The stench of rot and despair clung to the air like an unshakable curse. Aeger's slums were a labyrinth of crumbling shacks, filth-choked alleyways, and people who had long learned to expect nothing from life.
Jess led them through the winding paths, her small frame barely visible in the dim glow of lanterns flickering behind torn curtains.
The deeper they ventured, the heavier the silence grew—this was not a place meant for visitors, and certainly not for outsiders like Marina and her soldiers.
Finally, they stopped before a small hut. If it could even be called that. The walls leaned inward, the roof patched with whatever scraps had been available. Too small, barely enough to house two people, let alone a family.
Jess hesitated before stepping inside. The moment she did, something shifted in the air.
Marina followed, her senses immediately sharpening. Something was wrong.
The air was unnaturally still. The dim interior smelled of mildew and damp earth, but beneath it… something sharper, metallic.
Blood.
Jess gasped, then let out a strangled sob.
Her brother lay motionless on the floor, his head marred by a fresh wound. Blood pooled beneath his small frame, staining the dirt floor. His body was still warm.
A shadow darkened the doorway as a neighbor, drawn by the commotion, peered inside. "Robbers," she murmured, shaking her head. "They must've come thinking there was something valuable here."
Marina's fingers curled into a fist. "What could they have possibly wanted?"
"The boy's mother works for a noble," the woman answered bitterly. "She had warm quilts. Metal utensils. Things worth killing for."
A silence fell over the room.
Jess trembled beside her, her small fingers tightening into fists. Marina could see it, the heartbreak—the weight of realizing she had been too late. That she had left, believing she was saving him, only to return to this.
Marina turned sharply. "Leslie."
Her aide immediately straightened. "Yes, Governor?"
"Bring me the village chief."
Leslie hesitated. "At this hour—"
"I don't care," Marina cut in, her voice like steel. "Bring him. Now."
The village head arrived late, reeking of indifference. He carried himself with arrogance, his beady eyes narrowing in irritation at the commotion.
That irritation quickly shifted when the armored soldiers surrounding Marina stiffened, their hands resting on their weapons.
Then, his gaze flickered to her uniform. To the insignia.
Realization struck him like a blow. Governor.
He dropped to his knees so fast the dirt kicked up around him.
"Governor," he stammered, voice shaking. "Forgive my ignorance."
Marina did not respond immediately. She let the silence stretch, let him feel the weight of his mistake. Then, finally—
"What kind of lawless place is this?" Her voice was calm, but the edge beneath it cut through the night like a blade.
The village elder swallowed hard. "These are hard times, Governor. People—people do what they must to survive."
"By killing children?" Marina's tone did not rise, yet the weight of her words made the man flinch.
"I—I assure you, Governor, we do our best to keep order—"
Marina's patience had run dry. She turned away from him, speaking only to her guards. "Find the culprit."
The village head stiffened. "Governor, there is no need for such measures," he said hastily, stepping forward. "These people are poor. Desperate. We cannot punish them for doing what they must to survive."
Marina's gaze snapped back to him, cold and unyielding. "Desperation does not excuse murder."
He swallowed, wringing his hands. "But surely, Governor, such matters can be settled without force. Let me handle this—"
"You've already failed to handle it." Marina's tone was razor-sharp. "If you had, I wouldn't be standing in a child's blood."
The village head opened his mouth to protest, but one look at her hardened expression silenced him. He stepped back, his face paling as the soldiers moved, fanning out into the village.
When the guards returned, they dragged forth a woman—pregnant, frail, her terrified eyes darting between them all. Her hands trembled as she clutched at her stomach, instinctively protective.
Behind them, Jess followed closely, her small hands curled into tight fists, her jaw clenched with the fury only a grieving child could bear.
"I did it," she sobbed. "I stole the quilts and the utensils."
Marina's eyes narrowed as she took in the woman's condition. She was thin, weak, barely able to stand without assistance. How could she have committed such a crime?
Leslie folded his arms. "Governor, look at her—she can barely lift herself, let alone ransack a home. Something is not right."
Marina exhaled, her patience thinning. "Yet she confesses." She studied the woman carefully, watching as her frightened eyes flickered toward a group of children standing behind her.
The woman sobbed harder, lowering her head. "Please, just let me take the punishment. My children—" She cut herself off, biting her lip as if realizing she had already said too much.
Leslie frowned. "Governor, we should detain her until a proper trial can be held."
Marina nodded, but before the guards could take her away, she gestured toward Jess. "Look at this child," she said coldly, stepping aside to reveal the girl's tear-streaked face. "Was it worth it? Killing her brother for a quilt?"
The woman's body jerked as if struck, but instead of regret, her face contorted into something far more primal—desperation. "Yes!" she cried, her voice raw. "If it meant my children could live, then yes! It was worth it!"
Silence fell over the slums, the sheer weight of her words hanging in the air.
Marina had seen hunger before, had seen people fight for survival, but never had she heard such a chilling conviction. The desperation of the poor had long been exploited, but to see it laid bare in its ugliest form made her stomach churn.
As the woman was led away, Marina's gaze snapped toward the children behind her. They huddled together, watching the scene with wide, fearful eyes.
One of them, a boy no older than six, wore a sweater—small, patched, and faded. Yet, Jess's breath hitched the moment she saw it.
"That belonged to my brother," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Where did you get it?"
The child hesitated, gripping the sweater tightly before mumbling, "My father gave it to me."
A chill ran down Marina's spine.
She turned back to the guards, her expression sharp. "Where is he?"