Chapter Four.

Why no longer scope the Taefo with the

daylight we have left and simply see if it's even

possible to do a rescue?"

"The Taefo has multiplied since our last

attempt," Dean said.

"It has expanded, but I cannot say so for the

security and the staff," Faebrin said.

"How many kids did you see?" Mageia

said.

"At least three little ones bounded through chains,"

he said.

"Did yuh hear how many teens they already

have inside," Dean said in pure annoyance.

"No, however I can find out," he said.

"No. I do not favor yuh going again there," Dean

said.

"But the patrollers are familiar with me. They

think I'm some Strange with household inside," he

said.

"He's right, Dean. Faebrin's been keeping an

eye on the place, so he'd comprehend what to look

for," Mageia said.

"I promise to be careful," Faebrin said. The

light from the solar made his blonde curls shiny

as they bounced from his assuring nod.

Dean flexed his jaw aspect to aspect and placed his arms on his waist. "We need to vote," he

said.

Mageia sucked her teeth, hating the want to

vote.

Am I not the Chief? She desired to say.

"Hands raised for these who suppose this rescue

is a true idea," Dean said.

"We do not even have Gavin and Liivel here,"

Mageia said.

"Still, raise yer hands," Dean said.

Five of the eight before them raised their

hands, receiving a scoff from her young

redheaded friend. He did now not want to ask the

opposing question.

"Fine, but let's format some of it now," Dean said

glaring at Mageia who gave him a guilty but

appreciative smile.

~*~*~

The nighttime sun hung like a golden flame in

the sky through the time they finished planning.

Everyone dispersed to do their given tasks,

hearts and minds set on doing what was

right. Rescuing youth used to be constantly the

priority of the Lost Ones, mainly when the

Law authorised executions of teens five

years ago. Some unease settled in her gut

realizing how atypical the Priesthood and the

Crown decided to defy the Laws. And the fact they saved this a secret until now, solely boiled

her blood with fury.

Did the High Priest sincerely have a dream from

the gods?

She packed the valuables wanted to do a

fair exchange with a correct buddy and prepared

to leave. She headed westward lower back into

the Old Forest to an abandoned well. A

heart-wrenching screech within the treetops

brought her to slam into a tree trunk. She

pressed her again against it, eyes scanning

above for the darkish predator.

Cravers. The bloody bat-like creatures the

size of three men ought to select up a person

like a pillow and fly them away to their nest

for dinner. They had been dangerous, sneaky,

and swift like a thief. Unable to see the

mystical creature that had located its way

from the deeper eastside of the Dauntless,

she shortly ran the relaxation of the way to the

well. She climbed in and persisted into

the underground of the Old Forest and the

Hillside.

Under Ardania were historical tunnels and sewers

forgotten by means of officers but regarded by way of anyone

who wished to get around except raising

suspicion. Mageia went her normal route that

took no greater than two hours into Midlaan,

waving buzzing flies from her face, and

scrunching her nose at scurrying rats and the

putrid stench. Humming her father's favorite

song, she determined her exit and ascended the ladder she had mounted months ago. She

ignored some thing moist substance draining into

the iron grate and peeked to make positive no

one was around earlier than hiking out.

This grate sat in a lone alley with crates

that had been purposely stacked round it

to ensure no one would notice. She fixed

her hood and crossed into an adjoined alley

behind Grinner Street. Known for its many

rows of fooderies and handmade accessory

shops, their top degrees had been houses to the

owners. An owner burst out the backdoor

of his shop, engulfing her with the delicious

aroma of cooking seafood. She bent her

hood lower, however the chef cared much less about her

presence and dumped a faded of fish grind into

his trash bin.

Mageia slowed her pace, ready for the

man to return inner before slipping into the

backdoor of a bakery shop. For a minute she

sucked in the extraordinary smells of pastries,

breads, jams, and candies causing her

mouth to water and a smile to sweep across

her face. The bell above the door rang, however she

didn't have to wait to be acknowledged.

She handed the steamy warm kitchens and went

to one of three rows of tables, setting her bag

down. Her hungry eyes eyed the multiple trays

of meals still steaming warm from the ovens.

Quickly, she washed her hands in the water

pump's basin and plucked one into her mouth.

She moaned with pleasure as the candy cream

oozed down her throat.

"You could've greeted first, Mageia," a young

cheery voice stated exiting the door to the

kitchens.

"Forgive me, little Zane," she grinned at the

boy with his long black hair tied back, and his

apron greased and stained with work.

"I'm no longer a little boy anymore," he said, crossing

his puffed-out chest. "Papa stated I'm a man

now."

"Oh? I must've ignored the new regulation stating

how ten-year-old's are adults now."

The boy made a stupid face at her as a

bellowing snigger erupted about the room.

"Look who we have here," the proprietor said,

turning to lock the door main into the dining

area now busy with customers.

"Hala Ser Trekon," she stated with a moderate bow.

"Don't be chivalrous, come and provide me a

hug," he said, and she did, unable to end from

sniffing his buttery scent.

"You've been at it again," Trekon said, waving

an accusing chubby finger in her face.

"What're you speaking about?"

"The Purple Thief was at the Dais Grounds.

I was petrified," he stated mocking a proper

woman he must've overheard. His son

laughed aloud, promising to sound exactly like his father's in the future.

"It was hectic, however necessary, Trek," she said

plopping into a chair and eyeing a row of

buttered biscuits.

"And dangerous. You do recognize you needn't

steal when you have me to assist," he said

plopping into his red armchair massive adequate to

hold his large form.

"You have a household to care for. I don't favor you

caring for another," she said.

"You have to nevertheless reconsider this stealing

lifestyle," Trek said. "You Elders are getting old

enough to work small jobs that might not ask too

many questions. And like I said, I can assist you

and your household more."

Mageia frowned and pursed her lips to

restrain her frustration and annoyance over

this topic.

The baker and former knight of the Royal

Guard gave a frown too and gestured to his

son. "Zane. Go help your mother."

The boy's shoulders drooped alongside with his

face. "Yes papa," he said, and obeyed. Once

the door shut in the back of the boy, Trekon leaned

forward on the chair's arms.

"When my daughter and that lug of a husband

she has wants me, I pitch in, do I not?"

"Yes, Trek..."

"And when this handsome lad grows into a

fine young man and have his own family, I will

continue to pitch in, will I not?"

"You would."

"And when a good man made me promise to

take care of his family if anything happened to

him, was I supposed to say no?"

Mageia felt the side of her neck and her hand

habitually rubbed across the lumpy birthmark.

She remembered sitting on her father's lap

and feeling his own mark at the back of his

neck. It lied beneath his collar, drenched of

sweat from wearing his knight's armor for

so many hours. The image of his smiling

face still weaved into her thoughts from time

to time. Even his hazel eyes that popped

off his dark skin like the chocolates he'd

bring home from the palace would resonate

from the bloom. She was six when he was

assassinated and didn't know him as much as

she did her fierce mother, but she loved him,

nonetheless.

Even after his death, she remembered how

her mom continued to hide her from the

world, fearful that one day she'd be taken and

executed for her purple eyes. Sadly, that did

not last long.

"No," she said. "I hate that I don't know

anything about him except that he was a

knight." "Not simply a knight, my girl. He was once Ser Leon

Holt, Commander of the King's Army," he said

in admiration. "He fled Gorana at some stage in the Gold

Madness up north with many others. Found

refuge here and one way or the other pleased King

Thadd and worked his way up the ranks in

just a few years. Divines know, he outshines

the pathetic one we have now. The man was

not an awful lot of a talker so do not ask me how he

done it. Our friendship only grew over stuffing

our bellies in the kitchens."

"If you two have been so close, why did he now not tell

you his actual name or my mom's real name?"

Trekon's smile misplaced some of its strength and

he shrugged. "Everyone has their secrets. You

know that higher than all of us else."

"My mom never told me their actual names," she

said. "To this day, I do not comprehend why or what to

do about it."

"Obey your mother and father mainly if they forbid

you to ever speak their truth."

"But it is so weird and I experience misplaced sometimes..."

she said trailing off.

"Look Mageia. Whatever Leon and Vale were

up to, no doubt it had some thing to do with

your eyes." He held up a hand to silence her.

"I only favor to do what's proper and care for

you and your family. I do not desire to know

anything. The less I comprehend the safer we are

under this roof."