33rd day of the moon season 2440

If it had not been for the support of her mother, Azena would have spent the day locked up in her room. Obviously, running away in the middle of the evening at her age and with her social status was unforgivable and she deserved her punishment. On the other hand, she was beginning to learn how to manipulate adults by observing Serus who did it with their father. Nobody suspected that she, a girl of seven, would have such intentions. After all, it was not surprising because a young child learns by imitating. In this case, who was the Serus' model?

That morning, Azena was going to visit the market with her mother, her big sister Argent and a bodyguard. There were merchants who had traveled from Detmor, the neighboring kingdom. They were not discriminatory and therefore, they refused the invitation to the castle to give a chance to all to put their hands on their goods. Lady Rivatha was particularly interested in their spices that were impossible to obtain otherwise. Bayrne had been firm with her, insisting that she send a maid to retrieve what she wanted. Despite her usually mild temper, his wife had stood up to him, claiming that she needed to go out to get some fresh air and observe their people. She possessed a rare quality in a sovereign: a real interest in the well-being of her subjects.

Azena did not understand much, but she was just happy not to have to run away again to meet her new friend. The latter had invented her to join her downtown in the morning before their paths separated the night before. Evidently the little rebel had said nothing to her family; she knew better. Fayne was part of the peasantry and it was inconceivable that a noble formed a friendship with this kind of individual. She had heard it over and over again and she did not understand the reasoning behind it. Sometimes she wondered about her mental development. She was so different from those around her. She could not imagine revealing all her thoughts to her parents who were so conservative. The traditions had remained intact and the ancestors had to be respected according to them. But what happened when a tradition made no sense with society? What happened if the values of an ancestor did not resonate with you?

"Hurry up, Azena."

The silver-haired girl looked up and realized she was mechanically following Argent. She stopped a little too late and collided against her. For now, they were alone. Their mother wanted them to offer their prayers to Elysia, the goddess of light, joy and life. There was a statue of her in the most popular part of the castle. It was extremely well maintained and the decorations were extravagant. After all, deities were more important than any mortal. Moreover, Argent and Azena went there to try to win Elysia's blessing to ensure their safety during their trip to the market. Azena believed her mother now when she told them that people were unpredictable and sometimes wild.

But the experience of last night had also sowed doubts in Azena's conscious. She had deserved nothing of this violence and yet Elysia had abandoned her in need for help. Instead, she had been assaulted. Fortunately, Fayne was passing by to go home. Besides, it was she who had explained the meaning of witch to her. Apparently, the shades of her hair were feared. The rumors were that witches, no matter how old they were, bore this characteristic. Why did she inherit it? She did not practice magic. In truth, she did not even know it existed. This revelation explained many strange events, inexplicable ones. It was not uncommon for people to look at her oddly or not want to be in her presence. She understood now; she was perceived as a vile creature.

She was distracted by a flash of light. Her eyes fell on one of her locks. It was so beautiful: brilliant, devoid of ripples and healthy. No one had such hair. If it had been of another color, everyone would have fought to understand its secrets. Azena did not have one; it was natural. She barely needed to brush them. It was amazing and yet she felt her heart tighten with hatred. She who had always adored her hair.

"What are you thinking about?" Argent asked worriedly.

"Do you think I am a witch?" retorted the youngest sister.

"Not at all! Where did you get such an idea?"

No hesitation. That was what Azena had hoped for. Argent and Gendrel had always been respectful and they seemed to like her. She wanted to believe that she was not a monster to be feared.

A farmer shouted that I was a witch and the others agreed.

"We will train and one day we will be able to defend ourselves against these thugs!" Argent exclaimed with determination.

For a moment, Azena remained speechless. It was forbidden for a girl to fight. It was unnatural according to their father.

"You are different, Argent."

"I am serious!" the brunette insisted with an iron-strong gaze. "Listen... I trust you, so do not repeat what I am going to tell you, promise?"

"That interests me. I give you my word."

"I borrow weapons from the armory and –"

"Really?!?" Azena said, her eyes bulging with excitement. "You are not lying to me? When did you start? Why? What made you want to?"

Argent laughed and smiled jovially. She took her sister by the hand, continuing her way to the statue of Elysia along a long corridor. She followed a white carpet edged with purple that led to her destination.

"Cohennar," she whispered.

"Who?" Azena questioned, uncertain of her memories. "This name is familiar to me..."

"Our great-uncle. You do not remember him. He introduced me to combat years ago."

"A man? Wait a moment... Are you sure you have not dreamed that?"

Serfie passed by, whistling and silence was until she disappeared.

"Demien helps me in secret," admitted Argent, blushing. "He says I have talent."

"The butcher's son?!?" exclaimed Azena, taken by surprise.

"Shuuush... If... He dreams of becoming a soldier..."

"But... he is from a commoner family."

"You gave your word," reminded her big sister with authority.

"I am not against it," snarled Azena, crossing her arms, freeing herself from her interlocutor's grip. "I have my secrets too."

"I do not doubt it for a moment. Tell me about it later. Let us go pray before mother loses her patience with us."

"Very well."

The girl with the ocean gaze accelerated her pace, eager to meet Fayne. Who knows? Maybe Argent would like her.

The prayer session did not last long. The two girls were just teasing each other, curious about each other's adventures. With a minimum of information and some shy reactions from Argent, Azena quickly guessed that her older sister had developed feelings that we're a little deeper than friendship for Demien. She had no interest in romance, but it was fun to provoke Argent. So, on the way home, she abused her new power:

"A commoner! Father would be outraged!" exclaimed the youngest, exaggerating her reaction.

"He would be towards your new friendship," retorted Argent with a teasing smile.

"It is completely ridiculous... Honestly, I do not understand."

"Mother often tells me that I simply lack wisdom and that it comes with experience. I guess we will understand with time."

They offered each other a smile, satisfied with the presence of the other, but the girl with the pale mane was the one who closed the exchange:

"You are wiser than all the children in this family united."

Secretly, she had always admired Argent. Now that she knew about her secret combat training, she recognized the warrior in her. It was her destiny; it was so clear now. Her character was being transformed like a forged blade: proud and solid, but also firm when necessary. If she had been born a boy, she would have been an exceptional heroine. If... This truth left Azena with a lingering bitter taste.

"And if we ignored this "if"?" she wondered aloud.

"What? "Argent asked, confused.

"Nothing nothing. Nothing at all..."

She looked up at the ceiling of the corridor they were taking to go to their mother who was waiting near the main entrance. Once again, too many questions were forming in her mind, questions that a lady should not ask herself. What if she too had another destiny?

✦×✦

At the market, Azena and Argent each held one of their mother's hands. They were followed by a soldier who was ready to fight and he was not just any soldier: he was the Master-Captain, a role given to one man who is in charge of the military forces of the city. He was important and obviously, a weapon master. This title had been offered to Cohennar according to Rivatha, but he had refused, preferring to roam the world. He was a strange, different individual, and Azena would have liked to know him. She did not remember him anymore. She was too young the last time he showed up at the castle for a visit. His death had never been confirmed, but it had been brought to life by his long absence. Rumors spread that he had abandoned his people like the coward he was. Argent always defended him ardently so the subject was avoided in her presence. Each time, Azena remained silent, unable to form an opinion since she did not know the vagabond. On the other hand, she had always envied his freedom and his adventures and she was unable to express it.

"Do not walk so quickly," asked the Master-Captain, who was trailing behind the three girls. "Stay close to me, please."

He repeated himself so frequently that Rivatha did not answer him anymore. She was looking for exotic spices normally only found in the realm of red earth, Detmor. She sneaked like an eel through the bourgeois and the commoners who cared only for themselves. They did not know that they were in the presence of members of the ruling family. Bayrne had insisted that the three women camouflage themselves in the crowd with simple clothes and a hood. The only one standing out was the Master-Captain. He looked like a knight that came straight out of a fairy tale.

Rivatha accelerated the pace. Azena, distracted by the hubbub that engulfed her senses, felt her mother pull her, causing a rebellious lock to slip out of its hiding place.

"Oh!" exclaimed Argent, noticing her. "Azena, your hair!"

Indeed, the lock was very distinguishable, shining under the powerful rays of twin suns. Its carrier hurried to stuff it deep in the hood. She did not care about the Detmor spices; she was looking for Fayne.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. Rivatha began a conversation with one of the merchants, who gasped when she offered to buy all his stock.

"Are you sure you can afford all this, my little lady?" he questioned under his bushy mustache that was moving in all directions when he pronounced words.

But of course, she could. Azena rolled her eyes, amused by her mother who managed to deceive his interlocutor with her outfit. She nibbled her lip so that no impulsive words escaped her mouth.

Moreover, the merchant had a look very unique to him: he was dark in general, but he gave off a bright, cheerful impression. His skin was like leather and his hair was ebony, the complete opposite of Azena's. If she was a living ghost, he was a shadow from the depths of Aerinda. Despite their differences, the girl had no fear. On the contrary, he was rather charming in his own way. He took the time to choose soft and respectful words. So, why were not the others unable to do that for her? A boiling heat wave crept along her spine.

"- Hey!" greeted a warm voice that freed her from her trance.

She turned and a chestnut mane waving under the light of day swallowed up her vision. She blinked a few times and finally, she could distinguish a face that was both new and familiar.

"Azena!" Fayne continued with a broad smile. "I finally found you."

Immediately, the uncomfortable feeling that had taken a hold of Azena's body was swept away by a spiritual gust of wind. She was calm, at peace for the moment. Wait... Had she been angry? She looked down and confirmed that she was clenching her fists. She relaxed the muscles of her forearm and tried to smile despite her embarrassment.

"F-Fayne," she stammered, uncertain of what she should do.

Whatever happened, her mother was not to know anything about their friendship. Fortunately, the lady of the family was distracted. On the other hand, Argent was not; she was paying attention to the situation.

"Well... Th-this is my big sister Argent," said Azena, smiling widely.

Her cheeks pink, she rubbed the back of the skull for a moment and realized that she had not finished her presentations.

"- Oh! Silver, this is Fayne... Litfow, right?"

But why was she losing her mind? It was a simple introduction between her sister and her new friend. Well, she had to admit that she was not used to making friends.

"Exactly," confirmed the peasant girl with hazel eyes.

She was a little taller and seemed a little older than Argent. She must have been about ten years old in this case. Maybe a little less...

"We're wearing similar dresses today," Fayne commented. "Well, apart from the hood. Besides, aren't you... well... rich...?"

"We must not be noticed, right Azena?" Argent reminded her with a teasing smile.

"Y-Yes," confirmed the youngest of the trio. "How did you recognize me in this crowd?"

"Easy enough with that shining like a fire under the suns," sneered the peasant girl, pointing at another lock that had slipped out of its hiding place.

- Oh no!

She remedied the situation with haste.

"You have really beautiful hair," Fayne complimented.

"T-thank you," said Azena, whose cheeks felt like they we're on fire. "But do not talk about it anymore. We need some privacy if you see what I am trying to insinuate."

The Master-Captain finally realized that his two protégés were not alone. He put his hand on the handle of his sword and glared at Fayne.

"Who's there? Stay away, girl!"

He stepped forward as Azena's new friend opened his eyes wide with fear. She was frozen on the spot. Fortunately, Argent had the courage to stand between the two.

"SALE!" exclaimed the merchant, who was still dealing with their mother. "IT'S TIME FOR A SALE!"

A man leaped like a lion jumping on his prey towards the man with tanned skin. In his charge, he shoved the Master-Captain who momentarily lost his balance.

"Let's go!" yelled Argent. "Quick!"

The trio slipped into the crowd. Fayne took charge, leading the group through the living obstacles. Argent held Azena by the hand to make sure she did not lose her. It was virtually impossible anyway; the younger girl could run so fast that no other child could beat her in a race. She also had always been unusually agile and the barricades placed in the courses we're playthings to her.

The girls stopped in front of a rectangular building whose slate roof made Azena want to climb it. There was a large window on the other side of which could be seen tables occupied by adults and a young woman who served food and beverages.

"That's my mum," Fayne said with a small smile. "She's nice, you'll see."

"Your mother? Where are we?" asked Argent. "I guess this is not your home because there are so many people."

"Welcome to the White Horn," said the peasant girl with a touch of shyness.

She invited her friends to enter. Above the door, there was the logo of the establishment that was engraved in the wood: a curved and opal-colored horn. Everything was charming despite the lack of professionalism. It was obvious that this establishment was tied to low society.

The decorations were basic, the furniture dusty in places, the floor had been damaged by the visitors' boots over time, but the amazing piece was the candelabrum hanging from the ceiling in the center of the reception room. The latter was built out of deer horns on which several candles had been lit. Wax threatened to fall on the girls' heads which caused a moment of uncertainty in Azena. The pale-haired little girl stepped forward, past her companions and almost bumped into a fat man who was paying at a counter.

" C'mon, Lyran, be a little lenient," he said, addressing a second man who frowned his bushy eyebrows. "Times are difficult... You know it well."

"My faith! Of course, I know that," said Lyran. "Today is a good day simply because these Detmoriens merchants have come. It's as if we are in a festive period!"

His voice was like Fayne's: warm, good-natured, sincere, and above all, he was jovial. Besides, he looked a lot like her: chestnut hair, hazel eyes, freckles and a smile that could purify a criminal. He emanated liquid trust. Azena felt comfortable in this place even though it was foreign to her.

"You are doing a great job," she complimented, looking at Fayne.

"Thank you," replied the Litfow humbly. "We do our best."

Lyran suddenly lost interest in his interlocutor and turned his eyes to the three children. He hit the counter with both his hands and raised his voice.

"Hey Fayne! You came back!" he exclaimed, smiling so broadly that you could see all his teeth.

As much as the innkeeper seemed friendly, he was also a little scary. The two sisters exchanged a slightly troubled look. To prevent appearing impolite, they pulled down their hood. As soon as Azena's hair was unveiled, some customers uttered murmurs that did not escape the girl.

"That's my dad Lyran," Fayne said, trying to relax the atmosphere. "He's a bit crazy as you can see."

"Hey! That's not very nice," Lyran growled, clumsily trying to look intimidating. "Who're these two pretty ladies that you brought to the tavern?"

The paunchy man who was negotiating with him was still waiting, arms crossed and brows frowning.

"Dad... umm...," Fayne said, pointing at him.

"Oh! Sorry Brinhy," apologized Lyran. "About our discussion, I'll give you a discount for this time. Now go get me a small barrel of beer and keep the change."

He searched his pouch and gave a dozen coins to the customer named Brinhy. The latter shook his head and walked to the exit, staring at Azena. Rather, he was staring at her hair. He seemed concerned, but he did not do anything about it.

Azena could not help but feel herself targeted, observed, and even feared. She tried to ignore it all, but wherever she turned her attention, there was at least one pair of eyes that met hers. She felt her heart beat faster and a drop of sweat beading on her right temple. She was anxious. It was not a good sign. She had difficulty controlling this kind of emotion.

"Azena," called Argent anxiously.

Her voice was distant despite her proximity.

Fayne had been busy telling how she had met her two new friends to her father. She fell silent, putting a hand on Azena's shoulder.

"Don't worry about them. If it's necessary, I'll protect you just like I did last night."

Azena wanted to believe her, but she was on the verge of panic. She froze, her lips trembling, uncertain on what to answer.

"Hey, I'll show you how to defend yourself, Fayne went on. We'll have fun on the snow mounds. You'll see. Silver can come too!"

"That sounds fun to me," approved the elder Kindirah.

"Would it be possible to have a table and one of your famous hot chocolates? Fayne asked her father. In exchange, I will help you for a whole day."

"Bah... I... Ask your mother," answered Lyran, caught off guard.

His daughter raised an eyebrow, looking surprised.

"You're sure?" the brunette insisted softly. "Absolutely certain?"

Azena had never seen that before. What a strange family dynamic. The daughter was putting pressure on her father who was certainly the master of the family. But that was not all. The father had made his wife responsible for making a decision about their business. They seemed so relaxed that Azena had a sudden urge to say: What is this family? Can I be adopted?

"Mmmm maybe not," said Lyran rubbing his hairy chin. "You know... your mother... oh well... Whatever I suppose."

He grabbed three glasses in a simplicity that Azena appreciated greatly since she was accustomed to everything being of an exaggerated luxury and put them on the counter. He mixed boiling water with sugar and chocolate and then handed his creations to the three girls.

"Don't worry about payin', but don't go repeating it to others," he whispered winking.

"You are a wonderful dad"! exclaimed Fayne, sparkling with joy.

Azena accepted the hot drink, unsure of what it was, but the first sip brought her comfort and she managed to calm down a little.

"That's excellent, Mr. Litfow. Thank you very much for your offering."

"I agree with her," said Argent, who also just had tasted the concoction.

"Perfect!" Lyran bellowed on a positive note. "Go sit at a table where you can chatter. Come on! I have other clients to serve."

"What is the expression chatter?" Azena questioned innocently.

Father and daughter exchanged a furtive glance. The brunette was the one who spoke by directing her friends to their table:

"It means discussing in short."

"It's a jargon of the familiar language," explained Argent to his sister. "It's not bad. We are just used to a more traditional speech."

Azena guessed that her sister had already heard this term previously because of Demien. The soldier to be was born in the lower society.

"I'll teach you," Fayne said in a chuckle, addressing her.

"By the way, Fayne, do you like to read?" asked Argent.

The eight-year-old Kindirah loved not only handling weapons, but also reading. She often told her imaginary adventures to Azena, who also adored them. However, she was unable to focus on text for a long time.

"My parents think that reading is not an important skill," confessed the peasant, blushing. "I know it's a basic thing to learn among the nobles..."

"I must admit to you that I am jealous," Azena snorted.

"Why? You're lucky. I would like to be able to read..."

Realizing her mistake, the little rebel opened her mouth, but no word came out. In the end, she could only stare at her friend with embarrassment.

"She hates to read," explained Argent. "She was unable to do it for a long time."

Azena wanted to redeem herself, but how? After a moment's thought, an idea came to her mind.

"What if I were to teach you...?" she suggested to Fayne.

"To read?!?" exclaimed the peasant girl, her eyes bright, completely amazed. "Would you do that?"

Azena nodded timidly sipping her hot chocolate. She felt both intimidated and excited to be someone's teacher, but it seemed like a good thing to do.

"I shall help," Argent said, giving his little sister a teasing smile. "In exchange, you'll have to go through me and Fayne's self-defense lessons."

"I feel like I am going to love it," Azena growled sarcastically.

"I'll kick your ass."

Argent's rude use of language shocked her younger sister who nearly choked on her drink.

"Mother would wash your tongue with soap! Where did you learn to express yourself like that?"

Argent shrugged, displaying a most innocent smile. At this reaction, Azena guessed that Demien was the culprit of this affair. She had to admit that she too liked it. She thought she might has well enjoy it before having to go home. She and Argent were going to be severely punished.