Inside the ramshackle shed, the air was thick with the scent of dust and damp wood, illuminated by the flickering glow of a single oil lamp. Raquel, an old woman with eyes that held the wisdom of countless years and the weariness of a life lived in hardship, stood before a group of children. Her face, etched with lines of fatigue, held a gentle patience as she wrote on a broken wooden slab, its surface serving as a makeshift chalkboard.
"Now, children," she said, her voice raspy but firm, "let's talk about the difference between a kingdom and a city. Lorium, where we live, is a city. A large, important city, yes, but still a city. It is ruled by a king, but it is not a kingdom in itself. Sangrael, however, is a kingdom. It has provinces, territories, and a complex system of governance. Do you understand?"
The children, their faces thin and their eyes wide with a hunger for knowledge, nodded in unison. A small girl, her hands raised hesitantly, spoke up. "Teacher Raquel, where is Teacher Mateo? Usually he teach about this stuff."
Raquel's face, already lined with weariness, dropped slightly, a shadow of sadness passing over her features. She quickly masked it with a practiced smile, invisible to the innocent eyes of the children. "Well, child," she replied, her voice carefully neutral, "he is… well, let's say he has some work to do. Important work. That's why only I'm here today."
The girl's eyes lit up, a spark of hope flickering within them. "So, so will Teacher Mateo come tomorrow?"
Raquel hesitated, her gaze drifting towards the worn wooden door. She forced a smile, a crafted expression that belied the turmoil within her. "Yes, child. Yes, he will be here tomorrow."
She continued her lesson, explaining the intricacies of provinces and territories, the complex tapestry of Sangrael's governance. The children, their minds trying to grasp everything she is saying and few of them understanding it clearly without much thinking.
Outside, Romona, her eyes scanning the surrounding alleyways, noticed a group of people approaching. They moved with a slow, deliberate pace, their faces grim, their movements carrying an air of quiet determination. She quickly moved to Areion, who was still pressed against the shed wall, his eyes closed, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Areion," she whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "People are coming."
Areion opened his crimson eyes, his smile fading. For a moment, Romona hesitated, wondering if she should interrupt his apparent reverie. But the approaching group was too close, their presence too imminent.
"They're coming this way," she explained, her voice urgent.
Areion nodded, his expression turning serious. They quickly moved to hide behind a stack of crates near the riverbend, their figures disappearing into the shadows.
The group, composed of men and women with the weathered faces of the slums, approached the shed. They knocked on the door, their knocks echoing through the quiet night. Raquel opened the door, her smile soft and welcoming.
One by one, the children walked out of the shed, their faces lighting up as they were embraced by their parents. Raquel stood by the door, her smile fading slightly, a hint of sadness creeping into her eyes. The scene, a simple reunion between parent and child, held a profound poignancy in the midst of something.
As the last few parents prepared to leave, one of them, a woman with tired eyes and a resolute expression, looked at Raquel and gave a subtle nod. "We pray for Mister Mateo," she said, her voice low and sincere.
Raquel nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes glistening.
Romona, watching the scene unfold, felt a pang of sadness and confusion. She could see the unspoken grief in Raquel's eyes, the quiet desperation that hung in the air. But she couldn't understand the full extent of it, couldn't grasp the hidden currents that flowed beneath the surface.
Areion tapped her shoulder, pointing towards a loose floor slab near the shed wall. He looked at her, his expression questioning, as if asking for confirmation. Romona, understanding his intent, looked back at him, a silent question in her eyes: [Are you sure you want to do this?] Areion nodded, his eyes resolute.
As the last parent and child disappeared into the darkness, Raquel closed the shed door and moved inside, her movements slow and weary. As she turned, her eyes met theirs, their figures emerging from the shadows. She gasped, her hands flying to her chest, her heart pounding like a trapped bird. She stumbled backward, landing heavily on her backside, her eyes wide with fear.
Romona, her voice laced with reassurance, stepped forward. "We're not here to hurt you," she said, her voice low and calming.
But Raquel, her breath coming in ragged gasps, didn't seem to hear her. Areion, sensing her fear, stepped forward, removing his hood, revealing his face in the dim light. the sight of him, his regal features and striking crimson eyes and elven features instantly calmed her as she understands who he is. Her gaze locked with his, her fear slowly receding, replaced by a mixture of awe and confusion.
Areion and Romona, their hoods discarded, sat on worn wooden stools, their presence a stark contrast to the humble surroundings. Raquel, her face still pale but her breathing steadier, moved with a quiet dignity as she prepared tea on a small, battered tray.
"Forgiveness, Your Highness," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "I… I cannot offer you the service you deserve."
Areion simply shook his head, his crimson eyes holding a gentle understanding. "It's alright, Madam Raquel."
The simple words, spoken with genuine respect, seemed to ripple through the air, their effect profound. Raquel, her eyes widening slightly, felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. She had never received such courtesy from a noble, let alone the future king. A faint smile touched her lips, a fragile expression of gratitude.
She settled slowly onto a rickety chair opposite them, her movements cautious, her gaze flickering between Areion and Romona. A few moments of strained silence passed, the only sound the gentle clinking of teacups. Romona trying to dilute situation speaks, "Tea is really good, don't you think your highness.", Areion nodding as understanding what she trying to do, "Absolutely even in palace they don't make tea this good" he started to trail off, "In castle, they don't use tea as fres…sh as this", he himself not understanding what is he babbling, Romona feels so embarrassed, Then, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
"May I know the reason for your… your grace in my shed, my lord?" she asked, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Is… is my husband not enough? Do I have to… to serve too?"
Romona, her brow furrowed in confusion, looked at Raquel, then at Areion, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. She didn't understand the implied threat, the unspoken fear that hung heavy in the air.
Areion, however, understood perfectly. He saw the fear that lurked beneath Raquel's calm façade, the desperation that clung to her like a shroud. He replied simply, his voice low and reassuring, "No, Madam Raquel. You don't have to fear anything." He placed his hands on his knees, palms open, a gesture of non-hostility.
Raquel closed her eyes, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down her weathered cheek. She wiped it away quickly, her movements almost frantic.
Romona, her voice laced with concern, asked, "Are you okay, miss?"
Raquel nodded, forcing a weak smile. "I'm okay," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Areion, his gaze unwavering, waited patiently, allowing her to regain her composure. Then, he spoke, his voice gentle but firm. "Can you explain to me what happened? From the start."