Chapter 45 — Redemption


    <strong><span ss="userText">[Isolde]</strong>


    <span ss="userText">Life wasn''t easy for Isolde, but she always did what was necessary to survive. Selling her body was necessary to feed her starving family, save her ill mother, and provide for her siblings. It wasn''t a pretty life, but it was the only way to get through those harsh times. Everything changed, however, when her mother discovered what she was doing. This was a few weeks after the incident with Nivalis, who fled into the forest with her kids.


    <span ss="userText">The look of disgust, shame, and disappointment on her mother''s face was something Isolde would never forget. Even her siblings looked at her differently, as if she were nothing but a disgusting piece of filth. And the worst part was, they were right.


    <span ss="userText">As punishment, her mother kicked her out of the house, sending her away from their vige for good. Alone, desperate, cold, and hungry, Isolde wandered the roads without a destination. Eventually, she reached Valemor and ended up living on the streets, a ce where she truly belonged. But no matter how hard things got, Isolde never once considered returning to selling her body. No, that part of her life was over. She had made a promise to herself - never again, even if it meant starving to death.


    <span ss="userText">However, her decision made life much harder for her. Every day was a struggle to survive. She slept in dark, wet alleys, ate scraps, and fought for her ce amongst the others who lived the same miserable existence. It was the lowest of the low for Isolde. Days and nights blurred together in a haze of hunger and loneliness. But the worst part was when she realized she was pregnant. Her past deeds came back to haunt her.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde gave birth under the very bridge where she slept, hidden between two crates. It was the most difficult moment of her life - painful, terrifying, and exhausting. But all that seemed to disappear when she held her child in her arms. The pain, the suffering, the fear, all vanished. Only her son remained, so tiny and fragile that she feared a mere gust of wind could break him.


    <span ss="userText">That day, she vowed to her son that she would give him the best life possible. She promised to be a mother he could be proud of. She swore to love him, protect him, and make him happy. She named him Randal, her precious little Randal.


    <span ss="userText">But it was much easier to say than do. Being a parent was harder than she expected. The following months were a constant struggle. She couldn''t afford the cheapest food, couldn''t buy clothes for her son, and had to sleep under that damn bridge. She sold whatever she could, did odd jobs, and saved every coin she earned, though it was barely enough to live on.


    <span ss="userText">Everything changed one fateful day when she met a kind, gentle, and understanding priest who took pity on her and her child. This man ran a small church on a hill outside the city. He took her in, gave her food and shelter, and asked for nothing in return. It was a godsend, truly.


    <span ss="userText">The priest''s name was Father Martin. He was an old man, grey and wrinkled, perhaps covered in scars, but with a soft heart full of kindness and love for everyone in need. His brown robes were worn and tattered, and his hands were rough and calloused. He epted Isolde despite her past and her mistakes. He saw something good in her and treated her like a daughter, and she couldn''t be more grateful for that.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde and Randal have lived there ever since. Isolde works tirelessly, helping Father Martin with chores, cooking, cleaning, tending to the garden, and just about anything else. She does whatever she can to repay him for his kindness.


    <span ss="userText">Years have passed, and now, her life lookspletely different from what it used to be. She now lives in a cozy and warm room with her son, who is well-fed and safe.


    <span ss="userText">They even have a cat! Yes, a cat, the fluffy, ck beast named Shadow.


    <span ss="userText">It was all she could ask for, really. This was far more than she deserved.


    <span ss="userText">...


    <span ss="userText">— "Come on, my sweet boy, it''s time to go to bed." She gently brushed Randal''s ck hair aside and tucked him in, covering his tiny body with a warm nket. Isolde leaned forward and nted a soft kiss on his forehead.


    <span ss="userText">"Mama, will you tell me a story?" he mumbled sleepily. He stared at his mother with his golden eyes, blinking slowly.


    <span ss="userText">— "Sure, honey," she replied with a loving smile. "What would you like to hear?" <span ss="userText">her fingers traced his cheek<span ss="aiText">, caressing<span ss="userText"> his<span ss="aiText"> soft skin.


    <span ss="userText">Randal thought momentarily before answering, "Tell me about knights."


    <span ss="userText">— "Again? You really like them, don''t you?" Isolde chuckled softly, gettingfortable beside her son.


    <span ss="userText">"Yeah, they are awesome!" Randal''s eyes brightened as he smiled, showing off his missing front tooth. "Did you ever meet a real knight, Mama?"


    <span ss="userText">— "Maybe one or two," Isolde answered, smiling sadly.


    <span ss="userText">"Wow! Did they have armor and swords? Have you seen their house<span ss="aiText">''s symbol? <span ss="userText">What about their horses? And where..." Randal bombarded her with questions, his eyes filled with excitement. Suddenly, the sound of a knock interrupted his words.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde nced at the door, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. It is a bitte for someone to visit them, and Father Martin should be sleeping by now. ''Who could it be?'' She sighed, stood up, and headed towards the door, leaving her son alone in their bed.


    <span ss="userText">She wore a white nightgown that hid her feminine<span ss="aiText"> curves,<span ss="userText"> reaching<span ss="aiText"> down to her ankles. Her long,<span ss="userText"> ck<span ss="aiText"> hair was loose, cascading down her<span ss="userText"> shoulders and<span ss="aiText"> back. <span ss="userText">Her bare feet shuffled as she walked across the floor, and the wood creaked slightly under her weight.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde opened the door and saw Father Martin standing, wearing the same old brown robe. His hands were sped behind his back, and his expression was serious. "Good evening, my child," he said softly, bowing his head. "Sorry to disturb you thiste, but I need you at the infirmary. Please hurry."


    <span ss="userText">Isolde<span ss="aiText"> looked at the old priest and saw how exhausted he looked, how his shoulders hunched, and how his eyes seemed tired. "Of course, Father<span ss="editText"> Martin<span ss="aiText">. I''lle right away."


    <span ss="userText">Father Martin nodded, "Thank you, my child." He turned around and left, walking slowly down the corridor.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde closed the door and walked to the corner of the room where she kept her clothes. She rummaged through the pile of tattered and worn fabrics, searching for something decent. Meanwhile, Randal sat up in bed, watching her curiously.


    <span ss="userText">"Mama, is something wrong?" he asked, tilting his head.


    <span ss="userText">— "No, darling," she said reassuringly, finally finding a clean and proper dress. "Everything is alright. Father Martin needs my help with something, so I need to go. You stay here, okay?" She slipped into her dress and began fastening the buttons.


    <span ss="userText">Once she finished dressing, she walked towards her son, kissed his forehead, and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Go back to sleep. Mama will be back soon," she whispered, pulling the covers over him. "Love you."


    <span ss="userText">"Okay," Randal mumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Love you too, Mama," he mumbled, rolling onto his side and snuggling under the covers.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde kissed his cheek, then hurried out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Then, she went downstairs, her footsteps echoing throughout the silent building.


    <span ss="userText">As Isolde entered the infirmary, her nose wrinkled at blood, sweat, and puke stench. A man was lying on a table, his face beaten badly, his left eye swollen shut, blood trickling from his nose. Father Martin was standing beside him, wiping his wounds with a damp cloth. He looked up as she approached. "Ah, there you are," he greeted her. "Come, help me with this patient."


    <span ss="userText">She nodded and walked toward him. The man lying on the table groaned loudly every time Father Martin dabbed his face with a rag soaked in some type of liquid. He looked up at her and smiled politely.


    <span ss="userText">"It looks like we got a fight at the Roaring Boar," Father Martin exined, handing her the rag. "Here, your hands are softer. Clean his nose."


    <span ss="userText">— "Again?" Isolde sighed, epting the cloth and dipping it into the water bowl. "How bad is it this time?" she asked as she began wiping the blood from the stranger''s broken nose. Her touch was indeed gentle and delicate, and her movements were careful not to cause him pain.


    <span ss="userText">"Very bad. Two dozen or so, I was told," he replied grimly. "Guards will bring those who can''t afford the city''s church. We can expect moreter."


    <span ss="userText">— "Two dozen!?" Isolde eximed, her eyes widening. "My gods," she breathed out, shaking her head. She nced around and spotted a few beds already upied by injured people. Most were sleeping peacefully, but a few moaned in pain.


    <span ss="userText">"Yes, yes, this one is good. I''ll take it from here. Thank you, darling," he told her, smiling warmly. "Now, prepare more beds and get us all the bandages, ointments, and herbs you can find. We have work to do."


    <span ss="userText">Isolde nodded and left the room, heading towards the storage. Once she arrived, she gathered everything she needed and carried the supplies back to the infirmary. Along the way, she passed a few guards dragging the wounded and unconscious men. One man was exceptionally bloody, his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. His legs were so twisted that Isolde couldn''t help but shudder, feeling sorry for him.


    <span ss="userText">— "Oh, dear..." Isolde muttered, looking at the unconscious man. It will be hard to save him, for sure. She opened the door for them, let them enter, and followed.


    <span ss="userText">"Innkeeper told us this guy caused all this mess," one of the guards said to the priest, cing the beaten man on the nearest empty bed. "Bastard''s a fucking monster, I tell ya. I have no idea how he''s still alive," he gestured at the face, which was caved in, his eyes swollen shut. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth, dripping onto the bed.


    <span ss="userText">"Yeah. If he makes it through, make sure to chain him and let us know. He''s got a fine to settle, a big one," another guard chimed in, his voice gruff. "He''s lucky he didn''t kill anyone, or he''d hang. But... the innkeeper took all his belongings to cover the damage. I doubt the bastard''s got anything left to pay the fine with, so we most likely will see him swinging soon enough," he added with a grin. "He won''t be able to pay for the treatment either. Keep that in mind."


    <span ss="userText">"Thank you for informing us, gentlemen. God bless," Father Martin said, his tone respectful, although he frowned at the guard''s words. He turned his attention back to the man lying on the bed and examined him closely.


    <span ss="userText">"Aye, Father," the guard nodded, turning to leave.


    <span ss="userText">"No problem," the first guard answered, quickly ncing at the man. "Good luck, Father," he wished him as he followed after the other.


    <span ss="userText">The priest sighed heavily and turned to Isolde, who stood beside him. "Help me with his clothes," he ordered her.


    <span ss="userText">— "Yes, sir," she replied, moving towards the patient and beginning to cut his leather armor with scissors. She noticed a ne hanging around his neck. "A soldier," she remarked.


    <span ss="userText">"It looks like it," Father Martin nodded. "It should have his name. Take a look."


    <span ss="userText">— "Alright." Isolde grabbed the ne and carefully pulled it over his head, examining it closely. "It can''t be..." She froze, her eyes widening.


    <span ss="userText">"What is it, my child?" the priest asked curiously without looking up.


    <span ss="userText">— "I-I know him... This is Haldor," Isolde breathed out. Her heart skipped a beat, and her palms became sweaty. Memories of the past rushed back to her, reminding her of those times she tried to forget. "Haldor Firefury," she muttered quietly, staring at his broken face. "Randal''s father."


    <span ss="userText">...


    <span ss="userText">Two months have passed since that day.


    <span ss="userText">— "You did what!?" Isolde screamed, her face red with anger and her eyes wide with shock. She red at Father Martin, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "How could you? It was none of your business!"


    <span ss="userText">"Calm down, my child. Please." The priest tried<span ss="aiText"> to<span ss="userText"> reason<span ss="aiText"> with her,<span ss="userText"> raising<span ss="aiText"> his hands defensively. <span ss="userText">"Haldor had to know he has a son, and Randal deserves a father," he exined calmly, his tone soft and gentle.


    <span ss="userText">Suddenly, Haldor opened the door and quietly entered the room, interrupting their argument. He looked much better now, his face almostpletely healed, and his legs no longer broken, all thanks to the priest''s healing and the Blessing Stone inside his body.


    <span ss="userText">— "No, no, no!" Isolde protested angrily, pointing a finger at Haldor. "Randal is mine and only mine! I won''t allow it!" she eximed, tears forming in her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to p Father Martin''s smile off.


    <span ss="userText">"Why not, my dear?" Father Martin asked, his voice still calm and soothing. "I spoke with him. This man is a good person, or at least tries to be. He lost his family and suffered greatly-"


    <span ss="userText">— "I don''t care! You hear me?!" Isolde interrupted him, her voice trembling with emotion. "The only reason why he lost his family is because he beat and humiliated his wife, making her so desperate that she decided to flee into the wilderness. Away from him!" she paused and looked at Haldor, "And most likely died because of it." she hissed.


    <span ss="userText">Haldor remained silent, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the floor. He didn''t dare speak, not wanting to make the situation worse.


    <span ss="userText">"I-I know... What he did was horrible, with no doubt," Father Martin admitted, nodding slowly. "But please listen to me, Isolde, my child. Everyone makes mistakes; you are better than anyone who knows it. Everyone deserves forgiveness. Give him a chance, please. He promises to change and be a good father, and I can see his determination in his eyes. I know he means well," he continued, his voice firm and confident. "I''m not that young anymore. My time is limited, and I can''t watch over you and your son forever. You will need someone to look after you once I''m gone, especially when the boy gets older. Who knows what trouble he will cause? He needs a father to guide him," he added, his eyes meeting hers.


    <span ss="userText">— "I-I... I..." Isolde struggled to speak, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped, and her body trembled slightly.


    <span ss="userText">"Please, think about it, my child. Give him a chance, just one. If he fails, you will never have to see him again." Father Martin stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder. "Please."


    <span ss="userText">Isolde closed her eyes, sniffling and wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. "No. Never," she said in a low voice, shaking her head slowly. "This is my son and mine only. He doesn''t need a father. He has me," she repeated firmly, her jaw clenched tight. "You have no right to decide what''s best for him. I''m his mother, and he''s my responsibility. Do you understand?"


    <span ss="userText">Father Martin sighed and nodded sadly.


    <span ss="userText">"I promise never to hurt him," Haldor said quietly. His hands were sped before him, his posture stiff and tense. He nced up at her, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "I know... I don''t deserve him. You are right, especially not after what I did... I will do everything you say and follow your every word," he promised. "But please, give me a chance."


    <span ss="userText">Isolde didn''t answer immediately, chewing her lower lip. She thought about all the hardships and suffering she had endured in thest five years, about how hard life had been for her and her son. It wasn''t easy — not at all — but she managed somehow. Why should she ept this stranger? To risk Randal''s safety and happiness? No. Absolutely not.


    <span ss="userText">After a few moments of silence, Isolde finally spoke. "No. This is final." She looked up at him, her eyes cold and unwavering. "I don''t want you near my son. Leave us alone. If I catch you anywhere near him, I''ll call the guards," she warned, her tone firm and harsh. "Do you understand?"


    <span ss="userText">Haldor swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. He nodded silently and turned away, leaving the room without another word.


    <span ss="userText">Isolde watched him walk out the door, her expression nk and emotionless. Once he disappeared, she sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her hair. She nced at Father Martin, who was watching her closely, his face grim. He shook his head slowly and left the room as well, leaving her alone.


    <span ss="userText">...


    <strong><span ss="userText">[Father Martin]</strong>


    <span ss="userText">Father Martin walked slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty basement where he spent his entire evening counting<span ss="aiText"> and cataloging his inventory. It was a boring task, but he liked doing it. It was repetitive<span ss="editText"> and tedious<span ss="aiText"> and gave him peace and tranquility. <span ss="userText">He reached the<span ss="aiText"> end of the corridor, where a wooden staircase led upwards.<span ss="userText"> He<span ss="aiText"> climbed the stairs<span ss="userText"> and<span ss="aiText"> pushed open the door leading outside.


    <span ss="userText">Walking through the garden, he stopped <span ss="editText">momentarily<span ss="aiText"> and looked up. <span ss="userText">The night sky was clear, the stars bright and beautiful, shining down on his wrinkled face. A gentle breeze blew, rustling the leaves of the trees nearby. But yesterday''s event<span ss="aiText"> kept ying in his head, not letting him enjoy the <span ss="editText">moment''s beauty<span ss="aiText">. He felt guilty.<span ss="userText"> He didn''t expect things to turn out like this. He hoped Haldor and Isolde would be a family or at least close friends. ''How naive of me... Isolde hasn''t spoken to me the entire day. She probably hates me now.'' he thought.


    <span ss="userText">— ''Was it too much to ask?'' He sighed heavily, sitting on the bench, his gaze fixed on the moon. Its silver light illuminated his tired face. He rubbed his forehead<span ss="aiText">, his<span ss="userText"> brows<span ss="aiText"> furrowed slightly.<span ss="userText"> ''I should have kept my nose out of it,'' he thought. ''What was I thinking? She has every right to feel the way she does. Her suffering was no less than his; her son is her world. She would never let anyone else into his life.''


    <span ss="userText">Suddenly, a soft meow startled him.


    <span ss="userText">Father Martin looked down and saw a ck cat sitting beside him, its fur shiny and sleek. It meowed again and rubbed against his leg. "Shadow," he whispered, reaching out and stroking the cat''s back. It purred contentedly and jumped onto hisp.


    <span ss="userText">— "Hello there, you little rascal," Father Martin said fondly. "Where have you been all day, hmm? Off causing mischief, I presume?" He chuckled, scratching Shadow''s ears.


    <span ss="userText">The cat meowed in reply and nestled into hisp.


    <span ss="userText">— "You always find me when I''m troubled," Father Martin sighed, stroking the cat''s fur. "To think of... I was even ready to pay the Haldor''s fine... To ease their burden, even if it meant going broke," he muttered quietly. "That was foolish of me... This whole mess is all my fault. But I have done too much wrong in my life, and I just wanted to do some good while I still could."


    <span ss="userText">The cat purred loudly and nuzzled its head against his hand.


    <span ss="userText">— "Ah, well. There''s always hope," Father Martin said with a weak smile, scratching Shadow''s chin. "I''m sure if Haldor sticks around and does what he promises, maybe they will get along eventually."


    <span ss="userText">"Meow," Shadow replied, its yellow eyes gazing up at him.


    <span ss="userText">— "Don''t give me that look," Father Martin chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let''s go, I''ll feed you," he told the cat, standing up and carrying him inside. The cat purred happily, restingfortably in the priest''s arms. When he opened the door to the kitchen, a faint sound from upstairs caught his attention. He stopped and listened, tilting his head towards the stairs.


    <span ss="userText">— "Hmm?" Father Martin frowned. He ced Shadow on the floor and began climbing the stairs.<span ss="aiText"> "Is someone there?" he called out, reaching the top. The hallway was dark, except for a dim lighting from<span ss="userText"> underneath<span ss="aiText"> Isolde''s bedroom door. Father Martin walked toward it,<span ss="userText"> listening<span ss="aiText"> carefully<span ss="userText">, but not a single sound came<span ss="aiText"> from the room.


    <span ss="aiText">He stood there for a moment, hesitating. He debated whether <span ss="editText">to<span ss="aiText"> leave or knock, not wanting to disturb her, given howte it was.<span ss="userText"> But <span ss="userText">a strange feeling<span ss="aiText"> of<span ss="userText"> une<span ss="aiText">asiness grew within him... It was too quiet. <span ss="userText">"Better<span ss="aiText"> be safe than sorry," he muttered under his breath<span ss="editText">, knocking<span ss="aiText"> gently on the wooden surface. "Isolde?" he called out softly. There was no answer.


    <span ss="aiText">— "My child, can Ie in?" Father Martin asked,<span ss="userText"> knocking<span ss="aiText"> again. Still, there was no response.


    <span ss="aiText">He hesitated momentarily, unsure if he should enter. But then, he heard a soft whimpering from inside. Without thinking, he reached the doorknob and entered the room.<span ss="userText"> Inside, he found Isolde on the floor, holding her bleeding stomach. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly white, and her breathing was ragged and uneven.


    <span ss="userText">— "Oh gods, my dear," he shouted, rushing toward her. He kneeled beside her and pressed his hands over her wound. She lost a lot of blood, her white <span ss="userText">nightgown <span ss="userText">soaked in crimson liquid. Her body was trembling, her eyes staring at nothing.


    <span ss="userText">"Isolde, my child, stay with me!" Father Martin eximed. He tore her clothes, revealing her t belly. There was arge, deep cut running across it. Blood poured freely from the wound, forming a puddle on the floor. ''The cut is too deep... I need needs my tools, quickly.''


    <span ss="userText">"Ran... Dal," she managed to utter between ragged breaths.


    <span ss="userText">— "Don''t talk, dear. Save your strength," the priest instructed. Father Martin carefully scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the ground despite his old age and aching spine.


    <span ss="userText">"Ran... Dal," she mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible. "Haldor... took... him."


    <span ss="userText">Father Martin froze, his heart stopping for a brief moment. The world spun around him, the floor shifting beneath his feet, almost dropping her. He couldn''t believe his ears. ''No, it can''t be. This isn''t happening. He wouldn''t...'' his mind raced, desperately trying to process the situation. But he doesn''t have time to think. Not now.


    <span ss="userText">He tightened his grip on her body, his jaw clenched tight. He has to save her<span ss="aiText"> first<span ss="userText"> and foremost,<span ss="aiText"> then worry about the rest. "<span ss="userText">Everything<span ss="aiText"> will be fine, my child," he told her, his voice <span ss="editText">trembling<span ss="aiText">. "Just hold on."