Dear Antoinette,

Thank you for your last letter. I'm still going to stay in Silkport for another week, but I will return on the 19th. I'm not too fond of sunlight, considering my skin condition and all, so the cold temperatures of my home are welcome.

I've spoken with my aunt, and she said that the best way to fight a noble is to turn the lower class against them. But, considering our statuses, I am unsure they'd listen to us. Are you acquainted with anyone they might trust?

I hope to speak with you again soon.

Sincerely yours,
Madeleine Campbell.

P.S.: How do you feel about silk?

I waved the letter in front of my face, catching a whiff of the lavender perfume she must have sprayed on it.

Our last meeting had ended fairly abruptly, and since then we had been exchanging letters.

Mulling over the contents of the letter for the last half hour, I had been rolling around on my couch, trying to find some solution to the issue at hand.

"What are you, some kind of cat?" Quinn's finger poked my cheek, at which I groaned.

"Forgot you were here." I sat up, facing Quinn, who had been sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

He furrowed his brows, shooting me a doubtful look. "Mhm."

"Listen, I have to think, I don't need a rude knight staring at me." I kicked my foot into his thigh, at which he flicked my leg.

"What are you even doing here anyway. Don't you have- knightly duties, or whatever?" I flopped back down, covering my eyes with my arm.

"It's my day off. I wanted to go to the harvest festival later, and your house was on the way." He yawned, but I sat up again.

The harvest festival was one of the biggest holidays the lower class celebrated. When I was young, I used to go every year. Except in this lifetime.

"Could... could I come along?" Nostalgia flooded my mind as I remembered the autumns I had spent running around the market, having a good time.

"... It'd be dangerous." He looked away as if he was unable to face me.

"Dangerous? It's a festival, Quinn." I raised a brow, confused.

"No, I mean... the lower class still holds the Crawford duchy responsible for getting their firstborn sons killed." He looked at me, brows furrowed into a frown.

I startled. So it was still like that?

"Oh... I see." Flustered, I looked away from him.

I could hear him grumble, before he sighed, flicking me in the forehead.

"Your sulking is getting on my nerves, you spoiled kid. Let's go." He threw his cloak at me, yawning as he got up.

"Wh-what are you-"

"You wanna go? Then let's go. As long as you don't show your face you should be fine." He grinned.

I rushed to pull the cloak over my head. "Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate it." I smiled at him.

He just waved his hand in a dismissive motion, leading the way as we left the estate.

"Don't get used to it." He grumbles, his long legs making his steps much wider.

I looked at him.

In my past life, Quinn had joined the military at a very young age, gained the title of war hero, and then became captain of the royal guard. The only times we saw each other was at Luca's birthdays, though we'd never talk much apart from formal greetings.

I stared at his back as he walked ahead of me, almost tripping as the cobbled streets turned into dirt roads.

I looked around. The buildings in this area seemed old and decrepit as if a single thunderstorm would blow them away. As a child, it had all seemed so much more lively, but perhaps the situation in this district had worsened as time passed.

But, the festival stalls were further ahead, and I rushed to catch up with Quinn.

"Why'd you wanna come here anyway?" I hummed as I looked at him.

"This is where I grew up. To be exact, there." He stopped as he pointed down a dark alley, the floor covered in trash.

I startled. I knew that he wasn't born as a noble, but I wasn't aware he grew up on the streets.

He seemed nonchalant about it too, stretching as he kept walking.

"Then... how were you recruited?" My throat felt dry as I looked at him.

"Oh. Do you think just because we were orphans, we weren't gonna be drafted? C'mon Antony, you're smarter than that." He chuckled, before looking at me, his face dropping as I remained silent.

"Oh, my god. You don't know." He was genuinely perplexed. "How? Your grandfather was the one responsible!"

"Wh-what do you mean... 'we'?" My throat hurt, my mind not being able to fully get the picture.

"I wasn't the only homeless orphan living here. Why do you think the military had so many casualties?" He looked at me as if he understood something new about me.

"The majority of the soldiers were the lower class children that didn't manage to outrun the military police."

No wonder these people hated my family.