Ena hugged Bossia, her arms trembling weakly. Bossia endured the stench on Ena as best she could, and began to wipe her with the hemostatic potion the woman had mentioned.
"This girl is very weak," she said.
"Mrs. Emowa, you'd better tell me what's going on. I came from your husband, and if you..." Jorgen said.
"My husband? Is he still alive?"
Jorgen answered "Yes", but he understood that this was not actually certain. He had not yet seen the living Tortoro.
"How dare he still live in this world. The trouble he has brought me! If it weren't for the help of that noble man, the debt would have driven the poor mother and daughter to desperation."
"Debt?"
"He stole a large sum of money from his partner and then disappeared before our eyes."
"It seems you don't know, he's already in jail."
"Jail? Jail!" The woman slapped her forehead, "No wonder those people couldn't find him and could only harass the mother and daughter. This bastard! He actually left us and went to jail!"
At that moment, she seemed manic and delirious, stomping on the floorboards several times. Ena was so frightened that she hugged Bossia's neck, and Bossia had to push her hands away a little.
"But it doesn't matter. The kind gentleman has repaid the debt for us."
"Who?"
"Name? No, no. As humble a person as I am, I am not worthy to know his name. Tattooing is a disrespectful job, and my husband is a thief. I am so fortunate to have the assistance of such a noble man. - Ena, will you wait for Mommy to entertain the two guests? Be good and don't move."
"She's crazy," Bossia said.
"Well, whoever he is, why did he repay your debt?"
"He said he appreciated my skills - to be praised by such a great man was like a dream come true. He also said that the tattoos I made would not be bought for thousands of gold coins. He was very willing to collect such works of art - the best tattoos must be matched with the best materials to be true art. That's what he said. "
"How many times have you done this?"
"Three times. Although it bled a little, what does it matter? I just took away a palm-sized piece of skin that would grow back easily. Ena, you like Mommy's skills too, don't you? Miss, you can see Ena's back, I took it there twice, now it's healed well, but it's not mature enough to be offered to the gentleman."
Bossia turned pale and tried to suppress the urge to vomit. "Has she been keeping you locked up?" she asked Ena, but got no response, so she said to Jorgen, "She seems to be dumb."
"People who have been tortured for a long time in the dark will be like this. Be careful not to stimulate her."
"This can't be helped. I can't let her eat things that roughen the skin or go out in the wind and sun, let alone be touched by those vulgar men, otherwise the finished product would not satisfy the gentleman."
"You said you took three times, when was that?"
"Two years ago. When that gentleman first proposed this, I was a little frightened, but he persuaded me. He is such a charming man, although quite old, full of wisdom, forcing one to obey his words. Within six months, he sent men three times, and I offered three beautiful pieces of Ena's..."
Three times. The time period was just right between Neil's first imprisonment. Jorgen remembered what the warden had said: The old man treated Tortoro in a way that did not torture the body, and after several meetings he became a man with disordered mind. "If possible, I'd like to know how he did it," the warden said at the time.
A piece of his own daughter's skin, tattooed by his wife. No man could see such a thing without being stimulated. "It was the old man," Jorgen seemed to say to himself, "that was how he threatened Tortoro."
"Did he threaten him to kill Neil?" Bossia said.
"Maybe, maybe not. But he must have had a purpose." Jorgen turned to the woman and said, "You said today was the 'day to pick up the goods'?"
"That's why I was in such a hurry to take the skin. After more than a year, the gentleman was willing to visit again. To repay his kindness, I would take it as many times as possible - you don't disagree, do you, my dear? After all, he saved our lives."
"Will the person who helped you come in person today?"
"Probably not, what a pity. I wish I could see him again. He always sends two people who frighten me very much, dressed in black with strange masks. As soon as I see them, I tremble all over."
"They will definitely come at noon, perhaps they are nearby now?"
Jorgen thought of something and immediately went to the attic window and looked out. His gaze extended from the door of the house to the corner of the street ahead, and after a while, two twin-like black shadows appeared and walked straight towards them. Jorgen shrank back.
It was the undertakers. The situation was grim.
"Have they come? My God, please leave and let me do my own thing, or I will be punished..."
"Shut up."
"What do we do now? We can't leave the girl here." Bossia said.
Jorgen had no idea of fighting the undertakers alone, even with Bossia it was not worth the risk. But if he was alone, there might be a more convenient solution, but given the current situation, the remaining options were limited.
"You're right, I don't intend to leave her here," Jorgen grasped the dagger and said to Bossia, "turn around, close your eyes. It's best to cover your ears too. If you want to survive, don't stop me from doing what I'm doing now."
The undertakers entered the house. Although their vision was confined by the masks, they did not need to look around to determine the situation around them. They rarely used their eyes, except to confirm footprints. They could hear the wind leaking under the door crack, swirling up thick dust, sweeping past their heels and clothing; they could smell that someone had stayed here for ten minutes ago, and left sweat. In the previous trips to pick up goods, Mrs. Emowa would stand in this room, pretending to calmly wait for them. But she was not here today.
They came to the corridor, observed the rooms separately, and searched for traces of people. After confirming that no one was left on the first floor, they climbed the stairs. A rat crawled past their feet and disappeared into the corner of the second floor.
Upon reaching the second floor, they did not search the rooms, but directly climbed into the attic. The muddy yellow light was still flickering. Hemostatic agents, blood, and preservatives could not mask the human scent. At least not for them. In addition, they also captured breathing sounds.
They came behind the partition board. A woman was tied in the corner, her mouth stuffed with cloth. It was Mrs. Emowa. There were drops of fresh blood dripping on the cloth. Seeing these two, her eyes were full of fear. One of the undertakers walked up, squatted down and reached out to her. She felt the darkness in his palm, covering all she could perceive.
"Are you all right?" Jorgen said.
"I...I'm fine." Although she said so, Bossia still took deep breaths to calm herself. Ena was hugging her arm beside her, her eyes staring at the sand and stones on the ground. Then the roar of beasts from the circus tent in the Darkmoon Faire in front attracted her attention.
They escaped from the window through the rope ladder in the attic. Because the rope ladder was not long enough, they had to jump from nearly three meters high, and Bossia suffered a bit because of the armor on her.
"This was the only way," Jorgen said, "I could only cut out her tongue."
"I know, otherwise she would have told those people. And this was also her punishment for what she did to Ena."
"Since you understand this, don't look so frightened. Get used to it quickly."
"But...this is the first time I've seen..."
"I warned you not to look. Anyway, think about what to do with Ena now. This girl doesn't seem to be able to take care of herself anymore."
"Can't we take her with us first?"
"Are you kidding?"
"There are places in the cathedral that can shelter her..."
"Unfortunately, you can't go back now. At least not for the time being."
"But..."
At that moment, Ena pulled the corner of Bossia's cloak, looked at her and shook her head.
"Ena," Bossia said, "can you still understand what we're saying? We're thinking, how can we keep you safe now."
Ena nodded, then took the first step back with her heel, hesitated for a moment, then slowly backed away.
"She's leaving." Jorgen said.
Bossia took out the cloth bag around her waist that held gold coins, about to walk up, but Ena turned and ran away. She leapt over the bushes and returned to the street.
"Those people should still be in town..." Bossia said.
"Don't bother anymore, this is her own choice. We have helped her as much as we could."
"Yeah, by cutting her mother's tongue out and leaving her there to be killed."
"You're still nitpicking. There is simply no foolproof solution to this. We escaped, she survived, what else do you want?"
"I know you're right, I just...that scene just now, the way you looked was very frightening..."
Bossia's words reminded him of Travis on the picnic day. The look in Travis' eyes as he put the sword under the tramp's tongue disgusted Jorgen. And now he had done something similar himself. But he believed the two were different.
"When it's your turn to do this, you won't look any better." he said.
"Will I possibly do similar things in the future?"
"You may not do it yourself, but you will definitely see more. You may even experience similar pain yourself. You must be prepared at any time. You can tremble, you can cry loudly, but you can't escape. What's the matter, are you really trembling?"
Bossia squatted down on the ground. "...I haven't participated before."
"Participate in what?"
"Actual combat. Only those with actual combat experience can take the exam for the Cathedral Guard. Each person must serve at least two years on the front line. I have never been on the battlefield, never hurt anyone, let alone seen..."
"So the rumor that the Archbishop directly arranged you into the Cathedral Guard is not false."
Bossia said no more, and Jorgen knew this meant tacit consent. A girl who grew up entirely under the protection of others was now struggling with a man who could persuade a prisoner's wife to cut off her own daughter's skin. This sounded like the most absurd thing in the world.
"If you want to go back to Stormwind..."
"No, I don't want to go back at all. Don't drive me away. Aren't we... comrades? I've been lying to myself, thinking the way the other guards look at me is unfair. But now I understand. So... I can't give up. "