The sound of cups clinking rang out as a butler brought down three cups on a silver tray and laid them across the small table overlooking the garden.

Serra and Taula were seated in cushioned chairs and surprisingly, the Lord of the Valakris household sat opposite them, having personally come to handle this transaction.

The man was in his forties, well-fed to excess with thinning hair slicked back. His fingers were decorated with rings that cost more than most people earned in a year.

"Thank you for the drinks, Carol... Now begone." the lord said, waving dismissively and the butler retreated quickly, bowing as he backed away.

The lord looked at his guests with calculating eyes.

"Please, drink..." he said. "There’s nothing wrong with the drinks."

Serra was about to reach for her cup when Taula raised her hand, catching Serra’s wrist. Taula didn’t know if the drinks were poisoned, but she knew Klaus wouldn’t like it if they consumed something offered randomly by someone they didn’t trust.

Serra caught the message and averted her eyes from the cup.

"I don’t feel like drinking." Serra said politely.

The man chuckled, though his eyes didn’t match the warmth in his voice.

"That’s quite alright. It’s only natural for you to be cautious since this is your first time here." He said then leaned back with his fingers drumming against the table.

"So then, where is that black-haired brat who usually came to haggle for his cousin?" the lord asked.

Serra’s expression didn’t change, though sadness flickered in her eyes.

"He passed away in a dungeon raid two days ago..." Serra said quietly and the man sighed, shaking his head in what might have looked like sympathy to someone who didn’t know better.

"My condolences..." he said, though Serra knew he didn’t mean a single word of it.

The brief silence stretched between them like a taut rope.

"I want to buy Mirela from you..." Serra said, breaking the quiet. "I’ve brought the remaining money as you both initially agreed."

The lord’s expression shifted and then he laughed.

"Ah, well..." The lord said, "there’s been a change in plans."

The eyes of both Serra and Taula widened.

"You see," the lord continued, leaning forward with the confidence of someone holding all the cards. "I’ve come to learn that Mirela is a Silverblood Goat Beastkin, you know you don’t usually figure that out until they’re close to coming of age. Though she’s half-human, she’s still quite costly... far more than I initially realized."

He paused, letting that information sink in.

"Silverblood typically awakens at eighteen years of age." the lord explained. "And she’s a day away from turning eighteen not only is her kind of beastkin quite rare, but while there are few beastkin tribes that use mana naturally, she happens to be one of them."

The lord counted off on his ringed fingers.

"Once she’s eighteen, she’ll have twice the mana capacity that normal First Class wizard apprentices possess..." he said. "Not only that, but her blood becomes viable as an ingredient for potions... highly sought after by alchemical centers. I could sell her to several establishments as a ’willing donor’ if you understand my meaning."

His smile grew wider.

"And let’s not forget that her white goat horns sell for quite the price as well," the lord added. "Ground into powder, they’re excellent for certain... potions."

He looked at his fingers as if admiring his own manicure.

"So, if you give me ten gold coins on the spot..." the lord said, "I’ll give you Mirela immediately. I swear it on the Valakris name."

The man clearly expected Serra to panic and to beg for more time... this was time he had no intention of giving since he’d already planned to sell Mirela elsewhere and was in the middle of negotiations with another buyer entirely but Serra didn’t panic.

Instead, she reached into the pouch at her side and pulled out a leather coin purse. Slowly, deliberately, she began placing gold coins on the table one by one.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

The clinking of metal on wood filled the garden.

Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten...

Ten gold coins sat in a neat line on the table, glinting in the afternoon sun and Serra looked up at the lord with calm eyes.

"Would that be acceptable?" Serra asked. The man went deathly pale with his composed facade cracking.

’H-how...?’ he thought.

These people had been struggling to scrape together three gold coins just weeks ago according to his information. How could they suddenly pull out ten in an instant? Where had this money come from?

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"I see you’ve come prepared..." The lord said in a strained voice and Serra’s eyes narrowed.

"Are you planning to go back on your word?" Serra rose her voice slightly. "After all, you promised... You swore on the Valakris name."

"What’s holding me back from doing so?" He said bluntly. "There’s no written document after all neither is there any contract. It’s just words between us."

"If you do that," Serra said. "then I will make sure that the Valakris family can no longer use the benefits of the Church. Your family will be blacklisted from every Church-affiliated institution in the kingdom."

The lord laughed.

"Who are you to decide that?" he asked mockingly. "You’re just some healer girl playing at—"

Serra reached up and pulled down the top of her dress slightly, revealing the center of her chest. There, burned into her skin just above her heart, was a mark... a golden cross that seemed to glow with its own internal light and the lord’s laugh died in his throat.

Serra looked at him with a smile that held no warmth whatsoever.

"I am one of the Saintess Candidates," Serra said quietly. "Chosen by the Goddess herself. Still want to renege on your promise?"

The color drained completely from the lord’s face.

...

Serra and Taula stood outside the gates, which remained open with guards on either side watching them nervously.

Taula made a slight movement like she was about to step forward and both guards flinched, raising their weapons defensively.

Taula laughed at their reaction.

"Scaredy cats..." Taula said with an amused expression.

’If it was Klaus, he would have just given me a look instead,’ Taula thought. ’I really hope he’s doing okay wherever he is.’

The front door of the Valakris manor opened and a beautiful young woman wearing simple maid’s clothes stepped out, carrying a cloth bundle tied up like a makeshift bag.

She kept her eyes downcast as she walked with her posture showing years of trained subservience.

Lord Valakris appeared at the door behind her with a sneer but there was nothing he could do.

Behind the Royal Family, the Church was next most influential and behind the Church stood the Saintess and her Candidates. If you offended a Saintess Candidate and she became the Saintess? You were finished.

That was why House Drakthar, once among the five most powerful families, had fallen to their very last heir... They’d offended the current Saintess when she was still an apprentice.

The Valakris head didn’t want that so he’d given Mirela for free, let Serra take back her coins. If she became Saintess, he could claim he’d shown mercy.

’As for the girl,’ the lord thought. ’There will be other opportunities.’

Mirela crossed through the gate, and it closed behind her with a heavy clang of finality. She stopped in front of Serra and Taula, then bowed deeply, her silver horns catching the light.

"Thank you for saving me from that place, Saintess Candidate." Mirela said and her voice trembled.

Serra waved her hands in front of her face nervously.

"Don’t say that out here!" Serra said quickly while glancing around. "It’s supposed to be confidential..."

The three of them began walking away from the estate, putting distance between themselves and the place that had held Mirela captive.

Once they were well out of earshot, Taula spoke up.

"What does Saintess Candidate mean exactly?" Taula asked with genuine curiosity and Serra’s face turned red with embarrassment coloring her features.

"It means I’m one of the people chosen by the Goddess herself as candidates for being the next Saintess..." Serra explained. "When the goddess decides we’re worthy enough, one of us will be elevated to take the place of the Saintess."

"Ohhhhhh," Taula said, nodding like this explained everything and Mirela cut in.

"Is it true that my cousin died?" Mirela asked quietly.

"It’s true," Serra confirmed sadly. "He died... to our group leader, who killed him in cold blood during a dungeon raid but before he died, he entrusted me to save you and that’s what I did."

Mirela finally raised her face, allowing them to see her properly.

She had pure white hair that fell past her shoulders coiling silver goat horns curved back from her temples and white goat ears twitched atop on the sides of her head but her eyes were most striking... they were light blue that looked almost purple, like amethysts.

Tears began streaming down her face, dropping to the street. She cried openly with her shoulders shaking and the tears kept coming.

Serra and Taula stood patiently, giving her space to grieve. Finally, Mirela’s crying slowed and she wiped at her eyes.

"I’m sorry for showing such a shameful displ—"

RIP!

Both girls turned to Taula, who had torn fabric from Klaus’s shirt that she wore then Taula held out the torn cloth to Mirela.

"You look too cute to keep crying..." Taula said matter-of-factly. "Use this to wipe your tears."

"Thank you, but I don’t have any way to—" Mirela started.

Taula shoved the cloth directly into Mirela’s face and began cleaning her tears anyway, not waiting for permission or protest.

The half-blooded beastkin found herself with nothing much to say as Taula thoroughly wiped her face clean with surprising gentleness.

Once Taula finished, Mirela managed a small, watery smile.

"Thank you..." Mirela said sincerely.

Serra looked at the torn shirt with sudden realization.

"Won’t Boss be mad when he finds out you tore his clothes?" Serra asked.

Taula’s eyes widened in horror as the implications hit her. She fell to her knees dramatically with her arms raised to the sky.

"My headpats!" Taula cried out in genuine anguish. "They’re gone... he’ll never give them to me now..."

Actual tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and began sliding down her face.

"I can sew!" Mirela said quickly, trying to comfort the suddenly distraught woman. "I know how to knit it back! You won’t even be able to tell it was torn!"

Taula immediately shifted from despair to gratitude, bowing down repeatedly with her face touching the ground.

"My savior!" Taula shouted, pressing her forehead to the cobblestones. "You’ve saved my life!"

"Please get up!" Mirela said nervously, trying to pull Taula back to her feet. "It’s nothing special! Any maid knows basic sewing!"

Serra stepped in, pulling Taula up by the arm before this could go on any longer.

"It’s Mirela’s birthday tomorrow," Serra said, changing the subject entirely. "We should go shopping to celebrate."

Taula stood up, dusting off her face and clothes.

"Alright..." Taula agreed immediately. "But we’d better make a big cake. A really big one."

"You don’t have to do that," Mirela intervened quickly, shaking her head. "Maids like me don’t celebrate birthdays. It would be wastef—"

Serra smiled, and it was one of the warmest, most genuine smiles Mirela had ever seen directed at her.

"You’re not a maid anymore," Serra said gently. "You’re one of us instead."

She extended her hand toward Mirela.

Mirela stared at the offered hand, stuttering slightly with emotions warring across her face then slowly and hesitantly, she reached out and took it holding tight.

Serra’s smile widened and she began pulling Mirela along down the street.

"The first thing we’ll do is buy you new clothes!" Serra declared. "Something that isn’t that awful maid uniform!"

"But these are still perfectly functional—" Mirela tried to protest.

"Nope!" Taula cut her off, falling into step beside them. "You heard her... New clothes and we’re getting you something with colors! Real colors, not just gray and brown!"

Mirela found herself being dragged along by two people who’d known her for less than an hour but were treating her with more kindness than she’d experienced in years.

Something warm and fragile bloomed in her chest...

It was hope.

...

[Meanwhile...]

"So you see, my older sister has blue hair and gold eyes and she has a really beautiful face," the boy beside Klaus rambled on. "A lot of men want to marry her but she keeps turning them down because she says she’s waiting for her soulmate, which I think is really romantic even though our father thinks it’s impractical, and—"

"Can you shut the fuck up?" Klaus asked.

His hands were tied behind his back with his wrists bound with rough rope that chafed against his skin.

His legs were also bent awkwardly and tied together, forcing him into an uncomfortable kneeling position even his arms were lashed to his torso restricting any significant movement.

Drip...! Drip...!

They were in a dark drippy cave that was part of the underground network beneath Rivera City that most citizens didn’t even know existed.

Klaus had been kidnapped.