Anya Meadowlight stood her ground, small but resolute, facing the imposing figure of the knight and the silent, pale boy beside him. Her initial shock at being discovered had vanished, replaced by that same sharp, assessing glare.
"I was watching," she repeated, her voice steady. "Watching why a Duke's son," she gestured towards Malrik, the motion quick and dismissive, "a high personnel, would visit someone like them." Her gaze flicked back towards the orphanage entrance, a clear note of doubt, even mockery, lacing her tone. "Never seen you outside the big house before. Why here? What do you want with… orphans?"
Malrik's carefully constructed composure tightened almost imperceptibly. Inside, a cold wave of indignation washed over him. How dare she? This ragged, dirty girl, a woodcutter's daughter from a provincial town, speak to him with such blatant disrespect? Question his motives? Mock his presence? He, who had just dispensed enough money to feed those ungrateful brats inside for weeks!
(Internal Monologue - Malrik: Impertinent wretch. She dares to question me? To inject doubt and mockery into her voice when speaking of my actions? She sees the donation, sees the supposed act of charity, and still suspects? And worse, she shows it openly. Does she think herself clever? Does she believe her ragged state grants her license to speak thus to her betters? The audacity! And after I went to the trouble of providing for that… that place. He had to remind himself that the donation was a means to an end, not true charity, but her reaction still chafed. She is bold. Perhaps too bold. But the glare… the posture… there is fire there. Untamed, disrespectful fire. But fire can be directed. Channelled.)
Sir Kaelen shifted, his expression hardening. His hand instinctively went to his sword hilt again, not as a threat, but as a silent assertion of authority. This girl was far too familiar, far too bold.
(Internal Monologue - Kaelen: By the Gods, this child talks too much. And with entirely too much cheek. 'High personnel'? 'What do you want with orphans'? Who does she think she is, questioning the Young Master like this? She has no respect for station, for authority. Living in the woods, perhaps? Ignorant of how the world works? Or deliberately defiant? She needs to be put in her place. Gently, for the Young Master's sake, but firmly. He relies on me to handle such… unpleasantness. He felt a paternalistic duty to shield Malrik, however unnecessary Malrik made him feel at times. This girl's insolence was an affront to the order he served.)
Stepping slightly in front of Malrik, Kaelen's voice dropped to a low, warning tone. "Girl. Anya Meadowlight. Mind your tongue. The Young Master is a benefactor to this orphanage. Your suspicion and rude questions are unwarranted. Show some respect."
Anya's glare didn't falter immediately. She held Kaelen's gaze for a moment, a silent battle of wills passing between the seasoned knight and the defiant girl. Then, slowly, the tension in her shoulders eased fractionally. A semblance of humility, thin and fragile, settled over her features.
"My apologies, Sir Knight," she said, her voice suddenly softer, though still holding an undertone that suggested anything but genuine contrition. "It was just… surprising. Seeing the Young Master here. We don't… we don't get many visitors of his standing."
Malrik watched the exchange, a silent, critical observer. He saw Kaelen's attempt at gentle dominance, the knight's desire to assert control without causing a scene. He saw Anya's performance, the rapid shift from defiance to feigned humility. Her apology was hollow, clearly delivered out of necessity rather than remorse. 'Just with her tongue,' he noted internally, confirming his initial assessment of her deceptive capabilities.
He felt a surge of contempt for Kaelen's predictable, almost theatrical intervention. The knight saw a disobedient child needing a lecture. He failed to see the cunning mind behind the dirt-smudged face, the sharp intelligence in those watchful eyes. Kaelen's 'pathetic play' of asserting authority and demanding respect was utterly lost on a girl like Anya, who clearly valued survival and shrewdness over empty titles and social graces. Kaelen was so bound by rules and expectations, so predictable in his reactions. He was a shield, yes, a useful tool for brute force or intimidation, but utterly useless in understanding the nuances of human nature, the subtle currents of deception and manipulation.
(Internal Monologue - Malrik: Look at him. Preening in his authority, believing his stern words hold weight with her. He thinks he has subdued her, taught her a lesson. He sees only a child needing discipline. He is blind. Utterly blind to what she truly is. A wolf in rags. And his 'protection'? It's a cage of his own making, bound by his limited understanding. Useless. A loyal guard dog, incapable of recognizing the subtle threats, the hidden potential right in front of him.)
Anya gave Kaelen a small, almost impudent bob of her head that could be mistaken for a curtsy by the less observant. Then, her gaze flicked back to Malrik one last time, that sharp, assessing look returning for a fleeting moment.
"I hope you have a good day, Young Master," she said, the words polite but delivered with a strange, flat finality. It wasn't a blessing or a genuine wish. It was a dismissal.
With that, she turned and walked away, not running, not sneaking, but walking with that same deliberate, resilient stride, back towards the edge of the orphanage property, disappearing into the trees as silently as she had emerged.
Kaelen let out a small sigh as she left. He turned back to Malrik, a small, reassuring smile on his face. "Don't you worry about her, Young Master. Just a wild girl. Some of these children, living on the edge of things, they lack proper manners. Don't take it to heart."
Malrik met Kaelen's gaze and simply nodded. The single, slow inclination of his head was a gesture Kaelen interpreted as passive agreement, a sign that the Young Master was letting the unpleasant encounter roll off him, as a sheltered boy should.
(Internal Monologue - Malrik: Don't take it to heart? He thinks her impertinence was the significant part of that interaction? Not her sharp eyes, her defiance, her immediate assessment of the situation, her calculated apology, her ability to observe unseen? He is truly useless. He sees a surface disturbance and misses the depth of the water entirely. He believes I am hurt by her words, when I am dissecting her character, filing away every nuance for future use. Let him think his simple reassurance is effective. It changes nothing.)
With the encounter concluded, Kaelen escorted Malrik back to the waiting carriage. The journey back to the Lodge was quiet, the low rumble of the wheels and the occasional call of an evening bird the only sounds. The sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple by the time they reached the familiar gates.
Entering the Lodge felt like returning to a cage, albeit a comfortable one. He was back in the gilded prison of his exile. But his mind wasn't focused on the confinement. It was replaying the encounter outside the orphanage.
(Internal Monologue - Malrik: Anya Meadowlight. The woodcutter's first daughter. She watches. She questions. She is disrespectful, bold, and observant. She possesses a spark the others lacked. She is not easily intimidated. She is in need, on the fringes. She is… potential. He felt the familiar ache in his leg, the throb in his arm, reminders of the physical cost of his brief freedom. But the exhaustion was tempered by a newfound focus. This trip was not wasted after all. The orphanage yielded nothing, but the path outside it led me to her. She is a risk, yes. Unpredictable. But the greatest assets often are. The hunt continues. And now, I have a specific quarry in mind.)
Back in the quiet isolation of his room, the façade of the frail Young Master firmly back in place, Malrik began to plan. He had found a potential pawn. Now, he needed to figure out how to approach her, how to test her, how to break her, and how to bind her to his will. The game had just become significantly more interesting.