In the farthest reaches of Rhian’s territory, small cottages and groups of trees dotted grassy fields in a picture of greenery, but the dead of midnight painted everything a deep blue. Not a single house had the light of a waking resident, and each had their windows and doors closed due to the chill that permeated the wind—a herald to winter’s far-off approach.

     A sudden gust rocked the trees and threatened to blow out the small candle Nveh held in his mouth. But he wasn’t worried. He was confident in his experience. With the dying flame, he illuminated the decrepit lock in his target’s door. Expertly working a lockpicking set, in just a couple seconds, he bypassed the weak security, signaled by a quiet click. The candle’s minute flame died, but Nveh still took a moment to inspect the lock. He brushed his hand across the cool metal, feeling the rough rises and dips of weathering. The mechanism itself seemed to be hardly working, loose to the point where parts of it shook even from the outside. He tested its integrity using just his fingers and it clanked much louder than he expected, almost completely breaking it.

     Nveh paused for a moment.

     He waited, listening for any signs of activity that might have been prompted by his mistake. But after a few seconds, none came, and he continued his inspection-speculation.

     Surely, the woman who lived in this one-room house was aware of the lock’s uselessness. According to the specifics that Rhian gave him, she was an apothecary too, but first and foremost, a traitor to the viscountcy, housing suspicious soldiers and mercenaries. She must have anticipated or at least considered the possibility of someone pursuing her because of that. And if not out of suspicion, then she should have at least held caution for the valuable supplies she held for her occupation. So why was the lock this obviously ineffective?

     Proceeding with the utmost caution, Nveh used a spell stored on his signet ring to turn the candle back into a light source, though this time without flame. He preferred to avoid using magic when possible, but the wind was too much of a nuisance. He covered the candle with a cloth and masked his face, again attempting to carry out this assassination discreetly and efficiently, then brandished a dagger from its sheath. Bearing the covered candle in his left hand, and the dagger in his right, he slowly eased the door open. Nveh heard his quarry breathing—slow, in slumber—and continued. But when the door was halfway open, the hinges creaked, and Nveh halted. The breathing of his target hitched, and he heard covers moving. The silence broke. He moved in.

     He entered, then threw the door shut, enclosing the two in complete darkness.

     “Wha—What’s—” The traitor was moving in the darkness. She scrambled for something to defend herself with, but Nveh was fast.

     He closed the distance, confident in his memory of where the side of her bed was. He struck, and his dagger found purchase. A scream erupted. But a strike also erupted from his left.

     Nveh felt the impact of something hitting him, but it was a move in desperation, clearly not from someone who had experience in combat.

     The traitor continued to struggle, screaming all the while. And the two scuffled in the dark.

     He could hear blows landing on things in the room, rarely meeting their target. His dagger met things that he couldn’t confirm were his target or not—not with her incessant yelling.

     But one strike hit his left hand, uncovering the candle, and revealed everything.

     The woman he was fighting had ended up backed against the wall and her bed, hunched down, arms up, protecting her body. Her hair was tousled, dark brown clumps matted with blood, and she had gashes on her arms and face. But most striking was her expression: the look she wore was that of cornered prey, a desperate prisoner who was fighting tooth and claw just to protect herself, shaking in panic and panting with exertion. The light that finally shone upon the two also revealed her helplessness, simply clutching a book that she used as a weapon. It was the perfect situation for Nveh to finally complete his mission.

     And then, when the time finally came, Nveh found himself unable to go through with it.

     The blade in his hand clattered to the ground in front of the trembling body before him. Nveh had seen many fights between proud knights. He had poisoned many and watched them die before him. But never before had he been faced with someone who was fighting desperately to survive in the face of an overwhelming difference in ability. He was previously so set on killing someone he knew almost nothing about. He should have guessed from the state of where she lived, but before this, why was he satisfied with the order to assassinate someone who had so much less than he did?

     Distress was shared between him and the helpless apothecary who he was meant to murder. Below him, the woman almost couldn’t comprehend she was still alive. She glanced at the weapon, then him, eyes wide in disbelief. She could have taken the blade then, but she already knew that this man had the skill to kill her without it. They were both paralyzed. Until Nveh spoke.

     “...Marie...Epothia, correct?” He tried to maintain a collected demeanor, but his tension betrayed him.
     “W-What do you want?” Her voice was as unsteady as her body.
     “Is it true? That you were housing hostile soldiers and mercenaries?”
     “No! I don’t know—I’ve healed so many—I don’t know who you’re talking about!”

     Nveh paused. This woman didn’t know anything. She very well might have helped other soldiers, but she was just doing what she was supposed to.

     “Who did you last take in?”
     “It—They were a boy and a man—father and son, they said!”
     “You have no intentions to harm others, then, is that right?”
     Despite the affirmation of her innocence, Marie’s fear wasn’t alleviated in the slightest. “I wasn’t—I-I’m a healer, I just—it’s my job to help people in need!”

     The thought that she could have been lying didn’t even cross Nveh’s mind. His trusting nature sympathized with her position, though he wasn’t entirely aware of it himself. The one thing he was aware of, though, was that he couldn’t kill her. But he was forced to say otherwise.

     “Speak a word of this to anyone else, and that day will be your last,” Nveh threatened her callously, but he dreaded the possibility that he would have to face this again. He picked up his dagger, and without another word, he left.

     As he contemplated on the way back to the Ionescu estate, Nveh was all too aware of his actions: he may have been betraying Rhian, but it was as his lord, not his lover.