Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Interlude - Fates

The streets were quieter than they should have been.

Footsteps echoed softly against the cobbled road as a hooded figure moved through the ruin-laden district, the hem of her cloak brushing against scattered debris. The wind curled through the empty avenues, carrying the scent of smoke and frost-bitten stone — remnants of the chaos that had torn through the city.

Ambercrest used to be a vibrant city. Its red and light-brown bricks, the multicoloured rooftops catching the light, had made the city feel warm, alive. Even in the colder months, it held an undeniable charm that many other cities in the empire lacked. Now, that vibrancy was dulled, smothered beneath layers of soot and broken masonry.

To her right, a toppled archway slumped against a shattered shopfront, its half-torn sign dangling from a single, broken chain. Windows were smashed, jagged glass glinting weakly in the overcast light, and long blackened streaks marred the walls — scars from fires that had only just been extinguished in time. Some buildings had collapsed entirely, reduced to little more than heaps of stone and splintered wood.

She walked with measured steps, gaze fixed forward, careful not to look too closely at what lay beneath some of the rubble. Still, her peripheral vision betrayed her.

The pale outline of a hand protruded from under a mound of broken brick, fingers curled stiffly inwards. Another shape—smaller, half-buried beneath a collapsed awning—lay unnaturally still. Perhaps the cloth had hidden it from earlier searches, but now the fabric had shifted, exposing ashen skin to the cold.

Regina forced her eyes ahead, her grip tightening under the folds of her cloak.

She had to remind herself that not all of Ambercrest looked like this. Not every district had burned. Not every street was a grave.

But pieces of the city had been carved away. Whole sections left as skeletal echoes of what they’d been. Some streets, like this one, were deserted, abandoned to ghosts. Others were worse, barricaded and crawling with monsters, places even the city guard and knights avoided.

She exhaled through her nose, breath misting in the cold, and quickened her pace.

Her tension eased slightly as the devastation thinned. Signs of life emerged, faint but present. A door left slightly ajar, a faint glow of warmth within. A lantern flickering behind a dust-streaked window. The streets were still quiet, but at least they weren’t entirely dead. At least here, some of the city’s breath remained.

In the distance, the rhythmic clang of hammers and the murmur of voices soon reached her. Signs of the efforts to rebuild. There were people who had gathered in the safer districts, piecing together what remained, trying to reclaim what had been lost.

Regina’s destination came into view: a two-story dwelling tucked between battered buildings. One window bore a long crack running through the glass, but the outer walls still stood. It was livable. And it was about as close to the city’s edge as one could get while staying relatively safe.

She climbed the short stone steps and pushed open the door.

Inside, it was dim. The scent of woodsmoke and old herbs lingered in the air. This had been a candler’s workshop before. The original owners, she suspected, had either perished in the attacks or were among those who fled the city.

The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the chill of the outside world. Regina stepped through the narrow hallway, the faint scrape of her boots lost beneath the quiet crackle of fire. As she rounded a corner, firelight flickered across a modest room. A stone hearth was built into the far wall, embers glowing in it, their light casting shifting shadows across the floor.

A woman sat before it, working in silence. She leaned slightly forward, gloved hands steady. A heavy cerulean cloak draped her shoulders, its large hood pushed back to reveal a cascade of uneven reddish-brown hair, auburn strands catching the firelight. It half-veiled one eye, leaving the sharp line of her jaw and curve of her ear exposed.

Her clothes were plainer than usual, but practical, lacking the polished armour that typically marked her presence.

Resting in her lap was a sword — or rather, its hilt.

The hilt, carved from pale blue metal, bore subtle, elegant etchings. No guard. No blade. Just an empty socket where steel should have been. And yet, Briana handled it as if the missing weapon were whole, running a cloth over its surface in slow, deliberate strokes.

The rasp of cloth on metal blended with the fire’s sober crackle.

She remained absorbed in her task for a moment. Then, as if sensing Regina’s gaze, her hands stilled. She looked up.

“Welcome back,” she said, nodding once.

Regina pulled back her hood, dark hair falling free as she glanced around. “Where are the others?”

Briana returned to her methodical polishing. “Mel got restless. She left for the city. Skye followed.”

“…I see.”

Regina unfastened the clasp of her own sword—a slender, now well-worn sabre—and slipped it from her belt before shrugging off her cloak, bracing against the lingering cold. She set both on a nearby table, brow faintly furrowed.

Mel’s absence wasn’t surprising. She had been…unsettled for days, growing more agitated with everything unravelling in the empire. Given how naturally tense the woman was, it wasn’t shocking that she hadn’t been able to simply wait around while Regina was out. Patience wasn’t her strong suit, and beyond that, she had her own…struggles with witnessing so much suffering.

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Regina believed her intentions were good, mostly, but Mel’s impulsiveness could easily complicate things for the rest of them. If she had to guess, the woman had left to help those in the city or deal with some of the monster-infested districts. The latter was more likely, considering her discomfort around unfamiliar people.

Normally, Mel running off on her own was cause for concern, but with Skye following her, they should be safe. Hopefully. Skye was far better at handling Mel than the rest of them.

Regina turned to Briana. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

The knight didn’t look up from the hilt in her hand. “Skye told me to stay.”

“Oh…”

Regina paused, catching the faint edge in her voice.

It had to be frustrating. She didn’t claim to understand everything about the Oathbound, but she knew that once a knight swore themselves to someone, they were bound to follow their command — whether they agreed with it or not. Skye rarely gave direct orders, but when she did, Briana had no choice but to obey.

Regina could only assume Skye had kept her behind for Mel’s sake. Briana’s presence often exacerbated the other woman’s unease.

She let the silence stretch before changing the subject. “Where is Oveth?”

Briana lifted a gloved hand and gestured towards a door at the back of the room.

Regina’s gaze followed, and she realised she needn’t have asked.

The air around the door felt thick, almost heavy. Not something visible, but tangible all the same — a pressure that settled uneasily against one’s skin, almost like an invisible miasma hinting at something ominous lurking beyond.

She wanted to speak with him, but she would prefer not to enter right now. She’d wait.

“How did it go?” Briana asked.

Regina shifted her focus back to her.

“Not as well as I had hoped. I tried the lord’s keep and the harbour, but I don’t think we are getting close to either.”

Briana gave no response, simply listening.

“There are rumours that the city has no lord at the moment,” Regina continued, folding her arms. “Supposedly, a bailiff appointed by the emperor was running things — after Count Soames was condemned for consorting with demons. But who knows if that’s true. Either way, it complicates things. Finding a ship or carriage to Elystead won’t be easy.”

She tapped her fingers absently against her sleeve. “We may have to ride again.”

Briana’s expression remained impassive, though the quiet acknowledgement in her eyes said she understood Regina’s concerns.

In hindsight, they should have gone to Bridgespell from Silverborough. But at the time, Regina never could have guessed Ambercrest would be in this state when they arrived.

Under normal conditions, Elystead was barely half a day’s journey by ship. Even in winter, vessels travelled between the cities. The Three Streams only froze near the highlands, and enchanted icebreakers kept trade moving.

Now, though, she wasn’t even sure the city had any ships left intact.

“What about the Kilnstone?” Briana asked.

Regina shook her head. “The Kilnstone is almost exclusively being used to evacuate the displaced citizens. We won’t be able to get access.”

Briana looked up slightly. “Could we pose as refugees?”

“Maybe. But I doubt it would help. Too many people are trying to flee, and we arrived too late to be prioritised.” She hesitated. “Besides… I’m worried about being recognised.”

Briana frowned slightly. “Are the Solar Knights in the city?”

“Some,” Regina said. “But they’re mostly clearing the monster-infested districts.”

“Then I doubt they’d notice you. Especially with your cloak.”

Regina let out a breath, rubbing her arms. “Maybe you’re right…”

Briana studied her for a moment longer. “…Would it truly be a problem if they did? I thought you already sent word to your family.”

Regina went quiet, gaze drifting to the fire.

She had sent a message — a warning. Almost as soon as they returned to the empire, she had tried to ensure it reached Elystead, hoping it would find its way to her father in time.

He should take it seriously.

She wanted to believe that, even if he was furious with her for what she had done. In the end, she had acted in the way she thought was right, and as long as he heeded her warning, it didn’t necessarily matter whether she returned now or later. If anything, returning now would only mean confinement in the palace. Locked away until…

Until what? Until the empire crumbled beneath the weight of everything pressing down on it? Until it was too late to act?

She didn’t want to think her father would be that unreasonable, but she wasn’t entirely sure. And her greatest fear wasn’t his anger.

It was what he might do with it.

That he would punish the people who stood by her. That he’d shackle them as surely as he would her. Hold them responsible for her choices. Stop them from doing what had to be done.

Regina wouldn’t allow that.

Not after everything she had seen—and endured—these past months, beyond the gilded walls of her childhood. She wouldn’t call all of it pleasant. Most of it hadn’t been. These last few weeks in the Unresting Steppes had been especially harrowing. But she had learned. She had gained something invaluable.

Something she would never have found had she stayed in Elystead.

And yet…despite all of that, they had still failed.

That failure would never leave her. It had settled deep in her chest, a weight she couldn’t shake. They had set out to stop the worst of what was coming — to prevent the suffering and destruction she knew was looming on the horizon. She had been so sure that if they moved fast enough, if they were smart about it, they could stop it before it crested.

She never thought they could stop everything. She hadn’t been naive. But they might have blunted the worst of it. Kept it from spreading. Kept it from reaching a level where it devoured everything.

But from the very beginning, they had been too late.

The artifact they had sought in the Steppes—the one they had crossed so much distance and risked so much to find—was already gone.

Taken.

And she had no idea by whom. Only fears.

Still, what they’d witnessed beyond the empire’s borders had opened her eyes to the greater threats closing in on her home. More than she had ever imagined. More than she had ever been prepared for. And even if they had failed in their goal, all was not lost. There were still things that they knew. Things that they could do.

“Regina?”

Briana’s voice pulled her from the spiral of thought.

She blinked, then offered a weak smile. “Sorry. My mind wandered.” She was quiet for a bit. “…I do want to see my family, but it’s best if we don’t. My father is surrounded by wise advisors, and they will know what to do with my warning. Beyond that, there’s not much more I can do there.”

Briana regarded her for a long moment, then nodded. “If you say so.” She returned her focus to the hilt in her lap, resuming her polishing. “But without the Kilnstone, reaching Elystead by land could take two days,” the woman added. “Maybe more.”

“It might, yes,” Regina replied.

“Will we make it before them?”

Her lips pulled into a thin line. “…The Council?”

“Yes,” Briana said.

“I don’t know. But even if we don’t, I am not entirely certain it matters. There should still be a few days left.”

“According to Oveth.”

“I trust him. So does Skye.”

“I’m aware.” Briana’s gaze lifted, moving towards the door at the back of the room, where the air still felt heavier. “…And I am here if that trust proves misplaced.”

Regina’s gaze followed hers, resting on the closed door before shifting to the cracked window overlooking the streets outside. To the city that might never fully recover.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I don’t think it will be. He will keep his word, and we will make it through this.”

Through uncertainty.

Through what was coming.

Whatever was waiting for them would test them again. Push them harder.

But it would also prove something — something greater than any of them, greater than her. Because even though it felt like a purpose too grand for someone like her—too vast, too weighty for an ignorant girl who’d barely understood her role as a princess—this was their fate.

Their fate to help save this world.