Ersia: Raven Dawn

After their brief encounter with Theo, Lisabelle and Viena settled into a quiet rhythm that stretched, unbroken, for two whole weeks.

Each morning, just after dawn misted the cobbled streets of Fleurin, an official courier would arrive at their door — a stiff-collared man with ink-stained fingers and shoes worn thin by duty. He came bearing parcels of parchment sealed with the academy’s insignia: Lisabelle’s assignments, dictated by court decree to uphold her right to education even in confinement. As routine demanded, she handed back the prior week’s papers — her answers meticulously penned, the margins clean and the ink dried smooth — before retreating into the quiet corners of the house to continue her work.

Though she was denied the grand halls and well-stocked laboratories of the academy, Lisabelle’s diligence never faltered. From dawn until ten, she scoured brittle volumes from local libraries with pages sweetly musky with age, as well as conducted makeshift experiments with what few materials she could scrounge. If the work frayed her patience or thinned her spirit, she never confessed it aloud. Deep down, she knew: given the same choice again, she would bear it willingly, a hundred times over.

When her tasks were set aside, she turned to Viena. Most afternoons, their world contracted to the small wooden table by the window, where shafts of amber light fell over worn books and the delicate rustle of turning pages filled the air. For over three hours a day, Lisabelle taught Viena to read — slow and steady, vowel by vowel. By the end of the first week, Viena could read three full paragraphs without stumbling, her voice small but sure. Lisabelle did not often show her joy openly, but that evening, her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she cut into one of her old dresses — a faded but soft garment of plum-colored linen — to craft a long skirt for Viena. A quiet gift, stitched in pride.

It wasn’t just Viena and Eleanor whom Lisabelle cared for. Long before Viena stirred each morning, Lisabelle often brewed a pot of tea for Randia. The aroma of black leaves steeped with cinnamon bark and orange peel drifted through the house long before sunrise. She offered him the cup wordlessly some mornings — perhaps as quiet gratitude for bringing her a sister she’d never dared to dream of, or perhaps to anchor him here, to discourage his restless nature from drifting to the unknown land beyond once again.

Neither did she forget the two knights posted at her door. Gwen and Alan had, by now, become familiar presences. On the fourth day of her house arrest, Lisabelle noticed Alan’s eyes watering incessantly as pollen floated thick over the garden. By the week’s end, she had knitted him a handkerchief from soft, tightly woven cotton, the edges stitched neatly with tiny motifs of bluebells. With Gwen, friendship bloomed quicker: the knightess’ easy laughter made talk of fashion and aesthetics feel like sunlight cutting through fog.

One afternoon, Lisabelle folded her arms over the porch table where Gwen kept watch.

"Say, Gwen. Can I take Viena into town? Just for a little while. Being shut in is starting to gnaw at me."

Gwen tapped her chin, frowning playfully. "Hmm . . . That's quite a stretch if I must say."

"Well, it's been two weeks. I kinda understand what you are saying," Alan remarked, setting aside his gloves. His voice was mild, but the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

"Come on, Alan. I know you were just trying to have an excuse to drink yourself stupid. You gotta tone it down one of these days, you know? Wouldn't it get ugly if someone caught your face?" Gwen plays with her peaked cap.

Alan shrugged, exasperation warming his tone. "Why are you worrying about that now? You have quite literally taken them on a stroll on our very first day here."

"T-That is just because it was essential!" Gwen protested, refusing to be held responsible.

Alan and Lisabelle looked at each other. The man sighed and the girl chuckled.

"No, it wasn't. What are you even babbling about?"

"I thought the same. But thank you for that, really."

In the end, Gwen relented. She insisted they bring Alan as an escort and return home by seven bells at the latest — terms Lisabelle agreed to eagerly. Without wasting a breath, together with Viena she set about preparations as though readying a grand outing: slices of dense rye bread wrapped carefully in linen, two clay pots of thick plum jam and tangy sauerkraut, flaky meat pies cooled on a wire rack, and a small basket of late-autumn pears and golden apples, their skins freckled and sweet.

When everything was packed and laced secure, Lisabelle, Viena, and Alan stepped out beneath a sky streaked in soft amber and slate blue — the air cool with the breath of coming autumn and the promise of freedom, however brief.

---

“Come to think of it, where exactly are we going?” Alan asked as they turned down a quieter street.

“The Seventh District,” Lisabelle replied, shifting the basket in her hands. “Near the Old Armory.”

Alan arched a brow. “That’s still within the merchants’ quarter, technically. Odd choice, though. Plenty of better places for kids to play.”

“I have a few decent friends there,” she said simply. “They’ve been worried.”

They made their way through the winding streets, the cobblestones narrowing beneath their feet. Soon, the city’s hum dulled behind them, replaced by the hush of a forgotten alleyway. The air here was cool and unmoving, thick with dust and the faint scent of iron and old stone. Viena instinctively slipped between Lisabelle and Alan, her small figure sheltered between their steps. Lisabelle felt the tug of her presence and gently closed her hand around Viena’s.

“Gods,” Alan muttered under his breath, glancing at the empty windows and crumbling walls, “I’ve lived more than three decades in this city and I don’t think I’ve ever set foot in this part. Not since Delilah’s Treason.”

Before Lisabelle could respond, a thunderous, rattling sneeze exploded through the silent street, sharp and violent enough to startle a flock of pigeons into the air. Viena flinched hard, Alan’s hand went straight to his sword hilt, and Lisabelle—rather alarmingly—burst into laughter.

“Aha! Still gets me every time.”

Alan lowered his hand cautiously, irritation flickering across his face. “What in the seven hells was that?”

“That,” Lisabelle grinned, “was Old Gugu. Man’s been sneezing like that six times a day for as long as I can remember.”

Before the echo of her words faded, Lisabelle’s eyes darted around—Viena had vanished. She spun swiftly and spotted her almost at once: the girl had wedged herself into the hollow of an old wooden cart parked by the roadside, her small form almost invisible save for the telltale flicker of her bunny ears peeking out over the rim.

Lisabelle strode over, exasperated but amused. “What’s got into you, midget? Come out. There’s nothing to be—no, seriously, how’d you even get in there so fast?”

“T-that was terrifying,” Viena stammered as she clambered out, brushing dust from her dress. “He sounded like a lion!”

Lisabelle cocked a brow. “Have you actually met a lion, though?”

“No. But if they aren’t louder than that, maybe I can take them on!”

Lisabelle chuckled, ruffling Viena’s hair as she reclaimed her hand. “Get taller than me first, then you can talk brave. Trust me — I’ve been here plenty. Feels deserted, sure, but the only things lurking are war veterans and old men counting down their days. Safer than it looks.”

“If you say so…” Viena murmured, though her fingers curled tighter around Lisabelle’s.

They pressed deeper into the alleyway. Soon, a squat, timeworn house came into view, settled at the bend of a T-junction. Its walls sagged under the weight of age, plaster crumbling in pale sheets. Something about the scene stirred a flicker in Viena’s chest — a dim echo of her own past. The house reminded her of the shack she’d once called home: grey, lonely, forgotten. Though only months had passed, that life already felt distant, blurred like a dream slipping from memory.

Her grip on Lisabelle’s hand strengthened, and with it bloomed a fragile, quiet smile. She couldn’t erase the past. But this present, however fragile, meant more than she’d ever hoped to ask for — and she would not let go of it easily. Just as she wouldn’t let go of Lisabelle.

She wiped her eyes quickly, but Lisabelle had already noticed. The older girl stopped, turned, and cupped Viena’s face in her palm.

“What’s this? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” Viena sniffled defiantly.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

Lisabelle reached to wipe Viena’s nose with the hem of her cloak, but the girl squirmed away, her cheeks puffed in mock indignation. With a small sigh and a sharp click of her tongue, Lisabelle wrapped her arm over Viena’s shoulder and tugged her close.

“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat,” she murmured, her voice roughened at the edges, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. “There’s nothing to fear when you’re with me. I’ll protect you.”

Viena’s lips curled. “Hehe. You’re trying to act cool, but you just look lame and corny, Lily.”

“What?! You little brat—maybe I should’ve just left you to fend for yourself and see how much you’d wet your pants!”

Lisabelle wrestled her knuckles against Viena’s forehead in playful retribution. Yet she was caught off guard when Viena abruptly flung her arms around her waist, hugging her tight.

"Then, that's a promise."

Lisabelle stilled. Slowly, a smirk softened into something gentler. She huffed, flicking her platinum-ashen hair with theatrical flair. “Hmph. Of course. I don’t just talk the talk—I always walk the talk.”

---

Not long after, the three of them caught sight of a young boy emerging from the house — though not in the usual fashion. Instead of using the front door, he vaulted cleanly out of the low window beside it, landing with a soft thud on the dusty ground.

“Yo, Bel,” he greeted, brushing dirt off his trousers.

“Here I am,” Lisabelle replied evenly. “Just like I promised.”

Theo’s gaze flicked to Alan, taking in the knight’s bearing with a quick once-over. “Yeah, well… you never said you’d be bringing a knight along. How’s your day, Sir? Pardon the stench of the place.”

He gave Alan a half-hearted salute — casual, almost careless. It wasn’t clear whether it was meant as an insult or just lazy indifference. Either way, Alan only arched his brows and smiled lightly.

“Just doing my job, kid. You do yours.”

Theo smirked. “Ha! At least you’re the cool kind. Tell you what, Sir — no offense meant, but your belt looks nasty. Rust creeping in, leather’s cracked, dull color, crooked seams—do I need to go on?”

“What?”

“And your sword hilt… loose, isn’t it?”

Alan blinked, his hand instinctively drifting to his weapon. “How did you—?”

“Man. When’s the last time you properly maintained your gear?”

“Uh… around ten months ago?”

Theo let out a long, theatrical sigh, heavy with mock disappointment. “Tsk-tsk. Alright, how about you take your kit and get it sorted? There’s a forge master just down that way. Old fella, bit grumpy but sharp as a tack. Lorenzo Baretti’s the name — shop’s right next to that ever-rowdy bar.”

Alan rubbed his smooth chin, narrowing his eyes slightly as he stepped closer to Theo. He crouched, elbows on his knees, scrutinizing the boy’s face with an amused squint.

“Well-well, boy… Pray, tell me, are you trying to get rid of me?”

"“Yeah,” Theo grinned without missing a beat. “This place is for young bones only. Those muscles are too big for the base!”

His attempt to rub Alan’s ego aside, Lisabelle could tell Theo was getting slightly nervous under the knight’s calm stare. With a dry breath, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and exhaled through her nose, mimicking Theo’s earlier sigh.

“Just tag me with your spell, Alan,” she muttered, flicking the black-gemmed pendant that hung at her neck — a tracker gifted by the knight’s order when she’d been released from the rehabilitation center. “It’s not like we’re about to run anywhere.”

Catching her cue, Theo lifted his brows in quick agreement. “The place I told you about’s close, Sir. Barely a five-minute walk. Two if you hustle. One if you sprint.”

.

.

.

“Well, what can I say, eh?” Alan chuckled, rising to his feet. “You kids are sharper than you look these days. Very well — I’ll do just that. Go on and have your fun, eh?”

His voice trailed off, his mind already drifting toward the thought of a cold drink. With a practiced flick of his fingers, he cast a faint enchantment over Lisabelle’s necklace. The black gem pulsed softly, then settled into a steady red glow.

“There. Don’t get into too much trouble,” he added with a lopsided grin, before turning on his heel and heading down toward the bustling heart of the district.

As soon as his figure disappeared around the corner, the three left behind seemed to collectively exhale. Viena let out a quiet sigh of relief, her shoulders easing. Even Lisabelle’s usual guardedness softened as she exchanged a glance with Theo — and then, inevitably, they all broke into quiet laughter over what had just transpired.

“You’ve gotten sharper since last I saw you, Theo,” Lisabelle remarked, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “Didn’t think you had it in you to hustle a knight.”

Theo flashed a quick grin, the kind that sparked in his eyes before reaching his mouth. “Takes practice. You taught me half of it, remember?”

Then, with a jerk of his chin toward the house, his grin widened.

“Aight, fellas. Now that the dog’s gone—let’s get your asses inside.”