The sun sank towards the eastern horizon of the Gisleensvallei Duchy, pulling a curtain of darkness over it.

  The oak and birch trees surrounding its outskirts were enveloped in the night’s darkness, yet clearly visible under the bright moon and stars decorating the sky.

  The darkening skies signalled the arrival of night to the farmers living in the small village on the duchy’s outskirts, still eating dinner in their torch-lit, birch-framed stone homes.

  The sound of bickering and yelling could be clearly heard from almost every house, with one in particular as heated as the flames of the hearth.

  A tall, toned woman in a bright green linen dress was fiercely arguing with the old man seated in front of her on the other side of the table.

  Her tanned skin and short blonde hair appeared darker under the torchlight, with the freckles around her slightly hooked nose seemingly shifting with every yell that escaped her mouth.

  Her amber eyes stared intently at the old man as a single question left her mouth, “Is that all you can talk about?”

  “You haven’t even tried anything! He’s a good boy; at least see if you like him,” the old man replied, wearing brown linen pants and a blue linen tunic, tied around his lower waist by a leather belt.

  He scratched his short white beard while staring at the woman in turn with his blue eyes.

  “Grandpa! I told you every single time, I don’t want to talk about it!” the woman replied before sitting once more and filling her mouth with stamppot.

  As the pair continued to argue, the young man sitting between them kept eating, attempting to ignore them.

  The short blonde hair adorning his head seemed darker, like his sister’s. His skin was tanned, with freckles scattered across his round face and over his aquiline nose.

  As the man thought about tomorrow’s tasks, attempting to ignore the bickering in front of him, he lifted his head. His amber eyes looked at the older man sitting across from him, and he called to him, “Dad,” gaining the older man’s attention before asking in a tired tone, “Can you pass the chicken?”

  His father then quickly passed a bowl filled with cured chicken legs before returning to watch his daughter and father argue, quietly laughing as he did.

  While quietly eating, the young man kept observing the pair, yet he placed no real interest in their argument.

  Slowly looking away from the pair, the young man stared at the cuffs of his shirt before examining the rest of his clothes. His orange linen shirt and brown pants appeared slightly wrinkled, prompting a thought to rise in his mind: I’ll just wash them tomorrow.

  As more thoughts passed through his mind, a single sentence from the woman caught his attention: “If you’re so interested in marriage, then just get Anjo to do it! He’s feminine enough that he can get with any guy you want anyway.”

  “Why are you bringing me into this?” the young man said, his tone clearly defensive. The woman quickly replied, “I’m just using you as an example.”

  “Fine,” Anjo replied, slightly sulking in his chair. “Just don’t say it again.”

  “Right, sorry,” the woman replied before returning to fiercely argue with her grandpa.

  As the minutes passed, the pair calmed down, only throwing the occasional remark at each other.

  As a slight sense of tension grew in the room, the man sitting in front of Anjo said, “Dad, just stop it. This is too much.”

  The old man stood up, saying, “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” before exiting the kitchen and entering a small bedroom under the second floor’s pantry.

  Taking a deep breath, Anjo’s dad called to the woman, “Claar, just stop it. You know how he is.”

  “What do you mean, ’stop it’? I’m not doing anything. Even Anjo knows that,” Claar replied sharply, her anger clear to the two men.

  “Maybe you could just marry him and stay friends, you don’t need to really do anything,” Anjo said in a near silent tone.

  “Listen to me and listen well,” the woman coldly said, “I’m not going to marry Eerwyn or anyone else, because I’m not interested in anyone and I never will be and I’ll never force myself to be. Understand?”

  “Yes,” he sheepishly replied.

  As the three finished their meal, a sense of slight dread set in, an uncomfortable silence, suddenly interrupted by the woman saying, “sorry, it’s not your fault, good night.” Before walking up the stairs and entering a small bedroom.

  The men then started cleaning their wooden plates with wet linen towels, placing the discarded chicken bones in an oak bowl filled with water.

  “Just clean them tomorrow. I’ll take them to the guild,” the man said, to which Anjo nodded, thinking to himself, It’s fine.

  “I know it’s gross, but they sell well enough,” the man said, placing his plate on the table.

  “It’s not that; I’m just thinking about something,” Anjo replied.

  “They’ll be fine. They’ll keep arguing tomorrow too, anyway,” Anjo’s father said before quietly whispering to his son, “It’s not like they’ll ever stop.”

  The pair laughed, then hugged before parting to their respective bedrooms, each wishing the other a good night.

  The young man went up the stairs before entering the room the woman had gone into.

  Inside, two beds stood on opposite sides of the room. Between them, a wooden desk was positioned, with a small window above it.

  On it lay a copy of the holy scripture and a small candle standing in the upper right corner of the desk.

  Near the door’s right side stood a small cabinet, filled by only a pair of work clothes for Anjo and Claar.

  A wooden broom leaned against the cabinet, while a collection of small, random wooden trinkets lay on top of it.

  Noticing Claar curled up in her blanket on the left bed, Anjo quietly walked towards the right one before taking off his pants, leaving him wearing only his undergarments and loose shirt.

  While entering his bed, a single sarcastic sentence left his mouth: “Maybe if you became a nun, Grandpa would leave you alone.”

  His vision went dark as a pillow thrown by Claar hit his face. “Just shut up,” she said before curling into a foetal position.

  Throwing the pillow back at her, Anjo said, “At least I’m trying to come up with solutions. Not to mention, they get a really nice staff.” He then gathered himself in the blanket and faced the wall. “Sorry,” he said, unsure of what else to say.

  An awkward silence filled the room, suddenly interrupted by a nearly silent, “Good night,” from Anjo.

  Nearly falling asleep, his eyes suddenly burst open as he heard a loud, fake snore coming from Claar.

  “Stop!” Anjo said to her, covering his head with his pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound.

  “If you really don’t want to get married, just do that! No one will want to stay with you after that!”

  The woman laughed, seemingly calmer, and wished Anjo good night before falling asleep herself.

  Staring at the wall in front of him, he felt more tired as the seconds passed. Finally closing his eyes, he thought to himself, This is just dumb, before falling asleep.

  After the night passed, the sun once again rose from the west, signalling the morning’s arrival, its brilliant light illuminating the blades of grass adorning the duchy’s outskirts.

  Shining through the window, it illuminated the room, waking Anjo and Claar up.

  After tossing and turning, the pair eventually woke up.

  “Anjo,” Claar said, gaining the man’s attention, “can you get my clothes?”

  Anjo groaned before getting up and walking towards the cabinet. Standing in front of it, he picked up a long blue linen dress and threw it at Claar before grabbing a light blue shirt and yesterday’s pants.

  Brushing off dust from their clothes, the pair each put on their garments.

  Claar secured her dress around her waist with a woven, braided belt before walking to Anjo and lightly slapping the back of his head, saying, “Don’t throw it; it gets dust all over it.” She then left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the man thinking to himself, It doesn’t matter.

  Quickly going down the stairs Anjo saw his grandfather, who slowly got up from his chair, calling to Anjo, “Heynrike and your sister already left, we need to go,” referring to his son, Anjo and Claar’s father.

  “I know, I’m just getting an egg,” Anjo replied before quickly brushing his teeth with a wet linen rag. He then opened a small bag left on the table, took out a boiled egg, and began eating it.

  After closing the door behind them, the pair walked along a dirt path towards the village’s church, passing by their neighbours’ houses and the merchants’ guild post.

  The breeze carried the pleasant smell of morning dew to their noses.

  The pleasant silence was suddenly interrupted by Anjo’s grandfather, who said, “She should be grateful. I’m worried about her,” gaining Anjo’s attention.

  Taking a deep breath, Anjo stopped in his tracks, saying, “Please, just stop bringing it up.”

  “Are you not worried?” his grandfather asked, his tone filled with confusion.

  “Not really. I don’t get why you do,” Anjo replied, his exhaustion from the topic clear.

  “I told you when you were younger, everyone needs a partner. It’s how you find happiness.”

  “I guess,” Anjo said, his tone nearly silent.

  Silence settled once again between the two men, who walked for only a few more seconds before turning right towards the village’s church.

  As the pair arrived at the village’s northern border and walked towards the church, the village’s farmland and barn stood quietly behind them.

  The church’s bricks, though their signature red color had long faded, stood strong, supporting both the building and the people’s faith.

  A wooden wheel hung above the church’s doors, with another mounted atop its small bell tower.

  Built into the outer nave wall was a small well, providing clean water to the village residents.

  Entering the church, the pair waved to the elderly, bald priest standing at the altar. He wore a well-kept black cassock over a white alb and a short, sky-blue chasuble. The priest waved back at them in return.

  After the pair sat on the pews with the rest of the few dozen village inhabitants, the priest motioned to the young nun beside him to start playing her wooden flute. She nodded and began to play a quiet, pleasant melody.

  As she played, the priest began his sermon, reciting passages from the holy scripture and relating them to the duchy’s expanding tulip market, capturing the villagers’ attention and reverence.

  The church’s atmosphere was quiet yet joyful. The sun’s rays, entering through the bell tower’s window, illuminated its altar with a near-golden light, as if blessing the village’s people themselves.

  As the priest finished his sermon, Anjo’s grandfather turned to his grandson and pointed at the young nun.

  She wore a grayish-white veil over her hair and a slightly worn robe that covered her body from neck to ankles, tied around her waist by a cincture. A wooden pendant, shaped like a wheel, hung from a cord around her neck.

  Her dark green eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to talk to Claar, who sat in the pew in front of Anjo.

  Her fair skin seemed to glow under the morning light, and to Anjo, the freckles around her buttoned nose appeared to shift as she talked.

  “Don’t you think Lidwina would be good for you?” Anjo’s grandfather asked, referring to the young nun, before adding, “She’s a good girl. Maybe she’ll even get you out of this phase.”

  It doesn’t matter, Anjo thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he quietly whispered to his grandfather, “She’s a nun.”

  “So? People come together from everywhere,” his grandfather rebutted.

  Slightly shocked yet not surprised, Anjo replied, his exhaustion clear in his tone, “She’s a nun. It doesn’t matter if I even like her—which I don’t—because she chose to never be in a relationship. I don’t get why you even bring it up.”

  “I’m really worried about you,” his grandfather said. “You still look like a girl. I know you think you look pretty, but it’s not good for you.”

  “I think he looks wonderful,” the young nun said, standing at the side of their pew, having arrived without the pair noticing. “Good morning, Anjo, Giel,” she added, handing each a large piece of bread and a cup of wine.

  Letting the pair eat and drink before resuming the conversation.

  “Good morning, Lid,” Anjo replied. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” Lidwina said, smiling. She then turned to Giel and, in an acidic tone, added, “Please stop talking about it with Claar too. It’s really irritating.”

  “I promise you, I didn’t mean to be,” Giel said, his sincerity clear in his tone. “I just want to see them happy with someone at their side. Maybe even you and Anjo could—”

  “Never.”

  Her reply was as clear as the water from the church’s well.

  An awkward silence fell between the two men and the nun before she stepped back and said with a forced smile, “I think Father Bernold is calling me, so I really have to go.”

  The pair silently nodded before standing and walking towards the church doors.

  “I’ll see you at lunch, Anjo. Goodbye, Giel,” Lidwina said.

  Turning to her, Anjo noticed her forced smile was long gone, now replaced with a look of annoyance directed at his grandfather.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Anjo said quietly, his demeanor slightly sheepish.

  Leaving the church, Anjo turned to Giel, saying, “You’re going to watch the kids?” His grandfather silently nodded.

  “Why are you doing this? Genuinely, I don’t get it. Claar is tired of it, and honestly, I am too.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re not worried. I see both of you living without anyone by your side, and it breaks my heart,” Giel said, his voice slightly broken.

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I’m trying to help you, and all you’re doing is saying no. Why can’t you listen?”

  A deathly silence took hold of the pair, neither uttering a single word. Only the sound of the wind passing by the village’s fields could be heard.

  Suddenly, a sentence left the old man’s mouth; “I’m going to watch the kids. That house is dangerous.” His exhaustion was clear to Anjo, who nodded as he turned towards the villagers’ houses and began walking towards them.

  Each of the men was unsure of what needed to be said, even more uncertain if there was anything to say at all.

  Entering his home, Anjo called for his father and sister, yet no one answered.

  Quickly heading to the second floor, he entered his room and changed into yesterday’s garments.

  Returning to the first floor, he met Heynrike and Claar, before greeting each other.

  After waiting for Claar to head up the stairs, Anjo turned to his father and quietly asked, “Why is Grandpa like this?”

  “I…” Heynrike quietly sat down, gesturing for Anjo to do the same. “It’s hard to talk to him, I know. You just need to be gentle about it.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Anjo replied, his confusion evident in his tone.

  “I know, I know. It’s just…” Heynrike leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath before saying, “He doesn’t know any better. That’s the way he is. Do you think he didn’t talk to me like that?”

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  “He should know better! Every evening, I feel like my head is about to explode because of him and Claar!”

  “Don’t yell,” Heynrike’s gentle tone was now gone, replaced with a harsh one that made Anjo slightly lower his head, avoiding his father’s gaze. “I didn’t yell at you, so don’t do it to me.”

  After nodding his head in silent agreement, Anjo and Heynrike noticed Claar walking down the stairs, wearing yesterday’s garments with her sleeves now folded.

  “I’m going to the field. Are you coming?” Claar asked, turning to Anjo, who quietly replied, “I’m cleaning the bones.”

  “Fine,” she replied before walking towards the house entrance and opening the door. “Are you coming, Dad?”

  “No,” Heynrike replied. “I’m going to the guild post. I still need to sort out some things with them and Eerwyn about Anjo’s teacher.”

  Claar nodded before closing the door behind her, leaving the two men inside.

  A moment of silence hung between them, suddenly broken by Heynrike uttering a single sentence: “Just think about what I said.” receiving a nod from Anjo in response.

  After closing the door behind his father, Anjo returned to the table, silently cleaning the bones laid in the oak bowl before him with a linen rag.

  His mind grew silent, slowly gathering thoughts, each disappearing as quickly as it arose—except for one, which resonated within him.

  It doesn’t matter.

  After thoroughly cleaning the bones and laying them on the table, the sound of a ringing bell reached Anjo’s ears.

  Taking a deep breath, a sense of dread and slight excitement settled within him.

  Leaving the house, Anjo walked towards the church as the early noon sun found its place in the sky’s center, shining over the village’s fields.

  In front of the church stood four large wooden tables, each filled with cooked fish from the nearby river, bread made from the village’s wheat, and barrels of wine brought from the merchants’ guild post.

  A two-story warehouse, its walls were made of sunset-crimson-colored clay bricks, now painted a dark green, with its roof adorned by red clay tiles and a chimney connected to a hearth in the back.

  An iron sign featuring a scale with coins weighing down against metal bars stood above its two oak doors, displaying the merchants’ guild symbol.

  Passing by it, Anjo noticed his father talking to an elderly man and a young woman about his age, each adorned with a yellow scarf.

  Edenites? Anjo thought to himself for a moment before arriving at the tables. After getting seated between Claar and Lidwina and in front of his grandfather, he settled into place.

  After a short prayer, the village denizens began eating their lunch. Slowly, they started conversing with each other, each seemingly shifting within seconds from one conversation to another, all seemingly ignored by Anjo.

  “Why did you bring them here, Eerwyn?” Giel asked the merchant sitting beside him. “Do you really want Anjo to be around zios?” he added, gaining both the merchant’s and Anjo’s attention.

  “Stranddam had a pogrom, and they needed help finding somewhere to live. Oser is going to be his teacher. He’s a good teacher; I’m sure you’ll like him if you get to know him,” Eerwyn replied, his tone gentle yet slightly annoyed. Wearing a black leather jacket and black linen pants, his status was clear to the village residents.

  His fair skin and blue eyes appeared darker under the church’s shadow.

  He then added, “And don’t forget that Heynrike is the one who asked me to find Anjo a teacher.”

  “You didn’t have to get a zio. Who knows what they would do to him?” Giel’s suspicion was clear to all who could hear.

  It doesn’t matter.

  “He already looks like a girl, and this is what you do to help? I can’t believe I thought you and Claar would be a good match.” His frustration was clear to Anjo.

  It doesn’t matter.

  “Don’t even start!” Claar yelled, igniting a fight between her and Giel once again. Their argument was deafening to Anjo’s ears, prompting him to lower his head.

  It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

  “It doesn’t matter…” Anjo’s tone was nearly silent, heard only by Lidwina, who turned her gaze towards him in surprise.

  “It doesn’t matter!” Anjo screamed.

  A deafening silence fell between Claar and Giel, each of them unsure of what they had heard.

  “It doesn’t matter if I look like a girl, it doesn’t matter if my teacher will be an Edenite, and it doesn’t matter if Claar won’t get married!” His voice was filled with frustration and fear.

  Silence once again took hold.

  With each breath Anjo took, his body felt weaker, unsure if he made a mistake. His head felt light, Only his scrambled thoughts echoed in his mind.

  The silence suddenly broke as Lidwina spoke in an impatient tone, glaring at Giel. “I think Anjo needs some rest. We’re going inside; he’ll be back later.”

  After quickly grabbing a few slices of bread and a bowl filled with chopped salted trout, she grabbed Anjo by the sleeve and led him towards the church.

  After closing the wooden door behind them, the nun turned to Anjo, cheerfully saying, “Good job! Maybe he’ll actually leave you alone for once now.” Her giggling laughter was barely heard by Anjo.

  “I thought you’d hate them,” Anjo said while sitting in the front pew.

  “What do you mean?” asked Lidwina.

  “The Edenites. I don’t mind them that much, but shouldn’t you be with Grandpa on that one?” His confusion was clear to the nun.

  “I’m not thrilled that they’re here, but I’m not an inquisitor,” Lidwina replied before quietly adding, “And it’d be nice to have someone else annoy Giel.”

  The pair giggled before Anjo spoke once again, “I don’t want to hurt him, but it’s just so annoying when he’s like that.”

  Lidwina replied, “That’s what you have Claar for. She helps with him, no?”

  “You call getting into screaming matches with him every day helping?”

  “Look who’s talking!” the nun replied in a sharp tone. “Maybe you should replace Claar in those screaming matches.”

  “Very funny, now please lower your voice so I could actually get some rest,” Anjo said while laying down on the pew and lightly pushing away Lidwina with his leg.

  “Fine, but I’ll practice my flute later, so be prepared to wake up,” Lidwina replied. Anjo nodded before drifting off into a nap.

  As the sun moved closer to the village’s edge, more of the villagers returned to their homes, some watching above as the sun pulled a crimson veil across the sky, inviting the night.

  After dreaming of distant lands from the stories in the holy scripture, Anjo was eventually awakened by a quiet flute melody.

  After stretching his body, Anjo sat back up and noticed Claar sitting next to Lidwina, listening to the nun play a gentle melody on her flute.

  Silently walking towards the pair, Anjo noticed a light blue Amu-styled sash tied around Claar’s waist. Small, intricate designs were woven into the sash, featuring a myriad of equilateral triangles along its edges.

  “So, you finally became an inquisitor?” Anjo asked, jokingly referring to Claar’s sash, its Amu design closely resembling the sashes worn by inquisitors. “Maybe Grandpa will finally leave you alone now.”

  Quickly understanding Anjo’s reference, Claar retorted, “Hilarious. Now finish eating; we’re going to meet your teacher.”

  She then stood up, stretched her body, and added, “Eerwyn gave it to me, and personally, I think it complements me.”

  “It looks nice. Can I borrow it for tomorrow?” Anjo asked before quickly shoving the slightly stale bread and cold salted trout into his mouth.

  Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Claar asked in turn, “You know Grandpa will annoy you about it, right?”

  “He’ll live,” Lidwina interjected, her tone filled with frustration. Now standing up, she put her flute aside and took a step closer to Claar, inspecting her sash.

  “If he tries anything, I’ll tell him to shut up again.”

  Mumbling with his mouth full, Anjo seemingly thanked the nun, receiving in return a playful laugh from her and his sister.

  After brushing crumbs off himself, Anjo signaled to Claar towards the exit.

  Saying goodbye to Lidwina, the pair left the church as Claar said to Anjo, “Before I forget, after you meet your teacher, Dad wanted to talk to you about something.”

  To which he responded with only a hollow nod.

  “It’s not something bad; he just wants to make sure you’re fine,” she added, making Anjo’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as a faint smile spread across his lips.

  Walking towards the village’s merchants’ guild, Anjo noticed the Edenite woman from the morning standing next to its doors.

  She wore a long brown skirt with a loose orange linen shirt above it, with a distinct swirly pattern woven in red strings into its folded sleeves.

  Her long, curly black hair was tied in a loose bun. Her gray eyes brightened as she noticed the pair approaching. A gentle smile spread across her thin lips beneath her button-like nose.

  Wearing a yellow scarf around her neck, Anjo recognized it as a distinct marker separating them from the Matronites, identifying them as those who rejected the holy scripture.

  “Anjo, this is Belle,” Claar said, introducing the Edenite woman, who in turn said, “Nice to meet you.” Her gentle voice made Anjo’s heart flutter.

  Nodding, Anjo attempted to hide his blush from the two women but was noticed by Claar.

  Taking a breath, the woman spoke once again in the same gentle tone, “We’ll start your viol lessons tomorrow after your church morning thing.”

  Slightly confused, Anjo asked, “I thought the man who came with you would be my teacher,” before adding, “And it’s a Laud, not a ’morning thing.’”

  “Right, right,” Belle replied dismissively before taking a step forward and adding, “My grandpa isn’t really… available right now, but I promise you I’ll be more than enough.” Her pride was clear in her tone.

  She then clapped her hands together and said, “It was nice meeting you, but from what Claar told me, you have a busy day, so we’ll have to continue tomorrow.”

  Noticing a hurriedness in her tone, Anjo nodded once again before turning towards the dirt road and departing silently, while Claar stayed behind, conversing with the Edenite woman.

  Entering his home, Anjo noticed Heynrike sitting in the kitchen near the hearth, with a wooden chair placed in front of him.

  While closing the door behind him, Anjo heard his father say, “We need to talk,” slightly startling him.

  Now sitting in front of his father, Anjo remained sheepishly silent as Heynrike began lecturing him.

  While barely listening, one sentence from his father stuck in his mind: “I know it was hard to talk to him like that, believe me, and I trust you. So just trust me as well.”

  A moment of silence resonated between the two men, only to be suddenly broken by Claar opening the door and marching towards Heynrike and Giel’s room without saying a word to them.

  After slamming the door behind her, Heynrike spoke once more: “I don’t mean to hurt you. I hope you at least know that.”

  “I know. I just don’t want either me or Claar to walk on eggshells when we’re with him,” Anjo replied, still not meeting his father’s gaze.

  “You shouldn’t… you just…” Heynrike uttered, seemingly unsure of what to say. “He’s from a different generation. He doesn’t know any better.”

  “He should know better!” Anjo retorted. “It shouldn’t be our responsibility to get him to stop annoying Claar!”

  “It isn’t. Just listen to me for a minute,” Heynrike said before taking a deep breath and adding, “It’s not anyone’s responsibility, but unless you tell people what they’re doing wrong, they won’t know.”

  “But she does! Every single day!” Anjo yelled.

  “Why are you yelling? I’m trying to have a conversation with you,” Anjo’s father said, his tone remaining gentle.

  “Sorry,” Anjo replied in a sheepish tone.

  “It’s fine, I’m just…” Heynrike started to say, seemingly unsure of what to add. “I’m trying to help all of you, but it’s hard when Claar and your grandpa are so… inflexible.”

  “I just want him to stop. I don’t want to hear them argue every day.”

  “They’ll find something else to argue about, but I understand your point,” his father said, making Anjo’s eyes widen in surprise. “Just try to see that he cares; he just has a bad way of showing it.”

  “I guess,” Anjo replied, now speaking in a slightly hopeful tone. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Good. I’m proud of you.”

  The pair then hugged while Claar exited the room and disappeared up the stairs, saying sharply, “Just tell me when dinner’s ready.”

  Leaving the two men feeling slightly nervous, Heynrike said, “I’ll start making dinner. I know you can talk to him by yourself.”

  Anjo nodded before quickly setting the table. A thought sprang into his head as he finished: I can do it.

  Entering his grandfather’s and father’s room, he said to Giel, “We need to talk.”

  The room was small, with only a wooden table, a candle, and a copy of the holy scripture laid on it. Two beds were positioned on opposite sides of the room.

  Sitting on the bed opposite his grandfather’s, Anjo asked, “Are you happy now?”

  “She should be grateful,” Giel replied. “I’m trying to help, and all I get in return is her screaming.”

  “Don’t victimize yourself. You know exactly what you’re doing,” Anjo retorted.

  “I’m trying to help,” Giel said once more.

  “But you don’t! You’re just hurting her! Why do you keep doing it?” Anjo yelled. “Just… she doesn’t want to get married. I really don’t see why it’s bothering you.”

  “So, do you want her to be like me?” his grandfather retorted quietly.

  Silence took hold of Anjo’s mind, unsure of what to say, or even if there was anything to say.

  “I feel lonely, and I don’t want her to be the same,” Giel said.

  A moment of silence hung between the two men, each lost in thought.

  Finally, a single question left Anjo’s lips. “Are you really lonely?”

  “Of course I am. I’ve felt that way since your grandma passed away,” Giel replied, his voice trembling.

  “But you’re not alone. You have me, Dad, and Claar. You never were,” Anjo said, slightly confused, trying to comfort his grandfather.

  “It’s not the same. You’re still young, so you don’t get it, but it’s a kind of love you can’t live without.”

  “Well, Claar can,” Anjo said, attempting to reach his grandfather’s heart. “And if you want her to keep loving you, you’re going to need to accept it.”

  “I don’t understand why she’s like that,” Giel said. “I’m trying to help.”

  “You don’t need to understand why she’s like that; you just need to accept her,” Anjo said. He got up and sat on his grandfather’s bed. “If you really want to help her, then show her that you can accept her for who she is.”

  A moment of silent contemplation passed between the two men, broken by a pair of words from Giel: “I’ll try.”

  “Great. I love you,” Anjo said, hugging his grandfather.

  “I love you too,” Giel replied, hugging him back.

  Exiting the room, the men entered the living room, now lit only by the glow of the house’s hearth under the dark, star-filled sky.

  On the table lay four bowls of stamppot, each adorned with a few pinches of salt.

  Now seated at the table with Claar, his father, and Giel, Anjo recited a short prayer before starting to eat.

  After waiting a few moments for silence to settle, Anjo turned to his sister, “Claar, there’s something Grandpa wants to tell you.”

  Claar lifted her head slightly, her gaze now fixed directly on Giel, “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” Giel said, lowering his head slightly in shame. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just worried about you. I can’t say that I understand you, but I won’t bother you about getting married anymore.”

  “Thank you,” Claar said, though neither Anjo nor Giel knew to whom it was directed.

  The silence that settled in the room was suddenly broken by Giel, who said, “Eerwyn should’ve brought you a jacket. It’s too cold for just a sash…”

  “Just shut up!” Claar retorted, before starting to argue with her grandpa once again.

  The sound of their argument was deafening to Anjo’s ears, yet familiar.

  Feeling his father lightly kick his leg under the table, Anjo turned his attention towards Heynrike, who quietly said, “I told you they’d find something else to argue about,” making the two men laugh silently.

  After finishing dinner, Claar and Giel each went into their respective rooms, leaving Anjo and Heynrike to clean up the table.

  Heynrike then turned to Anjo, saying, “I told you they’d find something else to argue about.”

  “I know,” Anjo replied.

  The pair laughed, then hugged before parting to their respective bedrooms, each wishing the other a good night.

  Entering his room, Anjo found his sister lying on her bed in her undergarments.

  After removing his shirt, leaving him in his undergarments and undershirt, he lay down on his bed and asked Claar, “Can I borrow your sash for tomorrow?”

  “Sure, for your new teacher?” she asked in return, causing Anjo to blush slightly.

  “Yes, I want to make a good first impression,” he answered quietly.

  “If you really want to make a good first impression, you should take a shower first.”

  “I know, I was going to do it,” Anjo retorted, trying to brush her off.

  Claar chuckled before wishing Anjo a good night and falling asleep.

  Turning towards the wall, Anjo quietly wished his sister a good night and fell asleep.

  After the night passed, the sun rose from the west once again, signaling the morning’s arrival. Its light shone through the window, illuminating the room and waking the siblings.

  The pair groaned before getting up and walking towards the cabinet. Standing in front of it, Claar picked up a long blue linen dress, then turned around and secured it around her waist with a woven, braided belt.

  Grabbing a light blue shirt and the previous day’s pants, Anjo waved them in front of him, brushing off any dust.

  “Try not to get any wrinkles on it,” Claar said, pointing at the sash before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  After finishing dressing, Anjo carefully folded the sash and stuffed it inside his shirt before heading down the stairs to meet his grandfather.

  After brushing his teeth with a wet linen rag, Anjo rushed out of the house with Giel, quickly closing the door behind them. The pair then walked along a dirt path towards the village’s church.

  Upon entering the church, the pair waved to the elderly, bald priest standing at the altar, who waved back in return.

  Once they sat on the pews with the rest of the villagers, the priest motioned to Lidwina to begin playing her wooden flute. She nodded and started playing a quiet, pleasant melody as he commenced the sermon.

  Barely listening to the priest’s words, Anjo’s mind was filled with thoughts about the day’s lesson.

  After the sermon ended, Anjo quickly grabbed the bread handed to him by Lidwina before exiting the building, thanking her as he departed with his grandfather and sister.

  Walking around to the church’s well, Anjo grabbed a small wooden bucket and a linen towel. He filled the bucket with water before walking behind the church.

  Taking off his clothes, he dipped the cloth towel into the water-filled bucket, quickly washing his thin body and hair before drying himself with his shirt.

  After quickly putting his clothes back on, he tied his sister’s sash around his waist, making sure it wasn’t wrinkled.

  Making sure he looked presentable, Anjo started walking towards the merchant’s guild post. His excitement made him feel as if his heart beat faster with each step he took.

  Standing in front of the door, he suddenly heard a gentle melody, each note carrying a slight weight.

  Silently opening the door, he saw Belle sitting on a wooden chest, playing her viol with closed eyes, while Oser tapped his legs to the melody’s tune.

  Watching her silently from afar made Anjo’s heart skip a beat, his cheeks flushing red.

  When he took a step forward, the Edenite woman in front of him heard the sound, stopping her viol and opening her eyes to stare at him.

  She stood up and walked toward Anjo, who remained silent, while her grandfather stepped into another room.

  Now standing in front of him, Belle greeted him with a bright smile. “Welcome. We’ll start in just a bit—there are a few things I wanted to discuss.”

  Anjo nodded in response.

  Walking back to the wooden chest Belle sat on it once again before tapping on a slightly taller wooden box lying near her, offering Anjo a seat.

  After the pair sat down, Belle turned towards Anjo, slightly looking up, and asked, “So why do you want to learn to play the viol?”

  Thinking for a moment, Anjo replied with slight nervousness in his tone, “I’ve always liked music, and my dad suggested that I learn to play something. After that, he talked to Eerwyn, who said he knew a viol player.”

  “I see,” Belle replied. “You know that the lessons I give aren’t free, right? I’m grateful to Eerwyn for letting us stay here, but we still need to fund our stay.” Her gentle tone conflicted with the practicality of her words.

  “I know. It’s something Eerwyn talked about with me before he went to Stranddam to pick you up,” Anjo replied, before adding, “He said that once a month, I would go with him to other cities and play for a few people he knows. A part of the money they’ll give me will go to you.”

  Covering her mouth with her right palm, Belle mumbled to herself, her words barely audible to Anjo. He only caught a single comment: “Did Grandpa talk to him about it?”

  Anjo asked, “Is something wrong?”

  To which Belle answered, “Nothing, just something I need to think about.” Her lie was obvious to Anjo, who stayed silent as she added, “So, my lessons will be for you to become a bard?”

  “Something like that,” Anjo replied.

  “I see. Well…” Belle said, grabbing her viol and standing up in front of Anjo. “If I see that you have real passion for it, I might even teach you some of my own songs.”

  “You write your own songs?” he asked, his curiosity clear to Belle.

  “A few—mostly just revised versions of folk songs. Hopefully, you’ll like them enough to actually learn them,” she replied, her giggle making Anjo’s heart flutter.

  Straightening her legs, she took a stance fit for an experienced musician, gaining Anjo’s full attention. He stood up to face her and said, “I’m ready.”

  The Edenite woman smiled brightly and said, “Let’s begin.”