A Scholar's Plea

Jorgen sheathed his dagger and picked up Althea's small knife from the ground. The marks on the blade indicated that it had accompanied its owner for quite a while. He held the knife in his palm and extended it to Delta, saying, "Take this, and if you have the chance, give it back to her."

Delta took it, wrapped it in a handkerchief, and put it in his pocket. He wanted to say something but found it difficult to find the right words.

Jorgen noticed Delta's expression. "I won't report what happened just now to the mayor, don't worry. I think Althea herself doesn't intend to spread it either. Let's consider this as if it never happened. So, from now on, don't talk about it either. Understand?" He understood that a strong-willed child like Althea would not want to spread something that hurt her pride.

"I understand, Lord Jorgen. So, for now..."

"If there's nowhere else you want to visit, then head back, Dalia," Jorgen said. He realized he had adopted a commanding tone.

Dalia didn't respond, and she directly boarded the carriage. On the way back to the inn, she stared out of the carriage window. After a while, it started to drizzle. Raindrops pierced through the purple mist of the twilight forest, hitting the roofs of the low houses and the gaps in the broken bricks of the walls. The sky became even darker, and candles were lit in some houses. Those houses on higher ground illuminated the rain curtain in the air through their windows.

Jorgen drew the curtain of his side of the carriage window and turned to look at Dalia. Raindrops drifted in through the open window near her. A water droplet slid down her neck slowly, the golden strand of hair on her forehead sticking to her skin due to the moisture.

"Dalia, close the curtain."

She didn't respond.

"I said close the curtain."

Still, she didn't respond. A raindrop slid down her neck, absorbed by the patterns on the collar.

Don't tell me you're acting childishly like Althea. But right now, I really don't have the patience for all this. Although he wanted to say this, he swallowed the words down considering Delta was sitting in the front seat. They had already shown too many signs of a relationship that surpassed the protector and the protected. Although Delta wasn't as complex as someone scheming, it was better to avoid unnecessary assumptions on his part.

Jorgen had to lean forward and pull Dalia's curtain shut himself. Since he extended his right hand to the left side of their seats, he ended up close to Dalia's back. He wanted to finish this quickly, suppressing the urge to observe her from the corner of his eye. Dalia leaned back to give him space to work, but they were still close enough that Jorgen could feel her breath on his cheek. He didn't see her eyes, but he couldn't avoid glimpsing her tightly pressed lips and a transparent droplet that had landed on her upper lip, indulging in the bright hint of pale red. It occurred to Jorgen in this strangely cautious moment that he couldn't recall ever experiencing such an awkward situation, even when they had first met over a decade ago.

His right hand found the curtain hook, and he pulled, but it seemed to get stuck. When he pulled a bit harder for a second time, the carriage suddenly came to a halt. Delta, in the front seat, leaned out to look outside and then immediately disembarked.

From around the corner of a small alley, the old man Abercrombie, who had taken away the dog earlier, suddenly emerged, blocking the carriage's path. The coachman had to stop immediately. He was soaked from head to toe, using his right hand to wipe his eyes as he walked toward the carriage.

"You old fool, what do you want?" Delta approached and grabbed the collar of his robe. "Don't you want to live anymore? Then find a quiet place to rot in peace! Don't come in front of the carriage and bother others."

"Get out of my way, I'm not looking for you..." Abercrombie tried to pull away Delta's hand that was holding onto him, but his weak fingers barely had any strength, and he couldn't even take a step.

"What's going on?" Jorgen stepped out of the carriage and walked toward the entangled pair.

"I... I want to see Lady Dalia," Abercrombie's voice sounded hoarser and more muffled due to the robe's collar pressing against his throat. "I heard she's from the Stormwind Council and a kind lady. Please, let me see her. I have something important to tell her."

"Of all days, trouble after trouble, and now this old man also comes to bother us..." Delta finally vented the frustration that had built up since the morning. He then used his right hand to push away Abercrombie's chin that was almost touching his, moving the dirty and damp beard away from him. "Hurry up and go home to be with your consumptive wife!"

Unable to push away Delta, Abercrombie leaned backward, raising his voice. "Lady Dalia, Lady Dalia! I want to discuss something important with you. It's urgent, I..."

Jorgen intended to approach and inquire, but Dalia disembarked from the carriage.

"Let him go, I want to hear what he has to say."

Knowing that Delta wasn't likely to listen to his advice, Jorgen reluctantly released his grip on Abercrombie's hand. The old man stumbled and fell to the ground but managed to get back up. Brushing the mud off his robe on both sides, he took a step closer to Dalia but stopped at a respectful distance of about eight feet.

"Lady Dalia, I just heard that you're a special envoy from Stormwind City and a philanthropist. No, it's not that I just found out... I actually knew about you for a while. The beloved Lady Dalia, admired by thousands of adults and children... hehe, it just took me a bit to remember, and then I came running. I've wanted to see you in person for a long time, you see..."

Next, Abercrombie launched into a long string of flattery. His speech was rapid, but his pronunciation was stumbling and syllables were often tangled up together. He strained his eyes open wide, even though rainwater was hanging from his eyelashes. His hands were clasped together above his stomach, and his thumbs nervously tapped against each other.

"What's your purpose? Just say it." Jorgen intervened. "Otherwise, Lady Dalia will keep getting rained on."

"Oh... sorry, terribly sorry! Well, you see... maybe you two don't know, but I can confidently say that I'm the most respected alchemist in Darkshire. Truly, fifteen years ago, I even attended an alchemist conference in Stormwind. I'm working on something incredibly important, very significant, and it's almost complete. I've poured all my knowledge from decades into it, and I can actually say it's a success already. But... for so many years, I've been purchasing research materials from the merchant Tunnadus in town. He still owes me a bottle of sedative, and once I have it, I'll finish my research immediately. But this despicable Tunnadus... just at this crucial moment, not only did he fail to provide the sedative he promised long ago, but he's also been spreading rumors that I've been owing him money! I don't blame him for not understanding the significance of research as a commoner, but he's taken advantage of the situation and is extorting me. It's like the behavior of a fraudster..."

"Do you want me to do something? Put him in jail?" Dalia asked.

"No, no, no. I just want to get the sedative that belongs to me. So... if you're willing to talk to him... No, no! Such a sneaky and despicable person doesn't have the right to talk to Lady Dalia. So, what I mean is..."

"Do you want me to support you financially?"

"Yes, exactly, but I'm not asking for too much. Because once my research is done, I'll definitely repay you doubly..."

"Scholars seeking assistance must register, write a detailed proposal, and then apply through their affiliated academy. Have you completed all these preparations?"

"I've participated in academy salons, submitted papers... Many people recognize the significance of my research and believe it's groundbreaking..."

"So, you don't have formal credentials as an alchemist. I'm sorry, I can't help you." She walked back to the carriage door. "Jorgen, Mr. Delta, let's go."

"No, formal credentials aren't the key here, Lady Dalia. You must understand. Please, just wait a little longer."

"Did you hear that? I told you to leave quickly." Delta pushed Abercrombie away. "What a waste of time..."

Both Jorgen and Dalia returned to the carriage. As it started moving again, Abercrombie stood there for a while, then took a few steps as the carriage passed, his hoarse voice fading in the rain.

"Mortals can't understand, but you surely can, Lady Dalia... for the sake of my research, for my wife..."

Abercrombie's actions didn't attract much attention from passersby. They glanced at him and then looked away. The townspeople of Darkshire were no longer surprised by the eccentric behavior of this mad old man.

When the carriage returned to the inn, the rain had stopped. Jorgen got out of the carriage first, planning to open the door for Dalia, but she had already stepped out on her own. They went back to her room, and when the maids came to change her wet clothes, Jorgen said, "Wait outside," and shooed them away, closing the door behind them.

"Now it's just the two of us," Jorgen said. "You've been acting quite strangely today, Dalia."

The room's windows were open, and rain had dampened the feathers of the white dove. Dalia moved the birdcage to the edge of the table, and the dove fluttered its wings.

"There's nothing strange about me. It's you who did something unexpected, dealing with a fourteen-year-old like that."

"Do I need to explain the reasons behind that? Protecting, that's my job. Remember your current status, Dalia, a special envoy of the MI7. Also remember my identity, a direct agent. Acting so childishly and having a tantrum like that, can you imagine what the townspeople would think?"

"I admit I was wrong in that aspect, but... she wouldn't actually stab me."

"How do you know she wouldn't? Someone who could draw a weapon that quickly doesn't intend to just scare you. And it was your words that provoked her. When she charged at you, you got scared, realized you were in danger, and took a step back. I saw all of that."

"Yes, I was scared. But what about her? You terrified her to the point where she nearly lost her senses. She didn't even realize she was bleeding, Jorgen. You should know it wasn't necessary to go that far. A fourteen-year-old girl shouldn't have to face such things..."

"Have you been doing charity work for so long that you've forgotten how the world really is? What does being fourteen matter? She's already capable of wielding a weapon to kill. Do you know how many children of eight or nine become child soldiers in this world? Aren't they among the beneficiaries of your fundraising efforts? The you from ten years ago wouldn't have been so shocked by this..."

Halfway through that sentence, Jorgen realized the destructive undercurrent it held. But he still said it because he believed he was right and because he recognized that he didn't actually want to argue with her, not at all. The clearer he became about this, the less he could allow his emotional bias to slide toward the side that unsettled him.

"Perhaps you're right," Dalia said, looking into Jorgen's eyes. "I suppose the you from ten years ago wouldn't have done this either. Now, please leave. I should change out of my wet clothes."