The girl -or young woman, she had discovered- was growing distressed. She has ben feeling upset all day and now, as only little light was coming through her dark window, her nerves were getting worse. The usual disgusting brown sloth brought by the usual old sister had marked her morning call. She had almost made a mistake then, opening her mouth to greet her visitor. The woman was not supposed to talk, she had thought, her mouth wide-opened before deciding not to speak. Her newfound 'sanity' was not to be noticed so she had settled for drooling. Luckily she was still quite proficient in that particular skill. Acting insane should not prove to be too difficult in the future, she had concluded smugly.

Once she has been left alone again, she took out the worn out scarf Ben had given her. Her mind went to the young thief as she stared at it. Cleo, that was her name now was it? Well, Cleo was overwhelmed by questions about the young man, and those soon turned into doubts. She could not figure out his motives so it was difficult believing his promise to come back. Placing her hopes on a filthy burglar seemed a foolish thing to do, but it was all she had at the moment.

She then gladly threw herself into the study of her walls, trying to decipher their secrets. Heavens she had been mad during these four years, Cleo mused. Most of the etchings were indistinguishable while the rest was merely pure madness. The young woman had been using a few different languages apparently, and she could understand them. Looking at her writings was like staring at a distorted mirror into her own mind, it was disturbing. Frightening, even. Not that Cleo would enjoy what she would see in a regular mirror though.

She was disfigured, and quite nastily so, judging by Ben's reaction. The skin was burnt, and she could not help but look at the blackened corner of her room. There must have been a fire there, Ben had spoken about an accident. It seemed a fair assumption, but pondering the question would not bring her face back.

Cleo was now pacing in circles through her room. It felt awkward since the place was maddeningly small, but it helped calming her down. She was waiting, alone with only her scribblings and thoughts for companions. Wondering if Ben was coming to save her from insanity was getting on her nerves. It was like that game children played, when they held each other's hands and twirled as fast as they could before letting go. She stopped short, for her head was spinning. The twirling made the scribblings around her seem even crazier. An entire day looking at them had brought up more questions than answers. She reviewed the phrases that stood out the most.

YOU KILLED HIM.

This one was disturbing. She did not consider herself a violent person, surely it was only her madness speaking. The matter of the victim was also intriguing. Was it the reason for her incarceration? It made sense but the prospect was frightening, she wanted to drop the topic.

DO NOT TRUST THEM. DONT TRUST ANYONE.

Who were 'them'? It most likely referred to her captors and evidently, they were suspicious. Everyone was in fact, but everyone did not include Brother did it not? The Lady should not trust the writings too far. Perhaps she should not even trust her own self. What about the strange thief then, was he included in 'them'? Or did Ben show up only recently, after she wrote the warning down, as he had told?

YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF YOU SILLY GIRL. DO NOT ANGER THE WHITES.

Was Cleo the one to blame for her current predicament, or was this line referring to another event? Of course, she was not going to provoke the priests, they scared her. Especially brother Gregory, though she was not sure why.

HE DID THIS TO YOU.

Who was 'he'? Ben, her husband, her sibling, or someone else entirely? The offense in question was also a mystery, since so many things had been done to her.

MONSTER.

This word had been repeated the most. However, it could refer to many different entities, even herself. Cleo was disfigured, insane and perhaps a murdered. Her spine ran cold at the possibility.

BEWARE THE FIRST DAY OF THE MONTH. YOU ARE CRAZY.

What happened on that day? Cleo did not even know the current date, she hoped that she would have enough time and answers to get ready before the next month. Remembering that she was crazy should easily be done, though the reason for such need intrigued her. Was it about acting the part in front of her hosts?

The woman sighed. The day had not been very productive. It had not been worth turning down an offer of freedom, however untrustworthy it had seemed.

Cleo looked at the dreaded contraption hanging from her ceiling. It was taunting her from up there, too high for her reach. She considered standing on her chamber pot, after turning it over of course. She could then jump and take a hold of it, but the height seemed too much. The weakened state of her body did not give Cleo much hope to succeed either. Her ennemies were coming to fill the item with 'medicine'. If Ben was not coming she would spend the night breathing its fumes, before regressing back to an empty, drooling shell. She shuddered in anticipation. The carvings might appear the ramblings of a paranoid mind, but they convinced her the cure was not one. She thought about her deranged neighbours, they were being drugged as well. Cleo wondered if she was so far gone out of her mind that conspiracies appeared everywhere. The constant questioning of her own sanity was maddening, would a truly crazy person wonder about it though? Cleo could ask the other inmates if she ever got out of this cursed room. She would have to get over her fear the sight of them had brought.

The Lady understood something in that particular recollection. The cells were different. Their gates consisted of iron bars, wich meant aeration, something absent from her room. Only a small gap between the floor and the bottom of the thick, oaken door allowed the air to circulate. The young woman had a different regimen from the other residents, she concluded. She was inhaling a considerably higher amount of smoke, the question being why. Was Cleo so crazed she needed more of the treatment? Or was she originally sane and someone wanted to prevent her wits from returning? There were always more questions, when did she begin to hate those?

As a student, she used to love questions. There were always more answers to look for, new things to discover, possibilities seemed endless at the time. Cleo recalled being a nightmare to her tutors, she used to debate everything they taught her. She would not just sit and listen obediently like the other dull children. The ones who accepted blindly everything they heard from teachers as truth. She despised scholars who seemed satisfied to only read books and stock their contents in their brains. Intelligence was so much more than mere memory.

Authors were people, and as such they were unreliable. They could write false truths, whether on purpose or by mistake. They could be complete idiots even, and if you were not careful, you could find yourself believing their rantings. History was different from one country to the other, the same event ending up with a dozen different versions. Science evolved with each discovery. Theories accepted as truths for hundreds of years could be then discarded as erroneous one day. One had to question everything they learned if they wanted knowledge, real knowledge.

Cleo snapped out of her reverie as she heard the sound of footsteps. It was time and she had to decide something, interrogations were getting her nowhere at the moment. She was not a student anymore. Let us apply logical thinking, she told herself. It was simple really, Cleo was either demented or she was not. There was not much she could do about the first. And If she was not, it meant there was an entity plotting against her. Cleo would fight this enemy, she decided, be it imaginary or not. She would play the part of the harmless, drugged girl and fool 'them'. She sat down on the bed and steeled herself for battle. Enemies were at the gates, she had to ready her weapons.

Cleo stared at the blackened ceiling, opened her mouth and she began drooling.

****

Cleo woke up in a haze and it worried her. She had inhaled fumes, despite tying the gifted cloth over her face as soon as the whites had left. Her memories were a mess and she grew more anxious. The young woman opened her eyes to the view of the city by night, and it eased her a bit. The fact that she remembered it as well as today events calmed her. A quick glance around revealed the shape of a man, probably Ben. She squinted her eyes to confirm it.

"What in god's name do you think you are doing?" She exclaimed, before gasping in shock and turning her head away.

"Hey, Cleo! Yer awake. Didn't take long this once. Good thing, was starvin'." Ben responded behind her.

Cleo had forgotten his irritating habit of ignoring her questions to go on about other matters. She heard him rummaging through his things and moving around, making her the more uncomfortable. The man was drawing close now, and that was definitely not a proper thing do, not in the current situation.

"Could you please put some clothes on!" She almost shouted. He laughed in response, what an infuriating scoundrel.

"But I jus' put 'em out to dry. Hate smellin', 'specially of 'em damn sewers." He protested. "Damn, what's with'em civilized folks, they prefer ya stink than see ya nakid. What's wrong with nakid?" He grumbled.

"I cannot begin to contemplate what would happen if everyone had the same views as you." She protested against his absurd statement.

"Guess folks woud spend more time humpin' and less killin'. Woud be great actually." He chuckled. Cleo had no arguments at the moment, despite how ludicrous the idea sounded. But she was certainly not going to argue about decency with a naked man.

"Reckon 'em godfolks sure woud lose their marbles though." He laughed again. What a daunting scene that would be. She felt her mouth curve up a little picturing the scene.

"Get dressed Ben, now." She commanded him after regaining her complexion.

"Aye, Aye." He sighed and made more rummaging sounds. "Ya can turn yer head now, m'lady."

Cleo sighed in relief and went back to face the young man. He was wearing the same outfit as before, only drenched in water this time. The deep, dark circles around his eyes combined with the stench made for a pitiful picture. The woman was not going to comment on the odor though, she had just seen the alternative. Ben held out a small bag to her and she took it curiously. The contents revealed themselves to be a loaf of bread and some cheese. Cleo almost squealed in delight, but she held herself and shot Ben a glance.

"Go on girl, eat. Yer too much skinny to be shy 'bout it." He grinned.

It was food, food that was not brown sloth nor brown soup, she marveled. And she could eat it without a wrinkled old nun shoving a spoon down her throat. Cleo had suffered the process for four years, and she was glad she could only remember a few days of it. She muttered her thanks to Ben for such an amazing present, before forgetting propierty and wolfing it down.

The Lady was thankful for the meal, but even more for getting out of the room and its promise of madness. She did not enjoy owing such debt to someone though, let alone a thief. What about the next day? Would she have to spend it waiting anxiously for rescue as well?

"I would be most grateful if you could consider teaching me about picking my cell's lock." Cleo asked. She could not rely on Ben forever.

"Sure. Jus' wait for the smoke to be gone." He said. She looked at him, he was staring at her with an undecipherable expression. The young woman swallowed and paused in realization. Where had her manners gone to? Ben was exhausted, filthy and obviously not wealthy. She split her meal in two and gave him half, he grunted in appreciation. God, the thief was almost as starved as she was, Cleo observed as he went on eating with gluttony.

"How's yer head?" He said between bites.

"I believe to be doing rather well, thank you. Though I admit some concern since I breathed enough drugs to fall asleep." She pointed.

" 'Is fine, better than quittin' all of a sudden. Happened to Mae once and wasn't a pretty sight I tell ya." He reassured her. That explained the strange hunger but she did not enjoy the idea of being an addict. She had to free herself from her madness, her cell and now there was a third prison.

"Sure ya recall everythin'? Didn't fix yer hair." He observed.

"I decided against it. I presumed taking care of my hair might look peculiar or worse, suspicious, to my jailers."

"Learn anychin new wich yer chribbin?" Ben asked with his mouth full. It took her a few moments to translate, between the thick accent, the butchering of grammar and the food in the way.

"I could not make sense of my own writings, if you could believe it." She sighed before throwing herself back on her meal.

"Take yer time lass, got a'plenty before yer lesson. Here, drink some or yer gonna choke." He held out a small gourd to her. Cleo grabbed it gladly for her throat was dry, and its content revealed to be wine. She took a few careful sips before giving it back.

Once done with their supper, they sat in silence for a while, digesting. The Lady was taking in the sight. Anything was a better spectacle than her room's walls, even blurry house shapes and distant lights. Ben lied down, resting on his back, hands beneath his neck.

"Gravelroy, the free city. Center of world trade and crime. Perhaps the richest, most populated metropolis of the continent" Cleo mused out loud, recalling some of her teachings.

"Folks here don't look rich much to me. More like starvin' " Ben objected.

"Here, as everywhere else really, wealth is divided between only a handful of individuals."

"Why's 'tis so rich? The town I mean." He asked.

"Because of trade, mostly done by sea. The harbor connects the empire, the eastern kingdoms as well as the overseas continent and its islands. A number of countries do not commerce with one another because of wars between them. Those can legally exchange goods they otherwise could not, through this very place. Gravelroy makes an impressive profit on such trades, through its harbour." She recited, and congratulated her memory inwardly.

"Call 'emselves the kingdoms union now. The ones in the east that is." Ben corrected her.

"Oh. I imagine I am not entirely up to date on the topic of politics." She remarked bitterly. She wondered what else she had missed, the world had probably changed quite a bit during four years.

"But if Gravelroy got so much gold, why no king takes it? 'Is only one town, and the walls are shit I tell ya." He said.

"Because Ben, any army foolish enough to attack this city would incur the wrath of every other country around the sea. They all need it but they cannot steal it, amazing, really." She marveled.

"Oh. Makes sense. Like when ya see a pile of stuff and ya want the one at the bottom. Can't grab it else the whole lot falls on yer feet." He said. She nodded awkwardly at his simplistic comparison.

"Thought it was the smell." He added. She raised an eyebrow. "Thought no king would go near the damn place 'cause it stinks so much." He chuckled.

"Quite the surprising remark, coming from someone covered in filth himself." She pointed.

"I hear ya, gotta find 'other way in if I come visit ya again. Hate goin' through water in this damn city." He grunted. Cleo felt foolish, cursed tongue! The man went through an ordeal to help her and she berated him. She tried changing the subject.

"I assume from the way you talk that you are not local originally. You used to be a soldier, as you mentioned yesterday. How does one go from member of the imperial army to burglar in Gravelroy, if I may ask?."

"I'm from the Wilds. Not much chance to avoid war back there. If ya want to be 'round people, that is. Ya can if yer lucky and know yer shit, but was too small then, been in it since I was ten."

"Surely the Emperor's forces would not recruit boys so young?" She interrupted, shocked.

"Dunno 'bout yer empire, wasn't with 'em at the time. Mercenaries though, they take boys for camp duties till they old enough to hold a spear." Ben shrugged.

"How did you come into his Majesty's service then?"

"Did a lot of fighting. Then..." He paused as if recalling something painful. "Then didn't care much 'bout who I fought for. Figured, might as well fight for the ones that win. Fought for many different lords, don't recall all their names. Till yer brother came with the new empire. Say one thing for the lad, say he wins a lot."

It seemed a foreign way of life to Cleo. How could one trust someone whose loyalty went along with the wind? She remembered people she had known, Brother among them, talking about honor, duty and loyalty. She did not care much for war, -she thought it an incredible waste of ressources- but those were the reason the men invoked. She had a recollection of arguing about the point of warfare against her father's knights. The Lady could not possibly understand they said, she was after all, only a woman. The fools had chestnuts for brains and they had the nerve to look down on her!

Young Cleo had lost her temper at the time, berating the men and yelling at them. She did not see the honor in sending thousands to die, only so a few others could fill their coffers and draw new lines on a map. The outburst had been severely punished. The soldiers had gone on avoiding her like the plague afterward, but the worst had been Brother's reaction. She had criticized the way of life he was aspiring to, in public, and quite harshly so. Could it have been, Cleo asked herself, that day she had thought of? The day things went wrong between the both of them? No she corrected, as the first incident came back to her. It had taken her months to patch up their relationship after the scene, but it had still been a good one. Cursed sharp tongue, her father used to call it.

"Does the change in station not bother you? Why would one go from soldier in a prestigious army, to... common thief?" She asked. Brother's army, she could not help but feel some pride despite her conflicting opinions.

"Why woud it? Reckon robbin' folks is better than killin' 'em." Ben shrugged. His explanation gave her pause.

" 'Course I know folks respect soldiers and spit on thieves, but 'tis jus' them bein' stupid. Like 'em folks look down at Mae 'cause she's a whore. Her job is making men feel good. How's that worse than stealin' or stickin' a sword through 'em? World' be better with more harlots 'n less warriors I reckon." He continued. She found herself agreeing on the idea that making a living out of death was not worthy of praise. But his piece about the status of prostitutes, soldiers, and petty criminals was something new.

"That was an interesting piece of wisdom Ben, I thank you." She said, impressed. She would never have imagined listening to a thought-provoking statement made by a criminal. Much less this particular one.

"Stop pullin' my leg. Been called lots of things, but wise ain't one of them." He frowned.

They stayed silent for a bit afterward. Ben seemed to be tired so Cleo let him rest and she set out to stretch her legs around the roof. It was old and not very well maintained so she treaded carefully, enjoying her tiny little freedom. She felt overjoyed. She was walking in a space ten times bigger than she was used to. She had had a meal, amazingly different from her routine one. She also had a conversation, a rather peculiar one, but it had been better than those she had with her walls. Ben would not stop to startle her. It was quite difficult to form an opinion about the man. One moment she viewed the him as an uneducated ruffian, the next one he surprised her with kindness. He had not even asked anything in return so far, and now he had made her reconsider some of her social conceptions.

The strangest part was his plain lack of pride or self-consciousness, it was an alien trait to Cleo. Pride and propriety were everything among nobles, in her old world. Pride she understood, for if someone had none, they obviously were going at life the wrong way. She had always considered propriety to be quite silly however, but brother had required it from her, so she had complied. It seemed even sillier in her current situation, but it was all she had left of her previous life.

"Right, I remember some of what Mae said!" He exclaimed, pulling her away from her considerations. She tilted her head at him.

"Said I shoud ask if ya know stuff 'bout rich folk houses 'round here. Ya bein' a lady and all." He continued. Oh, she thought, there it is. She sighed. Well, he was a thief after all.

"I owe you a great debt Ben, and I will do everything in my power to repay it when I can, but for the moment not much comes to mind." She said coldly. Criminal activities were against her morals while repaying kindness was not. Her being in a desperate situation was dangerously close to tilting the scales though.

"Know is not very noble and shit, but Mae is sick and them doctors are damn expensive. Figured ya coul find a few lords that deserve some robin', plus ya'd get yer share." He said, trying to persuade her.

Cleo scowled at him. He had the nerve to try bribing her. Right when she had begun to trust Ben a little, he had shattered it by revealing his motives. Considering to rely on a thief was naive at best, and being disappointed when he proved well... criminal even more so. He had come to her with information, meaning he had done some research beforehand. He then had offered help and comfort to gain her trust. And now he was asking her, nonchalantly, to help him enrich himself. How manipulative. Ben rolled his eyes at her.

"Come on lass, yer not in a spot to frown at some thievin'." He said.

"You are right. I will do what I can to reimburse you but that does not signify I approve of the means." She answered acidly.

"Don't like it myself, it was up to me I'd be in the deep Wilds huntin' and leavin' folks alone. But Mae's sick, we need the money. Can find weeds but they jus' ease pain. Won't cure her with no doctor and 'em assholes cost a damn lot." He sounded a bit desperate now.

She relaxed a little. He was doing it for someone else, someone in need apparently. It did not change the nature of his deeds but that was a somewhat laudable reason. If she was going to believe it, she amended.

"Reckon it should be 'bout time. Come on, stop with the damn frownin', ya got a lesson to take. Can't come free ya every night, man's gotta eat."