Olberic could scarcely see anything within the Sunshade Catacombs. Luckily, he had brought his travel gear with him, and within it, his lantern. The enchanted lantern gave excellent vision for the both of them as they descended into the abyss.

Primrose couldn't believe her luck. After countless years of forfeiting her agency and fruitless work, she finally found one of the Crows. Even better, she bumped into a strong gentleman who would assist her in her endeavors. After ten long years, her quest for revenge could begin.

One question did permeate through her mind as they descended down the stairs. Could she trust this stranger? The name "Olberic" sounded familiar, but it was a popular name in the Highlands Region for men of his age, that she knew. After so long, she was forced to accept that none could be trusted, especially men in this town. But she had to trust him. The alternative would be to turn back and face the wrath of Helgenish, an unpalatable option. There was no retreat, for the only path left was forward.

He couldn't be that Olberic.

"Tell me, Primrose," Olberic spoke. "Why is it that you seek this man?"

"A girl has her reasons. Why do any chase after particular men?"

"You seem different from the other dancers."

"How so?"

"For one, you are the only one with a dagger on your thigh."

Her green eyes widened for a moment. She unsheathed the blade from its holster, brandishing it. "My, nothing escapes your eyes. Were you taking a peak down there, noble knight?"

"O-of course not!" He thanked the gods it was dim so his blushing would be hidden. "But from my impression, you seem to be above this… line of work."

"Brawn and intuition. I like you already. Very well, I'll tell you while we find a way out of here."


Primrose was not always a dancer. Ten years ago, she lived with her father, Geoffery Azelhart, in splendor. She hadn't a care in the world in her childhood.

Ten years ago, was when everything changed.

"Funny how it works, isn't it?" These words came from a man with a tattoo of a Crow on his left arm. "Everything that happens in this world falls into one of two little categories. Things one's better off knowing, and things one's better off not. Geoffery Azelhart, I'm afraid you've been poking your nose into the latter."

"I have only done as my convictions bade me do. I have no regrets."

"I thought you might say something like that. You're making this delightfully easy."

Primrose, still just a young girl, could only watch helplessly from behind a table as three hooded men surrounded her father. One of them moved forward and stabbed Geoffery in the heart, killing him instantly.

"Make sure he's dead, and let's leave this place before we're seen," the right-hand Man advised to the others.

She came to know of these men as the Crows. They were marked by the shared tattoos that they brandished. Two of them each hosted a tattoo of a wing on one of their exposed arms.

The man with a tattoo of the Crow on his neck, the one who struck down Geoffery, said nothing as the three departed.

From that day forward, Primrose vowed revenge against them.

As the years went by, her house fell from grace, and she ended up as a dancer in the Sunlands, where she was regularly accosted by her "fellow" dancers, on days such as this one.

"I wish I had your confidence, Primrose. I couldn't imagine nodding off minutes before my cue."

"How nice it must be to be the master's favorite," another spoke.

"Fine, go on and keep your airs. Act as though you're better than the rest of us."

"It doesn't change the fact that you're just another dancer in the sands, Primrose. Nothing but a kept woman, here to flatter the dignity of men who pay for the privilege."

"I suppose you're right," Primrose responded.

"Shh! Enough chatter! Master Helgenish is coming!"

A old, portly, nasty man entered the sleeping chambers of the dancers, clearly frustrated.

"Do I keep you women to titter here in the shadows? My customers are waiting for their entertainment! The opening act should be on that stage already. Now, get out there and earn your keep!"

The dancers did as they were told and filed out of the room, save for Primrose, who was now alone with the man.

"What a bunch of useless strays…" the man walked over to her, doting ever so closer. "But not you, Primrose… you are the only one I can rely on."

"You flatter me… Master."

"Oh, hardly. Why, this tavern's custom has increased tenfold since you stepped on our stage! But do not go forgetting yourself. It was I who groomed you for this role."

"And I will be forever grateful for that, Master."

"You were an ignorant girl when I picked you up. Completely useless. I've taught you everything you know."

Primrose's silence was not well-received, as the man delivered a clean slap across her face.

"What happened to your sweet little smile? Who puts a roof over your head, and food on your plate? Who bought the jewels that adorn your neck? Who made you the most sought-after dancer in this dusty old down? It was me-all me. You owe me, kitten. And I'll see that debt repaid."

"Yes… Master."

"Good then. Purr sweetly, and I may give you a treat. Don't dally when you're done with your show. I will be waiting in my chamber… I'll have you purr for me some more."

A stagehand knocked on the door, motioning to the two that her turn for the stage had come. The dancer walked toward the door.

"Put your face back on now, kitten."

"Yes… Master."

The dancer made her way to the Tavern, a massive building with a grand stage. She had seen this putrid and filthy room a thousand times, and the smell would never leave her mind.

She noticed the customers lining up for seats as she entered, clearly energized by her presence. All spotlights were on her as she took the stage.

She danced, and danced, gracefully and elegantly. She prayed to her father to watch over her. She had left home, soiled her innocence, and debased herself… to see if that man would show.

She heard that one of them passes through this very establishment, and to that end, she spent years here in the hopes that he would appear for her. She endured the praise and catcalls, but tonight, like every other night, she did not see him.

After her performance, she noticed an issue with her sandals, and hurried back to her dormitory. When she pulled off the infernal footwear, she noticed a thorn within.

The other dancers let out a chuckle as she gasped in pain.

"Oh, someone fetch her a handkerchief! Primrose seems to be bleeding, the poor dear."

"Perhaps she got a blister? She's always dancing oh so passionately."

Yusufa, who had up until now been silent, stepped forward and approached her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Primrose replied. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Yusufa turned to the group. "Don't you think that's enough already? Do you take such pleasure in others' pain? We're nothing but the master's playthings, all of us! And we all know what happens to the girls who displease him. Or have you forgotten? Beaten half to death and tossed in the gutter. Left for dead, sick and starving.

"S-stop that! We all know well enough where we stand. We know what he can do to us!"

"Then why torment one of our own!?"

"Thank you, Yusufa. But there's no need for you to make foes on my behalf."

"Prim…"

Their détente was interrupted, once again, by an angry and drunk Helgenish.

"What are you doing, yowling back here!? Sheath your claws. Its time for work! Or do you think money flows into my coffers by itself? Get out there and collect your tips!"

The dancers once again filed out of the room, but Primrose was stopped exclusively.

"What was that sorry show you gave today? Do you think I'm blind? One glance was all I needed to know your mind was not where it ought to be. I can see every thought in that pretty, empty little head of yours, and they were not of dancing tonight. You haven't forgotten your debts, have you? You haven't forgotten who owns you. You know the fate that awaits you if you dare defy me. Don't you, kitten?"

"I'm warning you because I care, Primrose. I wouldn't want to see anything untoward happen to my shining star."

"I'm sorry, Master. Forgive me. I was simply remembering the first day I came here to you."

"Oh, were you know?"

"Not a day, not a moment passes when I am not thankful for all you have given me. Pray forgive my lack of focus today, Master. It will not happen again."

"Oh my dear, dear Primrose. I, too, often think back on the day you came to my door. Just imagining the sight of you dancing for me, as sweet and innocent as you were… It tickled me so. And you met my every expectation. You have been my best investment. But tonight, you have displeased me. And for this, you must atone. The crowd is looking thin tonight. Out on the streets with you, and bring us some custom. Custom with coin enough to cover a week's expenses. If you can do that, I may still… go easy on you… At least, relatively so, kitten."

"You are kind, Master."

Right outside, Yusufa was laughing. "Bravo Prim, that was a performance for the ages. How do you do it? I want to vomit every time I have to call him 'Master.'"

This genuinely surprised Primrose, and even more so when she offered her own handkerchief for her foot.

This act of gratitude was not without appreciation, but Primrose had a job to do: to allure a gentleman.

This was quite an easy task. She encountered a rather wealth gentleman exiting the inn and, on his way, and intercepted him. After a short conversation, and some light seduction, he was hooked, and followed her to the Tavern.

To say the least, Helgenish was pleased, and encouraged her to continue her work.

As the room continued to be filled by more and more patrons, she caught sight of a suspicious individual. He was hooded and had a bare left arm, one with a Crow tattooed on it.

This was the man she had been waiting for, and her heart was racing.

She wanted to move toward him, but he got up and left the building. She started after him, but was stopped by Helgenish.

"…And where do you think you're going? So curious about that man, are you? Was it love at first sight, kitten? You wouldn't think of abandoning the stage and your customers before the night is through, now would you? Back to work Primrose… You do remember what happens to the wicked little kittens who cross me, don't you?"

All but defeated, Prim lowered her head and walked back, as her Master exited the building.

"Prim? What's the matter?" Yusufa came to console her. "Its not like you to look all flustered like this. You don't need to tell me. For you to risk angering the master like that, it must be something important… Leave it to me. I'll keep his eyes busy. You slip out the back door on the upper floor."

Primrose was shocked. "You shouldn't get involved. You will put yourself at risk."

"Look, Prim. Maybe you don't tell me what you're thinking. But that doesn't matter to me. I'm on your side and always will be."

"On my… side?"

"When the other girls would pick on me, and tell me to know my place… You were always the only one who stood by me. You never say much… But I know you just don't want to burden the others with your troubles. I know you better than you think, Prim. And I know that deep down, you have a good heart."

"A good heart? Yusufa… I… Thank you."


"I see… so your chance encounter with me was entirely within your plan. My deepest apologies for not showing the proper respect for a Lady of the House." Olberic smiled to himself as they moved forward. She, too, was on a path of revenge and retrieval of her honor, in her own way. It was a cause he was all too familiar with.

"Yes, and whoever this man was, he is sure to have aid somewhere."

"Aye. You've proven yourself quite talented with the blade on those lizardmen back there."

"And yourself. You brought them down with a single blow. Those scars aren't just for show."

"I do have one question. Suppose we do find this tattooed man... What do you plan to do about your 'master?' If the other men you seek are distant from here, he wouldn't take kindly to your departure."

"This dance has been a traveling performance of mine. I never planned on staying here forever. I will escape, one way or another."

The both of them were diligent in cutting down every beast they came across. Although their battling styles were different, they soon found a rhythm that brought them down efficiently. It wasn't long before they reached an illuminated staircase leading to the surface.

"Thank you, Sir Olberic. I will take a peak from the top to see if the coast is clear. You may wait back here."

"Be careful, I feel that a trap lay in wait."


The clearing wasn't what Primrose expected. She recognized where she was: it was a sandy cliffside, just outside Sunshade. It was close enough for her to make out, but far enough away to be isolated from the world.

Almost.

"And where might you be off to, kitten?"

She turned around, to be greeted by an unwelcome face and his thugs.

"Master… Helgenish… Whatever are you doing here at this hour?"

"Funny you should ask… A worthless little stray, this one, but she was kind enough to help me catch a rat."

His guards pushed forward the beaten and battered Yusufa.

"Yusufa!"

"Prim..." she panted. "I'm… I'm sorry…"

"She was quite intent on keeping her mouth shut. But my boys helped her get it open. It seems I was too lenient with the girl. I won't make that mistake again."

He brandished a dagger, and slit her throat on the spot. With the deed done, he kicked the body down to Primrose's feet.

"Yusufa!"

"P-Prim… I've never… heard you… shout so… Hey Prim? We're… …nds… aren't we?"

"Wh-what?"

"I was… I was sold… to this place… as a child… Everyone was so cruel… so miserable… I thought id never… make any… friends… it was lonely… having… no one… but you, Prim… you were… different… Always... standing tall, proud… no matter… how hard… your days… Looking… at you… it gave me… strength…"

"Yusufa…"

"Tell me… Prim… Were we… Were we… friends?"

"Yes, Yusufa. You were… my friend."

"I'm so… happy… Not alone… anymore…"

The light left her eyes on the desert sands.

"Is it finally over? I must say, at least her last performance had some life. If she'd shown that sort of potential earlier, I might have kept her on longer…"

"Enough!"

"…What was that?"

Primrose would have nothing of it. She stood and faced the man she had, up until now, called Master.

"I have danced enough for you. This was the last night that I belonged to you."

"Oh, was it now? So, some wheels do turn in that pretty little head of yours… Here I thought it was a waste as empty as the desert."

"I saw you for the foul swine you are the first time I laid eyes on you."

"You would take that tone with me!? You're nothing but a stupid whore! You would have died on the street if not for me!"

"You have given me nothing. I have always danced on my own two feet. I have always chosen where I step."

"Who do you think you're speaking to, whore!?"

"All these years… The jeers, the beatings, the dishonor… I endured it all. All for this day. The day that man appeared before me. I need your stage no longer. I dance for myself now."

"Primrose… You forget yourself, little kitten. But I understand, this is just your little show, yes? You wanted to see your master frown. Fine! Very well! You've had your fun. That naughty mouth of yours belongs to me. Put it where it belongs, and if you please me to my satisfaction… I will overlook your impertinence."

"Master… go pleasure yourself."

"Heh… Wrong answer, kitten. You know what I do with cats that bite, don't you? I put them down. Just like that one. It's a shame, Primrose. You were always my favorite… What a waste. Yes, a terrible, terrible shame…"

"The only shame... is that I couldn't do this sooner, Master!"

Battle was joined. Helgenish, sitting pompously on his throne, threw daggers at the dancer, who evaded them with ease. Her years of training would make her a match for any single man.

But Helgenish was not a single man.

From left and right, Prim was surrounded by his goons. They didn't seem bright individually, but their numbers weren't something she could take alone.

But neither was she alone.

As the first henchman charged for her side, he was met by the collision of metal.

"Wh-who are you?"

The sword in blue pushed him back, before delivering a singular knockout blow with his longsword.

"Olberic!"

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, m'lady. I thought it best for you to reclaim your own honor."

Both warrior and dancer turned to face the remaining enemies. "Indeed. The fat oaf is my prey. Stay out of my way."

"You misunderstand me," Olberic said with a grin. "My fight is not with him, but with these gentlemen beside us."

"Is that so? Then let me give you a little reward."

Primrose began striding around Olberic, chanting indecipherable words and making elegant strides.

'Dancing? I'm not that kind of- woah!'

For reasons unknown, the warrior felt a renewed sense of power and agency.

"Incredible! I feel more powerful than before!"

"That was the Lion Dance. Now, go get 'em."

Meanwhile, the lackeys were speaking amongst themselves, clearly still distraught at the fate of their comrade.

"Did you see that? He knocked him down in one swoop?"

"What kind of man can do that?"

"Did you hear her? She said 'Olberic…' As in…"

The poor soul never finished his thought, as his last moments were filled by a level slash from the aforementioned man's blade.

Helgenish himself was growing increasingly irate. He never thought that this day would ever come, and putting down one of his kittens would be so increasingly difficult. One by one, his hired hands were being slashed down by the combination of Primrose and this "Olberic" fellow, and each blow left his hand clenching his wine glass ever tighter. Hatred, frustration, jealousy… all vile emotions coursed through his veins, and it showed. As the last of the lackeys fell, he angrily threw the glass, shards and all, at Primrose.

"Insolent ditz!"

She caught the movements just in time, dodging the shards and all, but one glass piece cut her ankle.

"Gah!"

She wondered how she could be so slow, so careless. But then she looked down and remembered what was there: the anklets. Emblematic that she belonged to another. They weren't heavy by any means, but they proved enough resistance to delay her movements.

She so desired to get her sweet revenge, but the pain in her leg forced her to her knees to tend to her wounds. The sand blowing in the wind brushed on the cut, which made matters worse.

Helgenish now entered a blind rage, with the same fire in his eyes from the moment he executed Yusufa. Primrose knew what was next.

"Are you alright?" Olberic asked, taking a position in front of her, sword at the ready.

"Watch yourself. He's about to lash out at all of us…" Her thoughts trailed as she tried to think of a solution to their predicament. She knew that swords would be ineffective against her "Master," and any effort with them would accomplish little in immobilizing him. If only she weren't in this pain, her dagger could go straight through him.

"Olberic, do you have any weapons other than your sword?"

"Hmm?" he replied. "I have one other, as a matter of fact."

"Hit him with it, and hold nothing back."

He nodded, and sheathed the longsword. From his back, he pulled out another impressing weapon: a long Polearm, a weapon of modest quality, but wielded expertly. With weapon in hand, he charged at the craven fiend, stabbing him multiple times.

It worked.

The slaver was knocked off his rocker, in a complete daze of his own from the spear wounds. Her words held true.

With the confidence of their success, Primrose slowly rose to her feet, ignoring the jolting pain in her side. She raised her dagger, the precious family heirloom of her House, and ran toward the enemy. She let out a flurry of stabs, with the last one proving decisive.

Helgenish was now on his knees, held up only by his free hand on the sand, while the other cupped the slash marks across his torso. Behind him, the bodies of his lackeys were lain. He rose his head to meet the woman who brought him to this fate.

"Primrose…" he called out. "You were always… different from the rest… The fire in your eyes… it burned brighter than any other's. I have seen many a girl in my years… but none… quite like you. You fascinated me… from the start…"

It was clear that he was stalling for time, but Primrose relaxed her guard anyways. He slowly inched closer toward her, still groveling.

"Come, Primrose… Won't you dance… one last dance for me?"

She was speechless, letting out a huff before turning her back toward the disgusting old man. Even Olberic was surprised by the amount of contempt he could feel from her eyes.

Seeing his opportunity, Helgenish slowly rose to his feet, brandishing his stiletto. It was at this juncture that his last act of revenge could proceed. He charged directly at her back.

Without breaking a sweat, the dancer turned around and dashed by him, leaving a fatal stab into his heart. It took a few moments, but the effects finally kicked in, and with a horrid screech, the slaver of the Sunlands collapsed to the floor, finally meeting his demise.

"Quite the dancer yourself in the end," she said.

Primrose bent over his lifeless form and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Guess you won't be needing this anymore."

She continued. "The village of Stillsnow… I'll need to pack some warmer clothes. And with that, Master… I do believe my debt is paid."

She began walking away, but Olberic saw something gleaming in the sands. He bent down and pulled it up. It appeared to be some sort of silver key.

"Lady Primrose, I think you'll want to see this."

"Hmm?"

She turned around and saw the object within his hands. She made a mad dash for the knight and took it for herself. To her eternal glee, it was a perfect fit for her anklets. The kitten was finally free of her collar, and never felt better.

"Thank you, Olberic…"

"Urk!"

Both turned to see the source of the commotion. It turned out not all of them were dead.

"S-sir Olberic…" one of the lackeys sputtered. "Olberic… Eisenberg… Unbendin… Blade… gurk!"

That was all he could make out before finally passing out, but it was more than enough.

Primose was spooked. This man was Olberic Eisenberg? The Legendary Knight of Hornburg? He was her hero growing up, and she never tired of hearing tales of his heroics. They brought a ray of hope on even her darkest days, yet here he was, fighting for her emancipation, of all things. It was hard to believe, but after seeing him with the blade in action, if anyone could fulfill that role, it was the Olberic beside her.

How did it not dawn on her?

But she couldn't understand why he was here. He was said to have died in the fall of Hornburg, eight years ago, in defense of the King. How, then, was he still alive, and what was he doing in the Sunlands of all places?

Never mind that, the man in blue was walking away toward Sunshade, as if his deed was done.

"Wait, Olberic!"

He stopped walking, turning slightly to acknowledge her request but not facing her entirely.

"I should have known before, you were that Olberic! Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"My job here is done. You have your freedom, and are more than capable of handling any challenge to cross you."

Even with her anklet gone and additional resources, Primrose wasn't entirely sure that his statement was true. Yes, Helgenish was quite the paper tiger, but judging by his interactions, the left-hand Man struck clear fear into him. There was no telling how many of these thugs were between her and him, but it was evident that she couldn't handle this alone. She needed allies.

"I don't understand why you're so distant all of the sudden. You were… you are my hero."

"I am no hero, nor do I do justice for the tales attributed to me. I'm a relic of a bygone age."

He continued walking toward Sunshade, but Primrose, ever so persistent, continued after him.


Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.

Just as a side note, I was indecisive about the color of Primrose's eyes. In some concept art, they're green, but in others, they're brown. I went with green and am sticking with it for consistency's sake. It's a small detail, but they add up.