"Ladies and gentlemen, let's take a moment to welcome someone truly important to the success of this book. Welcome, Author S Wolfe! It's an honor to have you among the ranks of true supporters. Your presence reflects the passion we share for storytelling, and I deeply appreciate it. May this journey be as thrilling for you as it is for me. Welcome aboard!"
....
It had been four days since Haggard returned from Origon, the Institute of Magic. Though her return had not been ideal—in fact, it was the worst she could have imagined—she had learned to cope with her new reality. No matter how heavy the blows that life dealt her, she had no choice but to endure them.
On the third day of her return, she managed to do a bit of farm work—though "a bit" was a massive understatement. Hoeing and digging through four acres of land and planting vegetables was no small task. Yet, with her adeptness in magic, she cast a spell over the crops, ensuring they would be fully grown and ready for harvest by the next week. Her little cousin, Richael, had eagerly joined her in the task, though her enthusiasm quickly waned under the scorching sun.
Several times, the little girl collapsed onto the dry soil, panting heavily, her tiny body screaming in exhaustion. But each time, Haggard would pour a few drops of a special liquid into her mouth. Almost instantly, Richael's fatigue would fade, her strength renewed as though she had merely taken a short break instead of working tirelessly in the blazing heat.
They spent the entire morning in the field, pausing only to take sips of the mysterious liquid whenever exhaustion took hold.
After their long morning of labor, Haggard took a well-deserved bath. The feeling of warm water cascading over her skin was refreshing—far better than merely casting a cleansing spell on herself. Though both methods achieved the same result, immersing herself in a bathtub brought her a rare sense of peace, a moment where she could truly feel human again.
It was strange. She couldn't even recall the last time she had seen her own body completely bare.
As she dried herself off, another thought crossed her mind—she should prepare a meal for the family. However, that thought quickly faded as she was reminded of one glaring problem: she had no idea how to cook. She didn't even know what ingredients to use, let alone how to combine them into an edible meal. With a resigned sigh, she abandoned the idea altogether.
Just then, as if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the voice of an elderly woman.
Startled, Haggard hurried out of the kitchen, but before she could reach the door, Richael had already opened it. On the other side stood Mrs. Hugkings, the Barrass family's only neighbor.
Mrs. Hugkings had lived alone for thirty years, ever since the Great Push—the battle against the Darklings that remained one of the deadliest and most catastrophic in history. Unlike Richael Barrass, who had been fortunate enough to see her husband return—albeit with only one eye—Mrs. Hugkings' husband had never come home.
Despite her loss, she was a kind woman. Since Mrs. Barrass' execution, she had taken it upon herself to ensure that Haggard's uncle and his eight-year-old daughter did not go hungry.
"Richael, dear, how are you?" Mrs. Hugkings asked gently, crouching slightly to meet the girl's gaze. "Are you holding up alright? Don't be sad, sweetheart. Your father wouldn't want to see you like this." She paused, then glanced around. "By the way, where is your fath—"
The elderly woman's words cut off as her eyes landed on Haggard.
For a moment, she seemed stunned, blinking as if trying to confirm that her eyes weren't deceiving her.
"Haggard? Is that you?" Her voice held disbelief. "Oh, dear, you've grown so much! Where in the world have you been all this time?"
Haggard stepped forward, offering a polite nod. "Greetings, Mrs. Hugkings," she said respectfully. "Uncle told me how kind you've been to them. I truly appreciate everything you've done for my family."
The old woman's eyes softened. "Oh, don't mention it, child. But where have you been? We all thought—"
"I was with my biological father in the countryside," Haggard interrupted smoothly, forcing a smile.
Mrs. Hugkings' brow furrowed. "Oh? And how is the old man doing?"
Haggard hesitated for only a second before responding, "He passed away a few weeks ago."
The lie left her lips effortlessly.
A brief silence followed before the elderly woman sighed, shaking her head in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that, dear."
Haggard quickly changed the subject. "Mrs. Hugkings, do you know where I can find some vegetables? I want to cook something for Uncle and Richael."
"The ones in the garden haven't grown yet," she added, though that too was a lie. If she wanted, she could have grown an entire vegetable farm in minutes.
Mrs. Hugkings pursed her lips. "I would have given you some if I had any, but what I used to prepare today's meal was all I had left." Her eyes suddenly lit up as an idea struck her. "Oh! I'm heading to the market soon. Why don't you come with me? You can buy fresh vegetables there."
Haggard stiffened. The last thing she wanted was to go into town and be surrounded by people. She opened her mouth, ready to craft an excuse, but the sight of Mrs. Hugkings' pleading expression made her pause.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Fine," she conceded.
---
The Marketplace
"The war has driven prices sky-high," Mrs. Hugkings muttered as they navigated through the bustling market. "Since King Richard declared war on Gouldon, the Sisterhood has sanctioned Molgan relentlessly. First, they raised the price of all exported goods. Then, they tripled it. But that wasn't enough. A few months ago, they cut off all trade entirely—no food, no clothing, not even basic supplies like manure for farming."
She shook her head in dismay. "Amanda saw this coming. That's why she pushed for subsistence farming, ensuring every denizen of Molgan received an acre of land tax-free for three years. It was a solid plan… but even she couldn't have predicted that the Sisterhood would go so far as to cut off supplies entirely."
Haggard listened in silence.
Upon reaching the market, she purchased the vegetables she needed, even buying extra for Mrs. Hugkings.
The elderly woman protested at first, but Haggard silenced her with a simple, unexpected truth:
"No, Mrs. Hugkings. It's for the meals you'll be cooking in the next few days," she admitted. "I don't know how to cook."
Mrs. Hugkings blinked in surprise. But then, her expression shifted.
"You know, Haggard," she said, her tone suddenly heavier. "Did you really spend the past three years in the countryside?"
Haggard's stomach twisted.
"Do you know why I was telling you all of this? Why I explained Molgan's current situation in such detail?" The woman didn't wait for an answer. "Because someone who had spent the last three years in the countryside would already know these things."
Haggard's fingers curled into fists.
Mrs. Hugkings' gaze sharpened. "You weren't in the countryside. You were at Origon."
Haggard's breath hitched.
"I know about your expulsion," the old woman continued, lowering her voice. "I know about the ambush at the Nilfguard border, the men you fought in the tavern, the horse you rode into Mardina… Princess."
Haggard's blood ran cold.
"And lastly," Mrs. Hugkings murmured, "I know that the new King of Molgan… is your brother."
---
Yama-2