The streets of Blackmere glowed under the fading dusk, lanterns flickering to life one by one as the sky shifted from orange to blue. The noise of the city hadn't quieted—it just changed tune. Less shouting. More laughter. Fewer market stalls. More taverns.
Beatrice walked ahead of him with a quiet confidence, weaving through the winding streets like she'd done it a hundred times. Maybe she had.
Vani followed, watching the people around them. Since he hadn't been in a city before.
Beatrice had spent almost all her day showing him the essentials—where to buy decent clothes, where not to get ripped off, a smith who wouldn't question why someone his age wanted a sword. She'd even helped him choose one.
Now, she turned to face him, nodding toward a small tavern nestled between two shops. "This one's quiet. Locals eat here. Not many nobles."
Vani looked at the door. The windows were fogged, the scent of baked bread and roast drifting out every time it opened. It wasn't fancy, but it felt safe.
He nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
Inside, it was warm. Dim candlelight lit each table, and the air buzzed with quiet chatter and clinking cutlery. They found a seat near the wall, tucked away from the center.
Beatrice sat first, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Vani sat opposite, his hands resting loosely on the edge of the table.
"You've been here before?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. I've never been to a place like this."
Beatrice raised an eyebrow.
"I mean… I've never been to a city before," Vani said. "Back home, there's nothing like this. Just a dusty inn and a woman who yells at you if you sit too long."
Since the brothel was the most important place in the village, places like this didn't have many customers.
She smiled a little. "So this is your first real meal out?"
"Feels like it."
A waitress brought them two plates—roasted lamb, steamed greens, and a hunk of bread on the side. Beatrice thanked her, then dug in.
Vani ate slower, trying to taste everything. The food was hot, simple, and good.
They sat in silence for a while. But eventually, Beatrice put her fork down and looked at him.
"I meant what I said earlier. About thanking you."
"You already said that."
"Not like this," she said. "I'm not just talking about the clothes. Or the food. I'm thanking you for letting me come along."
Vani looked down at his plate. "You helped me. A lot."
"I didn't help you because I wanted something in return," she said. "I helped you because I needed to believe I could still choose something different. That maybe, even if I'm still stuck scrubbing noble chamber pots… I could find a way out. Something better."
She looked at him carefully now, her voice softer. "You don't talk about what you want. What you're after."
Vani was quiet. Then: "I don't know what I want."
Beatrice blinked.
"I left because I couldn't stay. That's it," he said. "I thought maybe I'd figure things out once I got out. But it hasn't changed. I still feel like something's missing. I don't know what it is, or how to fix it."
The candle on the table flickered as he leaned back.
"I don't have a plan. I don't have some great purpose. I'm just… walking. Waiting for the feeling to go away."
Beatrice studied him, her expression unreadable.
"I don't want to be a maid forever," she said, almost a whisper. "But I don't know how to be anything else. I think I was hoping you'd have the answer."
He met her gaze. "I don't. I'm sorry."
She smiled, but it was a tired smile. "At least you're honest."
The room around them felt quieter now. The voices were distant, like they were somewhere else entirely.
"I don't know if I can help you," Vani said. "But I don't want to push you away either."
Beatrice gave a small nod. "That's enough. For now."
They didn't talk much after that. They just sat there, letting the warmth of the food and the low hum of the tavern wrap around them.
And for a moment, it didn't matter that neither of them knew where they were going.
They weren't there yet. But maybe they weren't alone.
The tavern slowly emptied as the night deepened. The candle at their table had burned halfway down, leaving streaks of wax curling along its base.
Vani leaned back, his plate long finished. His hand idly traced the rim of his cup, eyes staring into the soft flicker of the flame. He wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there like that. He wasn't sure he cared.
Beatrice broke the silence again, her voice low. "I used to think it was just me. Feeling stuck. Feeling like the world had already decided what I was supposed to be."
Vani looked at her.
"I remember scrubbing blood out of some baron's carpet once," she said. "He killed a man during one of his drinking fits. I was told to clean it before the smell spread to the guest wing."
She laughed bitterly. "I cried while I did it. But not because of the blood. I cried because I realized no one was ever going to see me as anything more than a pair of hands and a bowed head."
Her eyes didn't shine with tears. They just looked tired. Like the weight of those memories was a coat she hadn't been able to take off.
"I don't want pity," she said quickly. "I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I just… I don't know. You seem like you're trying to understand the world the same way I am. Thought maybe I wasn't crazy."
Vani's voice was quiet. "You're not."
They sat in that understanding for a moment.
"Do you think it's cowardly?" she asked. "To want more but not know how to ask for it?"
Vani shook his head. "I think it's human."
He didn't say anything for a while after that. Then, just loud enough for her to hear: "I used to look up at the stars and think they had answers. Like maybe if I just followed the road far enough, they'd lead me somewhere that made sense."
Beatrice smiled faintly. "What do you think now?"
"I think stars just shine. They don't care where we go."
She laughed—genuinely, this time. "That's depressing."
"Little bit."
The waitress came by, asking if they wanted anything else. Vani paid without hesitation, handing over the coins he'd won the night before. Beatrice watched him carefully but said nothing.
As they stepped back out into the night, the cool air hit them like a soft slap. The streets were quieter now, lit only by the orange glow of lanterns and the silver wash of the moon.
They didn't speak much on the walk back. But it wasn't an awkward silence. It was something else. Something more like a fragile thread tying them together—uncertain, but real.
Beatrice walked a little closer than before. Vani noticed, but didn't move away.
Maybe she needed this.
Maybe he did too.
When they arrived back at the mansion, Beatrice stopped by the door. 'Thank you, for the food, clothes. And… for listening.
Vani nodded. "Anytime."
She lingered for a moment longer, then stepped inside.
Vani stood there for a while, looking up at the moon, letting the silence settle around him. He didn't have answers. He didn't have a plan. But something about tonight—about her—had pulled him a little closer to something real.
Not purpose. Not peace.
But presence.
And for now, maybe that was enough.