For a long time, Sally Whitemane had been the only one who knew about the relationship between Demitria and Jemar. One night, a year ago, the two were chatting on the watchtower as usual, their bodies bathed in rare moonlight. A black bird took flight from the edge of the tower; it had nested just beneath the railing, its dark red beak faintly glowing.
"Sally," Demitria suddenly said, "what would you think if I told you I had fallen in love?"
Sally didn't know how to respond for a moment. It wasn't something she was used to hearing in her life.
"Ah, with whom?" She was surprised at how foolish her question sounded, but even more surprised when Demitria quickly answered.
"Jemar."
Demitria blurted out the name, not out of decisiveness, but forcing herself to say it, or she might never have had the courage.
It took Sally a moment to recall the face that matched the name. That scarred guard? She took too long to recall, and the atmosphere between them immediately became awkward.
"I don't know him well. Why would you...?"
"He's the only one who really listens to me."
"I've always listened to you," Sally said, unable to hide the anger in her voice.
"It's not the same, Sally." Demitria turned to face her. "It's not the same."
There was no further explanation, and Sally didn't make any more attempts to understand their relationship. Regardless, she was pleased that Demitria had confided in her. After a moment of silence, she told Demitria, "I hope you two find happiness. I'll keep your secret."
Sally said this without the right experience, though it sounded childish. Demitria smiled at her. At that moment, the black bird began to fly towards the distant mountains.
Sally did everything she could to help Demitria. She would check the guards' duty schedules and patrol routes to give the couple better options for their meetings. She convinced herself that she was doing it purely for Demitria's sake, but she couldn't help observing Jemar closely and the way he interacted with Demitria.
Jemar, though not sociable among his fellow guards, was widely respected for his combat abilities, along with rumors about the origins of his scars—that was all Sally knew about him. More observation was pointless, and she began to convince herself that Jemar possessed qualities only Demitria could see. Before meeting Jemar in private, Sally could see that mysterious yet comforting glow in Demitria's eyes. She also noticed how Demitria would clasp her hands, rubbing her thumbs together, taking deep breaths to calm herself. And Jermile's eyes would soften, as if trying to suppress the unpleasant features of his appearance.
Since childhood, Sally had seen many members of the Scarlet Crusade become partners. The public procedure was for both parties to submit a request, then undergo a bonding ceremony officiated by a priest in front of the Scarlet battle flag—a ceremony referred to as a "pairing ritual," not a wedding. That was all. No matter from the man's or woman's side, Sally could never find the kind of passion and anxiety that Demitria experienced when their eyes met. Helping the two seemed worthwhile; Sally would think to herself, Besides torturing and interrogating, I accomplished something else today.
One night, as she left the interrogation chamber, Sally suddenly realized she had made a mistake in the duty schedule, arranging a dangerous meeting for the couple. She rushed toward the small garden behind the mountain, forgetting to remove her bloodied gloves. Instead of taking the stone-paved road, she chose a path through the bushes. As she neared the garden, some noises slowed her pace. Through gaps in the trees, she saw moonlight touching the bare bodies of Jemar and Demitria, their armor and clothes scattered messily on the ground.
They didn't notice her presence. Sally's heart raced; she saw Demitria's pale golden hair dusted with dirt, and the scars on Jermile's back seemed to fade under the silver glow. Sally turned around, not immediately, but after realizing she was too absorbed in watching them.
"It's me."
"Sally?" Demitria's voice.
"You... hurry back. The guards will arrive in ten minutes."
Without waiting for a response, she quickly left, the small branches beneath her feet snapping as she stepped on them. She was all too familiar with the human body. Under Ethenrion's guidance, she had studied every aspect of anatomy to find the most painful methods for torture. She knew everything about men and women and felt no sense of mystery—it was all just flesh and blood reacting to stimuli. Whether burning the skin with a brand or driving nails through fingers, the human body faithfully followed its inherent design. But from that scene, she sensed something beyond the physical, something she lacked.
The next day, when she met Demitria, the atmosphere was awkward.
"I didn't know things between you two had gotten so far," Sally said.
"Do you think I shouldn't have?"
"No, that's your business... but don't you plan to formally apply for a pairing ritual?"
Sally was surprised to hear Demitria's mocking laugh.
"How could that be possible?"
"But you can't continue like this forever..."
"No, we can," Demitria stared at her. "You said it yourself—this is between me and him. It's none of your concern, unless you mess up the duty schedule again."
Sally's head felt hot, a sharp pain piercing her neck. She no longer recognized Demitria. The person she saw as a sister, who used to confide in her, seemed to have grown used to Sally's help, taking it for granted while becoming increasingly immersed in her own world. This tendency had seeped into her actions as a Scarlet Saint. Over the next two months, Sally stopped speaking to Demitria entirely. She avoided her, which wasn't difficult since their work rarely overlapped: Demitria offered comfort and encouragement, while Sally inflicted harm and fear.
One day, Sally received word that the Scarlet Saint's expedition had been attacked by Scourge forces, scattering the group. The Saint herself and a guard were missing, and search teams were being organized.
"Which guard is missing?" she asked the messenger.
"Sorry, I can't recall the name... but I believe it's that scarred one."
She immediately left her quarters and hurried toward the stables. Ethenrion intercepted her on the way.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm joining the search party for the Saint, Lord Ethenrion."
"Why?"
"Because..." She couldn't find the words.
"Search and rescue is not your strength. We have others more suited for that task. I know you have a special relationship with the Saint, but remember, your primary duty is to perform your role well. The Saint would not want to see you neglect your responsibilities because of her."
"...I understand."
"Sally." His finger traced lightly across her face. "You don't look well. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"What do you want to know?"
"About the Saint."
"No, nothing. I'm just worried about her."
"Good. Now, return to your post."
She didn't sleep that night. The next morning, the search party found Demitria and Jemar. They had both sustained minor injuries and had hidden in a small cave to evade the Scourge. Sally soon met Demitria in her bedroom, her eyes drawn to the bandage wrapped around Demitria's right forearm.
"Don't be so frightened," Demitria said. "It wasn't the Scourge. I scraped it on a rock."
Sally took a deep breath. "I'm glad you're back."
"You thought I wouldn't return?" Demitria paused. "It was a chance, you know. For several hours, no one knew where we were. I thought about running away, but Jemar said it wasn't safe."
"It was more than unsafe—two people wandering through the Eastern Plaguelands..." Sally suddenly realized she had missed the point. "You wanted to leave with him?"
"We have no future here."
"You're insane, Demitria. You're a Scarlet Saint. You can't just abandon us. All these soldiers who support you, worship you..."
"Don't you understand yet? That's exactly why I want to leave."
"I don't understand." Sally knocked over a delicate vase that had never held anything, sending it crashing to the floor. Shards scattered everywhere.
The gesture startled Demitria, but she quickly regained her composure, turning to the window and speaking almost to herself, "I wish I hadn't come back."
Sally understood then that her opinion no longer mattered to Demitria. Demitria would leave everything behind, pursuing a freedom that only she and Jemar could share, even if only for a moment. Though they hadn't left this time, she would not miss the next chance. She might even create one, to escape everything Scarlet—the Saint's glory, the warriors' adoration and aspirations, the oaths sworn to the Scarlet cause, and me.
After leaving Demitria's room, Sally refused to acknowledge that she had ever felt comfort from helping the couple, denied that the scene in the woods had ever confused her, and dismissed her promise to keep their secret. Demitria had to stay.
She reported everything she knew about Demitria and Jemar to Ethenrion. Three days later, Ethenrion summoned her to his study.
"You've done very well, Sally," he said. "It's clear that you went through some inner turmoil, but in the end, you made the right choice. The Crusade cannot afford to bear the consequences of the Saint and a guard leaving together. Your contribution will be remembered, and this will greatly aid you in securing the position of High Inquisitor."
"What do you intend to do?"
"We're still discussing it. After all, this is no small matter. We need a plan that minimizes the damage, especially considering that Demitria is already carrying Jermile's child..."
"What did you just say?"
"You didn't know? To be honest, I thought you were trying to hide it. Yes, Demitria is pregnant. The results have confirmed it. Don't be too surprised; it was only a matter of time, wasn't it?"
Sally had originally thought that she only needed to report the matter and wait for the higher-ups to sever the connection between Demitria and Jemar, locking away the news. Demitria would remain, just as before, as the Scarlet Saint. But now the situation was different. She couldn't predict how those working with Ethenrion would handle the situation. The bond of flesh, once cut, would undoubtedly leave irreparable scars. Her breath quickened.
"As long as Jemar is dealt with, that should be enough, right?" she asked.
"No, no. This isn't a problem that can be solved so easily. There are too many factors to consider. Unfortunately, with your current level of experience, there's nothing of real value you can contribute. That's the end of it. You may leave now."
"When you've made a decision, will I be informed?"
Ethenrion stood up, walked over to her, and stood very close, gazing at the side of her face. She could smell the faint mixture of blood and expensive perfume that always lingered on him.
"I've already told you, this matter counts as a merit for you. That's a very kind and generous way of putting it. But remember, for a long time, you were the one hiding it for them."
"They were only in love. Why should I—" Sally realized she had said the wrong thing and swallowed the rest of the sentence.
"But in the end, you reported it to me. Isn't it ironic? If I had known about this sooner, I could have ended it cleanly without alarming anyone. But now... this is no longer something I can decide on my own. You've made a mistake, Sally. A very serious mistake. In this sense, it was your delay that allowed something to grow inside her that never should have existed. Now the situation is a mess. If the Saint faces any severe judgment, you'll have to bear a significant portion of the blame. Did you ever consider that?"
Sally couldn't find the words to respond. She felt a foul gas churning in her chest. Her eyes felt dry and painful.
"Sally, Sally. You poor little thing. I've watched you grow up. At times, you even exceeded my expectations and made me proud. But then there are times, like now..." He quickly brushed his left cheek and took a deep breath. "But I suppose, after all, you're only seventeen. You're still not mature enough. It's completely understandable that you developed unrealistic fantasies about the relationship between the Saint and Jemar. Are you jealous of them?"
"No, I..."
"Don't lie to me again!" Ethenrion slammed the table hard, his sharp words stabbing into Sally's ears. "I despise being deceived, especially by Demitria, and by you. She has already betrayed my trust, and you will not follow in her footsteps. You won't."
Sally didn't know how she managed to leave the study. By the time her mind cleared, she found herself leaning against a pillar in the hallway outside, staring at her reflection in the smooth floor. Her shoulders were still trembling uncontrollably.