At the Leave of the Mistress

[Heart of Zaga]

In the eve of its death, winter punished severely with cold days, putting up the hopeless last struggle against the rivaled warm seasons. The dim ocher hue of a sole street light illuminated the gaunt cobblestones. Coiling gray trees stood left and right, forming a small avenue. The wind blew, cold and sickly, Her skin crawled as she hid from the chill under her cloak.

“You could at least turn into a fire to warm me up.” Selene sneered as she expelled the fae from her body. From her throat throat and her mouth a bulb of light escaped, flaring up into a floating, yellow flame. Now, with the aid of the weak streetlight and the dim fire, she could appreciate the monster before her more clearly.

It was a dark structure, seeming to exceed a thousand years under the decadent light. A wrecked iron gate held the beast bound, surrounded by worn walls who’s gesso had began to crumble, and bricks exposed only to dilapidate faster under these rainy days. Water had cut like knives leaving black scars upon both structures, only to tell the story of the years the poor manor had endured in solitude.

Selene resumed her walk after her eyes found the lock, the floating fire followed. Grasping the loamy bars, she pushed the gate with all her might having inserted the proper key.

“The rust must have locked the gates together. Alas the damn key won’t budge…” She murmured to her living lantern. After the cholera that he had provoked on her mistress earlier in the evening, Zaga had not dared utter a word. Until now, though taking the outermost precaution not to irritate his mistress with his own peevish nature.

“I supposed it would not…” he modestly tittered, “allow me…”

Selene took three steps back into the empty street, removing the key, allowing Zaga to take it’s place in the keyhole. Slowly the fire inserted itself, and as the before the decrepit metal had a chance to brightten, Zaga shattered the lock, exploding with the same properties of gunpowder into a cloud of golden dust. The gates where trust open. After almost ten winters since her departure, they once more allowed entry to their mistress.

Selene had broken into the cage.

[Heart of Zaga]

The large front garden had grown wild. Where once had been roses now yellow flowers coiled about, taunting their thorns to unwanted visitors. Tall ochre grasses had taken the place of the lush vines had already stretched their dry hands around the area. The weeds had already spread as far as the eye could see under the night's veil. Her companion lagged behind; she knew that for Zaga, such displays of power were injuring. Yet she would not foster compassion: not for Zaga, not tonight.

She had to walk no more than twenty steps to reach the tall square door. This time Selene had to pass her hand through the jagged wood, wiping webs and other debris on the way. It was not before minutes of irritation, and the nuisance of getting her hands dirty, that she found the key hole and hurried to open the door.

With a screech the mass pivoted, opening into solid dark. With a murmur Selene requested the extinguished flame to light up again. Feeling compelled Zaga obliged again turing into a small flare, though one that paused from time to time, vainly illuminated the luxurious lobby that had once seen better days. It didn’t take long until Selene found an oil lantern, which she stripped from it’s stationary post, besides the door, and used the Zaga to light it, before he once more turned into a golden sphere to disappear under Selene’s chest.

“Heavens, such a nuisance,” Selene uttered, as she caressed her aching bosom.

Two sets of stairs, decorated with a maroon tapestry that had once been crimson, ran up into the second floor.. Between them a large arch opened up into an accommodating living space, from which she could appreciate little. Above her a chandelier had already lost several of its torches, and the wrecked metal body dangerously hanged unbalanced. Pedestals held marble statues of heroes and people she would rather not remember. Too tiered to care about the overall state of the manor she began her ascent into the chambers.

She had to cross halls, rows and rows of doors that led into empty rooms, others which contained precious memories within them, and even some she was for the first time discovering. Behind a door another set of stairs, more modest in appearance, led her into a spacious and accommodating chamber. There, she fell upon the bed and her eyes had closed, succumbing to slumber. As her mind wandered into the dark, the obscure eyes of unknown shadows glanced back at the woman.

Here she was not welcomed.

[Heart of Zaga]

The birds chimed outside as light poured through the thick satin curtains. She had just to regain a slight sense of awareness to make notice of the place where she had slept. It resembled the bed of a dead man and the chamber only added to the moribund feeling; the paper from the walls was torn, moss had invaded valuable paintings, which the wall had allowed to fall having loosened it's grip on the nails, furniture had bleached, and everything was covered in a fine blanket of dirt. She immediately rose from the bed, coughing and wailing as a cloud of powder followed her violent movements.

"Zaga!" she lamented, "Zaga come forth!"

Her skin began to radiate as the fae awakened inside of her throbbing body. "What, Miss?" Zaga exclaimed as he rose once more from her anatomy. Beautiful locks of golden hair appeared in the air, a face and a body, neither more modest in appearance materialized before Selene, as she tirelessly fought against the diabolical cloud. Zaga could not help but smile as the silly scene his mistress, who likes to fancy herself regal, was putting up.


When she had lost the battle, and her body as well as her garments where powdered, she found the first errand for Zaga to take for the day. "I cannot believe how much this place has declined," she commenced, "that old wretched man could have at least heired a maid to take look over this house, one that could assist me on the daily preparations. But since there is no one around besides you... go to the west wing. turn left to the second hall and from the third room, the one at the very end, retrieve a set of clean clothes and bring them to me."

The man stared into Selene's eyes, confused as he listened to a set of detailed instructions.

"If memory does not betray me, my mother kept her gowns there. She never actually went into the small room so the servants stored some of their clothing there as well. Get yourself something simple- or make it yourself, I don't care either way. Do not come back unless your body as has turned meek, your locks lengthened, and your countenance has turned modest, I'll ask you to help me out of these clothes.- Now, are you not listening? make haste, Zaga, make haste!"

Zaga promptly exited the chamber, he knew that today his mistress would not make it easy for him.

[Heart of Zaga]

More and more errands had been added to the list throughout the morning. By the time the clock (the only one in the house that still worked) reached eleven, Zaga had already swept and washed most of the dirt away from his mistress chamber, thoroughly inspected the house for serious damage that might need repair, driven all the rats from the kitchen, which he had too already cleaned, and secured the gates from both front and back of the property.

'Go to the well in the yard and bring me clear water, then you may heat it- I wish to take a bath' the petulant instructions resounded through Zaga's head. "Clean your room -and make you errants? I am not your servant, Miss." a lonely voice complained in the yard.

Light brown hair, sleek as silk ran down her head as she stared into the obscure mouth of the well. Although she could not see it, Zaga knew well that water did not disappear that easily after decades, specially in Salvar. She took a wooden bucket in her hands, and after tightening it to the rope from the poley, she let it drop into the water only to lift it back again to retrieve the liquid her mistress ordered for. She repeated this a second time with another container, and then proceeded her tiering journey to the tyrant's chamber.

She entered through the kitchen, then dragged herself through the gaunt halls and decrepit chambers, struggled to carry the load up the stairs, only to walk more halls and another set of straits with a sharper inclination. She did make it back to the room however. Earlier that day Zaga had placed the small metal tub, that had enough room left by water to fit a body, next to a window. There she emptied the content, and after thrusting the buckets away, she knelt to warm the tub with the fire of her hands.

"Don't do that now!" Selene thundered, "First help me undress."

Zaga growled and she shook the embers off, and moved behind the "Miss". Forcefully she began digging one finger after another, pulling out the strings that held her corsage together. Selene already grown impatient; she had stayed inside her chamber in her undergarments for a while. After having unhooked the meticulous network of cords, Zaga pulled the corsage down and out, revealing Selene's pale and modest breasts. Her naked body danced around the tub as she placed herself in. Zaga resumed her previous task.

"Please hurry with the water Zaga, it is not spring yet." Selene urged the maiden as she damped her hair with water.

"This is humiliating" Zaga sneered without taking her eyes off the fire.

"Oh please," Selene responded, "you burn things here and there all the time"

"Heating water for you is a humiliation, forcing me to change into a woman is humiliating, having to change into a cat to chase mice off a kitchen, is a humiliation!" The rancor in Zaga had been well annouced. There where a few minutes of silence, when only the water and the sound of the expanding metal where heard.

"Say, Zaga," Selene resumed, her sarcastic tone gone, though her eyes did not move away from the sealing, "would you like a chance to redeem yourself?". Zaga kept her indignant chore, pretending not to pay attention to the appealing proposition. "We have nothing to eat in here. Please, if you where so kind, could you go to the market and purchase some supplies?" Zaga's frown loosened, and her countenance became slightly less dark. "You would have to go to the bank-remember Father's master word?- and retire a generous amount of graces. We have nothing and I am sure Father will not notice, he always had too much money moving around Salvar." Steam had already started pestering the air, Zaga threw a compassionate glance over Selene who still did not dignify herself to look back. "Make sure to come back with two horses- rent them. I do plan to go outside , even after your stupid mistake. There," Selene pointed to her clothes atop the bed, "there is the emblem, now go and come back safe and sound."

Zaga stood up and with a swift move grasped the gown into her hands to obtain a golden emblem that displayed the family crest. Zaga would need the dangerous object to prove that the monetary transaction was legitimate. She placed it into the pocket in her dress, and then fastened her hair. But just before Zaga had a chance to storm out of her manor, and set of to the quest that would redeem her, Selene caught her arm and pulled the maiden toward her to get her clear attention.

"Please, do not make the same mistake twice..." her eyes where set straight into Zaga's as her voice grew grave, "it shall cost us dearly." She freed the woman which answered with an innocent nod. Through the window Selene appreciated her companion set of to the market, making an effort to stride in her lenghty clothes. She was cute. That was why Selene had always been afraid of allowing Zaga to wander off like this, specially as a woman, though this time she had a nod as an insurance.

'Be safe Love, they look for a man'.

[Heart of Zaga]

Again and again she checked her pocket to make sure the small emblem had not magically disappeared. Her steps where heavy, though steady and swift.

'A bank-bank-bank-bank, where do I see a bank?' She throttled through the streets, her head pivoting left and right as she searched for a place to make the transaction. She had already crossed a few marketplaces on her way, though without any graces, she wasn't going to reckon any other kind of negotiation, not for food anyways. Her arms moved like the rails of a locomotive; her forehead, already damped with sweat, palpitated as her heart attempted to keep up with her pace.

"Damn it all! Where do these humans hide their gold vaults-" She murmured to herself, as some pedestrians paused their affairs for a few seconds to scrutinize the agitated woman racing through the pavement. Before she was able to finalize her complaint she found her question answered. From the end of the street, swarming with a galore of businesses, a triangular building cut through to divide it in two. It was a tall and formidable structure; i made of limestone with the three rows of windows that adorned it's walls, fastened by thick, black iron bars. Zaga could expect no less from a Salverian bank.

She stooped to prepare her physionomy for the audience with the chasier, one she knew, would every single hair in her to make sure it was not some thief. Zaga had no intentions to benefit Mr. Vedevich's account. She tucked her hair behind her ear, properly fastened her hair once more, shook her dress and her shirt in place, which she cleared from the dust of the streets, and praised herself as she entered. Her boots broke the calm that surrounded the silent building as she moved up three steps that head to the great door. 'Do not make the same mistake', she murmured, 'not again.'

She entered the large lobby. In contrast with the loud streets this place felt almost empty; only two cashiers stood by, the other ten or twelve windows where abandoned, Zaga and another servant boy (who was probably under a similar errand) where the only costumers.

"May I help you miss?" a modest voice interrupted the murmur at the other side of the lobby. A young man sat behind the golden bars of the free window.

Zaga slowly walked to her guest, but unlike her legs, her veins violently palpitated, almost cutting through her skin. Another drop of sweat ran down her cheek, her pupils dilated as her hand swiftly stormed through her pockets and the meters of cloth for the emblem.

It was then she remembered Selene's words 'Go and come back safe and sound'

[Heart of Zaga]

Keenly she moved forth trying to regain her calm. Her host stood by, prepared for her request, "Yes, please," she commenced placing her small hands on the rim of the marble window, "I wish to make a transaction."

"No problem Miss," the youth responded, securing his lenses upon his nose with a light smile that illuminated his face, "May I know your full name, and the amount you wish to deposit?"

"Oh, no-no," Zaga exclaimed, "It is not mine, but my mistress's lord's... brother... from which she requested me to withdraw..." she paused for a second waiting for a response that would come a second too late, "...if you would"

The shuffling behind the golden bars stopped for a minute, "...Your mistress sent her maiden to withdraw money?" at that time he had already pulled out the drawer which contained all the files and information from numerous accounts, his hand slowly pushed the large container back in, at an almost unnoticeable pace.

"Eh, yes-well, you see, we have traveled from Aihnrekvolok the capital is just another detour. She does not know well the area, and her aversion to crowds get's the best of her. She is a busy lady nonetheless- she prefers to send one of her maidens on errands that she knows should be done by her own hand- but her affairs consume most of her valuable time... which we, her maidens share... now if you would..."

"I see..." The room was once more submerged in complete silence as the youth stood stagnant on his desk, vainly looking at Zaga, though not quite.

"Oh please!" She vociferated, "I am sure this is not a rare occurrence in the capital-that boy there yonder!" she pointed across the room to the boy who exited through the door, giving little attention to the shouting woman, "see, he is too well-dressed for his age, and and then he carries a heavy load of graces on him, surely his master has sent him to withdraw his gold!"

The expression in the male before her sharpened, his brows fell from his forehead and his eyes finally acknowledged her presence. A stare that, though for seconds, felt as if they gazed into her naked soul. "I never said otherwise..." he slowly resumed the ruckus, though not in the same careless and comfortable manner he had previously done. "I was pondering on the whereabouts of the noble compendium..." He murmured as her cruised through a file of papers, "that was all..." slowing for a moment to inspect a different location in his desk he resumed, "I would presume, since your's is a mistress, that her father is a noble, is he not?"

Zaga felt as her composure began to crumble under the horrible siege of panic. It seemed as if her heart wished to rip a hole through her chest, her forehead began to sweat profusely; drops of sweat adorned her neck like pearls, and though her legs, cut like cool blades. "The-the Vedevich account if you would..." She quickly exclaimed, trying to regain, by voice, the terrain she had lost against horrid anguish.

"The Vedevichs you say?" he answered in an indifferent tone, "yes, indeed, I think I remember where that specific file is." the youth stooped for a second and spread his arms open, as his eyes explored every surface of his disordered work area. A few more seconds in silence passed until the man spotted the case, and with an epic "Ha!" flung himself over it and hurried to open the thick, black, leather folder.

His fingers quivered through papers, occasionally opening it slightly to close it again after exploring the wrong record. His hand stooped, then continued with a furious toggle. In a violent move he pulled what must have been a compendium of thirty pages, held together by leather strings, which was in-fact, the record of all the transactions of the Vedevich house from this year.

"Heavens," the male tittered, "that was a mighty sneaky file. Now," he drew a pen from his uniform, ans he cruised through the records to accommodate for the new numbers, his fist tightly pressed against the paper, "before I go any furtherrr.." his voice slid as he examined the paper, "I will need you to show me some identification from your mistress's house."

Zaga was silent.

[Heart of Zaga]

"Eh-yes, please, give me a moment" Zaga slowly reached into her pocket, her two fingers caressed the sharp edges of the emblem. She grasped the object into her palm, and then placed the metal onto the marble of the small window counter. The male slid the crest behind the golden bars, though his eyes did not inspect it yet; they where too busy perusing the important documents.

Zaga knew what would be requested of her next. Mr. Vedevich's account was protected by many bureaucratic processes that, if improperly executed, would void complete access to the transactor, who would suffer of a close examination by the bank guards. It was an effect Zaga knew that all to well.

"Alright Miss!, please uh-" he paused to write something down with a heavy fist, his eyes never crossed Zaga's, but through his delusion she knew well this was no naive fellow, "..could you... give me the Master Word, pl-"

In her panic she had no chance to notice the gentleman stooping at mid sentence, her eyes where tightly fixated in the vaulted sealing. 'what day is it!? the date!-what is it?' her mind havocked as it struggled to get a hold of the current date. The account had been fastened by a system of rotatory passwords, each day of the month would be given a password that would only be reused after the passing of thirty days. Fear had not allowed her reckon over the matter. A void of empty darkness had occupied Zaga's head; Panic had scraped it's horrid finger through.

"Hmmm," the man considered, "I am not sure if you are aware Miss, but thy master's account has suffered an attack by a thief not too long ago-yesterday, back at Aihnrekvolok's Bank of the General Commune" Panic ignored it's latter dark and hollow form to assume of of hot blades ripping through her skull, at the same time penetrating her belly's flesh with a cold stab which pain stretched across her spine. "A report here advises me to be cautious of people trying to attempt this specific account..."

Color escaped her cheeks and her lips numbed; Zaga could feel herself crumble as his eyes broke their idle wandering to set a sharp and intense gape upon her as his speech continued. "'A tall blond man', this reads, 'dressed as a civilian of normal appearance. Local authorities attempted to seize the man after the cashier used his whistle, after failing several processes. Incorrect password, hesitation with case number, and failure to provide a family crest." The man kept reading through the file, as Zaga fell under a cardiac arrest, "'Suspect is believed to be related to the disappearance of the Vedevich's daughter, Selene Du' Vedevich'... An abduction?"

Zaga's gut made a quick a flashy appearance, emerging as a rant through her gullet. "Ha!" She commenced, "The woman! what a saucy and malignant witch! A strong lass too, she had the strength of a bull, and the stubbornness of one too. I would expect her self denigration to a mere slut and escape by the lust of a man, than to allow herself to be stripped from the land- as if her mother liked her, no body does-did if you must. I pity the man, I really do!" He knew that was not the case, but still, she spewed the hyperbolic insults from her mouth. Meanwhile in the manor, Selene was assaulted by a galore of sudden sneezes while she washed her hair. Having realized her the severity of her sudden outburst, Zaga again turned into a block of ice.

"I see..." he murmured while he removed his lenses, "Normaly I am not reckless enough to tell people about the existence of such records. I cannot hinder a lady like yourself, however. And although I will not process this as a normal transaction I will cut thee you some trouble- worry not- you have nothing to fear, if your mistress has sent you then she must have surely ensured you with this information, has she not?" finalized the youth with a faint smile.

"Well... you see-" Zaga's attempt to negotiate was immediately thwarted.

"Silence," the youth barked, "respond only to what I tell you and do so properly, you may attempt once only once, if you do not succeed, the guards will be swiftly upon you," with his pale hand he drew a golden cylinder from his front pocket to place it nearby, "you must understand, that you are not in a position of leaving, that is, unless you answer these questions. Don't worry, either wight or wrong you will be out of here in little, you decide if you do with graces by your hand, or with a blackened eye."

[Heart of Zaga]

The artifact he pulled from his pocket caught Zaga's immediate attention, a whistle very similar to that which had revealed her to the guards at Aihnrekvolok. Her hand brushed her forehead as she wiped some of the warp liquid.

"Now," he continued with an even more severe tone, "the master word."

The term "Master Word" was in itself a device to impair a the advances of a thief. Today! what is the day damn it! Pan's flute again resonated throughout her skull, her brain, trying to grasp with it's slippery hands such common information. but after a swift and turbid thrust of thoughts, her mind could only but return one answer that would simultaneously reveal the other: January 15; "Rose Bud"

"My!" she retorted with a bold audacity, "If I am not mistaken, it's rose bud, is it not?"

"Indeed, it is." he swiftly moved to write something down on the file, "Now then, If you would, what will be of the rose's bud in five days?"

The way he phrased his next question threw her off a little, 'a keen fellow indeed', she pondered, but she was able to understand his question. One-three-five her fingers counted. 'the 20th, duh.'

"a pearl in black water"

"A dark pearl indeed," the male nodded as he resumed his scriptures, "but i wonder what it was, before a pearl-before a bud? another set of ides back-when let's say."

Zaga's skull crackled one more. Having to worry about leap years she considered December and the date it would fit under. He looks for the ides before the rose. That can be no other than the first of January- New Year's

"I would have said, it was a laurel one, but I shan't; not even olives grow on a Salvar winter, the season where there is no harvest, but the money that those have brought before the snow. I reckon- no I know- it was a crown of graces"

The gentleman nodded again, this time, without acknowledging her instant presence; This man's only love was paper, it seemed the only thing he did was cruise through records! He was probably more concerned about his more common duty than the examination, (which he must have assumed Zaga would pass without a hassle) since he retrained himself to accept Zaga's answers true with only slight gestures.

"Odd shape for an unborn rose if you ask me." finalized she with a sarcastic air. A vain smile appeared in his face only to die as quickly as it had hatched.

Silence once more appeased the lobby. forgetting her previous delirium of panic, which still harnessed the rapid beat of her heart, she loosened her gaze to innocently explore the room. The man at the other window had already left his post, maybe for lunch; the luxurious clock above her had already struck past one. She herself was not more entertained than the absent man. Before her the youth had set on a quest to write everything in the most pristine way he could. After finalizing the brutal rampage through the sheets, he dignified himself to look at the woman and break the silence.

[Heart of Zaga]

"Protocol states that I should go much farther in examining than this, though as I told you I am not doing that; these answers and the emblem will suffice. Now what is the name of your mistress again?"

"Se- eh. Arcadia Du' Vedevich, sir." hesitation stained her tongue like an unsettling poison.

"And you say she is the niece of the Master Vedevich? I have no record for her." the man pursued.

"My sweet lady," Zaga answered, "has been accepted into society a few months ago; she is 15 you see. This will be the first errand of the sort."

"I see. Allow me then to open her a registry, but as I do that please tell me how much money you wish to withdraw" The cashier again drew his fist into the paper doing and undoing things Zaga could not know less about.

'a generous amount, huh' Zaga pondered as she again remembered her mistress's words. Without planing much her petition she went ahead and blurted the first sum that came to mind.

"Five thousand pounds, if you would."

The left eyebrow in the males countenance rose with a dismal look of either curiosity or sheer astonishment; It was too large of an amount for a traveling caravan. His questions where quickly erased however, these where the Vedevichs, a noble family, after all. He reclined under his desk to fetch for a small, though heavy, chest. Dressed in fine leather and defined by metal ornaments that, other than defending possible wore zones, only embellished the pretty box's appeal. With his two hands he opened the long container, and after a quick glance he placed it before him, and after reuniting it with the golden emblem, he slid both objects through the bars.

The deed was done 'Jackpot'

After receiving it she quickly brought it up to her, and emulating the youth, she opened the box. There laid twenty nicely stacked graces; their square and golden bodies had been neatly stacked in piles of ten, beautiful coins with a value of 25 each. Her eyes glittered with the lust of the precious metal, it was well possible she had not seen so much money together in her life, much less had she been entrusted with such a sum. Again a trepidation climbed through her spine; although the theft had been carried swiftly and gracefully, without flaw, she would not take even the slightest chance in getting caught.

Closing the box with a clamp, she drew her hand to the emblem and trusted it down the thin pocket in her dress. And with two hands (since the little vault was so heavy) she held her package and pivoted away to embark for the door, though before she could take her first triumphant step towards liberty, she was halted by his voice.

[Heart of Zaga]

"Oh no-no, you mustn't miss!"

"What?- Now what do you need...?" She answered with a quiet tone of fear.

"Please, allow me to send for someone to help you carry that to your mistress's dwellings. Do not be beguilded by this city, that although seems refined and pure, is full with dangers- misguided souls that cannot bring themselves to carry a lawful leaving, and thus recur to casual opportunities in which they can steal from men- women! elder, even children!"

"Oh.. Well you mustn't worry," Zaga ironically responded, "I will follow the safest routs, though the city. I doubt a thief would dare to strike during the day, specially at morning when the town is as lively as ever."

"Still miss. That is a lot of money, I must insis-"

"No no!" she exclaimed with a voice that resounded through the vast and lavished lobby, "I insist! I need no help to carry nothing nowhere! I can do it myself, but here, be at peace," swiftly releasing a hand from her treasure she grasped her apron, and without removing it from herself she wrapped it around the handsome box, "there! now no one may see what I carry, and that will be no one's business but my very own!"

The man fell back a little as he heard the spiteful response to his offered hand. Zaga could not be specific enough, should she leave the bank with a guard she would not be capable, by any trick or skill, to get rid of him until they reached the manor. Leading someone to the manor, one that was supposed to be abandoned by the Vedevich's, who just so happen to have lost a daughter, was out of the question.

"As you please," the male began, regaining that same serious tone in which he had used to baffle Zaga, "but one last thing before you leave." The man rose from his chair to lean over his desk and pass his hand outside the window, where he seized Zaga by the elbow, pulling her with a tyrannical grasp, "where did you say your and your mistress just came from?" he asked in a pursuing tone.

without finding the time to formulate a proper alibi, one that would absolve her and Selene in case this man was indeed doing what she most feared, startled, Zaga could only restate the truth, "Well... Aihnrekvolok!"

"Just as I remembered..." the man slowly fell into his chair after obtaining the information and released the woman, to dismiss her with an apathetic 'Have a nice day' and a grim face that set their gaze away from her while portending the storm of thoughts that the youth's head boiled with.

Zaga swiftly escaped the place with horror as her only companion. She would go about her errands as quickly as she could, checking her back and lashing with a burst of awareness when she found herself emerged in her domestic affairs. If people where following her, there was no escape this time. If people where following her she would fall hostage of the vicious inquisition. If people where following, they would hack into Selene's fortress, and find her a sitting duck for her vile enemies, and the brutal might of the Salverian Crown.

Zaga would not be a traitor; she would fight tooth and nail before letting them touch her. She would not be found a traitor of Selene's. Never because of them, never against Selene.

[Heart of Zaga]

Life blossomed outside the windows; the light was the best that had been seen this winter. Though such odd cheer could not penetrate the tall windows, who, with open curtains, gazed into nature, but never emulated beauty inside. The room as still and silent, almost as desolate and grim as her mistress had encountered it. Her naked skin bathed in the now lukewarm water as she stroked her hair, reclining her back against the cold surface of the white tub.

Although she laid just beside a window she could not preoccupy about curious eyes; the manor stood at the end of it's own street, whose only inhabitants where the grim and wretched trees. Placed at the very end of knifes edge stands a large matrix of paved lanes defined by tall walls, reserved for the wealthy and noble families of Salvar. Vedevich Avenue had long been forgotten by it's neighboring breed, laying in a haggard state of abandonment with had only evoked the desire to erase it's existence from memory.

In the life of a peasant, or a servant of any kind, this street must have been just another of the many avenues crowned by beautiful mansions and lavished palaces. But a curious one, one who might have had some time to kill, just to get away from his busy routine, must have taken special attention to notice the revolting monster looming atop a curtain of gray wood and moribund leaves. Without having the valor, or the time, to investigate more about the mysterious and quiet grange, it must have been left undisturbed. Selene could want it no other way.

She had been born and raised in this very same house, this was her original home, where she had played with her siblings, taught how to act and speak, the place where she first found love, and the one where her tears ran the most cold and deep. Despite such strong ancestral ties to the precious grange she could not be more apathetic towards the household; it had been so long since she had departed for the fiefdom and she had grown quite fond of Vedevich Palace. now she held The Grange as no more than a summer cottage.

Many winters ago civil strife rose throughout Salvar, and Knife's Edge was the epicenter; Leopold The Late King as his struggle brought the country into turmoil. Violence erupted in the streets, riots and armed men raided the streets, three houses in this well-defended area where hacked into, ravaging the noble-bred and setting fire to the ancient structures. The master of the Vedevich, being an important figure in the late court, sought escape the only tangible option. In a caravan of fortified carts, and defended by the mounted forces, they forced their way though the havocking streets. They reestablished themselves in the one of the lower states that formed Salvar, the one the Vedevichs ruled and still do to this very day.

[Heart of Zaga]

The cold water had already turned brown from all the scrubbing she'd done. Bathing was a luxury in her sedentary life. She would normally wait for Zaga to take her out of the tub, even when he had errands to run the first thing he would have to do when coming home was helping her out of the tub to dress her. Today though, it was an exception.

Zaga had been gone for a considerably longer time than it usually took for him to pick up a bunch of vegetables after stopping at the bank. She was starting to believe he had been captured by banking authorities for questioning about over the half million graces she'd been liching out of her families account. In that case she would have no other option that to surrender herself too. She knew that Zaga would never reveal her location, and she knew that the interrogation methods included torture. As incompetent as Zaga was, she loved him too much to make him suffer necessarily. She was going to get ready to leave for the clergy's office if Zaga didn't appear by nightfall.

She placed her damp foot on the dusty floor and slowly drove her naked body into the cold air. Covering her erect nipples with one arm and swiping the chilly water off her hips with the other, she tiptoed through the stained carpets of the grim halls and rooms toward her mother's closet. She knew the bitch must've left many of her immaculate dresses behind, they would be more than ten years out of fashion, but what use was there to a state of the art gown when it already had ten years of travel worth of dirt within its fabrics?

After finding a match to light one of the many candle holders she'd stripped from the wall she walked into her parent's rancid love den. Pretending to ignore the highlights of the seductive curves of many nude marble statues and erotic painting of rosy-cheeked maidens she dashed the closed and begged to all the saints did not share the same motif as the rest of the chamber.

Gladly it didn't, dusty old silk dresses, vests, pants and shirts hanged from the many wooden hooks that kept them above the teeth of mice. That was their purpose anyway, more than half of the precious outfits had been munched on, if not by mice, moths that had abundantly reproduced, and abundantly died there.

Avoiding the large concentration of crunchy moth carcasses she pulled from the very back of the room a black dress meant to be worn for mourn. "Elissa had never bothered mourning anyone, not even the good old grand pops when he passed away, I guess that's what saved this dress and killed all others...' she quickly grasped a gown whose color caught her attention but released it to the ground after examining its design, she scoffed, 'they are all bloody ugly anyway.'

[Heart of Zaga]

She escaped the morbidly obscene room on a whim and returned to where she had been bathing gown in hand. There was nothing she could dry herself with, usually Zaga would simply prepare them for her before she even slipped into the tub, he knew there should be some drying rags stuffed somewhere in the house, but she wasn't going on another expedition to places she would repent seeing. She stripped her bed from its cover and wrapped herself around it. She could pretty much predict that it was the only clean cover in the whole damn house, but she was cold now, she would worry about sleeping warm by nightfall, which reminded her quickly approached. She slipped back into her dirty under gown- she hadn't had time to clean it, and with great difficulty managed to get herself alone into the antique black dress. After punching her breasts into the incredibly tiny torso of the dress she realized how much she needed Zaga; getting into someone else's clothes was one thing, strapping yourself in was another.

She walked toward one of the large windows that faced the street, really hoping to see Zaga turning the corner safe and sound, as she waged a war with the zipper on the back of the piece of crap she was wearing. The minutes passed and her desperation grew, partly increased by the frustration of feeling naked, her back completely exposed, the zipper one fourth the way up.

She forgot all about it atleast for a second and moved her hand to her chest in relief. There was Zaga, carrying tree bags of fresh food. Her relief was extinguished promptly though, Zaga wasn't acting normal, her pace was much quicker she her face was white pale and she wasn't riding the horse Selene was anticipating.

"Shit!" she cursed as she saw Zaga completely pass the street and leave her view. Someone was following her!

Sure enough, a man wearing dark clothes entered her field of view, she flinched immediately hiding behind one of the thick maroon curtains. Then came another followed by another and yet another. Zaga had realized far too late, she had already dragged them dangerously close to Selene.

"What the hell was she thinking?!"

[Heart of Zaga]

The sweat had already began pouring out of her forehead, not so much from all the heavy pace she had done, but by the anguish alone that someone was hot on her trial. She didn't know how many people there where, but she knew for sure atleast one man was. It had taken her a couple miles to filter out possible prosecutors, and hoping that she was just being paranoid she used those miles to move closer to home. Unfortunately, and for the first time, someone was following her, and she's just realized that man a couple dozen yards behind her had made all the same turns as her, even the ones she made through the more unusual neighborhoods, which could have given her away right off.

There was only one way to reach home to Selene without them seeing her, she would have to vanish.

She had already passed the Du'Vedevich residence a block ago, so she made a right turn into the street, sure enough the man was still following her, she wasn't going crazy. After reaching the corner she made another right, and then another in the next corner, before the man was able to turn the corner she broke into a run. The rattle of the food bags and the heavy sound of her steps must have alerted the man, who was already running himself when he turned the corner.

He only got a glance of the corner of her eye glaring with depthless hatred before he blinked and the woman vanished into the air. The bags where left behind falling from the air, spilling their content all over the cobblestones. Tomatoes rolled into the puddles, and the cracked eggs stained the bags from inside, the can of milk had opened and a piece of the fine cheese had unwrapped and twined with the dirt.

He caught on to where she'd disappeared, but there was no trace of her. Eventually the rest of the man met up at the spot. Zaga could hear them perfectly.

"Did any of you see what direction she ran?" said one of the voices.

"I saw her reach the corner but then she simply vanished, I've never seen anything like that in all these years."

"It's sorcery! remember the cardinal warned us of it!" A third voice said.

"Spread out and fish her out, she must be in the area." The first voice retorted.

Zaga stayed on that small crack on the pavement until all of the men left but one. She cleared her whiskers and pointed her tiny ears, trying to make sure no one was coming back. Being a mice had its perks, but it wasn't a shape that flattered her.

Taking yet another shape she grasped onto the mans hand, who had already keeled down to examine the mess of food Zaga had left behind. The man jumped, thinking he was completely alone. The tiny woman he was looking at was shrouded in black, a sight that all of the sudden had startled him.

"Mister, oh please hear me mister!" her voice was raspy and dry like that of an ill person, "my kitty! my kitty! She left me my kitty! and I can find it no were! help me please oh mister!"