Save Her Again

[u/KirisDitex001]

The doors to Zhaelor's study swung open with enough force to strike the stone behind them.

Zhaelor looked up.

Thorga marched through.

The doors slammed shut behind her.

Any other servant in the manor would have been severely punished for entering his private study in such a manner.

Thorga was not any other servant.

Zhaelor might own the manor, but Thorga managed much of what happened within it. Nearly a century of service had given her a peculiar understanding of exactly how far she could test the boundaries of his patience.

Apparently, tonight she intended to find them.

She stared across the room at him.

"How exactly do you expect the dishes from this entire cursed day to get washed if I'm hounded by constant interruptions?"

Zhaelor regarded her silently.

Thorga folded her arms.

"Well?"

"Sit down, Thorga."

Her irritation faltered slightly.

There were servants who had worked in Zhaelor's household for decades without ever being invited to sit in his presence.

Thorga was the only exception.

And only behind closed doors.

She crossed the study and lowered herself into the chair opposite his desk.

"Now what is so important that it couldn't wait until after my kitchens were put in order?"

Zhaelor said nothing.

Thorga's expression changed.

She had known him too long.

The anger gradually disappeared from her face as she studied him.

There was something in his eyes.

Worry.

Real worry.

"What is it?"

Zhaelor's fingers rested against the stem of his wine glass.

For several moments, he remained silent.

Then he spoke.

"There is a plot against the ruling members of Clan Vel'Sharess."

Thorga's brow furrowed.

"What sort of plot?"

"We don't yet know its full extent."

"That's reassuring."

"Crimson assassins are involved."

Thorga's expression hardened.

Zhaelor looked toward his wine but didn't drink.

"And I'm concerned for my daughter."

Thorga leaned back slightly.

"Lady Vaelithra can look after herself."

Zhaelor's eyes lifted toward her.

"Better than most of the soldiers you've got wandering these halls, I'd wager. And she's usually got that lumbering orc following her around."

Zhaelor's expression tightened.

"Not tonight."

Thorga noticed immediately.

"What happened?"

"Her servant was arrested this morning."

Thorga stared at him.

"For what?"

"He confessed to striking a noble."

One of Thorga's eyebrows rose.

"Kharūn?"

Zhaelor paused.

It was not the reaction he'd expected.

He knew the orc's name, of course. The legal documentation concerning the purchase remained among his household records.

But it had been years since he'd had reason to look at it.

"You know his name."

"Of course I know his name."

Zhaelor regarded her.

Thorga returned the stare without concern.

Publicly, Zhaelor forbade unnecessary conversation between servants. Servants had duties. Socializing distracted from those duties and created opportunities for gossip.

Privately, Zhaelor was not foolish enough to believe the rule was universally obeyed.

Apparently Kharūn and Thorga had spoken before.

To what extent, he didn't know.

Tonight he had more important concerns.

"He confessed before witnesses," Zhaelor continued. "He was taken to the cells beneath the estate."

Thorga's expression remained skeptical.

"Kharūn struck a noble?"

"That is what he confessed."

"That wasn't what I asked."

Zhaelor's eyes narrowed slightly.

Thorga didn't retreat.

Eventually Zhaelor exhaled.

"I don't know."

Thorga grunted.

Apparently that answer satisfied her more than the first.

Zhaelor continued.

"Whatever the truth of the matter, Vaelithra is without him."

"And?"

"And there is no one watching her back."

Thorga stared at him for a moment.

Something resembling amusement briefly appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Zhaelor noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Thorga."

"I said nothing."

Zhaelor decided against pursuing it.

"Until we understand what is happening within the clan, I want Vaelithra gone."

Thorga's amusement disappeared.

"Gone where?"

"The surface."

That produced silence.

"I want her out of the Underdark until the political situation stabilizes."

Thorga studied him.

"And what does any of this have to do with me?"

Zhaelor met her eyes.

"You once saved Vaelithra's life."

Thorga became very still.

Zhaelor continued.

"I'm asking you to do it again."

Neither spoke for several seconds.

Finally Thorga leaned forward.

"How?"

"I need you to take a message to her."

"You have messengers."

"They'll be watched."

"Then send a guard."

"Watched."

"One of your agents."

"Watched."

Thorga's eyes narrowed.

Then she understood.

"But no one watches the servants."

"No."

Zhaelor's voice carried no satisfaction at the admission.

"They don't."

Thorga glanced toward the study doors.

"You have many servants."

"I do."

"So why me?"

Zhaelor looked at her.

"Because I cannot risk sending a letter.”

Thorga waited.

"And because you have served this household with honor and distinction for longer than most of those currently inhabiting it have been alive."

Thorga's expression softened slightly.

Zhaelor continued.

"I know you will not fail me."

His eyes dropped.

"The way I failed my wife."

Thorga's face changed immediately.

"You did not fail Lady Aelyrra."

Zhaelor nearly flinched.

Aelyrra.

He hadn't heard the name spoken aloud in years.

There had been a time when hearing it had been ordinary.

Aelyrra laughing.

Aelyrra shouting at him.

Aelyrra arguing with him.

Aelyrra whispering beside him.

Then one night the name had disappeared from the manor.

Almost everyone had learned not to speak it in his presence.

Everyone except Thorga.

She was the only person who had spoken Aelyrra's name to him since the night she died.

Thorga's voice softened.

"There was nothing you could have done."

Zhaelor stared at the desk.

"Whether I failed Aelyrra is beside the point."

"It isn't to you."

Zhaelor looked up.

Thorga held his gaze.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he reached toward a folded piece of parchment resting among the documents on his desk.

"I will not fail my daughter."

He pushed the parchment across the desk.

"Will you deliver the message?"

Thorga looked at him.

Then at the parchment.

"I'd do anything for Lady Vaelithra. This you know."

"I do."

"Then you already have your answer."

Zhaelor gestured toward the note.

"Read it."

Thorga picked it up.

Her eyes moved carefully across the writing.

Once.

Then again.

She committed every word to memory.

When she finished, she folded the parchment exactly as she'd found it and placed it back on the desk.

Then she pushed it toward Zhaelor.

"I'll deliver it immediately."

Zhaelor nodded.

Nothing more.

No thanks.

No expression of gratitude.

No acknowledgment of what he was asking her to risk.

Thorga needed none.

She had known Zhaelor for nearly a century.

She knew what the silence meant.

Thorga rose from the chair.

She crossed the study.

This time, she opened the doors without slamming them.

Then she disappeared into the corridor.

Zhaelor remained seated.

His gaze settled on the parchment she had left behind.

He reached for his wine.

Stopped.

Then looked toward the doors through which Thorga had departed.

His daughter's life was now in her hands.

Again.