The carriage slowed as it approached Mr. Roalet's house, a modest but elegant estate tucked within a lush garden. The compound was significantly smaller than the mansion Jargien and his mother had just left behind, but the warmth emanating from the home was unmistakable.
As the carriage rolled to a stop, Martha clutched Jargien close, her arms trembling slightly. The boy, despite his youth, noticed her unease. Her usual composure was marred by the lingering traces of her earlier argument with Tobien.
The butler stepped forward to open the carriage door, bowing politely as Martha stepped out with Jargien in her arms. Her gaze scanned the house, a flicker of relief crossing her face.
"Thank you," she murmured to the butler before striding toward the front door, her son still wrapped in her protective embrace.
The door opened before she could knock, and a woman in her late thirties greeted them warmly. Lady Roslyn Roalet, Mr. Roalet's wife, had a kind face and bright eyes that shone with understanding.
"Martha," Roslyn said, her voice soothing. "You're here. Come in."
Martha nodded, her lips pressing into a tight smile as she stepped inside. The house was cozy and inviting, filled with the scent of fresh bread and lavender. It was a stark contrast to the cold, opulent halls of the mansion they had just left.
Jargien glanced around curiously, his small fingers gripping his mother's dress. A younger woman, barely past her twenties, appeared from the adjoining hallway. She was Lady Evelyn, another mutual friend, with a gentle demeanor and a watchful gaze.
"It's going to be all right," Roslyn assured Martha, taking her hand. "You're safe here."
Martha nodded, her voice steady but tinged with weariness. "Thank you, Roslyn. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Roslyn crouched slightly to Jargien's height, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "You must be Jargien," she said softly. "Would you like to play with the other children? My son is in the backyard."
Jargien hesitated, glancing at his mother, who gave him a reassuring nod.
"Go ahead, darling," Martha said, smoothing his hair. "I'll be here with Aunt Roslyn and Aunt Evelyn."
Reluctantly, Jargien let go of his mother and followed Roslyn through the house to the backyard, where four children were playing. He immediately noticed they were all older than him—ranging from six to ten years old. They paused in their chatter and games to glance at him curiously as he stepped outside.
Jargien didn't join them. Instead, he walked to a large oak tree at the edge of the yard and sat down beneath its shade, his small hands resting on his knees. His expression remained unreadable as he silently watched the other children resume their games.
Minutes passed before one of the children, a girl with fiery red hair and sharp green eyes, broke away from the group and approached him. She looked to be about seven, two years older than Jargien, and her curiosity was evident.
"Why are you sulking over here?" she asked, folding her arms.
Jargien glanced up at her, his dark eyes unwavering. "I'm not sulking."
"You are," she insisted, plopping down on the grass beside him. "You're just sitting here staring at us. What's wrong?"
He didn't respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "Nothing," he finally said, his voice quiet but firm.
The girl frowned but didn't push further. Instead, she sat beside him, her presence neither comforting nor intrusive.
In the background, the other children continued their games, occasionally glancing toward the pair under the tree.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Martha sat in the drawing room with Roslyn and Evelyn. The three women shared a bond that transcended the current time and place, for they were all reincarnated souls, their past lives intertwined with secrets, tragedies, and victories.
Martha sighed deeply, glancing toward the window that overlooked the backyard. "I fear for him," she admitted softly.
Roslyn reached for her hand. "He's stronger than you think. And so are you."
Evelyn nodded. "We've faced worse, haven't we? This life will be no different. Together, we'll find a way to overcome it."
The three women shared a solemn understanding, the unspoken weight of their shared history hanging in the air.
Outside, Jargien remained seated beneath the tree, his thoughts a mix of confusion and anger. Despite his age, his experiences had already begun to shape him into something far beyond a typical five-year-old. The red-haired girl beside him sat quietly, her presence oddly grounding, though neither of them spoke another word.
The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the backyard, as the children played on, unaware of the tangled destinies unfolding around them.
*
The air inside Roslyn's home was growing lighter as the women decided they needed a distraction from the stress that had brought Martha there in the first place. Roslyn, seated in the armchair by the window, watched the bustling streets outside and smiled.
"There's a fair happening in the town square," she said, looking at the others. "Why don't we take the children? They could use some cheer."
Martha, holding her teacup, hesitated, her thumb running along its edge. "Are you sure it's safe?"
Roslyn nodded reassuringly. "The town is bustling with guards due to the fair. Besides, we'll be there together."
Evelyn leaned forward, her bright eyes filled with enthusiasm. "It'll be good for all of us. A change of scenery might help us reset."
Martha glanced toward the backyard, where Jargien was still under the tree, the red-haired girl sitting beside him while the other children played nearby. She sighed, then gave a reluctant smile. "All right. Let's go."
The group of women and children set out in a pair of carriages. The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was filled with the sounds of merriment—distant laughter, the melodic tunes of musicians, and the calls of merchants hawking their wares.
Martha sat beside Roslyn, her son Jargien resting quietly against her arm. Evelyn sat across from them, her face alight with excitement.
The carriages came to a stop at the edge of the square. The group stepped out, the children wide-eyed as they took in the vibrant scene before them. Brightly colored tents lined the square, with vendors selling everything from spun sugar to intricately carved wooden toys. A juggler performed near the fountain, and the scent of roasted chestnuts filled the air.
"Stay close," Roslyn reminded the children as they began to weave through the bustling crowd.
Jargien walked beside the red-haired girl, her name revealed to be Lilia. Despite her fiery demeanor, she stayed protectively close to Jargien, her green eyes darting around the crowd.
The group moved slowly, pausing to watch a fire-eater perform and buying small treats for the children. But as they ventured further into the market, the crowd grew denser, and the atmosphere subtly shifted.
Jargien and Lilia had paused at a stall displaying colorful glass trinkets, their attention captivated by the shimmering baubles. Martha, just a few feet ahead, turned to call them over—but in that moment, chaos struck.
A rough hand clamped over Jargien's mouth, and another yanked Lilia back. Before either child could scream, they were pulled into the shadows of a narrow alley.
The kidnappers moved with practiced speed. One was a burly man with a scar running across his face, the other a wiry figure with sharp eyes that darted nervously.
Jargien struggled fiercely, his small fists pounding against his captor's chest. Lilia, though terrified, kicked and scratched, managing to scream before a hand silenced her.
In the square, Martha spun around, her heart stopping as she realized the children were gone.
"Jargien!" she cried, her voice sharp with panic.
Roslyn and Evelyn turned, their faces darkening as they surveyed the area. Evelyn's sharp eyes caught the movement of the kidnappers slipping into the alley.
"There!" she shouted, already moving toward the shadows.
Martha, Roslyn, and Evelyn followed with a speed that belied their elegant appearances. As they rounded the corner, they saw the two men dragging the children toward a waiting cart.
"Stop!" Martha roared, her voice commanding.
The kidnappers froze for a moment before the scarred man growled, pulling a knife from his belt. "Back off!"
But the women were undeterred.
Roslyn was the first to move, her hand flashing as she drew a concealed dagger from her cloak. She hurled it with precision, the blade embedding itself in the wiry man's shoulder. He howled in pain, dropping Lilia, who scrambled away toward Martha.
Evelyn, meanwhile, raised her hand, muttering a sharp incantation. A burst of light erupted from her palm, blinding the scarred man and forcing him to release Jargien.
Martha stepped forward, her fury a palpable force. She seized the moment, disarming the scarred man with a swift kick to his wrist. His knife clattered to the ground, and she followed with a strike to his temple, knocking him unconscious.
The wiry man tried to flee, but Roslyn caught him, her dagger pressed against his throat. "You picked the wrong children," she hissed, her usually kind eyes filled with cold fury.
Jargien and Lilia were quickly pulled into Martha's arms, their small bodies trembling. She held them close, whispering reassurances as her heart raced.
"You're safe now," she murmured, though her own fear lingered.
Roslyn and Evelyn secured the two kidnappers, who groaned in pain as they were bound with strips of fabric torn from their own cloaks.
A small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the alley, murmuring in shock. Roslyn addressed them with authority. "Summon the town guard. These men are criminals."
The children were taken back to the carriage, where they huddled together. Jargien remained silent, his eyes fixed on his mother. Lilia sat beside him, her fiery demeanor replaced by a quiet vulnerability.
As the carriage pulled away from the square, Martha sat between Jargien and Lilia, her arms wrapped protectively around them. She exchanged a glance with Roslyn and Evelyn, a silent understanding passing between them.
The fair was forgotten. Their world was far from safe, but together, they would face whatever dangers came their way.