Chapter Text
When the burning metal pot met Maximilian’s hands, it didn't hurt as much as she assumed it would.
Maximilian remembers the first time she had an accident while she was working. She recalls being ten years old at that time, when she was thrusted into the dingy apothecary shop with nothing but the clothes on her back and a hateful scowl on her father’s face. One of the healers urged for her to bring over a small pot that was sitting by the end of a table. Whether Maximilian was too foolishly clueless or the healer was careless for not warning her, she didn’t exactly know who was at fault. All she could remember was the painful sting on her hands as her palms settled on the scalding hot pan, the tears that welled in her eyes as she screamed and skittered backwards, finally followed by the scolding she received afterwards.
A handful of months have passed since then, perhaps even a year, and Maximilian feels like she has aged far more than she should have. Her back bent and her hands blistered like an old crone, yet she didn’t even have the luxury of complaining. The lack of comfort and arduous labor has led her to have a sturdier resolve, and accidents don’t seem to hurt as much as they did.
“Ow!”
She merely yelps this time, immediately throwing the pot back on the counter and letting it rattle on the table with a loud thud , uncaring of the commotion it made as she cradled her injured hands.
A shudder wracks through her when she glances at her painful, stinging red hands. Her hands are small and pale, yet those are the only attributes that link her to her youth. Calluses lined the insides of her fingers and dirt stuffed beneath her stubby nails. Now, her palms seemed like she had dipped them in angry red paint as her flesh nearly glowed from the burns. Maximilian feels the memory of the scalding pot on her skin as her hands pulsed with pain.
From above her, she hears someone click their tongue. Maximilian looks up to see one of the healers of the apothecary shop look down at her with narrowed eyes. Even for a child her age, Maximilian was awfully small, and she barely reached the healer’s bony hip. She had to strain her neck to look up at his gaunt and frowning face.
“What the hell happened?”
Maximilian looks at the pot with teary eyes, before lowering her gaze.
“I-I… I was n-n-not aware… that i-it was hot…”
The healer only further narrows his eyes at her, his icy cold blue eyes darting from her to the pot. His lips twist into a frown.
“Did you spill anything?”
She was too quick to shake her head no . Healers of the apothecary shop she worked in had to report to her father in regards to her progress and if she did her duties well, as well as the fact that they were free to tell him if Maximilian had made any mistakes. She spilled half a cauldron of ointment one time and her father hit her bottom with a wooden rod until she nearly passed out. Maximilian does not want such a thing to happen again.
The healer sighs when he spots Maximilian’s burned hands. Maximilian had to bite her lip to prevent a whimper from leaving her mouth, she was sure that her burns were bound to blister sooner or later. She looks up at the healer with watery eyes, and the healer clicks his tongue at the pitiful sight.
“Can you heal yourself?”
Her lips open and close, there is an urge within her to say something, yet like always her tongue betrays her. Maximilian simply shakes her head no again. The healer only gives her an indifferent gaze, before he returns to his work with a careless pivot.
“Hilda and Medrick are yet to return, so the best you can do for now is wrap it in a bandage. We are low on ointment, so don’t use too much, lest you will be reprimanded.”
Maximilian feels like a puppy that was left in the rain, and she only nods before heading towards one of the cabinets. Her palms hurt as she dragged a small stepping stool with her, wincing when the wooden splinters dug into her tender flesh. Maximilian’s small stature often made it difficult for her to reach certain places, so she had to make an extra effort in order to do basic tasks
She steps on the stool and reaches up the cabinet, feeling around with her injured hands until her fingers land on the roll of scratchy, yellowed bandages. There were nice bandages in their infirmary, soft and white and made of cotton, but they were reserved for patients who could afford them. Maximilian dreamt of feeling such soft fabrics against her injuries, and sometimes she’d imagine wearing a dress made of the same tender material. Everything she wore, from her dresses to her shoes and to her bandages, were made of tough and coarse material. It was a dream of hers to wear dresses as soft as Rosetta’s one day, even if it was just once.
Moving to the nearest table and grabbing a nearby jar of ointment, Maximilian goes to work. She tries to suppress the tears that threaten to flow out of her eyes at the stinging pain once she put ointment on her palms. Even when she went and wrapped her hands in bandages, the stinging did not subside.
She wished for the burns to be removed completely with healing magic, but that was out of the question for now. The healers who were capable of healing magic, Hilda and Medrick, were out and helping the soldiers who were injured from a recent monster raid. The rest of the healers in their apothecary shop were normal, ordinary humans.
Well, everyone except for Maximilian.
Maximilian frowns, staring at her bandage-clad hands. She couldn’t afford to heal herself right now, she had just healed four bruises and cuts earlier. She knew they were small injuries, but she herself was still a small child. Her mana reserves weren’t as extensive as the others. Hell, her mana was so little she didn’t even think she’d be considered as a mage.
It was discovered that she had mana affinity when she was eight years old. Her father merely raised an eyebrow at the news, but to her, it was such a wondrous moment. Mana affinity, after all, was one of the basic requirements of a mage. Maximilian adored the mages that often passed by their village, often staring at their long capes and the glistening mana stones that dangled from their necks, and she felt like she was looking at mystical heroes and spirits. Even though she knew she was nothing but an insignificant peasant girl, Maximilian couldn’t help but envision herself in their shoes the moment she realized she had the chance to do what they could do.
The first time she felt truly, genuinely , happy was the first time she managed to heal someone successfully.
“Unbelievable! Impossible! She must be a prodigy!” were the cries of the village healers when she healed someone’s bruise at the age of nine. Apparently, being able to conduct magic at such a young age was highly improbable, even though it was something as basic as healing magic. Back then, Maximilian often stared at her hands and felt wonderment fill her. She was something more than the harsh words of her father and the darkness of her cold room, and Maximilian couldn’t help but start to feel a small sliver of hope when she thought of her future.
That sliver of hope was promptly crushed once her father decided that she was fit enough to join the village’s workforce.
“Hey! Where the hell is the poultice I ordered? I’ve been left waiting for hours!” One gruff man by the counter boomed, staring at Maximilian with narrowed gaze.
Maximilian had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She had only been bandaging herself for two minutes at most. Still, little Maximilian was not allowed to complain.
She immediately skitters over to the pouches that lined the nearby table, taking a few before going to the front of the counter. Maximilian counts the coins the man lays out - twenty derhams - before setting out two pouches in front of the man.
The burly man, nearly three times bigger than Maximilian, immediately frowns. She is hit by a familiar, instinctual fear.
“I paid for three pouches.”
Maximilian’s mouth opens and closes like a carp at the sound of the man’s sour tone. “S-Sir… one p-pouch of poultice i-i-is… is t-ten derhams.”
“And who asked?” The man snaps, baring his yellowed teeth. “I gave enough coins for three pouches!”
“Y-You… there is o-o-only t-twen… twenty derhams - “
“I gave you thirty coins! Now is a damn half-pint like you going to call me a liar?”
Maximilian hunches her shoulders at his sharp and biting voice. This was why she absolutely hated manning the apothecary shop’s counter, such a task forced her to interact with an increased number of unsettling individuals than usual. Many often tried to take advantage of the fact that she was young and small, and thus they often tried to find a way to intimidate the twelve year old girl by the counter for extra products. One time a woman even tried to accuse her of giving her the wrong jar of ointment just so she could get a new jar for free.
“N-No, I… there i-is - “
“Mister Gord, I saw twenty derhams on the counter. Please refrain from harassing our apprentice.”
She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from letting out a grateful sob. From behind her, over her shoulder, one of the female healers stood with a scowl on her face. Someone seemed to have noticed her perilous predicament and came to her aid.
“B-But I - !” Mister Gord says, face turning red. It seemed like he was torn between fighting for his cause or shrinking in shame at the prospect of being caught. He settles on glancing between Maximilian and the older healer, giving each of them both a glare.
Maximilian’s superior seemed to be unperturbed by the frigid anger on the man’s face, seemingly accustomed to unruly customers. While she crosses her arms and fixes the man a glare of her own, Maximilian does nothing but lower her gaze and hunch her shoulders.
The man huffs, and Maximilian does her best to keep herself from flinching when he gives her another frosty glare. He grabs the two pouches on the corner before turning around, swinging the apothecary shop’s open before slamming it shut, making the doorframes rattle and the tips of Maximilian’s finger tingle.
The older healer does not say anything for a while, only looking down at Maximilian with an indescribable gaze. Then, she sighs and gives her a pointed look.
“That was good.” She says, voice soft. “I know you are easily scared, but do not let bastards like him take advantage of you and the shop. Unless your life is at stake, stand your ground and insist on what is right.”
Maximilian nods, scooping the loose coins on the counter with her bandaged hands. Every movement of her fingers made her palms scream with pain, but she was not allowed to lounge and relax. The healer turns to return to the cauldron she was mixing in the corner, but not before giving Maximilian one last look.
“Stay alert and keep a keen eye on the customers. Just so that what happened earlier wouldn’t happen again, record the customer’s payments the moment you receive them.”
She only nods once more. Before Maximilian could even recover from the previous incident, several new people entered their apothecary shop.
The next few hours were mindless and monotonous despite the influx of customers. Most of them were those who returned from monster raids and expeditions. Maximilian noted how the numbers of people who returned for medicines slowly increased over the years. Back then, nobody bothered to get salves and ointments. Dead people have no use for such things, after all.
Anatol was a monster infested land, and attempts of purging the land often led to many casualties. Not many of the soldiers who went on expeditions were spared from death. Ever since she was young, Maximilian was unable to even step foot out of their village from the fear of being trampled by a troll or being ripped to shreds by a werewolf. Anatolians lived and cowered in fear, but how could they look for a better home when they could get kidnapped by goblins the moment they step foot in some undisclosed forest?
It all changed, however, when the Remdragon Knights began to oversee the fief.
The men were formidable warriors, able to slice ogres in half with nothing but one swing of their sword. Maximilian was yet to see them in action, but the whispers that said their fearsome strength managed to exterminate monsters with ease managed to fill her heart with hope. The knights spent weeks upon weeks cleaning the surrounding forests and plains of monster habitats, giving the villages the opportunity to grow and prosper without the fear of getting raided by a horde of goblins.
Slowly but surely, the soldiers of the fief became more and more competent due to the training instilled upon them by the Remdragon Knights, and thus less people died. Sir Evan Triden, their commander and acting liege of the land, was a dignified and just ruler. Albeit Maximilian couldn’t help but feel a little displeased at how the higher ups prioritized the militia over everything, for most of the new infrastructure projects in the villages centered around defenses and weaponries. She couldn’t help but yearn for a beautiful orchard or garden to be installed within the fief, for everything in Anatol seemed so dreary…
“Hello, Maximilian.”
She turns, and sees a familiar face. The kind seamstress that lived near her house was standing behind the counter with a different woman she has yet to meet, both of them looking at the jars that lined one of the shelves quizzically. Maximilian looks at her attentively, thankful that she didn’t have to face another arrogant man.
“Which one of these is best for migraines? I would prefer it if it were a non-drowsy kind of medication.”
Maximilian blinks for a moment, thinking and thinking and thinking, before pointing at one of the jars filled with a cool blue liquid. The seamstress looks to her for reassurance.
“Are you sure? How long before it takes effect?”
Willing her stiff tongue to speak, Maximilian looks at her shoes in order to cease her anxiety. She tries her best not to speak much in an attempt to keep her impediment at the tag end, but sometimes she is left with no choice.
“H-Half… an hour.”
The seamstress nods, pleased, before taking the pouch that was tied to her waist.
“Good. I shall take five segals of the medication.”
Before Maximilian could move, the woman that accompanied the seamstress suddenly gave her an incredulous expression.
“Are you seriously going to take the advice of a young child? What if you buy something dangerous? A small fledgling like her shouldn’t be handling things like these in the first place! Why don’t you ask the healers at the back for confirmation?”
She feels her cheeks redden at the brusque words. The woman talked as if Maximilian was not in front of them, able to hear every word. Nonetheless, she would understand the other woman’s skepticism. Maximilian was, after all, a child. Nobody would trust a child to ride a horse or to manage a shop.
Even then, the seamstress only smiles cheekily.
“Trust me. Maximilian here may be young, but she is more knowledgeable in the healing arts than you and me combined. Is that not right, Maximilian?”
Her blush only reddens impossibly further at the praise, and she looks away in order to avoid providing an answer. A strange sense of discomfort spread throughout her whenever she was at the forefront of a conversation. The seamstress laughs as the woman with her only huffed indignantly.
Shaking her head, Maximilian moves over to prepare her order. She fills several vials full of the medicine before stuffing them in a small pouch, sliding the said pouch across the counter in the seamstresses’ direction.
“Thank you.” She says, turning to leave the shop, but not before she turns and glances at Maximilian’s direction.
The same look of sympathy clouds over the seamstresses’ eyes, and she gives Maximilian a soft smile.
Maximilian feels something scrape at the bottom of her stomach, an emotion she couldn’t quite place, and she is at a loss for words like usual. But this time, something else churned in her gut, and she can only watch as the two women leave the shop.
Then, she is suddenly shoved out of her seat by the counter
“Move.” Snaps one of the healers, a heavy-set man that wasn’t exactly kind to Maximilian, as he shoved her away from her spot.
“I’ll take care of the customers, you can mix the Carrion-infused tonics by the window.”
Maximilian wanted to object and protest. Carrion-infused medication smelled absolutely foul and rancid, and it was obvious that he only passed the nauseating task to her for his own self preservation. But the much bigger man gives her a sharp glare, raising his chin and turning away from her.
Sighing, Maximilian admits defeat and drags herself to the apothecary shop’s back rooms. The moment she steps in the empty threshold, she is already hit by the repulsive smell of the tonic. She internally curses the previous guy who dumped this burden onto her, all the while breathing through her mouth and not her nose in order to keep the putrid smell from her senses.
As she neared the smoking cauldron by the window, she couldn’t help but think of the seamstress' kind words.
“Trust me. Maximilian here may be young, but she is more knowledgeable in the healing arts than you and me combined. Is that not right, Maximilian?”
Even though she was being praised, Maximilian couldn’t help but feel anything but happiness.
She knew fully well that the seamstress wasn’t proud of Maximilian as much as she pitied her. Because of the fact that they lived on the same street, the woman was witness to the countless times Maximilian had trudged home utterly exhausted. The seamstress has seen her come home in the dark, in the rain, in ragged clothes, in knee deep floods, and other excruciating conditions. One time, Maximilian had passed out in the middle of the street, unable to find the strength to complete the journey home. A few of their neighbors had to carry her home like some sort of debauched parade.
Ever since she could do basic chores and tasks, her father thought that it would do her well to finally join Anatol’s workforce. Maximilian was pushed in the hands of blacksmiths, stable caretakers, and finally at the local apothecary shop; all in an attempt to get her a job. She bounced between apprenticeships and indentures, sweeping floors and dusting bookshelves until her dress turned gray from the collective dirt and the sweat on her forehead dripped to her chin.
Putting a child to work was not unheard of. Many children, a few even as young as her, ran around doing errands and chores for the village. What shocked people, however, was Maximilian’s relentless pursuit of income. Out of everyone else, she often shouldered more burdens and tasks if it meant that she would earn more money. Maximilian was willing to mix disgusting potions and sweep the shop’s front free of animal dung in exchange for a few more derhams. People gaped and witnessed her delivering medicines in sub-zero temperatures.
When asked about why she needed so much money, Maximilian’s default answer was that it was for her family’s well being.
It turned into a heartfelt tale of a hard working little girl who loved her family so much that she was willing to work endlessly in order to put food on the table. People thought that her love for her father and her sister fueled her determination.
The true story, behind the well crafted lies and deception, involved anything but love.
“Don’t you even dream of coming home without five lirams worth of income. Do you understand, you wastrel?”
Maximilian shudders at the memory of her father’s disdainful voice. She looks at her pocket once again, briefly counting the coins that jingled at the bottom of the pouch. She got the extra coins from tips and doing errands for the healers, but it wasn't enough for her to come home without being punished.
She forces herself to relax. Maximilian had only reached a little more than half of the required quota of the day, but not all hope was lost. There are many more opportunities to earn more money later, she’d surely get the time to catch them. She didn’t want to disappoint her father once more.
Even though people were unaware of the truth of her home life, Maximilian knew that they still pitied her. Seeing a little girl run around the village trying to make ends meet would garner the sympathy of anyone, yet their commiseration did nothing to relieve her burdens. Even though she was such a pitiful sight, it didn’t stop a few people from attempting to scam and take advantage of her. And if anyone were to say anything, they would have to answer to her scornful father.
The sympathetic expression on the seamstress’ face flashed through her mind once more, followed by the sneer of the man who lied about his payment. Maximilian didn’t know which she hated more, the pity or the aggression.
Wrapping her injured hands around the wooden cooking spoon of the cauldron, she shakes her head free of the dark thoughts and begins working. With the little strength she has, Maximilian slowly stirs the thick concoction within the container.
Maximilian spends the rest of the afternoon preparing and bottling different medicines and ointments. She was happy that she didn’t have to man the counter and thus she no longer had to interact with any more customers, but by the time the work day was nearly over the joints in her shoulders were close to popping from continuous mixing and strain. Not to mention the endless pain in her freshly burned hands, and Maximilian had to stifle tears more than once. By the time she had finished packing the final bag of poultice, she was ready to cry from relief.
Still, her duties were not over yet. Maximilian was still entrusted with the task of delivering orders to customers around the village.
“These ointments are for the Tarinnes by the town square and the pack of styptics is for the blacksmiths.” One of the healers instructs as he places the medicines inside Maximilian's work-mandated leather bag. “Make sure you give it to the head blacksmith and not to some random trainee. We don’t want to repeat what happened last time.”
She nods, way too eagerly. Maximilian desperately tries to hide the budding excitement in her form.
The healer looks down at her with indescribable eyes. Maximilian liked this senior of hers more than the rest. Despite seeing how vulnerable and small she was, he didn’t look at her with an expression of pity. Most important of all, he didn’t treat her like she was a pesky rat who got in the way either. To him, she was just some human, and he treated her like a human. Sometimes she wasn’t even treated as a human in her own home.
Sighing, the man crouches down to match her height and fishes something out of his pocket. When he outstretches his hand, Maximilian looks at the small pile of coins in his calloused palm.
“You did well today even though you have been injured. Have a little extra on your pay.”
Her eyes widened involuntarily at the sudden act of generosity. Maximilian takes a quick inventory of the coins, counting them in her mind and adding them to the money she already has in her pocket, before sighing in relief. Her earnings were more than enough for the day, and somewhat of a heavy weight was lifted off of her chest.
Maximilian scoops the loose coins into her bandaged hands before hurriedly bowing in the healer’s direction. He nods, standing up and turning away without bothering to wait for Maximilian’s thank you. He knows she is a child of few words.
Without another word, Maximilian pushes through the apothecary shop’s ratty door before taking off into the street.
She spends the rest of the afternoon running around town and completing her deliveries. The village was bustling with local and foreign merchants, tourists, and travelers. Still, they don’t manage to outnumber the native Anatolians who lived within the large stone houses that lined the numerous streets. From what she heard, there weren’t a lot of people who inhabited Anatol a few decades ago due to the fact that monsters infested the surrounding lands. All because of the Remdragon Knights’ tenacity, they allowed the people to live more secure and comfortable lives. And because of the said security, Maximilian was able to scamper around uninhibited.
Finally, she delivers the last of the products to the smithy.
Coughing at the smoke that immediately greeted her once she entered, Maximilian entered the soot laden building with ease. The blacksmiths and apprentices inside were thrice as big as her, so she tries her best to not be trampled by their muddy boots. Maximilian weaves through the furnaces and forges that littered all throughout the building, before scampering to the large tables that were at the farther off walls of the smithy.
There, she sees the head blacksmith conversing with a Remdragon Knight.
Her eyes are immediately drawn to the striking navy blue cape and the shiny silver armor, followed by the graceful dragon etched onto the uniform. Maximilian is rooted to her spot for a moment, a little breathless, before she continues to approach the men with stilted steps.
The head blacksmith manages to spot her amidst the commotion, and he faces her as if he had been anticipating her arrival. The blacksmith, a man with a thick beard and kind eyes, wipes his ash laden hands on his gray apron.
“You’re here earlier than expected.”
Maximilian nods, digging into her bag with her bandaged hands. Many blacksmiths often get injured and burned from their work, so they frequently bought medicines and asked for healing services from the apothecary shop Maximilian worked in. Thus, they had grown a little more familiar with the little red-haired girl that sometimes brought them supplies.
The Remdragon Knight, someone Maximilian wasn’t entirely familiar with, only looks at her with curious eyes. She looks away, afraid that he might notice that she was flustered, but thankfully enough the tall knight does not say a word. The blacksmith fishes through his pockets, but it seems they continue to speak despite her presence.
“So until when do you need the new halberds, Sir Ovaron?”
Trying her best not to seem like she was eavesdropping, Maximilian’s ears are indivertibly drawn to their conversation.
“By next week, if possible. There are plans to eradicate the wyvern habitats by the eastern front.”
“Wyverns, you say? And you plan to bring the young liege along? Is he not, what, nineteen? Eighteen?”
Her ears prickle with interest, and now she couldn’t help but blatantly stare at the two men. Sir Obaron gives the blacksmith a relaxed smile.
“Lord Riftan has recently turned seventeen, but something about that boy is special. He can wield a sword better than many of his superiors, and is making outstanding progress with each passing day.”
The blacksmith chuckles as he takes the pouch of medicines from Maximilian’s hands. “His father was an excellent fighter as well, may the old Lord’s soul rest in peace… But I do keep hearing that his son is exceptional. We ought to be in good hands should he take over Anatol when the day comes, am I correct?”
A strange, fluttering feeling erupts throughout Maximilian. She hopes she isn’t blushing like usual, but thankfully enough the two men seem to not pay her any mind.
“Commander Triden and the rest of the knighthood fully believe that the young Lord has the potential to be an outstanding knight. All Lord Riftan needs is more experience in actual battle, which is why the Commander is bringing him to more raids than usual.”
“Understandably so.”
Nodding, the blacksmith takes in a deep sigh. Suddenly, his eyes darted back to the little girl standing before them. Maximilian herself didn’t realize that she was left waiting, for she was immersed in their conversation. The blacksmith huffs apologetically before handing her a small pouch full of coins.
“Be wary of the dirt roads by the western roads.” He says, turning back to his work. “Packs of poisonous lizards have been sighted recently, so be careful where you step.”
Maximilian wonders why the blacksmith bothered to warn her in the first place, for he had never shown concern for her the last few times they interacted. Perhaps the lizards were a bigger threat than usual. Still, Maximilian nods and tucks the pouch in her bag. She couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the Remdragon Knight before scampering outside of the smithy.
From there, Maximilian sprints down the roads and back to the apothecary shop. She no longer cared if she could get trampled by horses and whatnot. Reaching the apothecary shop, she busts in and gives the payment for the deliveries to one of the healers. Maximilian exited the shop with the tenacity of a leopard once she was cleared and was given the permission to go home,
She had no plans of going home yet.
Maximilian passes by the field of wildflowers before scooping a handful of the dainty petals into her bandaged hands, gathering beautiful reds and blues and yellows in her hold. She makes sure none of them are crumpled or destroyed in her haste, before continuing down the roads.
The roads to Anatol’s castle were open and well lit. Most importantly, they were familiar. Maximilian sprints down the paths she had taken countless times. As she ran, she looked up at the sun that was slowly descending down the horizon. She wills her stubby legs to run faster and faster. She estimates that the Remdragon Knights were about to end their training session soon, she might not get the chance to catch him -
Maximilian rounds the castle’s walls and sneaks through the overgrown shrubberies by the wall’s borders. There, she evades the soldiers and tries to act inconspicuously when servants and maids pass by. On the walls hung giant blue banners, all of which were embellished with a beautiful white dragon.
In the distance, Maximilian could hear the familiar sounds of swords clanging.
Relief floods her, and she runs towards the training grounds.
The training grounds of the Remdragon Knights were a wide and open area, which made it easier for little runts like Maximilian to silently watch the knights without being detected. After years of watching them from afar, Maximilian found a comfortable spot beneath the bleachers that adorned the sides of the large training field. She was yet to be spotted.
Settling in the darkness, she cradles the delicate flowers to her chest. From afar, Maximilian immediately spots a lone figure in the middle of the training grounds.
He stayed late to train like usual.
Maximilian quickly surveys the grounds, seeing how it was devoid of the usual shields and swords that were usually scattered around. The place looked awfully barren and lonely. There were no other knights present either. Just him, and unbeknownst to him, Maximilian.
Lord Riftan Calypse was busy practicing against a wooden dummy, swinging his sword and hitting the dummy’s limbs with precision and strength.
She is hypnotized with every movement that he makes. Maximilian recalls the conversation Sir Ovaron and the blacksmith had earlier, how Lord Riftan was supposedly only seventeen years old. Anyone who looked at him, however, would think differently. The young boy was strikingly taller than the rest of the other boys his age. He had thick and muscular limbs like that of a stallion and the sharp expression on his face gave him an intimidating aura.
Even though he was against an unmoving dummy, Maximilian could see the skill and strength in his movements. His posture was rigid and precise, and his grip on his giant sword was secure. Maximilian imagines swinging a sword of the same size, she already knows that she wouldn’t be able to lift it off the ground at all. How does he manage to look so light on his feet?
Lord Riftan stops and takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling gently with every exhale. Despite his large, imposing frame and exotic dark skin, she always thought that he looked so graceful. Maximilian watches him take a towel from a nearby stool before sitting on the ground, dabbing at his sweaty face and neck.
Watching the tranquil, albeit lonely, scene made Maximilian’s heart twist.
She could not understand why she bothered to come by all the way over here every time she had the chance. Maximilian was already exhausted enough with her work as it is, yet her little feet always managed to find their way towards the castle’s training grounds.
Without fail, she always catches the young Lord staying late to train on his own. Even when his comrades and superiors have rested for the day, Maximilian has watched him practice and work without resting. She bears witness to the dedication he had for sword fighting and combat, continuing to train even though the others have left him to his own devices.
Watching him, alone on the field with nothing but the swaying wind to accompany him, always struck a chord within her.
You look so lonely .
Every time she watched him like this, she had a sudden and overwhelming urge to reach out and embrace him. She knew what it was like to toil endlessly for hours upon hours, all for the cause of reaching a goal that might never be attained, and she wonders if Lord Riftan is just as exhausted as she was. It hurt her heart to see how he stayed in the empty and barren training grounds, she almost wished that someone would come out and train with him. Nonetheless, Lord Riftan always chose to practice on his own. Somehow, Maximilian could feel an air of foreboding iciness emanating from the man. It was as if he was warning everyone to stay away and to not approach him. It took a while for Maximilian to realize that what she was picking up on was loneliness.
Maximilian knew loneliness very well. She felt it all the time, such a feeling was akin to a boil that refused to heal. It soothed her, just a little , to think that someone else might feel the same.
Still, she was beginning to think that she was merely filling herself with delusions. She’d watch him swing his sword in isolation, wondering if he felt lonely at all… and if he did, would he appreciate her company?
She knew she was being a foolish, air-headed little girl. How dare she try to feel a kinship with a man she can never reach? Lord Riftan was the heir of Anatol, and she was nothing but a mere peasant girl. She shouldn’t even be allowed to watch his training sessions, much less talk to him. If she were lucky, she’d probably die in a few decades and he’d never even know of her existence. Despite her limited knowledge, Maximilian knew that she was only hurting herself by continuing to visit him.
Yet merely watching him soothed the aching emptiness within her. She wonders if all children felt so desolate and isolated, or if she was merely unfortunate enough to be born with such melancholic feelings. But the sight of his strong and imposing form filled her with a certain warmth. Nothing could explain how strange she felt, but Maximilian stopped bothering with explanations long ago. For now, she only wanted to watch him.
Still, she had to remain vigilant. The sun was beginning to disappear behind the horizon, and the chances of getting in danger grew higher once it was nightfall. Clutching the delicate flowers in her trembling hands, Maximilian skitters down the rest of the bleachers, making sure that she wasn’t spotted.
She finds the wooden armor stand by the edges of the training grounds, befitted with a pair of vambraces and a breastplate. Judging how Lord Riftan was the only one left to train, Maximilian assumes that this was his armor stand. Keeping a wary eye out just in case she gets caught, Maximilian makes sure to stay in the shadows.
Hurriedly, she places the delicate flowers by the base of the armor stand. With her chubby fingers, she arranges them so they don’t look so haggard.
After a moment of hesitation, Maximilian immediately leaves the vicinity.
She runs through the overgrown grass without looking back, afraid that she might get spotted. Maximilian rounds the corner and hugs the castle walls, her little heart beating quickly inside of her ribcage like a war drum.
Once she gains an ounce of bravery, she peeks around the corner like a shy little mouse.
Her heart beats to a crescendo once she sees that Lord Riftan has approached the armor stand. She wonders if he managed to see her, and thus has approached the area. Still, he doesn’t seem to be looking at where she was currently hiding.
He crouches down and looks at the flowers at the base of his armor stand.
With a gentle hand, his fingers softly graze a red petal. He moved so tenderly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the flowers in any way. Such a kind action did not match a man who often donned an icy exterior.
Maximilian blushes, feeling her heart clench once more. She was most probably seen, but the embarrassment of being caught was overshadowed by the unprecedented lightness within her. She pushes her back against the wall and clutches her bandaged hands to her chest, trying to prevent the smile from erupting on her face.
I hope he liked the flowers…
With a spring in her step, she finally moves to leave the castle grounds.
She hurries down the roads beaten with foot traffic, her pace quickened as the sky slowly darkened. Maximilian had stayed out so often that she could almost find her way home blind, yet that didn’t make her late night escapades less frightening. Sometimes, she’s so scared of what could be lurking in the dark that she would just close her eyes as she walked home, unwilling to face the demons that might be hiding in the foliage.
Her home was located by the outskirts of the town. Maximilian’s father wanted to have a large piece of land so he could experience any semblance of luxury, so he settled for a secluded little cottage by the edges of the village. Maximilian couldn’t help but feel the familiar, heavy weight settle on her chest once more.
The old cottage house by the hill managed to sap out all of the energy that she had left. And by the time she reached her doorstep, Maximilian felt like she was ready to pass out on the spot.
Inhaling deeply, Maximilian opens the door.
She refrains from making eye contact with her father, who was sitting by the dining table with a quill in hand. Maximilian assumed that he was handling the finances of his trading business. Rosetta wasn’t anywhere to be found, so she assumed that her younger sister was brushing her hair in her room as usual. With heavy limbs, Maximilian takes off her coat and hangs it on the rusty hook on the wall.
Once she sheds her outer clothing, Maximilian goes to face her father by the dinner table. She collects all of her earnings in her bandaged hands before settling them on the surface. Her father doesn’t even look at her, only glancing at the pile of coins in front of him.
Maximilian fixes her posture and hides her hands behind her back. After waiting with bated breath, she nearly sighs in relief when her father accepts the coins with only but a small scoff.
“You look filthy.” He murmurs disdainfully, looking at her soot laden face and tattered clothing. Maximilian looks at her attire consciously as her father begins picking up the coins and counting them.
“If you soil the beddings with your grime before you wash yourself, you will be punished. Now go.”
Maximilian scurried to one of the doors that led to the outside. On her way, Maximilian grabs her ratty old towel and a bar of soap that was so small it could barely be considered as soap. By their small backyard, there was a sizable tub that contained the water she brought in from a nearby well every morning. Her heart sank when she realized that her father and her sister had barely left her any water, but she grits her teeth and pushes through.
She crouches in the darkness before scooping some water with a ladle, pouring the liquid onto her head. Her whole body shivers at the cold, biting liquid. Maximilian washes her unruly, red hair, wincing when she uses her injured hands to massage her scalp. After making sure her hair was adequately clean, Maximilian begins to wash her body with soap and a washcloth. As her palms stung from pain and her body shuddered from the cold, Maximilian wonders how nice it would feel to actually take a proper bath. Only her father and Rosetta got to use the wooden bathtub they had, and they always had the time to heat the water to their comfort. Sometimes she watched the mothers by the village wash their children, playing and laughing with them in the water. Maximilian, who had never felt the warmth of her mother’s embrace, often longed to be taken care of in such a way.
After a few more minutes, Maximilian wraps herself in the towel and scampers inside. She runs to her room and puts on a nightdress. Twisting her hair into a manageable braid, Maximilian peeks into the living room to see if her father was still there. Her heart sank when she saw that he was still fixing parchments by the table. Still, she couldn’t deny the fact that she was absolutely starving.
With a lowered gaze, Maximilian steps out of her room and into the dimly lit open space. She checks the kitchen counter and sees that there were two fist-sized loaves of bread and a square of cheese left. The pan by their open stove showed evidence that her father cooked some meat, yet said meat was nowhere to be found. It seemed like they refused to leave her even a morsel.
Maximilian hopes she seems as inconspicuous as possible so her father won’t pay her any mind. Taking the loaves and cheese in her hands, Maximilian immediately makes her way back to her room.
Not before her father calls out to her.
“The eastern merchants will pay us a visit later this week.”
She stills, frozen to her spot. The indifferent voice of her father continued to stream throughout the small living room, matching the flickering lights of the candle flame.
“We need to be gracious hosts, so you ought to work thrice as hard in preparation.” Her father continues, looking at her with contempt. “The curtains need to be replaced and we need to prepare a proper feast for our guests. A new tailor has arrived in town, Rosetta also needs a new dress.”
Maximilian nods looking down at her grimy fingernails and the stale bread in her hands. Even when she doesn’t look at him, she could feel her father’s gaze burning a hole at the top of her head.
“In a few days, your earnings should be enough for you to buy a roasted pig for our visitors. You need to help with the refurbishment of our home as well. Do you understand?”
Her throat tightens. She didn’t want to speak at all as much as possible, but sometimes she is pushed to a wall.
“Y-Y… Yes father.”
On cue, she hears her father click his tongue. Such a disdainful sound was followed by the blatant annoyance in his voice.
“Should you dare shame me in front of my guests with your impediment, you will sleep in the backyard for a week.”
Too tired to even feel disheartened at his threats, Maximilian simply nods once more before turning and heading inside of her room.
Her room was not much of a room, more like a closet only a handful of kvettes wide and only spacious enough to hold a small chest of her belongings. It had no space for a brazier or a fireplace, so Maximilian often turned to lighting a few candles in order to bide away the foreboding cold.
She slumps onto her ratty cot, wolfing down the stale food as if they were a feast for the gods. Maximilian suddenly feels the tiredness of the day hit her like a horse-drawn carriage. The joints in her shoulders ached and she could feel the burns on her hands slowly blister. Wiping her hands free of crumbs, Maximilian takes off the damp bandages.
Wincing, Maximilian surveys the scorched skin of her palms. She feels for her mana reserves and estimates that she has replenished enough mana to heal herself.
It didn’t take long for the blisters on her hands to slowly disappear, and she was met with the sight of her pale, calloused palms devoid of any sign of injury. Maximilian sighs, she was told that she had an impressive mana flow. Apparently even though her mana reserves were still small due to her age, she can heal people at a fast rate.
Maximilian rests her head on her pillow, which was so stiff that she felt like she was lying against fabric covered rocks. Even though she was hailed to be talented, she could not find joy in the praise. Staring at her hands, she recalls the time she felt excited about being able to do magic, and how quickly that excitement was soon stomped to the ground.
The Croix family used to be a noble house located in the east, but the previous generations had managed to run the family to the ground. Land disputes and corruption had managed to deprive them of all wealth, power, and influence. Now, the current descendants of the Croix family were living normal, peasant lives. Such a fact angered her father to an immeasurable extent. He constantly cursed his father, his grandfather, and those before them for ruining the legacy of their noble house, and he was doing all he can to climb from the desolation that they were left in.
Her father was desperate to regain his family’s glory. He is trying to amass wealth through business with merchants, traders, and the local workers of the village. Through this he was able to purchase a modest home and some basic luxury for himself, yet it was not enough for a man with such high aspirations for grandeur. Living like a commoner was great torture, which is why he is doing all he can to fix his desolate financial state.
One of his solutions involved his eldest daughter.
The day Maximilian was proven to have magical abilities, her father swiftly turned her aspirations to be a mage into profit. Before then she was left to do basic house chores like cleaning, but ever since she was shown to have talents beyond an ordinary human, those talents have been exploited to the bone. Her father made sure she proved herself to be useful and that she learned as much magic or healing abilities as she could just so she would have extra services to offer, and thus could turn in more profit.
With each tiring and grueling day passing by, Maximilian could feel her passion for her talents slowly melt away like ice beneath the scorching sun. She no longer felt excitement and wonder at the prospect of doing magic, and she only thought about how exhausted she is going to be once she’s finished with her work. Not to mention the fact that her father is unforgiving and strict. He is always so infuriated with her already, for she was born to be a weak and small girl with a speech impediment, so he left her no room for errors. Maximilian was unable to step out of line or prove to be inadequate, lest she would be punished.
“Useless beings are no better than the scum of the ground.” He would sneer whenever Maximilian failed, and he had ingrained those values into her the way a mason carved into stone. She had to prove herself to be useful to her father and sister, and there was no space left for foolish little girls who only brought her family down.
Maximilian had to suppress the sob that threatened to erupt out of her mouth. She wanted to be useful, and she wanted her father to look upon her with pride for once, but she wished she wasn’t always so exhausted. She saw Rosetta and the other children not needing to worry over whether they’ll be able to eat for the week. She longed to feel like a child, even if it was just once. The tiredness and rigidity of her everyday life made her feel so isolated and alone. During times like these, where she feels like she is about to plunge into darkness, nobody was there to comfort her.
Suddenly, a familiar image swept over her vision.
The memory of the setting sun over the orange skies, with the lights giving his raven black hair a blue glow. His sword, a weapon he trusts with his life, swings gracefully against the wind with every movement. Maximilian’s heart ached at the sight of the young Lord in his lonesome, and in her dreams, she manages to find the courage to reach out and keep him company.
Are you lonely as well?
She shuts her eyes, just the image of a boy who would never look at her twice had managed to soothe the anxiety in her heart. Lord Riftan worked just as hard as her, if not more, and he didn’t seem to complain. Maximilian wondered if he was as tired as she was, or if he felt as lonely as her. She thinks of having his large and sturdy arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace, his broad hand gently patting the top of her head and telling her that it was alright for her to rest. Maximilian knew that resting her head against his chest and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat would feel like heaven.
Blushing, she buries her face into her pillow at the audacity of her own delusional thoughts.
But nobody was there to judge her at the moment. No scheming customers or sympathetic neighbors or hateful fathers, just her and the possibility that someone else might understand how she felt.
She fell asleep to the memory of his brown skin glowing gold against the lights of the sunset.
Maximilian had to heal more people today than usual.
Given that the number of those who can use healing magic in the apothecary shop are limited, Maximilian had to utilize her talents for the betterment of the village. She was urged to heal the cuts, wounds, and bruises on the soldiers who passed by their infirmary. While she wasn’t allowed to heal bigger wounds due to her limitations, she often found herself straining with her mana use by the end of the day.
Maximilian had to take a deep breath after healing the last bruise of the day. She feels for the mana reserves within her, and sighs when she realizes how her exhaustion was linked to her low mana.
I have to stop, something bad might happen. She thinks. Nobody had told her explicitly, but Maximilian was acutely aware that it was forbidden to go beyond a mage’s limits. She didn’t know what would happen if she breached that line, and she didn’t want to know at all.
Maximilian was close to collapsing from exhaustion by the time she was allowed to go home. She yearned for nothing but her cold bed and to close her eyes, she didn’t even feel the need to visit Lord Riftan at all today. It would do her no good if she collapsed on her way to the training grounds. She figured she’d get to see him on a different day.
All she needed to do was make her final deliveries and then she was free to come home.
“Take the customer’s payments as your earnings for the day, there’s no need to return here with the money.” One of the healers says with annoyance, shoving the packs of medicine in her hands. “Now get a move on.”
Despite her exhaustion, Maximilian manages to deliver the medicines all throughout town. True to the shopkeeper’s instructions, she pockets the payments as her own earnings. It seemed like they no longer cared for such measly pennies or they were generous to Maximilian, but she managed to earn a lot that day.
As the sun was about to set, Maximilian couldn’t help but think of her duties as she walked home.
Rosetta’s dress, the curtains… I think getting a new carpet for the home will be good as well…
She thinks and thinks and thinks, shoving her chilly hands into her coat. Her mind usually clouded into a fog once she was this exhausted, but now she couldn’t help but feel an odd buzz course through her. Her father’s reminders bounced across her mind, alongside the urgency in his voice. Those visitors of his must be important, Maximilian would hate to foil her father’s plans.
If I do extra well, then perhaps father will smile and praise me.
A sense of determination courses throughout her. Her father often said unkind words to her and did not hesitate to raise a hand against her, but Maximilian assumes it was because she had been a bad daughter. She didn’t want to be a bad daughter, no… not at all. Perhaps if she worked harder and became as perfect as her younger sister, then perhaps her father will show that he loves her. He must love her, right? He’s her father, after all -
SCREECH!
Maximilian stops in her tracks.
Realizing that she was in a desolate part of the roads that led to the town square, she jolts when she hears a peculiar noise. She could sense something rustling in the nearby foliage, alongside the ear-biting sounds of inhuman shrieks.
Her feet freeze in place at the moment, unknowing of what to do.
A monster?
Another shriek, before the sound of a blade cutting through something was heard.
Gulping, Maximilian hopes it was just a butcher who was preparing a swine, before she hears a man grunt before another loud shriek is heard.
Fear strikes her, but strangely enough, she didn’t have the urge to run away like she usually did. A strange sensation begged for her to come closer, like a siren’s call…
Gritting her teeth, Maximilian slowly pushes through the thick foliage. Only mere curiosity fueled the strength within her to keep going, for the rest of her brain screamed at her to run away. As she ventured deeper into the forest, her heart thrummed against her tiny ribcage.
You could get bitten by snakes. Her mind scolds with every step she takes. Or a werewolf could jump out and kill you -
She freezes when she reaches a clearing -
And her jaw drops when she catches Lord Riftan in the middle, slashing at a horde of poisonous lizards with his sword.
Judging from how frighteningly red his blade is, Maximilian figures that he has been at his task for a while . She was further proven correct by the pile of lizard corpses that were strewn around him, their scaly little bodies the size of puppies all slumped to the ground like sacks of flour.
Maximilian watches with her jaw on the ground as the young Lord twists and turns, slashing and hacking at the lizards that jumped at him the way meteorites rocketed towards the earth. She looks around and sees that he was alone, without his guards or fellow knights in sight, and she realizes that he must have killed the pile of lizards by himself. The lizards died easily with just one swipe from his sword, but the problem was their numbers and speed.
Then and there, all those years of watching him from afar struck her like a boulder.
The boy she admired was only a dozen kvettes away , killing lizards like they were flies. She hears the low grunts that left his mouth with every swing of his sword. There are faint blood splatters on his face and armor, but it seemed like he wasn’t injured. She realized that she was no longer watching from the safety beneath the bleachers, and is instead standing almost in front of -
SCREECH !!!
Maximilian’s head turns to the loud sound, and she screams when she sees a lizard perched on a nearby rock with its body taut. Its black scales spiked like a porcupine and it bore its forked tongue.
She didn’t even have the forethought of running away before the lizard winds itself up and launches itself off of the rock, hissing and screeching in her direction. She screams -
In a second, the lizard is sliced in half by a bloodied blade.
Staring at the bloody corpse of the lizard, mangled and shredded in half, Maximilian feels her stomach flip like a crepe. Her saliva suddenly felt like acid in her mouth and her feet finally found the traction to step back before she pathetically stumbled to the ground in a heap.
Her gaze was stolen from the lizard’s body when she saw an armored foot come into her vision.
Maximilian looks up and feels like she has been punched in the throat when she sees Lord Riftan step closer to her. His back was to the light, with the shadows making his face look solemn and distinguished. He was broader and taller up close, almost four times bigger than Maximilian’s tiny form, and she had to gulp in order to keep herself from shuddering. His eyes are cold and sharp, like icicles, yet Maximilian couldn’t look away from him.
“Are you alright?”
His voice was low, and he didn’t sound kind… but he didn’t sound arrogant either. Maximilian knew he directed a question at her, but her tongue refused to move. And it wasn’t even because of her usual stuttering, the sight of his burly form managed to make her throat close up.
Lord Riftan’s eyes only narrow a little when she stays silent, before he sighs and turns to the clearing. Judging from the way his guard was down, she assumed that there were no longer any lizards around. Maximilian follows his gaze and sees the piles of lizard corpses littered around the open space, and her mind is wracked with a thousand questions. Why was the Lord of the land fighting a horde of lizards in the edges of the forest? And why the hell was he alone?
“There may be more monsters nearby, I suggest you stay on the roads and go home as soon as possible.”
Maximilian flinches at his low and strained tone, much like a military general giving orders, watching the dark lizard blood stain the light steel armor he donned. Lord Riftan turns away and she sees the way his gloved fist tightened around the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, a strange urge began to erupt within her. All those times she watched him from afar, resisting the urge to reach out to him, now grabbing her by the throat. She feels the tips of her fingers tingle with anticipation, as if she wanted to tug at his coat. Yet Maximilian was rooted to her spot as she watched him slowly walk away.
Say something. Her mind screams. Please, don’t stutter, just say anything -
Suddenly, he drops to his knees.
She jolts at the sound of him hitting the floor, eyes widening involuntarily. With his back to her, all Maximilian could see was the outline of his broad shoulders slumping over like a doll cut from its strings.
Akin to a freshly sawed tree trunk, Lord Riftan’s giant body falls to his side.
It took several pregnant seconds for her to gather her resolve, and Maximilian skitters off her position on the ground. She wanted to run to his side like a frantic mother, but apprehension still managed to take over her. She approaches his unmoving body warily, much like a frightened little mouse.
Peering over his body, Maximilian gasps at the clouded look on his face. His eyes were half shut and his body was entirely limp, his blood stained sword no longer in his grip.
At the urgency of the situation, Maximilian no longer felt any more apprehension nor fear. With the little strength she has, she pushes him onto his back. Her eyes immediately swept over his form, looking at the blood that stained his armor. It seemed like most of the blood was from the lizards, but she kept an eye out for any open wounds.
True to word, she spots the lengthy scratch on his neck. There were also little scratches that were littered on his exposed skin, like his face and the joints where armor couldn’t cover. Dark green ooze pooled in the wounds, and she could see the surrounding skin slowly turn into a dark blue. Throwing all caution to the wind, she presses her pale hand against his forehead, sensing that he was slowly starting to have a fever. She keeps contact with his skin even when he flinches away from her touch.
His eyes opened and closed languidly, as if he was struggling to stay awake as he tried to wiggle away from her.
“What the hell are you…”
His body was reacting to standard lizard venom, Maximilian had seen and helped heal a few people who had afflictions like his. Judging from his current condition, the venom had been in his system for a few minutes now.
Her mind raced, and she immediately took a cloth from her bag before dabbing it against his wound. Lord Riftan winces, before taking the cloth in her hand and roughly throwing it to the side. Maximilian flinches at the rough action.
“Stop.” He grits out, trying to raise his torso. “I’m alright - “
“N-No - “
“Do not touch me!”
Something breaks within her when he hisses at her with animosity, as if Maximilian had been the one to injure him.
When she sees her heartbroken expression, he seems to have finally come to his senses. Maximilian figured he must have felt guilty with how he yelled at her, based on how he shut his eyes and looked away.
“I…” He murmurs, raising his torso shakily. “They are just a bunch of lizards. I can handle it. Now go home before you get hurt, a little girl like you would not survive a monster attack.”
Maximilian surveys his feverish form. Even the much older sentries of Anatol required immediate medical attention after getting injected by venom, what made this seventeen-year old boy any different? A little disgruntled at his stubbornness, Maximilian gives him a glare and pushes his body to the ground.
Maybe she managed to exert a little more force or his body was simply weakened to such an extent, but he fell to his back at her push. His bleary eyes widened at the sudden action, before his eyebrows furrowed and a ferocious expression spread across his expression.
“What the hell are you - !“
“T-The venom!”
The words managed to find their way out of her mouth, and she winces at how she croaked like a frog. But it didn’t matter anymore, she stared at the wounds on his body with a sense of urgency.
“I-I need… to p-purify… the venom…”
Something flickers behind his onyx eyes at the sound of her stilted words. She feels her cheeks heat with shame when she realizes that the boy she admired has heard her impediment, but her anxieties weren’t important as of the moment.
She gingerly places her pale fingers on the skin of his neck. The venom wouldn’t kill him just yet, but every moment was crucial. Spreading her fingers, Maximilian hovers her palms over his wound.
Her heart sinks when she feels her mana reserves strain, and she realizes that she was already low due to her work earlier in the day. She feels the sweat bead on her forehead as her heart thrummed. Her vision flicked from her trembling hands to his face, which was slowly getting paler by the minute. Maximilian forces her mana flow to move, yet it was too low for her to control.
What should I do?
Lord Riftan lets out a low groan, before his eyes begin to roll to the back of his head.
Fear struck her through the heart like an arrow.
Gritting her teeth, Maximilian digs up the remaining mana within her with all her might.
And she is surprised when the mana within her begins to accelerate at a massive speed, before coursing through her body and exiting through her fingertips.
Maximilian gasps when she feels her heart start to burn, as if someone has set fire to her arteries, and her limbs and bones grew heavier by the minute. The mana within her strained like a rope being pulled to its limits. All of a sudden, the air left her lungs and she had to take a few deep breaths.
Immediately then, she knew that something was wrong with her.
But she has crossed the point of no return, and she clenches her jaw as she continues to administer her magic to his wounds.
Purification of the venom required utmost importance, so she makes sure to pay extra close attention to the deep gashes on his skin. Slowly but surely, the affected skin slowly turned into a normal color.
Her heart continued to burn and she gasped at the searing pain, yet she had to keep on going. Her eyes began to grow blurry, to the point where Maximilian had trouble with seeing his form.
Once the venom was purified, she moved to heal the large wound on his neck. Tears began to well at her eyes once she kept pushing and pushing her mana, yet she didn't stop until the gash on his neck slowly closed. Swiftly glancing down at his pale face, Maximilian’s heart stops.
He is looking at her intently. The darkness within his irises is unfocused and bleary, but his gaze never strayed from her sunburnt freckles and flushed cheeks. The boy who had always looked so resolute and strong now lay unmoving before her, looking at her as if he was her world.
A question, uttered in a low and hazy voice, escapes his shapely lips.
“Who are you?”
Maximilian almost couldn’t hear him due to the fact that her heart was beating like war drums in her ears.
But despite the fatigue and pain and anxiety that bubbled within her, she couldn’t deny herself from answering his question.
“M… M-Maximilian.”
She lets out a shaky breath when she finally manages to close the wound on his neck. After she makes sure that he is no longer in danger, the adrenaline leaves her body. Exhaustion hits her like a stack of bricks, and she slumps to the ground beside him. She felt like her soul had been ripped from her body and she wanted to burn her eyes off, but her gaze couldn’t help but stay on his emancipated face.
Lord Riftan’s eyes slowly close, as if he was succumbing to the newfound relief his body has found.
“Thank you… Maxi...”
All the remaining air was taken from her lungs, and she stares at his unmoving form breathlessly.
Much like a lifeless voodoo doll, Lord Riftan seemed to have fallen deep into unconsciousness. Maximilian watches his form with blurry eyes, her vision pulsing and darkening at the edges, and she too had the intense urge to close her eyes and fall asleep.
Suddenly, a deep howl echoed throughout the air.
She jolts to a seating position, the sudden movement making her head swirl with pain. Maximilian groans and cradles her forehead, feeling her bones be replaced with mere twigs.
Something is wrong with me…
Still, another bout of adrenaline began to course throughout her. She stands up on shaky legs, almost falling to the ground once more, before she manages to find her footing. She had to find a way to get him up and out of the forest before another monster attack occurred. Maximilian stares at his unmoving form on the ground, she was pretty sure that any attempts to wake him up would prove to be fruitless. It wasn’t like she could carry him , yet she couldn’t leave him alone either…
“Hey! What the hell is happening here?”
Maximilian jolts at the sharp voice, and she turns to see a pair of soldiers peek their heads over the foliage.
They look at her with narrowed eyes, but their faces immediately contorted to that of shock when they saw Lord Riftan’s unconscious body on the ground.
“M-My Lord!”
The soldiers immediately scampered to his side, fretting over him like a bunch of panicked hens. They give Maximilian panicked looks.
“What happened?!”
Maximilian’s mouth opened and closed like a carp, yet even parting her lips managed to be a difficult affair. Her body and her soul felt like concrete, yet she couldn’t escape the expectant gazes of the soldiers.
“L-Lizards…”
They finally managed to notice the piles of lizard corpses that littered the area, before one of the soldiers clicked his tongue and hooks an arm under Lord Riftan’s body.
“We must get him back to the castle and have the healer take care of him. Hurry!”
Lord Riftan’s body was so formidable that it took both of the soldiers to carry him, and Maximilian’s heart lightens a little when she realizes that he will be taken care of. One of the soldiers looked at her curiously.
“Are you hurt as well?”
Maximilian had to press her lips in a thin line.
My heart hurts, my head hurts, my body hurts. I don’t know what is wrong with me, someone help me please -
She shakes her head no .
The soldier nods. “Then go to a safe place as soon as you can. There might be more monsters around.”
She could do nothing but watch as the soldiers slowly dragged Lord Riftan out of the foliage. As if the past few torrid minutes of her life didn’t happen at all, Maximilian was left alone in a clearing filled with lizard corpses
For a long time, she didn’t know how long she stood there and stared aimlessly at nothing in particular. Taking a deep breath, Maximilian takes a shaky step forward and realizes that even doing that was going to be a difficult affair.
Maximilian didn’t know how she managed to walk out of the clearing, didn’t know how she managed to get back on the roads and down the path to her home. She didn’t know how she managed to put one foot forward and then the next, didn’t know how she managed to move despite the pain that thrummed all throughout her. Her mind was like a fogged up window and her ribcage burned. With every step, she let out a shaky breath, a prayer for salvation to come and take her.
When she pushed the door of her home open, she didn’t even know if her father and sister were there or not. She sways on her feet, wanting to lie down on the wooden planks of their living room then and there, so she didn’t know how in the world she managed to drag her body to her room.
Maximilian feels a feverish heat course throughout her once she manages to lay her head against her pillow, her body too fatigued to even change her dirty clothes. Her whole body ached and her heart was like a searing fire in her limbs. Everything hurt so much, it was enough to make her sob.
He called me Maxi…
Burying her face in her blankets, Maximilian lets out a single tear.
Maxi… he makes my name… sound so nice…
She cries silently as her body succumbs to weakness, before she eventually slips into unconsciousness.