Sara knelt on the wooden floor of her shop and picked up a fallen knife. The blade caught the afternoon light for a second before she set it gently back on the display table.

“Miss Sara, please,” Bertha said for the third time. “You don’t have to do this. We can handle the mess.”

Sara didn’t look up. She just grabbed the next chair and slid it back into place with a soft scrape. “It's okay, Bertha. I’ll help clean it at least. Let me.”

Two of the workers exchanged quick glances but said nothing. They kept sweeping broken pottery and straightening shelves, moving faster now that the boss was on the floor with them.

Bertha sighed, but there was a smile hiding in it. She lifted a heavy display rack between them and set it upright by herself. “You’re very stubborn today, you know that!”

Sara gave a small laugh under her breath. “Only when someone tries to wreck my first day.”

They worked side by side for a minute; the only sounds were the soft clink of knives being gathered and the broom brushing across the floor. Outside, the last of the crowd had finally drifted away as the shop’s door was now closed for a while for cleaning. The street in front felt normal again.

The shop looked worse up close than it had from the doorway. The display rack had gone over hard. Three knives had skidded all the way to the far wall. One of the belt pouch hooks had come off its nail entirely. The merchant had done a decent job for a man who was supposed to look like an angry customer.

Sara straightened the rack and checked the wall mount. Still solid. She rehung the hook herself.

She straightened a chair and ran her hand over the backrest. “If Lys hadn’t walked in when he did…” She let the words hang there for a second. “..we might’ve had real trouble today, you know. I really didn’t want to handle that man myself. Not on my opening day. Everything would have been ruined then.”

Bertha chuckled, low and warm, as she wiped dust off the counter. “It was kind of cute, though, wasn’t it? The way he just stood there. Didn’t shout. Didn’t pull that black sword out of its sheath. Just stared at that man. Bet that merchant got scared shitless. Hell, even I felt a chill run down my back. What was that look he had? Was he in a bad mood already or something?!”

Sara paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. She glanced at Bertha and teased, “Whatever that was… it only makes him more desirable. It gives a charm to him, don’t you think?”

Bertha’s cheeks went pink instantly, imagining the word ‘desirable’. She busied herself with a stack of papers, refusing to meet Sara’s eyes. “Miss Sara, don’t tease me please!”

Sara laughed softly; the sound of her voice was light in the half-clean shop. She picked up another scattered knife and turned it over in her hands, checking the edge out of habit.

Inside her head, though, the words she didn’t say lingered.

‘Still… I’m just glad I didn’t have to engage myself because of him.’

She remembered the warmth that had prickled under her skin when the merchant raised his voice. The familiar spark that always came right before she let her power slip out. One word from her, one small push of mana, and that big man would have been on his knees begging. But then the whole village would have seen. And on the very first day her shop opened? That kind of display would have scared customers away faster than any bully ever could, not to mention the punishment for using magic inside the village. It would’ve ruined everything she worked for till now.

She set the knife down neatly in its place.

Lys had stepped in at the perfect moment. Quiet. Calm. No use of magic. No use of any form of force. Just enough to make the man back down without turning her new shop into a battlefield. And she was glad for it.

A quiet warmth settled in her chest.

She shook her head once and reached for the next overturned chair.

“Alright,” she said aloud, voice steady again. “Let’s get this place looking like a shop again. We still have customers to welcome before the sun goes down.”

Bertha nodded, still a little flushed, and went back to sweeping with new energy.

Sara allowed herself one last small smile as she worked.

***

A short distance away, between two old houses where the afternoon light barely reached, Vessa had the merchant exactly where she wanted him.

The big man was face-down in the dirt, both arms twisted behind his back. Vessa straddled him, one knee planted firmly between his shoulder blades, her grip on his wrists iron-tight. His travel cloak was bunched up around his elbows. A thin line of blood already trickled from his nose where his face had met the ground.

He tried to shout.

But before he can, Vessa gave his left pinky a small, precise twist.

Crack.

The sound was soft, almost polite.

The merchant’s scream died in his throat as pain exploded up his arm. His body jerked hard under her, but she didn’t let him move even an inch.

“Make another sound,” she said, voice low and flat, “and I break the rest. Slowly. I don’t care if the priests find it hard to heal you afterwards. Got it?”

The man whimpered. His breath came in short, wet gasps against the dirt.

Vessa leaned down a little closer. “Who sent you?”

He stayed quiet for half a second too long.

But when she tightened her grip, he gasped out, "Okay, okay. Stop… I work for the Viscount's wife. Madam Ines."

He said it like the name was supposed to mean something. Like it was supposed to make her let go.

But Vessa's expression didn't change. "Who is she? Never heard of her."

The merchant's eyes widened through the pain. "What… You… you've never heard of Madam Ines? She owns half the magistrates in this county. Half!"

"Yeah.. well good for her."

He stared at her, momentarily lost. Then the defiance crept back into his voice. "You think you can just break my fingers and walk away? Inside this village walls? You think noble people like her will stay silent if you touch her men? Doesn't matter who you are. Nobles like her use that rule to keep people like you in a box. And if you break it, every magistrate she owns will know about it before morning. You won't just lose this branch. You'll lose your adventurer license."

He wasn't wrong about the law. She knew it better than he did.

She stayed quiet and let him keep going.

That gave him pause. But only for a second, because she gave his whole arm another twist, making him flinch.

“Aghhh…alright, alright. Stop. You want to know why I did that, right? Well, she sent me to test this little branch," he pressed on. "To see how soft it was. And you just showed me exactly what she wanted to know."

"I showed you what happens to people who cause trouble outside my guild."

He laughed, wet, broken, but still trying. "You think that scares her? You think one broken messenger changes anything for her?" His voice dropped, trying to sound like giving a warning. "She'll just send someone else tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. Because you're not fighting me. You're fighting a woman who's been playing this game for a long time."

Vessa said nothing.

"And she never loses."

"Yeah, well, guess what! There’s a first time for everything." Vessa said simply.

The merchant's grin twitched a little, but it still didn't vanish completely. He swallowed, finding another angle. "Besides. You can't use magic on me. Not here. Not inside the village at least. Don’t forget, if you break the no magic inside any settlement rule, then the whole noble community will be behind you."

"Is that right!" Vessa said, not feeling too surprised.

"That's the law. Just letting you know, if you forgot about it. You know, after spending too much time inside the great dungeons and all." He was gaining confidence now, sensing he'd found a solid ground to stop her. "So go on. Break my fingers. Beat me black and blue. But you'll have to let me go eventually. And when I walk out of here, I'll tell her everything. How you lost your temper. How you broke the rules. How you gave her exactly what she wanted."

Vessa waited for him to finish.

"Maybe if you let me go now, nice and quiet, who knows, she might go easy on you. Might decide this little branch isn't worth the trouble. Might leave you alone." His voice dropped to a rasp. "But if you keep pushing like now? Keep proving how reckless you are?" He almost smiled. "She'll bury you. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon. And you won't even see it coming. Mark my words."

Vessa tilted her head slightly, like she was considering his words. Though her expression didn't change. Her grip didn't loosen.

But something behind her eyes went very still.

"You talk a lot, you know that?" she said. Flat. Unimpressed. She thought he might have something special up his sleeve or something.

The merchant's mouth hung open, seeing how his last resort didn’t work on her. 

And after that she said something that made whatever he was about to say die on his tongue.

"You think I can't use magic on you inside the village walls," she said. Not a question.

His grin faltered. "Of course you can’t. That's the law. Everyone knows…."

"Everyone knows," Vessa cut him off, "that the law has exceptions."

She leaned closer. Her breath was warm against his ear, almost whispering.

"For example…the law can’t do shit about me, if your master never finds out what happened here, right?"

The merchant went pale. The confidence drained out of him so fast she could almost hear it go. "What? Y-you wouldn't. Right? You wouldn't…"

Vessa's mouth curved. Not a smile. Something smaller and dark.

"Who knows," she said, "maybe I will."

She reached into her belt.

And seeing her take out the memory wiping scroll made the merchant's eyes widened with panic.