. “Hmm… why’s the food so little? I thought Vierna brought a considerable amount of supplies from the cultist camp?”

  “Oh, that…” Aila smiled sheepishly. “I haven’t finished checking them yet. Loran’del said to wait for my signal before distributing anything. I’m sorry — there’s been so much sickness in Rolbart lately. With people constantly leaving, everyone’s overworked.”

  “I see. Well, that’s even more reason for me to pull my own weight, then.”

  “Haha… actually, you already did, Aline. When Korrn decided to dump all his ‘tax’ on you, you ended up doing us a big favor. If you hadn’t, the soup we’re eating now might’ve had leather shoes in it instead.”

  “Leather shoes?” Lina laughed. “People actually make soup out of that?”

  “They did, haha. When I was a field surgeon, we were once trapped in a castle. When the food ran out, the commander told us to wash our boots and boil them into soup. Said there must be some kind of meat taste left in there.”

  “Hahaha—no way! You’re joking, right?”

  “I really wish I was,” Aila said, laughing weakly. “I can still taste it, you know.”

  Lina lifted her bowl and drank. The heat settled her. The soup slid down her throat and softened the cold in her chest. It was the first time she had laughed freely since arriving, and she hated how good it felt.

  As she finished her soup, Lina grinned, then lifted one of her worn boots and set it on the edge of the table. “So… like this?” she teased, pretending to dip it into her bowl.

  Aila burst out laughing. “Exactly like that! You even got the look right — desperate and hungry enough to think boiled leather might taste like meat.”

  Their laughter mingled with the faint crackle of the hearth, the sound warm and fleeting, like a moment stolen from a kinder world.

  The two spent their time together at the table, Aila recounting her life before coming to Rolbart — the years she had spent in mandatory service. She had started when she was fourteen. The Reich allowed citizens to begin their five years of service whenever they wished, but if they hadn’t done it by the time they turned twenty, an officer would come directly to their home to recruit them. If they tried to run, they would be hunted down and taken anyway.

  Some people chose to start early for various reasons, but for Aila, it was simple — she wanted to be free of her duty as soon as possible.

  She went on to tell of the horrors of war she had witnessed firsthand: how the Reich executed prisoners, how they dealt with alleged revolutionaries, and the torture devices that defied the laws of flesh and pain — creations designed to rip the truth from anyone, no matter their will.

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  Not long after, a group of dwarves arrived, carrying crates filled with meat and cabbage. Lina caught the flicker of hostility in Aila’s gaze as she looked toward them.

  “Another batch of blood food, huh,” Aila muttered under her breath.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ah, nothing… nothing, sorry.”

  But Lina could tell she was dodging the question. If she could find out where Aila stood in the whole Yvlaine–Loran’del conflict, it would help the mission, she thought.

  “I’ve never seen those dwarves before. Are they from Rolbart?”

  “Yeah… they were,” Aila answered, her gaze hardening with quiet rage.

  “Such a helpful bunch… but I wonder where they got so much food.”

  “…”

  Lina stood from her bench. “I should go over there and thank them.”

  “Don’t!” Aila half-shouted.

  Lina sat back down immediately.

  “Listen,” Aila said, lowering her voice. “Maybe you’ve already heard about it, but since you’re now a permanent resident here, I’ll just tell you. Yvlaine’s group is planning a revolt.”

  Lina already knew, yet she pretended to be shocked.

  “But honestly,” Aila continued, “they’re misguided. Foolish, even. Loran’del knows the consequences of rebellion better than anyone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know the Path of the Damned?”

  “Path of Damned?”

  “Yes.” Aila nodded. “A few years ago, when the Draghul of H?llstein County rose up in rebellion, rumors spread that the Drow of Neusanc County were planning to join them.

  It was only a rumor. Loran’del told us the Drow there never even contacted the Draghul. He was one of the community pillars there.

  But even a whisper was enough. The Magierkonklave sent the Reichhand to that county and interrogated every Drow mercilessly. They didn’t even spare the children, using mind-break, torture, anything they could to force confessions.

  Those suspected were executed publicly as a reminder that the Reich would show no mercy to anyone harboring rebellious thoughts.

  And it didn’t stop there. They exiled every Drow in the region, scattering what was already a small population across other duchies and counties.”

  “What the hell…”

  “That’s not all, Aline. The Reich’s most common execution method is crucifixion, right? They crucified most of the Drow in that county… and the bodies are still displayed along the Erisian Highway—the road to Neusanc County. They even preserved the corpses. It happened years ago, but if you walk that road now, it looks like they were killed yesterday. That’s why no one travels to Neusanc anymore. People call the Erisian Highway the Path of the Damned.

  And to rub the salt on the wound, they cast a spell on every surviving Drow to ensure the memory would never fade. Even their children would inherit those memories, those horrors, forever.

  The Draghul were lucky; Herr Leopold saved them. But the Drow were not so fortunate. They live in constant fear of the Reich, and the spell makes sure of it.”

  Lina listened carefully to Aila’s words. In a way, it explained everything: why Loran’del hadn’t reported Yvlaine to the authorities, and why he hadn’t dared to stand up to Korrn. And yet Lina still couldn’t forgive him—not for forcing Vierna to drink that tea, not for interrogating her right after a battle. But was trauma really the only reason he refused to report Yvlaine? Or was something deeper at play?

  Whether it was her anger speaking or a genuine suspicion, Lina couldn’t tell.

  “I was surprised when the villagers asked Loran’del to step down from his position as village chief,” Aila continued. “Thanks to Vierna, he’s still in power, but it’s clear now that Yvlaine is winning. She’s swaying more villagers to join her side. Listen, I know you’re new here, but please trust me when I say this—joining Yvlaine is a mistake. We need to make the villagers trust Loran’del again.”

  “But how can we do that?” Lina pretend to symphatize. “His outburst yesterday left a bad impression, and so did his passivity toward Korrn’s oppression.”

  “I know! But trust me, I’ve seen what the Reich does to anyone who even talks about rebellion. Loran’del knows it too. But these young ones—they don’t. They haven’t done their five years of service, so they don’t understand what the Reich is truly capable of.”

  “Yvlaine is smart,” Aila went on. “At first, she only chose those who were skilled and able. It was her way of chipping away at Rolbart’s strength little by little, so others would start believing there was no choice but to join her.”

  “So her end goal was to make all of Rolbart part of her group?”

  “Yes… Let’s put it this way: if Loran’del had been ousted as elder yesterday, the entire village would’ve joined Yvlaine immediately—and we would all have become rebels.”

  Lina then realized how big a mistake Vierna had made yesterday. If she had let the crowd depose Loran’del as leader, they would already be on their way to Yvlaine’s hideout, and their mission to locate it would’ve been complete. She didn’t know why Vierna hadn’t let Loran’del step down—maybe out of pity, or something else—but she couldn’t be sure.

  “It’s a serious situation indeed. But how much support does Loran’del actually have now?”

  “Not much, at least for now. Maybe only the elders and a few of the youths who’ve already completed their mandatory service, like me. Like I said, once you’ve seen what the Reich is capable of on the battlefield, the thought of rebellion never crosses your mind again.”

  Lina saw the seriousness in Aila’s face, her genuine desire to restore Loran’del’s reputation so the villagers wouldn’t rebel against the Reich. In a way, it pained her — because if Yvlaine managed to make all of Rolbart rise up, Lina’s mission would go smoothly. Yet that would also doom Rolbart’s people. All those smiles and warmth she had received would be trampled by the Reich, just like what had happened to the Drow during the Subjugation.

  Her heart ached. Now the full weight of the mission stood before her: to doom a village that had accepted her as one of their own, or to doom her and Vierna’s future under the Reich. The question pressed heavily against her mind, like a stone grinding on her shoulders.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Aila,” Lina said quietly.

  “Thank you! I knew you’d understand. And believe me, things won’t be like this forever. I’m sure Loran’del has a plan for Korrn. He’s not idle, you know.”

  Lina smiled faintly. “Yeah… I hope so too.”