Kael left his workshop that evening still suffocating under the weight of his anger. His steps carried him, almost against his will, toward the beating heart of the Broken Crown.

  There stood a place where people laughed more than they cried, where alcohol often replaced bread : The Thirsty delight.

  The tavern lived in its usual familiar chaos.

  Worn wooden tables rattled under the mugs slammed down after each won bet, benches trembled beneath the weight of drunken sailors and exhausted weavers. Pipe smoke gathered into a dense fog mixing with the heavy scents of strong liquor and greasy meat. A few self-appointed musicians plucked frayed strings in a corner, barely audible over the roaring voices.

  It wasn’t a place of nobility, but people held onto life there with a vigor that was almost dizzying.

  And in the middle of that whirlpool, there was Maria.

  She moved between tables with effortless grace.

  Her brown hair, tied loosely in a bun, let a few strands escape and soften her features. Her dark eyes shone with genuine attention for every customer—she laughed at their jokes, placed a comforting hand on some shoulders, listened with gentle patience.

  Her beauty wasn’t loud; it lived in subtleties: a tired but sincere smile, a posture that remained upright despite the long hours.

  She was a quiet kind of grace—radiant in such a rough environment.

  Kael stood still for a moment, simply watching her, as if reminding himself why he endured everything.

  She hadn’t noticed him yet, absorbed in her work.

  Kael waited, fists buried deep in his pockets.

  Maria, holding a tray heavy with mugs, eventually spotted him standing near the entrance like a silent shadow amid the noise.

  Her eyes brightened instantly and she slipped away from her customers to join him.

  “Kael! You’re here!” she exclaimed with a sincere smile. “Come, I’ll find you a quiet table.”

  She set her tray on the counter and nudged a chair aside with her foot, ready to seat him among the crowd.

  But Kael shook his head.

  “Not tonight, Maria. I’m not thirsty… or hungry.”

  She frowned lightly, puzzled.

  “Then why are you standing there like a statue?”

  He inhaled deeply, fingers gripping the back of the chair she offered before gently pushing it away.

  “I need to talk to you. Not between two customers. Not in all this noise. Just you and me.”

  Maria’s smile softened, her gaze turning more attentive. She knew him well enough to sense when his words carried unusual weight.

  “Alright,” she said with a small nod. “Wait for me in the back. I’ll finish this round and join you.”

  She picked up her tray again, smiling for her customers as if nothing had changed—but Kael saw the worry that had slipped into her eyes.

  He walked toward the small service door toward the tavern’s back room.

  Already the noise of musicians and laughter faded behind him.

  The back room of the Thirsty Delight contrasted harshly with the main hall.

  No laughter, no chaos—just barrels stacked against the walls, a wobbly table, and the pungent smell of spilled beer.

  A candle flickered in a small iron holder, casting wavering shadows across the peeling walls.

  Kael waited, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

  The sudden silence buzzed in his ears after the tavern’s tumult.

  The door creaked.

  Maria entered, wiping her hands on her apron before joining him. Her brows furrowed the instant she looked at him.

  “What’s going on, Kael? You look nervous…”

  He looked away briefly, then forced himself to calm his tone.

  “First… how are you?”

  Maria blinked, surprised.

  She offered a tired smile.

  “I do like always. I listen, I smile, and I ignore my burning feet.

  But you—what happened to your face?”

  She approached, tilting her head, her fingers hovering near his bruised cheek.

  Kael raised an eyebrow, sarcasm glinting in his eyes.

  “Oh, that? Nothing serious. Just a romantic date with the cobblestones in an alley.”

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  He chuckled dryly, though every breath reminded him of his bruised ribs.

  Maria sighed, half-amused, half-worried.

  “You’ll never change…”

  She crossed her arms and watched him in silence for a moment.

  Her eyes held a soft but firm concern.

  “Kael… you didn’t come here just to joke about your bruises. Tell me the truth. Why are you here ?”

  He looked aside again, as if mustering courage.

  “You know I don’t come hide in quiet corners for nothing.”

  “So?” she pushed gently, her voice trembling slightly.

  Kael inhaled.

  “It’s about you, Maria. About your dream.”

  She frowned.

  “My dream?”

  “Yes. The dress. The one I promised you.”

  Silence fell.

  Maria stared at him, eyes wide. Her lips parted as if she didn’t dare believe what she’d heard.

  Kael continued, his voice low but firm :

  “I made it for you. Not for some Unyielding.

  Not to rot in a noble’s wardrobe.

  For you—

  for the day you’ll step onto a barge, finally under the lanterns, on the river.”

  Maria looked away suddenly, nervous.

  She toyed with the folds of her apron like a shield.

  “Kael… why are you telling me this now ?”

  His fists clenched.

  The anger he’d swallowed all day seeped into his voice.

  “Because they saw it.

  The Unyielding.

  Connie let it slip into their hands… and now they want it.”

  Maria’s heart tightened.

  Her gaze snapped back to him.

  “But… you won’t give it to them?”

  “Never.”

  His voice cut the air.

  Then he softened—just barely.

  “You’ll have it, Maria. That dress is yours. I swore it.”

  She tried to smile despite the storm in her eyes.

  “You’re insane, Kael… insane and stubborn.”

  “Maybe.”

  He allowed a faint, ironic smile.

  “But I’d rather be insane than a coward.”

  A quiet, intimate silence settled around them.

  Only the muffled clatter of mugs seeped through the wall.

  Maria lowered her gaze, her breath trembling.

  A small, fragile smile touched her lips.

  “Kael… you could make me another one. A new dress. It wouldn’t change anything, you know?”

  He frowned as if she had slapped him.

  “Nothing?

  You think what I put in every thread, every stitch, is nothing?

  That dress is you, Maria. Not just fabric I can redo tomorrow as if it meant nothing.”

  She rested a gentle but firm hand on his arm.

  “What you put in that dress is mostly your heart.

  And that… you can put into another one.”

  She hesitated, then locked her dark eyes into his.

  “This is a bad idea, Kael. You know it.

  We don’t challenge those who already keep us locked down.”

  Kael let out a bitter laugh.

  “So we should bow our heads?

  Let them take whatever they want?”

  Maria’s grip tightened on his arm.

  He looked away, jaw clenched.

  “No, Maria. You’re better than that.

  And that’s why you’ll get your dress.

  Even if I have to turn all of Soléandre against me.”

  Her expression wavered between admiration and fear.

  She stepped back, hiding the shine in her eyes.

  Maria exhaled slowly and sat at the wobbly table, gesturing for Kael to join her.

  He remained standing, but she spoke anyway, her voice low and calm.

  “Kael… I get your anger. I do.

  But maybe you’re not seeing everything this could change.”

  “Change?

  You mean selling our principles for a handful of solars?”

  “No,” she replied softly.

  “But imagine : if that contract succeeds… if an Inébranlable truly commissions the workshop… everything could transform.

  Connie would have resources, fabrics we’ve never seen, real tools…

  and the weavers could finally be paid properly.”

  Kael clenched his fists again.

  “You mean they throw us a bone and we should fight for it?”

  “Maybe,” she admitted with a sad smile.

  “But for many here, that bone means survival.

  Not everyone can live by your principles, Kael.

  These women work until dawn. They have children, debts, empty stomachs.

  If the High Lands finally notice what we do… maybe they’ll get a little rest.”

  Kael didn’t reply.

  His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

  Maria continued, gently :

  “Connie’s not trying to betray you.

  She wants to prove that our work is worth as much as the gilded clothes from up there.

  And maybe—just maybe—she can make them see that the Broken Crown isn’t just filth and misery.”

  Kael lifted his head, eyes dark.

  “Do you really think they’ll see us differently?”

  “Maybe.

  But if no one tries to show them… nothing will ever change.”

  Silence.

  Maria intertwined her fingers on the table.

  “Connie just wanted to open a door.

  And if she succeeds… maybe you, too, will get to show your talent somewhere other than crumbling walls gnawed by rats.”

  Kael ran a hand across his forehead, exhausted.

  “You mean… give them what they want so they let us breathe?”

  Maria nodded slowly.

  “Sometimes you have to let them believe they’re winning…

  just to survive a bit longer.

  It’s sad, yes.

  But it’s the truth.”

  Kael didn’t answer.

  His gaze drifted to the wall, as if the muffled noise from the tavern had suddenly doubled in weight.

  He finally looked at her—truly looked.

  Under the trembling candlelight, her deep green eyes held the softness of spring and the melancholy of years endured.

  Her smile—shy yet sincere—could dissolve any man foolish enough to meet it too long.

  Her skin, flushed from the tavern’s heat and damp with sweat, gleamed like she’d just escaped the rain.

  Everything about her radiated life, fatigue, courage.

  She was the most beautiful thing in this world—

  and that was precisely why Kael felt like he was losing his mind.

  His fists tightened.

  Tenderness gave way to anger.

  “And you want them to help you?

  The Unyielding?

  The same people who’ve never stepped foot here, who’d let you rot before lifting a finger?”

  Maria recoiled slightly, startled.

  “Kael, what are you—”

  “Look at you, Maria!” he burst out, voice shaking.

  “You work day and night in this filthy bar, serving drunks who smile at you just to touch you.

  And you still smile, because you don’t have a choice.

  You think I don’t hear what they say?

  Those men who talk about you like you’re a piece of meat?”

  He stepped closer, rage burning behind his eyes.

  “And those women—those jealous witches—who insult you the moment you turn your back !

  They spread their rumors, call you ‘easy’ because you’re prettier than they are!”

  Maria stared at him, stunned, unable to speak.

  Kael breathed sharply, trying to steady himself—

  but his voice still shook.

  “You deserve better than this, Maria.

  Better than this filth.

  Better than their eyes on you.”

  He looked away, ashamed of his own outburst, but unable to stop.

  “That’s why I promised you the dress.

  Because out there—on the river—when you dance…

  no one will ever dirty you with their gaze again.”

  Silence swallowed the room.

  Only muffled laughter seeped through the wall.

  Maria lowered her head slowly.

  Her hands trembled.

  “Kael… you don’t have to defend me like that.”

  “I do,” he answered softly.

  “Because no one else will.”