“But for the kingdom to be hunting her… this is far worse than I imagined. Come, standing in the entry like this won’t do. Let’s speak inside.” He straightened slowly, his expression darkening, then stepped aside and waved them in.
The cave’s interior surprised them all.
Despite its rough exterior, the dwelling was meticulously decorated. Rugs lined the stone floor. Wooden chairs and a sturdy desk sat near a small fireplace. Bookshelves crammed with tomes lined the walls. Some were old and cracked, others recently bound. There was even a neatly made bed tucked into an alcove.
“I am Rugen Trobels,” the dwarf introduced himself, resting a hand atop his chest, “a scholar of dwarven history and lore.”
Belamus and the others introduced themselves in turn.
“Belamus. And this is Delarosa, Medello, Navasha, and Liza.”
“A town of monsters, and a human who leads them…” Rugen muttered, thoughtfully stroking his beard. “What a strange world we live in.”
“Rugen, I need to know right away,” Mimi said, her voice trembling slightly with urgency. “That thing you wrote in your letter… that the curse on me is actually a blessing. Is it true?”
The old dwarf nodded gravely. “There’s no doubt about it. Tell me, do you have a mark somewhere on your body? Something unusual, like a strange symbol?”
“Uh… yeah, I do,” she replied, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s… on my stomach. But how do you know that?”
Rugen leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing behind his bushy brows. “May I see it?”
“Wh-What? Right now? That’s… I mean, it’s embarrassing! If you already know it’s there, isn’t that enough?” Mimi protested, her voice rising a pitch as she clutched the hem of her shirt, visibly flustered.
“Confirmation requires the eye,” he said solemnly. “Without seeing it for myself, I cannot be certain.”
Mimi squirmed, clearly uncomfortable, but eventually let out a resigned sigh. She pulled up the hem of her shirt just enough to reveal a patch of skin on her stomach.
There it was: a strange, leaf-shaped marking etched in her skin like a birthmark, faintly glowing with a subtle hue.
Rugen’s eyes widened. “Yes, that’s it. Without question.”
“What is that thing?” Delarosa asked, leaning closer, her tone more curious than concerned.
“Tell me, Lady Mimi,” Rugen said, turning his gaze back to her. “How long have you had this mark?”
“Um… about two years? It looked so weird that I never showed it to anyone. I just thought… it was embarrassing.” Mimi admitted, her gaze dropping as she fidgeted with her sleeves, cheeks tinged with lingering embarrassment.
Rugen nodded. “Wise of you. That pattern… These days, it is seen as a sign of a curse.”
Mimi blinked. “Wait, seriously? That mark?”
“Yes. Had you revealed it sooner, you would likely have been hunted even earlier than you were.”
“Well, I guess hiding it was a good thing then, but…” she hesitated. “You said ‘these days,’ so it didn’t always mean a curse?”
“No,” Rugen said with a low sigh. “Once, long ago, that mark was revered; it was a symbol of divine blessing.”
Mimi’s expression shifted instantly, confusion giving way to desperate curiosity.
“Tell me everything. Please,” Mimi said urgently, leaning forward with wide, searching eyes that brimmed with both hope and fear of what the truth might reveal.
“I plan to,” Rugen said, stroking his beard. “It’s why I reached out to you in the first place.”
He turned and shuffled over to the bookshelves, scanning the spines before pulling out a thick, leather-bound volume.
“Now then,” he said, “let’s take a look at the truth your kingdom has long forgotten.” Then he carried the book over with great care.
“I am a historian,” Rugen began, settling into his chair with the worn book resting on his lap. “My life’s work has been the study of dwarven history from the time before the Kingdom of Crystia was founded, when our people first carved homes from stone, to the present day. This particular volume was written not long after the kingdom’s formation.”
Belamus examined the book’s aged leather binding. He couldn’t say exactly how old it was, but the wear and the yellowed pages suggested it was no recent account. Rugen gently opened the tome and began to read aloud, his finger tracing the faded script.
“This entry states: ‘Those who bear the leaf-mark, the Blessed Ones, are essential to the well-being of the kingdom. Seek them out and protect them with care. Without their presence, great calamity will befall us.’”
Mimi’s brows drew together in confusion. “Wait. Without me… the kingdom suffers? That’s the opposite of what I was told…”
She had grown up believing her presence was a threat, that her continued existence would doom her homeland. But this ancient record claimed the exact opposite.
“Are there more texts like that?” Belamus asked curiously, his voice level.
“Yes,” Rugen replied. “Several, in fact. This one here,” he said, reaching for a second volume, “is a personal diary from the early days of the kingdom. The writer describes how their child developed the same leaf-shaped mark… and how they held a three-day feast in celebration.”
He flipped through a few pages, then gestured toward a passage. “And this account here speaks of a woman bearing the mark who was honored during a sacred festival. These weren’t isolated beliefs; they were part of early Crystian tradition.”
“Do any of the records explain why the mark is considered a blessing?” Belamus asked.
Rugen shook his head slowly. “Regrettably, no. The deeper meaning, if it was ever written down, has been lost to time. But from what evidence remains, it’s clear: people like Lady Mimi were once treasured, not hunted.”
Mimi looked down at her hands, then glanced up at the old dwarf, voice tinged with disbelief. “Then… if that’s the case, couldn’t you have brought these records to the kingdom yourself? Shown them the truth before they tried to… get rid of me?”
Rugen’s expression turned grim. He closed the book softly. “That… is not something I can do,” he said quietly.
“Why not?” Mimi asked, her voice soft but urgent.
Rugen’s expression darkened. He clasped his hands together, resting them on the closed book in his lap. “Because the kingdom has been systematically erasing records like these for years—no, generations. Anything referencing those with the leaf-shaped mark has been purged from public archives. It’s as if they want the entire notion of the Blessed Ones to vanish from history.”