"Hey, have you heard about that new office that opened up off Main street? Just turn a corner into Peony Lane, beside that old bookstore."
The clinking of tankards and the murmur of conversation in The Gilded Mug usually drowned out any single voice, but Elara's voice, though not loud, carried a particular weight.
She was an older woman, her face lined with the wisdom of too many seasons, and her pronouncements often silenced the room.
"It's true," she continued, pushing her empty mug across the scarred wooden table. "Heard about it myself. A specialist, they say. For... untying the knot."
A ripple went through the tavern. Most of the patrons were good, honest folk who believed in the sanctity of marriage, and the very idea of "untying the knot" often brought a grimace to their faces. The Goddess smiled upon unions, not their unraveling.
"Untying?" scoffed a burly farmer named Gred, wiping ale foam from his beard. "Sounds like something the Shadow Weaver would peddle! What kind of god-fearing soul would do such a thing?"
Another regular, a timid weaver named Lyra, piped up, her voice barely audible. "My cousin… she was telling me. She saw the sign. It's… The Cleaved Knot Legal Services." She wrung her hands. "They say it's run by a woman. A lady."
A hushed awe, mixed with suspicion, fell over the group. A lady lawyer, specializing in dissolving marriages? In a kingdom where nuptials were so frequent and so divinely sanctioned, it was almost scandalous.
"A lady, eh?" Gred grumbled, though a flicker of curiosity crossed his face. "And what does she do? Wave a wand and make the vows disappear?" In a mocking tone "The High Priestess would have her burned for heresy!"
Elara chuckled, a dry, rustling sound like autumn leaves. "Not quite, Gred. From what I hear, she doesn't break the vows; she simply… explains them. Or rather, she explains when they were already broken."
She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with a knowing glint.
"Because what happens when the undying love dies? When the family alliance turns to bitter feuding, and kin refuse to speak? What happens when the sweet words of affection become curses, flung like stones, leaving wounds far deeper than any blade?"
A silence, heavier than before, descended. Many in the room had seen it, or lived it. The whispers of cruelty behind closed doors, the strained smiles at festivals, the cold beds and colder hearts.
"And," Elara continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "What happens when one gentle touch… becomes a fist? When bruises, dark and ugly, bloom on skin that was once cherished?"
Her aged gaze swept across the faces of the women in the room, some of whom subtly shifted their weight, their eyes dropping to their laps.
"Or," she finished, her voice rising slightly, "if there's simply nothing left to give? No love, no respect, no duty. Just an empty shell, held together only by fear of the Goddess's disapproval or the town's wagging tongues."
The farmer Gred remained quiet, his bluster gone. Even Lyra looked thoughtful. The words hung in the air, echoing the unspoken anxieties and hidden pains that lay beneath the perfectly polished surface of their kingdom's marital bliss. The Goddess might oversee unions, but she did not, it seemed, intervene in the quiet, brutal reality of their decay.
"So," Elara concluded, taking a deep, satisfied breath, "this 'Cleaved Knot' office… maybe it's not for the Goddess. Maybe it's for us. For those of us who need a way out when 'death do us part' feels more like a prison sentence than a promise."
Across the tavern, a lone figure, cloaked and hooded despite the warmth of the day, rose from a shadowed corner table. She had been listening intently, her gaze fixed on Elara. With a soft clink of coins left on the table, she slipped out into the bustling street, a subtle, almost imperceptible air of imperial grace in her stride, heading in the direction of Peony Lane.
The name "The Cleaved Knot Legal Services" seemed to hum in the air before her, a beacon for those who sought not just a legal dissolution, but a chance at freedom.
Unlocking the door as she slips in silently, flipping over the open sign to close. A woman in maid clothing came closer to the cloaked individual.
"Welcome back, Bethel"
The figure, still cloaked, nodded subtly to the maid, her movements fluid and economical.
She reached up and pulled back the hood, revealing a face that was strikingly beautiful yet composed, with eyes that held both deep intelligence and a trace of something unreadable.
A notable single amber earing on her left ear. Her dark hair, braided intricately, gleamed even in the dim light of the office.
"Thank you, Lydia," she said, her voice low and clear, completely devoid of the casual chatter one might expect after a trip to a tavern. It was a voice accustomed to being heard, but also to carefully chosen words.
"Any urgent messages while I was out?"
Lydia, a woman with a kind face and efficient movements, shook her head.
"No, Just a few inquiries from new hopefuls, all asking the usual hesitant questions. And a delivery from the market—fresh ink and parchment, as you requested."
She walked deeper into the office. It was a space designed for quiet contemplation and serious counsel.
Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with legal books, historical records, and texts on societal customs, all meticulously organized.
A large, sturdy desk dominated the center, covered with neatly stacked files and a single, unlit oil lamp. The air smelled faintly of old parchment and lavender.
She moved to the desk, her fingers tracing the smooth, dark wood. "Good. The inquiries can wait until morning. For now, just a quiet evening." She paused, her gaze drifting to the window, where the last sliver of twilight painted the sky.
"Did you hear anything in the market today, Lydia? Any… new rumors?"
Lydia hesitated, then wrung her hands slightly. "Just the usual, my lady. Folk talking about the upcoming spring weddings, and… well, this office on Peony Lane. Some curious, some… less so. Old Man Tiber from the bakery was grumbling about 'upsetting the balance,' but Madam Elara from the Mug was singing your praises."
A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched her lips. "Elara is an interesting person with a keen eye for truth." She turned from the window, her expression returning to its customary composure.
"Prepare a light supper for me, Lydia. And then you may retire. It promises to be a busy week."
As Lydia bustled away, she shed her cloak, revealing a simple, dark blouse and trousers beneath—practical attire, a stark contrast to the silks and jewels she was born to wear.
She moved to the bookshelves, her hand hovering over a particular section: Marriage laws.
Her fingers paused, then pressed on a hidden wooden panel. It slid open, revealing a worn box. With a wave of her hand above it, a regal seal shimmered into existence and vanished just as quickly.
The lid flung open, showing its contents: three rings. A promise ring, an engagement ring, and finally, a wedding ring.
She picked up the wedding ring, its engraving a stark contrast to this quiet office. A name she no longer goes by, a small but heavy exchange.
She sneered at it. "Disgusting," she murmured, letting it slip from her grasp, falling back into it's box with the rest.
Her eyes were emotionless as she stared down at these scraps of fine craftsmanship. They weren't kept for sake of sentimental value or a desire for another chance.
No... these rings were a reminder... that she was no longer that naive girl, believing marriage would be fun way to deal with boredom. It was... just not for her...
With a careless toss back inside the hidden compartment of her bookshelves. Ripping off the leather gloves immediately, not wanting the taint of filth to spread into her skin.
A knock on the office door gained her attention. "Bethel, Madam Elara had come to visit." Lydia announced.
"Let her in, Lydia," She commanded, her voice regaining its earlier composure, though a subtle thread of curiosity laced her tone.
The soft click of the latch announced Elara's presence, the same face she'd watched earlier. Elara stepped into the office, her eyes, sharp and knowing as ever, sweeping over the meticulously ordered space.
"So..." Taking a seat on the sofa, a casual air hung about her. Unlike what would be expected of an aged woman.
"So, what did you think of my little sermon? Reckon it ruffled a few feathers?" Elara spoke words with such flair, it would be difficult to believe she wasn't apart of a theater trope during her younger years.
"I found it to be insignificant, hopefully one of those 'feathers' dawn my doorstep."
Watching Elara performance helped reveal the audience concerns... especially their fears.
"Bethel, there might be a few unsavory clients..." voicing out her own worries for the young woman.
She chuckled "I figure since what I'm attempting to do won't sit right in anyone stomachs..."
Elegantly seating across from Madam Elara, deciding what to say to ease her mind. Bethel couldn't out right and tell Elara everything is going to be alright. She isn't that optimistic about such possibilities.
"But if I don't start here, in the Kingdom of Cinderite where the first church was established. Then any hope of ending doom marriages that doesn't result in a spouse death goes out the window"
It's true, marriages are sacred events, filled with people strongest beliefs. A deeply woven in every person mind since a young age. They were taught to endured when things spiral, towards uncharted territory. Believing everything would be great again...
Turning a blind eye, trying not to see the ruins around them...
"They might end up loathing me far more then lovely mistresses, handsome paramour, and those occasional prostitutes found in dark alleys." Leaning back in her seat. Bethel can already heard those prepared vulgar words.
"No doubt those people will start calling you a homewrecker after your first successful case"
With a careless laughter, Elara tries to lighten the mood. She came here to see how Bethel was doing...
After opening up this office two months ago, business had yet to pick up. Nobles and commoners alike are wary of a place that break apart relationships. A few people might see it as an advantage, discarding a former spouse for a better one.
But that doesn't sit well with Bethel, One problem at a time, I need to land a client first before coming up with solutions for any aftermath.
Glancing at Elara, sipping tea Lydia had prepare. She noticed her maid's restrained movements, Lydia trying to hold herself back from speaking her mind.
"Lydia? Come, sit beside me." Patting the spot, hesitates written over her expression. Since it was an order from her Lady, she complied as Elara quietly watches from across them.
Taking Lydia hand into her own, "What's wrong? Usually you would sit down with us without needing to be asked too. But today I don't see my lively friend who can swear better then sailors... talk to me" Bethel convert her sincere care for Lydia.
To Bethel, Lydia wasn't just a servant, she been her dearest friend for years. Someone she would call an older sister, someone that knows her past, someone that knows her real name...
"I'm-" squeezing her lady hand before continuing, "I'm worry, Madam Elara is right. What if someone breaks in the middle of the night and hurt you! What if they throw stones while you are walking out the courthouse! What if.." droplets of water rain down on their joint hands.
"Hic What if... you disappeared, I wouldn't be able to do anything to help you, Lady O-" quietly saying Bethel original name as she bought their hands close to her face. Failing to hold back tears as it paint her face. "What then my lady..?"
Elara cleared her throat, breaking the heavy silence. "That's why you need proper protection, Bethel."
Her gaze was serious now, devoid of its usual playful twinkle. "Lydia's worries are sound. You're stirring a hornet's nest, child."
Bethel pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, gently dabbing Lydia's tears. "I understand the risks, Elara. I always have."
"Understanding and preparing are two different things," Elara countered, leaning forward. "This isn't just about public opinion, Bethel. It's about safety. Yours, Lydia's, and the future clients who will put their trust in you."
She gestured around the office. "You have a strong lock on that door, but what about when you step out? What about late-night visitors who aren't looking for legal counsel?"
Bethel sighed. "I can't afford a full guard detail, Elara. My funds are… limited, especially with business being so slow."
"I know, I know." Elara waved a dismissive hand. "But I wasn't thinking of a guard detail. More like… a live-in bodyguard." Her eyes lit up with a new idea. "Someone discreet. Someone who blends in. A mercenary."
Bethel scoffed. "A mercenary? Elara, do you know what mercenaries charge? Two thousand coins a month, at least, for even the simplest protection. I can offer a man, or woman, a mere five hundred coins a month, including room and meals. A farmhand could make double that in a week!"
Elara nodded slowly, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "Precisely. Which is why I'll go to the Guilds tomorrow. It'll be a long shot, a quarter of the usual rate, but... there are always those who don't fit in. Those who are looking for something different. Or perhaps... someone who doesn't mind a roof over their head."
She rose, her dry chuckle echoing in the quiet office. "Don't fret, child. We'll find you a wolf who's willing to guard the lamb for less than a full bounty. And who knows," she added, her gaze lingering on the two young women she had grown to care for, "perhaps it will be someone you wouldn't even realize you needed."
With a final, knowing smile, Elara turned and let herself out, leaving Bethel and Lydia in the heavy silence of the office.
"Is that going to be a good idea?" Lydia asked Bethel, voice still sore from crying..
'It's a 50/50 chance. Anything can happen, drawing up a contract ahead of time could help.' Taking on a gambler approach on such matters. She couldn't deny both Lydia's concerns and Elara's reasoning.
Standing up, "Elara has a good eye for people, if not, we would had never gotten out of Port Sterling safely..."
Reminding Lydia of their first encounter with Elara ease the weight off her shoulders.
With a gentle smile Bethel put out her hand, "Let's have supper together, tomorrow is a new day after all."