When Lara stirred awake, the sky was still cloaked in darkness. The air was cool, and the silence was only broken by the rooster’s crows and the soft rustle of leaves outside. Getting out of bed, she quietly slipped through the back door, her sandaled feet barely making a sound against the cold ground. The moon was still up, and its beams faintly lit the path to the community well.
For days, she had been struggling with hygiene. While the men could bathe openly, she could not do that. It had been three days since she last washed her hair, and she could no longer stand the greasy strands that clung to her scalp, making her skin crawl.
The house she was staying in was a sturdy two-story inn that had been a haven for merchants during the bustling summer trade. The inn was owned by Mayor Roder Fuerte. It was one of his cash cows. During the summer, it was a place for travelers to stay, but during the rainy season, when travelers were scarce, it turned into a brothel.
Prince Alaric seized the inn and assigned Agilus to find a worthy innkeeper to manage it. In the meantime, he turned it into the lodging of the commanders and the physicians who participated in the war.
With a bucket filled with water, she slipped into the small, enclosed backyard assigned to Kane Mendel’s quarters. It was a rare spot of privacy, shielded from prying eyes. Unknown to her, Prince Alaric arranged for her to have that space, the only one in the inn.
Kneeling by the wooden bucket, she scooped water with a dipper and poured it over herself, the icy liquid making her gasp. Her inner garments clung to her skin, but she didn’t care. As she scrubbed the grime from her hair and let the water cascade down her body, she couldn’t help but pity the people of this time. No shower, no running water, no flushing toilets, no bidets — life here was raw and unforgiving.
By the time she’d finished and hung her clothes to dry in the backyard, dawn had painted soft hues of pink, orange and gold in the eastern sky. She stepped back inside, wringing her hair dry with a piece of cloth, then she changed into her fatigues.
When she opened the door to get out, she froze. Standing in the courtyard were four familiar figures, their postures rigid, eyes downcast. The Norse siblings. They had been waiting. And it was obvious that they had waited for quite a while.
Galahad moved first. He strode towards her, his expression unreadable until, without warning, he dropped to his knees.
"Lara... Sis..." His voice cracked, heavy with guilt. "Please forgive me. I was wrong to doubt you. If you need to slap me or punch me — I’ll take it if it means you’ll forgive me."
Lara blinked, taken aback. Her eyes darted around, her heart racing. If anyone saw this, questions would arise. These men weren’t just anyone — who were they? They were the honored lieutenants and commanders of their own troop and and if people see them kneeling in front of her, wouldn’t that invite trouble to Kane Mendel?
"What are you doing? Get up!" she hissed, glancing nervously at the other rooms. "Not here. Let’s talk inside." She turned swiftly, leading them into her room. She was afraid that if she was a second later, people would start opening their doors or windows and see the commotion that the Norse men were doing.
The four Norse siblings entered Lara’s room. Galahad glanced around, discomfort flashing across his face. The room was sparse: a single bed, a wooden chest, and nothing else. Compared to the lavish chambers his sister once had, this was practically a cell. His sister had a huge bedroom, and the entire side of a wall was fitted with drawers for her clothes and shoes. But he pushed those thoughts aside. There were more important matters at hand.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Galahad dropped to his knees once more. "Sister... I’m sorry." His voice trembled, eyes glistening with remorse. "I was a fool. I should not have doubted you."
Lara stared down at him. His pain was real — she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He wasn’t making excuses. He was owning his mistakes. Beside him, Percival and Gideon lowered their heads, quiet but equally remorseful.
She sighed softly. They weren’t her brothers. They owed her nothing. How lucky the original Lara had been to have siblings . A pang of longing twisted in her chest. Wait! Weren’t they her brothers now?
"Get up first. Don’t kneel. If you’re sincere with your apology..." Lara’s voice was quiet but firm, "then prove it. Find out who was behind my abduction two years ago — and why."
Galahad was happy. Though Lara did not say outright that she had forgiven them, her eyes no longer held the same tinge of mockery he saw in them last night. "Of course. It’s our duty to get you justice." His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tightening.
Gideon and Percival nodded in agreement.
"Reya told me that it was Mira’s two servants who struck us that afternoon. My wound on the head was serious, and that’s probably the reason why I lost my memory when I woke up."
Percival, who was the youngest among the brothers, felt his knees weakened. He sat on the edge of the bed without being invited.
"What really happened back then?" Galahad asked as he shifted his weight on one foot. Bener and Gideon stood on one side, calm and composed, but they perked their ears to listen.
Lara hesitated before speaking, her voice steady. "Mira asked me to go to the market with her. I heard a loud thud, felt a sharp pain at the back of my head, and blacked out. When I woke up, we were already in a carriage heading south. Reya said I’d been unconscious for three days."
"Three days?!" the brothers chorused, eyes wide with shock. "Was your wound that serious?"
"I supposed so. I lost my memories, remember?"
Lara’s skin prickled. ’Your sister never woke up,’ she said silently. ’I took over her body.’