We moved slow and steady through the rough terrain, two miles left on our long journey. I could hear Bram chattering outside, much to Victor's annoyance, but it was amusing to listen to them squabble and reassuring, too.

"Don't you ever shut up?" Victor asked.

"I know you missed me, Vic, old buddy, old pal. Just admit it and stop pretending to be annoyed."

"The cold should have killed you," Victor said with a scoff.

"He needs it more than me… save my beloved friend," Bram said dramatically, mimicking Victor's speech from back in the forest.

"I didn't say that, you twat," Victor protested. "You looked so pathetic and weak. Of course I sent you out to get help, or was I supposed to drag a dead body back to the Earl? Huh?"

But before Victor could finish his speech, we rounded the last corner in the mountain pass we were taking, and the full view of Ismere came into sight.

"There it is," Mildred said, leaning to draw the blinds even further so that I could get the full view of the town.

It was… quite… what's the word… anticlimactic. I had anticipated poverty, yes, but it just looked sad. The town itself was large, and there was a clear divide between noble housing and commoner dwellings. The town was situated on flat land surrounded by mountains in the distance.

The main town was lined with formal brick houses, which I assumed belonged to the few noble families still existing in these parts. At the centre of the town was a large open courtyard like a town square. The centrepiece of this courtyard was a statue of the First Emperor mounted on a steed while holding up the Valtherion flag.

As you moved to the outskirts, you found commoner dwellings made from poorly constructed wooden structures. There were so many cramped together like a slum, but you could barely see anyone out and about.

The streets were almost non-existent—no paved paths, just frozen earthen roads that meandered like a maze to the centre.

A little off to the left of the town was a castle-like manor facing the mountains to the west, beyond which the Kingdom of Tar was situated.

"So, what do you think?" Mildred asked, eyeing my face.

"It's got… character," I said, laughing a little at the end, which made her eye me oddly.

She had a look of longing, or perhaps nostalgia, in her eyes as we passed by different structures. It was as if she were reliving every moment she spent in the streets of Ismere prior to leaving.

It must have been hard to leave her home for so long.

"That is where we are going," she said, pointing at the castle.

Fifty minutes passed before we found ourselves at the gate.

There were three guards eyeing us carefully from the front gate. They stopped our carriage, and an elderly guard walked up to the window.

"Mercer, please let us in," Mildred asked, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. The old man's eyes opened wide in astonishment.

"Mildred? It's been so long I almost couldn't recognise you…" he chuckled. "And this must be the young miss… Ah, I must inform the master that you have arrived," he said jovially.

He gestured for the two young men with him to open the gate, and we drove into the courtyard. We heard a loud horn ring behind us as we drove in, to which the main door of the castle flung open and an elderly woman descended the stairs of the home.

When the carriage stopped in front of the stairs, Mildred climbed out first, then helped me down.

"Mildred, it's been so long," the elderly woman said, but her eyes were looking at me with much curiosity.

"I am honoured to see you again, my lady," Mildred said as she bowed.

"This must be Evelyn," she said, fully turning her body to me. "You look just like my Victoria." She opened her arms to greet me.

I hesitated, but Mildred gave me a light nudge forward.

"Don't be afraid. I am your grandmother," she explained, a bit concerned by my hesitation.

I walked towards her, hugged her, and embraced her. She was in her early sixties. Her face still held much beauty. Her hair was almost fully grey, with streaks of her original fiery red hair peeking out every few strands. Her body was slim—too slim.

"We didn't know you'd arrive today. Forgive the sloppy welcome. Your grandfather left to patrol the stations near the border with some of our troops a few hours ago. But he will be back by dusk, okay?" she said, turning to me. "Come inside, all of you. The weather must have been terrible."

We walked up the steps silently and into the main hall. Bram and Victor followed behind us, stamping snow off their boots before crossing the threshold. It was well lit with large windows. The floor was covered in large carpets. A fireplace roared at the far end, making the room warm. The corridor ran horizontally and branched to the left and right wings of the house.

"This way," Mildred said, pointing to the right wing. "The left wing is closed off, I assume," she whispered.

Another maid walked up towards us and led us to a living room of sorts. There was another fireplace there. On the table sat a large pot of hot tea and buttered bread.

"Please help yourselves," my grandmother said.

We sat down on the cushioned seats, and the maid served us each a cup. It was warm and cozy. But you could tell there wasn't much care being put into the place. There were few servants, and some of the furniture looked too old.

Mildred made small talk with my grandmother, telling her how the south had been, what my mother had been up to these past few years, and even how my brothers were.

Then there was silence. Bram and Victor sat across from us, quietly sipping tea. You'd imagine their relationship with each other was quite cordial from the way they were seated together.

After some time had passed, my grandmother sent the young maid to show Mildred, Bram, the coachman, and Victor where they would stay, while she saw me to my room herself.

I glanced back at Mildred as I followed my grandmother up the stairs. She stood in the hallway, her hand resting on the wall, her eyes fixed on something I couldn't see. Home, I realized. She was home.

My belongings were already piled up in my room when I arrived—my books stacked on a desk and my clothes stuffed into the drawers. My room was on the first floor. It was large and spacious, with a small portable fireplace in one corner with a metal chimney exiting through the wall.

The room was well kept and had a large, comfortable-looking bed in the centre.

"This is your room. Your mother's old room. I hope you like it. If you need anything, just ask Freya," she said. And a small child my height appeared as if by command from behind her.

She had dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

"No," I said aloud, much to my grandmother's confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Assign her elsewhere," I said, a horrible feeling brewing inside me.

"Please, give her a chance. She was hired just for you," my grandmother urged. "Don't dismiss her so suddenly."

The girl's expression hadn't changed. She was just looking at me with a blank stare.

"Okay, what about this? Allow Freya to help you out for now. We can reassign her later."

I mulled the idea over in my mind for a while.

"Okay," I said finally, giving in. But a small part of me ached.

Once in the room together, Freya started arranging the books onto the cupboard. I moved towards her and started helping her out, but she seemed to get slightly annoyed at this. A flickering look of anger flashed across her face before disappearing into that blank stare.

"Why are you working as a maid?" I asked.

She froze, didn't answer me, and continued doing the work.

As the sun set, the work was complete. Freya took her leave, and another maid came in a few minutes later to call me for dinner.

"Your grandfather has arrived and wishes to dine as a family," she informed me.

When I walked into the dining room, all the torches on the wall were well lit. The meal was spread out on the table—meat, bread, a few vegetables, and a drink in a mug. The spread was humble.

"Hello there!" a man bellowed happily. He was tall with grey hair and beard. He had a distinct masculine look. He was buff, and his face and hands had visible scars—evidence of the many years of fighting and war he had overseen in his life. He walked with a small, almost unnoticeable limp.

I walked towards him and reached out to shake his hand, but he picked me up and hugged me.

"How long has it been since we saw our Victoria?" he said, looking at my grandmother, who had a small, gentle smile on her face.

He looked at me for a long moment, something like pity flickering across his face before he smiled again.

"How are you, my dear?"

"I am fine," I said, smiling a bit.

He placed me down near my seat and pulled it back for me to get on. I pulled myself up, and he pushed my seat in before sitting back down in his own.

"Please, dig in," he said. "I know you must be tired. We will catch up tomorrow as I take you around myself, okay?" he added.

I just nodded back.

I didn't eat much—just a slice or two of bread and a few slices of ham.

After dinner, a maid directed me back to my room. Freya was seated there, waiting for me to return.

"My lady, have a warm bath before you sleep," she insisted.

I took her lead and got into the side room of my chambers. There was a large bathtub filled with warm water. I slipped in, and Freya started washing my hair for me. She tried to help me wash my body, but I stopped her.

"I can do that myself," I said. "You may leave."

"But I was instructed to see you through till you slept," she said.

"I said you may leave."

At that, she turned on her heel, that same indignant expression on her face.

I don't have the guts to work a child.

The next morning, I woke to find a different maid laying out my clothes. Freya was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is the other girl?" I asked.

"I was told that she has been reassigned to the kitchen, my lady," the new maid said. Clara was older—no more than eighteen, but older than Freya.

"What do you know about the other girl?" I asked in a roundabout way.

"Freya?" she asked, and I nodded back.

"Ah, she came in recently. The Marquess hired her."

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't understand your question, my lady."

"Why would the Marquess hire a child?" I asked, my tone a bit annoyed.

"Well…" she stammered. "Most people find jobs at that age, my lady. Even I was hired under the same circumstances. Many people here don't have enough to live on. Everyone old enough to hold a broom finds work. Freya is Helena's child—one of the old maids. I heard from another maid that her father died in the coal mines a few months ago, and shortly after, Helena fell sick from that disease that has been going around. She has a very young brother at home, also. How pitiful," she said.

I didn't say anything. I only gestured for her to continue.

"I heard she camped at the gate for a full day waiting to beg the Marquess for a job. I guess she was desperate to earn some money," she said, then kept quiet.

I felt my gut sink deep. I felt almost sick. Her story seemed all too familiar to my own.

How can I help her?