As Lina slumped back into unconsciousness, embraced deeply by it, the villagers left the hall one by one.
Vierna couldn’t focus on the crowd; her eyes stayed fixed on Lina. The young woman’s face, framed by blonde hair, now lay in peaceful sleep, as if the whipping and stitching had never happened.
Her heart bled at the sight. She wanted Lina to remain like this, peaceful, sleeping without a care in the world, while she bore everything alone. Every dark deed, every atrocity committed should have been hers, not Lina’s. Not someone who had accepted her unconditionally.
‘…snhhhhk.’ The sound echoed inside her head, her own spirit weeping. She longed to comfort it, but before she could, the elven chief approached.
“She is going to be all right,” he said calmly, with certainty. “Let’s move her to the guest room so she can rest easily.”
Vierna nodded. She approached Lina, lifted her arms over her shoulder, and let the girl’s weight settle against her back.
“Do you need help, girl?”
“No need, Herr. I can carry her myself.”
The Chief nodded and guided Vierna to the back of the hall. Inside lay two simple mattresses without pillows. The room was kept as neat as they could manage, though dust lingered in the corners. Vierna laid Lina down and drew a linen from her storage rune to serve as a blanket. She brushed back her hair and kissed her cheek.
Then she turned to face the Chief, who seemed to have questions about her. She should have expected it; Lina had shouted her true name in shock. Now she would have to come up with another lie for the people who had helped her.
“Forgive me for intruding, Fr?ulein, but I have several questions, since you intend to live here now,” the elf said calmly.
“Could this wait until tomorrow, Herr?”
“It could, Fr?ulein. Yet if we delay it, you will not be able to start working tomorrow. And since Herr Korrn placed such a heavy burden on you, I assume you would prefer to begin as soon as possible.”
From the way the chief spoke, it felt more like a command than a request. Vierna wanted time to prepare herself before answering anything, but there was something in the chief’s gaze that told her she had no choice. And he had a point— even if the whole ordeal with Korrn wouldn’t matter once she finished her mission, she still needed to look desperate enough not to raise suspicion.
“You’re right, Herr. Please lead the way.”
Both of them went up to the main hall’s attic. Vierna could see it clearly: though dusty and neglected, the place had been built by dwarves. The intricate patterns along the walls, now marred by cracks and smudges, matched what she had read in books on dwarven culture. In the center of the room stood a small idol. It seemed to belong to the dwarven pantheon, though Vierna could not be sure to whom.
The chief took a seat in the chair to the left. “Please, Fr?ulein…”
“Thank you, Herr…?”
“Loran’del,” the elf said with a smile. “A pleasure.”
He conjured a modest teapot, telekinetically adding some brew before summoning hot water to boil the tea. The precision of his telekinetic work told Vierna that the elf did not fear Korrn out of weakness, but out of protection. He was likely strong—his controlled magic made that clear—but the people of Rolbart were not as strong as he was.
‘Vierna, there’s something about this drow,’ Moony whispered in her mind.
Why do you say that?
‘I don’t know… but be careful.’
Vierna took Moony’s warning to heart.
Now that her thoughts had settled, she noticed it: a bluish hue radiated from him. As she looked closer, the elven chief struck her as unusually striking. His skin was tinged with deep gray, his eyes glowed red like rubies, and his hair was dulled by dirt, likely the result of Rolbart’s hardships. He wore no finery. His clothes, though bearing elven design, were work-worn and stained, their beauty dulled by labor.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” Loran’del said. He looked toward the moon hanging in the sky—watching, indifferent to the insignificance of mortal problems. Soot colored leaves from the Schattwald Forest drifted lazily past, dyeing the heavens with a stygian shade.
Vierna’s eyes followed their descent. The way they floated, twisting weightless in the air, was hypnotic. Her thoughts dulled, her shoulders slackened, her chest grew warm. A voice, soft and tempting, whispered that she could let go—that here, at last, she could rest.
“Here, Fr?ulein. Drink.” Loran’del offered the tea he had brewed.
She accepted without hesitation. “Thank you, Herr Loran’del.”
The cup was warm in her hands. She sipped, and the taste spread like gentle smoke through her senses. It softened her vision, blurred the edges of the world. Her mind unraveled, drifting, sinking. For a heartbeat, she wanted to stay in this haze forever, weightless and free of memory, free of lies and blood.
‘Arghhh!’ Moony’s scream tore through her skull.
Moony? What’s wrong?
‘Vierna, there’s something in the tea! He also cast some kind of weird spell!’
What? But I don’t feel anything.
‘Yes, but I felt all of it. That stupid tea luckily woke me up. Listen, be careful — this drow isn’t your everyday village chief!’
Vierna flinched. Thanks to Moony’s warning, she snapped back to reality—the weight of what had just transpired came rushing back to haunt her. As she sat there, her consciousness returned little by little, carrying with it the lies and alibis she would need.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
She had never imagined there could be a substance that reached into her very soul, but now she knew: Loran’del had entranced her, and the tea was his catalyst.
She looked at the elven chief. His smile had not faded, and it seemed he did not realize his spell had dissolved. Perhaps her being Kagemori was something he had never anticipated. So Vierna kept up the appearance of being entranced. She tried to make her face as serene as possible, while deep down she remained fully aware.
“Now then, girl. Since we both know ‘Crysta’ is not your real name… is ‘Vierna’ the true one?” Loran’del asked.
“Yes…” She gave the truth. All she could do now was pray Loran’del hadn’t been in Einhartturm on the day the Arkmarschall announced her name.
His gaze sharpened at once. Vierna felt it like a hand closing around her throat. He studied her features with a searching intensity, as if trying to drag up an old memory and pin it against the face in front of him.
Her pulse quickened. Body transformation wasn’t common magic. Hardly anyone knew it was possible. Even she had only learned of it during her time in the research facility. The girl she had been at thirteen—silver-haired, smaller, softer—should have been unrecognizable now.
Still, the way he looked at her made sweat prickle at the back of her neck.
“Why did you lie about your name before?”
“Korrn… told me he hated… my name… so he gave me… another.”
‘Arghhhhh!’
Moony? Wha—
‘Drink his tea quickly, he noticed the change in your expression!’
Vierna raised the cup and drank again, only a small sip. She knew it would intensify Moony’s pain, but she didn’t argue—she had seen the shift in Loran’del’s face. As soon as the tea touched her lips, his expression eased back to its usual calm, still convinced she was fully under his influence.
She tried to make sense of why Moony screamed again. Korrn claiming she hated her name was an obvious lie. Would the tea hurt Moony if she lied? But then why had Moony screamed the very first time Vierna drank it? Was it because they had been preparing to lie even then? Or was it something else entirely?
“Is something the matter, Vierna?” Loran’del asked, cutting through her thoughts.
“Hmmm? Oh… nothing…” Vierna slurred, feigning the dazed serenity of the spell.
“What are you doing in Rolbart?”
“Repaying… debt…”
“Would you kindly explain what that means, Fr?ulein?”
“I… failed the… Arkmarschall… too weak to… fight… so he told me… to get a job… and… repay my… debt.”
“What kind of debt?” he asked.
“Money.”
Moony’s scream clawed her brain, but Vierna forced her eyelids to stay half-closed, her breathing shallow and even. She could not let a single twitch betray her. Across from her, Loran’del’s aura wavered faintly, the bluish hue deepening as his suspicion sharpened.
“I didn’t know the Arkmarschall was a penny-pincher.”
“Arkmarschall… put me in… Arkanpfad Academy,” she said slowly, letting the tea drag the truth out of her in pieces. “But I was too… weak. So he used me… some other way.”
“Is that ‘other way’ spying on us?” Loran’del asked.
“No, He deemed me… too useless. So he just told me to… pay back… the tuition.”
“So he asked for money?”
“Yes.”
Moony thrashed inside her, a sharp panic bubbling through Vierna’s chest.
Loran’del leaned in slightly. His eyes scanned her with new intensity, studying her expression as if trying to pry the truth straight out of her face. Vierna forced herself to stay blank, tired, steady.
Her explanation contradicted what he himself had said about the Arkmarschall. But Vierna didn’t have any other lie to fall back on; she had already said it, and it was better to stick with it than change the story midway. The way he watched her now… it was clear he found her repeated claim difficult to dismiss. Maybe he believed the tea had her fully under its influence — or maybe not — but something in his expression showed he was reconsidering.
“And if you failed?” he asked quietly.
“He would… make me… a test subject.”
Silence pressed in for a moment, broken only by the faint crackle of the teapot still steaming between them. Loran’del rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing, and Vierna felt the weight of his scrutiny like a nail being driven into her skull.
“Why help us?” Loran’del asked.
“I… can’t… stand… looking at people… tortured… and rampant… corruption.”
This time, however, Moony did not react. There was no pain, no scream.
Does that mean it’s the truth? Vierna wondered. Still, she felt relief. Lie or not, Moony wasn’t in pain.
Loran’del tilted his head. “Why is that?”
“I… just… don’t like… it.”
“Why?”
“Father… died… to an evil… corrupt… man… I hate… evil… people.”
“Your actions back then jeopardized your entire reason for being here. Now you are in even greater debt.”
“I… don’t… regret it…” Vierna answered.
She could hear the scream again although not as intense as it was before. Her feelings about her action were tangled: she hated what Lina had endured—yet Lina herself had said it was necessary, that Vierna had to carry on. She forced herself to believe there was no room for doubt, but some part of her still clung to it. Maybe that was why Moony still writhed in pain—the spirit mirrored the cracks she couldn’t smooth over.
“Do you expect me to believe it? that you do that in the kindness of your heart?”
“I…don’t…But it is…what it is.”
“LIES!” His voice cracked like a whip, the word slamming into the rafters. Vierna’s gut lurched, but she forced her face to stay slack.
Seeing the unchanging expression in Vierna’s face. Loran’del sat down again. He rubbed his chin and let it go. Vierna assumed that the sudden change in tone was to gauge if the spell still worked or not. Vierna felt that if she flinched back then, then the whole thing was off and Loran’del knew she was faking it.
“How do you plan on settling your debt now?”
“No… idea.”
“Do you have any other reason to be here?”
“No.” As she said this, her head panged as if suddenly being stabbed by a blade.
‘HMPHMM!! HMPH!!!!!’ Moony cried inside her. But now Vierna could feel a bit of the pain as well.
Moony can’t hold it anymore… the pain’s spilling into me too.
“Do you have any other reason to be here?” Loran’del repeated.
“No, Herr Loran’del.” She forced her hand to stay still. The headache stabbed through her skull like spears. Each passing second grew more agonising than the last. But she had to endure.
She prayed he would not press further. Loran’del’s repetition had been deliberate, meant to test the truth—and Vierna knew it.
He studied her one last time, eyes narrowing. Vierna returned his gaze; it was clear Loran’del wasn’t completely convinced. He stood up from his chair.
Suddenly, Moony spoke inside her head, her voice ragged. ‘Vierna… he broke the spell. Act surprised or something.’
Vierna blinked hard; her chest rose in a sharp breath. She rubbed her temple as if a fog had just lifted. “Huh… what’s going on?” she muttered, voice rough, as though only now coming back to herself.
“You were drifting off a bit. My tea is known to soothe the spirit. Did you feel anything strange or unnatural?”
“No, Herr Loran’del. I’m just tired,” she answered simply.
“I see. You have been through a lot, Fraulein Vierna.”
“Vierna?”
“Yes — you told me how Korrn didn’t like your name.”
“Ah… yes. I’m sorry. There was something in the tea that made me a bit hazy.” Vierna pretended she had only just come to.
Loran’del looked at her sharply, then smiled.
Thank god that it was over she thought. She realized however that Loran’del didn’t trust her completely. But even if she hadn’t fully convinced him at least she didn’t confirm his suspicion.
Vierna, however, needed to press on. “Herr Loran’del, what you said about starting work tomorrow… you were right. I need to pay my debts to him. Please allow me to begin tomorrow.”
“Ah, but there are still procedures for managing your residency here. I must request confirmation from the baron and the count, and your paperwork must be—”
“Please, Herr Loran’del. You know how much I owe Korrn now. Let me work tomorrow while you take care of the paperwork.”
Loran’del’s expression softened a bit. “You have, in some way, relieved part of our tax burden. The least I can do is give you a chance. Come see me tomorrow, Fraulein; I may have something for you.”
Vierna exhaled; at least she could begin earning the villagers’ trust more by tomorrow.
Is the truth serum tea justified here?
