Old Mother Larthia—Larhia, that is—who was not an old woman at all, though she always disguised herself as one within her creative circle, was standing at her door. She had just escorted Lady Bertha outside.
Lady Bertha had never done anything like this before. Deeply shaken, she had rushed away from her own theatre circle to Larthia for herbs to calm both mind and soul.
Now, too, she seemed in a hurry. Her colorful, wide-brimmed hat had slipped to one side, and she had not bothered to straighten it. She was agitated and disheveled.
Lady Lívia and Aodhan arrived at that very moment.
"Hey! Are you having tea with the theatre circle?" Aodhan asked politely when he noticed the herbs in the woman's hands.
"No. Sibius sent word that my daughter… my daughter became terribly upset for some reason," she replied hastily.
Judging by appearances, Lady Bertha herself was the one most in need of calming tea.
Lady Lívia glanced around. No one was approaching, but she lowered her voice to a whisper nonetheless.
"I know what happened to Solveig."
"Tell me. I don't want to worry any longer!" Lady Bertha demanded.
"Solveig belongs to the Twelve."
Lady Lívia's words settled heavily into the silence.
As if trying to shield herself from what she had just learned about her daughter, Lady Bertha lifted the freshly gathered herbs in her hands up to her chest.
"You don't say?" she finally murmured in disbelief.
"It's exactly as I said, Bertha. And I belong among them as well," Lady Lívia added proudly.
"And how do you know that about yourself?" Bertha pressed on.
Lady Lívia willingly—and with pride—recounted the events of the afternoon. Since Larthia had not been part of any of the research groups until now, she immersed herself deeply in the telling of the story.
Although Lady Bertha and Aodhan already knew every detail, they listened patiently and in silence as the tale was told once more.
At last, Lady Bertha lowered the herbs.
"I'm glad Rhys is well. As for Solveig, she will bear this ability in time."
It was clear that she had made peace with her daughter's situation.
"I also belong to the Twelve," Larthia confessed quietly.
"Well then, that leaves just the two of us as outsiders," Aodhan winked at Lady Bertha.
"How do you know?" Lady Lívia asked, astonished.
"I've known for decades. One of the members of the Worldkeepers' Alliance warned me… yes…"
It seemed difficult for Larthia to admit what had happened.
"Look, the oath of secrecy still binds me," she tried to fend off further questions.
Of course, that was not enough.
"Someone warned me to stay away from you. If I grew closer, the Brotherhood would begin to awaken—and at the time, its hour had not yet come," she finally admitted.
"And that's why you stepped aside, when Daphne—"
Larthia nodded with a wise, gentle smile. She did not wish to speak of that topic either, but at least now Lívia understood why she had drifted away from them.
"And you believed that Worldkeeper?" Lady Bertha asked in wonder.
Now that she knew nothing terrible had happened to Solveig, she was no longer in a hurry. She even straightened her hat.
"I did," Larthia replied, still briefly.
Lady Lívia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
"So that's why our friendship ended, Larthia, isn't it?" she asked.
"That's why. Believe me, Lívia, it hurt me that I couldn't be honest with you."
Now it was Lady Lívia who became terse.
"I missed you," she confessed to her old friend.
"We can be friends again, if you wish. The Brotherhood is already stirring," Larthia offered.
"It no longer matters. Even if I kept my distance, the Brotherhood would awaken anyway. Something great has happened—something even the entire Worldkeepers' Alliance could not have prevented. But the time has still not come," she added ominously.
"And how do you know that?" Lady Lívia asked in awe.
"A person can have many kinds of friends, don't you think?" the woman said, flashing a teasing smile.
Lady Lívia had no idea what sort of people Larthia had replaced their friendship with—but the idea that she might consort with Worldkeepers was strange indeed. Especially since Lívia herself still knew nothing about the Worldkeepers or their Alliance.
"If Rhys does not turn up—even if the entire Alliance awakens—we will not be able to renew the oath," Larthia said soberly.
"Do you think the Worldkeepers are holding him? To prevent the Brotherhood from awakening?" Lady Bertha asked.
She was no longer in a hurry now. Her daughter was involved; she wanted to know everything. She even grew a little emotional. It is not every day that a long-broken friendship mends so simply.
Larthia delayed her answer.
"Perhaps his oath binds him," Lady Lívia pondered aloud.
After a long pause, the woman finally spoke.
"We need Rhys. I will try to find out where the boy is being held. I cannot tell you how."
"He disappeared in Nexoria. Perhaps Drakthor's hand is involved," Aodhan suggested, proposing that they should begin their search there.
Aodhan did not believe the Worldkeepers had been watching Rhys and captured him to prevent the Brotherhood's oath. When they had approached Larthia two decades earlier, they had spoken openly—surely they could have done the same now.
"We can discuss this inside as well, don't you think?" Larthia invited them in for a more comfortable conversation.
Lady Lívia quickly agreed. They had much to discuss, and they had not even addressed the reason for their visit yet.
Lady Bertha regretfully announced that she must go now. Solveig needed her.
The three of them stepped inside Larthia's creative circle.
"Was it really that easy for you to make the decision?" Lady Lívia asked reproachfully.
"Didn't you see the signs? I always thought of our friendship."
"I didn't see them. You avoided me. You broke off our friendship without explanation."
"When I designed the friendship pots, I was thinking of you, Lívia!"
"That's enough reproaches now. We didn't come to Larthia to quarrel. I'm far more interested in a good cup of tea," Aodhan interjected.
But the pain Lady Lívia had carried for years finally broke through.
"And yet—didn't it hurt you?"
"It hurt terribly. But then I was healed."
"By the Worldkeepers?"
Larthia once again chose silence.
"All right. Your oath binds you—I understand," Lady Lívia said more gently.
Aodhan then stepped between the two bickering women and explained the reason for their visit to Larthia.
"I will help. I will be there with you, for I belong among you as well," the woman promised.
By the time they finished their tea in the heart of the herb garden, there was no trace of resentment left between the two friends.
Before leaving, they even made friendship pots, eagerly awaiting which plants would sprout from them.
Hardly had her guests departed when Larthia moved from the herb garden to the area where she tended her potted plants. This was where the hotbeds stood, and at the far end of the garden, the tool shed.
She looked back fondly at the members of her creative circle, who were once again checking how much the plants had grown, adding nutrients, and misting them with water if needed.
It was so common for Larthia to disappear into the tool shed that no one even raised their head.
But Larthia was not going for tools.
She kept her clothes in a chest here, for there were times when she had to leave. She could have used the dressing room of the inner cottage—but why bother?
She removed the old woman's garments and donned the adornments of Nexoria. She also arranged a thick veil.
She took care that, on the other side—in Nexoria—no one would ever recognize her again.