The Fiery Crown Cycle: A Dragon's Rebirth

Chapter 47

In the human Empire.

Dong… Dong… Dong…

The bell of the Fourth Church tolled, its chimes deep, sonorous, and final, echoing across the snow-covered city.

Hearing the bell, Sam set down his quill. The day's work was done. He rose from his desk and peered through the small, square window. Outside, the world was a uniform, blinding white. He stretched his arms high above his head, then reached up to tighten the scarf around his neck before making his way down the stone steps.

Sam's post was in a tower built next to the city gate, a squat structure of heavy stone. Normally, he conducted his business on the ground floor. But choosing to travel during the Deep Winter was an act of folly. In the heavy snows, it wasn't just the hungry beasts one had to fear; the biting cold alone could halt a merchant caravan in its tracks. Consequently, one rarely saw a merchant's banner during this season.

Knowing this, Sam had moved his office to the top floor of the tower. The room there had a hearth, and in the frigid depths of winter, there was no greater bliss than a roaring fire. If a caravan did happen to arrive, one of the soldiers under his command could simply climb the stairs to inform him. It was no trouble at all.

“Leaving for the day, Sam?” a soldier called out.

“Yes. You've all worked hard.”

“Not at all, sir, not at all!” another chimed in. “You're the one who works the hardest, Mister Sam, dealing with so many matters every day!”

He knew it was empty flattery, but it warmed him all the same. The smile on his face broadened. He stepped out of the tower.

A blast of frigid wind struck him, making his cheeks sting. This damned Deep Winter. Sam cursed the season internally, pulling the thick collar of his City Warden's greatcoat tighter as he walked into the city proper.

He stared at the thick layer of snow on the ground. Should he go home? The thought of his wife's fat, greasy, and ugly face surfaced in his mind.

No. Best not to go back just yet.

He lifted his head. He hadn't even realized he'd walked here.

“Mister Sam, you've come!”

“Hurry, come inside and have a seat!”

“Patricia and I have already poured you a drink!”

Two women in thin, revealing dresses emerged, taking his arms on either side. The sweet perfume from their bodies filled his nostrils, and a wide grin spread across Sam's face. He thought of the smell of stale cooking fumes that clung to his sow of a wife. It was the difference between fresh flowers and dung.

No, I will not go home. What for? Sam wrapped his arms around the women's waists, his hands immediately slipping beneath their skirts.

“Mister Sam, you're so wicked!” one of them giggled.

“Heh heh… You two had better keep me thoroughly entertained tonight.”

“Of course, sir. We'll do anything to make you happy.”

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The three figures entered the building together, their laughter swallowed by the warmth within.

…

It was past the appointed time. Nerys knew her husband's schedule to the minute. Sam had not come home again. A foul mood began to simmer within her.

“Mama, I'm hungry,” a thick, childish boy's voice said from behind her.

Nerys's grim face instantly melted into a smile. “Oh, my sweet little Lorcan,” she cooed. “Mama will make you dinner right now. You just wait a moment.”

“Okay, Mama.” A silly grin spread across Lorcan's fat, round face. “You're the best mama.”

Hearing her son's words, Nerys paused, a genuine smile touching her lips. Whenever Sam didn't come home, he would always return the next day, his clothes smelling of a strange perfume that was not her own. Nerys had long suspected what was happening, but she had no intention of making a scene. Just as her husband's only reason for returning to this house was Lorcan, her only reason for staying was Lorcan. This was her marriage.

“Mama loves you too, my darling Lorcan.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek, her face still wreathed in a smile. Then she walked to the kitchen and pulled open the cupboard door. The smile froze on her face.

It was gone again.

Something was wrong with the food in the house. Every morning, a small amount was inexplicably missing. Last night, she had made a point of counting: seven loaves of white bread, and ten of black. Now, two of the black loaves were gone, and one of the white. Lorcan never ate at night, and even if he were starving, he would never touch the coarse black bread.

It was that bitch.

Though Sam always spoke of some contract, Nerys had always been suspicious. Why would a high and mighty noble ever make a pact with a commoner like Sam? In her heart, Nerys was convinced that the girl was Sam's bastard, sired with some other woman. Not only had Sam brought her here, but he was squandering their money sending her to that expensive academy.

Her eyes widened, her pupils contracting into points of hate. Sam wasn't home tonight. It was the perfect opportunity. Tonight, I'll take care of that little bitch!

“Mama? What's wrong?”

“Ah, it's nothing, my love.” Nerys's ferocious expression softened back to normal. “Forgive me, my darling. Mama was just daydreaming. I'll prepare your food right now.”

“Okay, Mama. I'm really hungry.”

“I know. Mama will be as quick as she possibly can.”

…

Today's lessons had been so difficult. That rune was so hard to inscribe. I followed Ms. Solana's instructions exactly, so why did I keep failing? Isolde thought, her brow furrowed with worry as she walked.

She looked up and saw the familiar little courtyard before her. She was already home. After dinner, I'll wash the dishes and then go to my room and try again. I have to succeed in inscribing Ms. Solana's rune today!

With new resolve, her small hand pushed open the door.

“Aunt Nerys, I'm home.”

Only one person was sitting at the dining table inside. Lorcan and her uncle were not there.

“Mm,” Nerys grunted. “Come and sit. It is time to eat.”

Isolde froze. This was unusual. Aunt Nerys was acting strangely.

“Did you not hear me?” A sharp, glacial glare shot across the room. Now that was the Aunt Nerys she knew.

“Yes, Aunt,” Isolde whispered, lowering her head. She walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

A large plate was set before her. On it were two loaves of black bread and two of white.

“Eat,” Nerys said. “You can have all of this bread.”

So strange. Aunt Nerys is so strange today. Did she find out I've been stealing bread?

Isolde's small body trembled, and the color drained from her face.

“It was you who stole the bread, wasn't it?”

It was true. Her aunt had found out. Isolde lowered her head, bracing for the punishment she knew was coming. Yet after a long moment, nothing happened.

Carefully, Isolde lifted her head. Her aunt was staring at her quietly. In those eyes… there was no anger.

“I have been too harsh with you in the past,” Nerys said, her voice unnaturally soft. “You are a growing child. It is normal to have a large appetite. I will not blame you for it. Eat.”

Isolde felt a deep sense of unease. Her aunt was very strange today, but she couldn't quite figure out why.

“Eat by yourself. Remember to wash the dishes when you are finished.” With those words, her aunt stood up and walked to her bedroom door.

Click.

The door closed, and Isolde was left alone. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Yes, her aunt was very strange today.

Grrrrmble.

The scent of the bread wafted up to her, and her stomach protested loudly. She had been hungry since midday. With her aunt gone, Isolde felt the oppressive atmosphere in the room lighten considerably.

Her small hand reached out and picked up a loaf of white bread.

Amu…

She took a bite. Unlike the black bread, the white bread was sweet and soft.