Yesterday's Enemy [AoT]

MEMOIRS OF HAVAS [06]

'Judgement is self-administered.'

-An extract from traditional Havasian scriptures.

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MEMOIRS OF HAVAS

06

Wall Maria, North Region, Havas, Western O'Haen

The news of Tamsin Hyde's suicide soon engulfed the valley. A month had passed since that day— a month since her goddaughter had witnessed the slicing of her neck, the blood on the snow, and had come trudging home bearing a corpse.

     The circumstances surrounding her death were kept strictly private. The funeral was brief, silent, and tension-ridden. No reports were made about how her death occurred. No explanations were given about why it had happened at the ruins of the Bervik manor, of all places.

     Tamsin Hyde was mourned quietly, and then her death disappeared into the depths of nobility's secrets. By the end of the month, all that remained of her was a few scattered whispers and the ghost story of the woman who had raised Havas' leader-to-be.

     Among the whisperers was Warren Krüger. Now a man of twenty, he had grown bitter with age.

     His father had died down the mines, as most miners do, and had passed his meagre legacy to his son. Thus, no grand future had awaited Warren, and he lived out the beginning of his adulthood as he had his childhood, down the dingy depths of Havasian goldmines. He toiled hour after hour, covered in soot, searching high and low for that golden prize that would earn him his next meal. His body wasted, his hands grew rougher and rougher, and his scars more plentiful. But every time that screeching metal elevator came to collect him and all the men damned to the same fate, he would climb aboard all the same. It was that... or he wouldn't eat.

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On a cold Monday morning, after working a long night shift, Warren emerged from the mines. He dumped his gear in his locker, made a point to avoid the chatter of his colleagues who always reeked of sweat and blood, and stepped out into the dawn mist.

     The valley still slept. He trudged his way through the snowy streets of town, bandaging the fresh cuts and scrapes on his hands, and dwelled on his misfortunes. What I wouldn't give for a hot meal.

     It had been a hard shift. Some other poor unfortunate had called in sick, too much soot in the lungs, and Warren had been forced onto the rota in his place. Though, he still had a shift the coming night.

     Some other workers might have rejoiced at the extra hours, but miners only ate when they found enough shiny stuff to satiate their fat aristocrat buyers for a few days. And he hadn't found anything. Pockets light, clothes too thin for the winter chill, Warren kept walking, his stomach grumbling in protest.

     The valley had been abnormally tense this past month. The mysterious death of Tamsin Hyde hung heavy over the place like a poison cloud. There was always something going on with these noble families— someone died, someone was a murderer, someone's wife had a lover. Ordinarily, Warren wouldn't fuss about such rubbish, but Lorelai was involved.

     He couldn't tell you why he was so obsessed with her. She'd bullied him as children and only danced with him once, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Thus, he always paid attention whenever she became the subject of the gossip always circulating.

     'She killed her godmother!'

     'Mrs Hyde was a spy from the Walls, and our valiant leader exacted righteous judgement upon her!'