The Orphan of Saint Olette

Ten

That morning began the same as any other, but this time Aoife moved with a greater sense of purpose. She had finally taken control of her life, and she had made up her mind once and for all. She would go to Rin, ask to accompany him to Olmaea, and make a name for herself there. Even if that name was simply 'mother' or 'wife'. She had no care for fame, or wealth, or title. If anything, trying to marry into land or a title would disrespect her dear Finni, and Lord Mattheson with it. She had lived a simple life until now, she would be content with a simple life in Olmaea.

But as she made her way to the library, something felt off. She couldn't explain it, but all morning the feeling that something in the universe was wrong had been hanging over her head. To begin with, she had put it down to nerves or hunger, or perhaps even the smoke filled air, but now that she stood before the library, her second home, with that feeling bearing down on her like nothing she'd felt that day, there was no denying it. She made her way inside the library, despite her unease, and looked around the place.

The scholars that lined the walls were there as usual, and she could faintly hear children's laughter coming from deeper within the library, most likely the result of a nanny taking her charges out for the morning. Lord Trowbridge sat in his usual spot, still clad in his tattered finery. As always, he tipped an imaginary hat to her as she walked past him—the two had become something of acquaintances over the last few months. As she walked through the library, finding nothing out of the ordinary or out of place, that feeling of unease only began to increase. How could something so normal and so uneventful have her so worried?

Her worries came to a head as she knocked on the door to the workshop and received no answer. A quick try of the handle revealed the door was locked, and a frown snuck onto her features as she walked back through the library. Of course it was always possible that Rin was tending to his other duties, and simply hadn't been expecting her, but the door was rarely locked, even when she had come to visit him as a surprise. With Elias nowhere to be seen, the only hope Aoife had of finding either member of the family was to ask the next most frequent visitor of the library; Lord Trowbridge himself.

"Forgive me, milord," she said quietly, bowing her head in respect. "I wouldn't disturb you if it wasn't important."

Lord Trowbridge made no sign that he had heard Aoife, attention focused solely on his book. Now that Aoife was in closer proximity to him, she could finally see what sort of novel took his interest. A quick glimpse at the page's contents informed the young woman that this particular tome was about mages, or rather the magehunts that happened long before she was born. She had never pictured Lord Trowbridge as a deeply religious man, nor a man interested in archaic history that no longer mattered—mages were extinct by now—but wonders would never cease. The old Lord seemed to sense that his actions were being watched, however, and he turned to look at Aoife with his cold, scrutinising eyes.

"Get to it, girl," he said sternly, closing his book to further obscure the subject matter from her.

"I'm sorry, milord," Aoife rushed out again. "I'd ask Elias, but I can't find him, and I don't have much time left now, and since the two of you are related... You haven't seen Rinian by any chance, have you?"

It felt strange to call him Rinian twice in such a short space of time, but the boy had spoken often of his family's displeasure at his self-appointed nickname, and while she knew Rin and Lord Trowbridge were only distant relations, she would rather play it safe than assume he was exception to the rule.

"Have you not heard, girl? He has left for the Royal City, to become a learned man." Lord Trowbridge snorted out a laugh. "That the foolish boy thinks he must travel all the way to Olmaea to receive a sufficient education speaks volumes of his intellect."