Vengeance Through Passion

The whole city was in utter disarray. The once-bustling streets, usually filled with the chatter of merchants and the laughter of children, now teemed with tension and fear. People crowded the narrow alleys, their faces pale with worry and confusion as they shuffled about under the ever-watchful eyes of guards. The air was thick with the acrid stench of sweat and smoke, mingling with the sharp tang of anxiety that seemed to cling to every passerby.

Curfews had been imposed with a severity the city had never known before. Every household was instructed to douse their lanterns as soon as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting the entire city into an unnatural darkness. Only the flickering light of patrols could be seen moving about at night, a haunting glow as they marched through the streets in rigid formations. The clang of their armor and the echoing stomp of their boots broke the eerie silence of the once vibrant city.

The gates to the city were now tightly shut, guarded by a throng of soldiers who carried sharp spears and had orders to question—and sometimes arrest—anyone who dared approach. Travelers had been turned away, and any trade that usually sustained the city had come to a screeching halt. Fearful whispers spread like wildfire among the populace, rumors of rebels, traitors, and unrest looming like a dark cloud above them all.

Mothers pulled their children close, hurrying them home before the bells rang to signal the approach of curfew, while merchants closed their stalls early, eyes darting nervously around the square. The marketplace, once a heart of the city, was now almost deserted, with only a few daring souls venturing out to buy what little remained of provisions. The shelves in shops were bare, as supply routes had been cut off by the emergency orders, leaving people to ration what little they had left.

The city's usual hum of life was replaced by the sounds of crackling fires from hastily erected pyres and the sharp bark of guards enforcing the new regulations. On every corner, signs declared the new rules in hastily scribbled ink: "Curfew from dusk to dawn! No one out after nightfall!" The city's elite had holed up in their fortified homes, their windows boarded and their gates locked, while the poor huddled together in the shadows, fearful of both the law and what might happen next.

The tension in the air was suffocating, as if the entire city was holding its breath, waiting for the next catastrophe to strike. Even in broad daylight, an unnatural stillness had taken hold, as though the city itself had frozen in fear. Guards patrolled not just the walls but the streets, their hands always on their weapons, scanning the crowds for signs of trouble. Every sound—every creak, every cough—was met with suspicion.

Few dared to venture outside after the curfew, but for those who did, the consequences were severe. The punishment for breaking curfew was swift and brutal—public floggings had become a common sight in the square. People cowered behind their doors, peeking out through cracks in the shutters as criminals, or even those who had simply been out too late, were dragged into the streets by soldiers.

The great bell in the city’s square, which is usually tolled in celebration, now rang only to announce the beginning of curfew or to signal yet another public execution. Fearful eyes turned toward the sound each time it rang, dreading the announcement that would follow. Those caught out after dark were rarely seen again. Some said they were taken to the dungeons, others claimed they were sent to the mines, never to return.

Tensions between the clans had reached an all-time high, fueling the chaos. Whispers of rebellion and uprising filled the taverns, though none were brave enough to openly speak of it. The Yazaki's fate loomed over the city like a grim omen, with many fearful that her execution would only worsen the growing unrest. People spoke in hushed tones about the gathering storm, about the danger that loomed just beyond the horizon.

A few days passed, but the tension in the city didn’t abate. The streets remained a ghostly shadow of their former selves, and the constant patrols of guards kept everyone on edge. And on the day of Veneris, Venus day, fifth day of the week, Aricia left the cottage.

Martha had gone to visit a friend, leaving the cottage enveloped in a stillness that felt both comforting and oppressive. The sun filtered through the small window, casting warm golden rays across the wooden floor, but Aricia could not shake the restless energy thrumming within her.

After a long morning of feeding and caring for Baby, her playful feline companion, Aricia decided to settle into her favorite nook by the window. The warmth of the sun streamed through the glass, casting a golden glow over the wooden floor of the cottage. With a contented sigh, she gathered a few books from the shelves, the familiar scent of aged parchment filling the air as she flipped through their well-worn pages. Each volume was a portal to another world, filled with adventures waiting to unfold.

Baby, her mischievous tabby, watched intently from the stairwell as Aricia settled in with a particularly old tome, its spine cracked and its pages yellowed with time. He had a knack for finding the coziest spots to curl up, often choosing the warmest corner of the sun-drenched floor. With a sudden burst of energy, he jumped down the stairs, landing gracefully on all fours before scampering across the room to investigate the array of books spread out before Aricia.

“Ah, there you are, little troublemaker!” Aricia chuckled as Baby began to bat playfully at the edges of the open pages, his tiny paws swiping at the fluttering sheets. She reached out to gently stroke his back, feeling the soft warmth of his fur beneath her fingers. Baby purred loudly, a low rumble of contentment that resonated through the room, filling it with a comforting melody. The bond they shared always brought her solace during times of doubt.

With Baby settled comfortably on her lap, Aricia turned her attention back to the book. The words danced before her eyes, each line immersing her deeper into the fantastical tale of a brave knight who ventured forth to save a distant kingdom from a terrible dragon. She could almost hear the clang of swords and the roar of flames as she envisioned the battles being fought within the story. For a brief moment, her own troubles faded away, replaced by the thrill of adventure and the spirit of bravery.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as Aricia lost herself in the pages, her imagination igniting with every twist of the plot. Baby, now fully relaxed, dozed peacefully in her lap, his rhythmic breathing soothing her spirit.

Just as she turned the final page of the book, a sound echoed from outside, jolting her back to reality. She left the cottage suddenly.

As she pushed open the door, the crisp air hit her, revitalizing her senses.

Just as she began to make her way down the narrow, cobbled path that wound through the village, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby alleyway, his presence suddenly casting a shadow over her burgeoning excitement.

“Going somewhere?” Oswald, the village baron, appeared before her with an air of unexpected authority. He stood tall, dressed in a tunic adorned with the crest of his family, the fabric slightly worn but still emanating a sense of privilege. His dark hair fell messily around his face, framing a pair of intense green eyes that seemed to pierce through her facade of indifference, searching for something beneath her surface.

“Yes, sir. Why do you ask?” Aricia replied, trying to sound casual, though the fluttering in her stomach betrayed her composure. Oswald had always been a man of significance in the village, and her interactions with him were fraught with an undercurrent of tension, a blend of respect and unease that twisted in her gut.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I heard from… somewhere that you are looking for a job.” His words held a weight that made Aricia's heart quicken, the implications heavy with expectation.

Aricia stepped back instinctively, feeling an awkward laugh bubbling up in her throat. “Ah, I see. A job, yes, but why are you here?” She tried to keep her tone light, but the anxiety twisting in her stomach made her feel vulnerable, exposed in a way she despised.

“Because I wish to offer you one,” Oswald replied, his expression shifting to one of eager anticipation, as if he held the key to a door she had long yearned to open.

“Uh, no thank you, sir. I have an appointment for a sales representative at the far end of the village,” Aricia responded hastily, hoping to end the conversation there. The prospect of working for the baron sent a chill down her spine; she could not afford to be entangled in one of his schemes, the web of his influence too intricate and suffocating.

“Hm, but my job is far better,” Oswald insisted, a playful smile tugging at his lips, the charm he wielded like a blade.

“But—” Aricia started, but he quickly cut her off, his tone suddenly more serious.

“No ifs and buts. I know you don't trust me, and we got off on the wrong foot, but I really want to help this time.” His earnestness was almost palpable, and she could sense the sincerity in his words, even if a part of her remained skeptical, clinging to her defenses.

“Oh. I understand, but you need not look out for me. It’s already difficult for me to look after myself; I can’t imagine how difficult it would be for you—” Aricia replied, her voice softening slightly as she assessed the truth behind his motives, weighing sincerity against the past.

“Freya sent me,” he interjected, leaning in even closer, his tone suddenly more intense. “It’s a job in the Fire Clan.”

Aricia felt her heart leap into her throat, a mixture of excitement and apprehension flooding her senses. “Are you… sure?” The Fire Clan was known for its prestige and power, a place where only the bravest ventured. The thought of working there both thrilled and terrified her.

“Of course! It was hard, but because it is the highest paid clan, you see,” Oswald explained, his enthusiasm, infectious despite the reservations swirling in her mind.

“Oh…” Aricia trailed off, lost in thought as the weight of his offer settled over her like a heavy cloak, its implications swirling like autumn leaves in the wind.

“We could become good friends; friends help each other,” Oswald continued, his voice almost pleading as he tried to persuade her, desperation lacing his tone.

“Friends don’t harass each other,” Aricia shot back, crossing her arms defiantly, drawing a line in the sand that she had no intention of crossing.

Oswald let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing down the street, cutting through the tension. “Come on, that was a long time ago. I’m a changed man,” he replied, his eyes glimmering with a mixture of mischief and sincerity that momentarily disarmed her.

Aricia stepped fully out of the door, the threshold between them symbolizing the divide in their worlds, the safety of her home behind her and the unpredictable expanse of the village before her. “I… see. The job at the Fire Clan. What does it involve? And where?” She shut the door completely behind her, the sound resonating with a finality that mirrored her indecision.

"Xylaris Of Zephyriion."