“Delilah, do you know how to read?” Chelsea asked as she grabbed the stack of jobs for the day.
The guildhall was already filling in around them. Adventurers drifted between tables, clerks sorted completed jobs near the counter, and the familiar morning noise of armor, boots, and half-awake complaints filled the space. Chelsea had become oddly fond of it. Not the smell, obviously. The smell was awful. But the rhythm of the place had started to feel familiar.
Delilah looked at her as if Chelsea had asked whether she knew how to swing a spoon. “Please, it's Passion. We don't use our birth names,” she replied. Then, after a short pause, she added, “And I do not, no.”
“Oh wonderful,” Chelsea said, turning back to her. “Then you can join in.”
Passion narrowed her eyes slightly. “Join in what?”
“Chelsea is teaching a bunch of us to read,” Ivy explained as they made their way toward the tables. “She's a really good teacher. I've only been at it for about two weeks and I already recognize all of the letters when I look at something.” Ivy let out a breath of laughter, embarrassed but proud. “It still just looks like nonsense, but I recognize them.”
Chelsea smiled at her adoringly. She wanted desperately to reach out and touch her face but it felt inappropriate with so many people around.
Her progress with the alphabet was incredible. It was real progress.r. A few weeks ago, Ivy had looked at written words like they were decorative scratches. Now she could at least see the pieces. Chelsea knew how much that mattered.
They reached their normal table and took their seats. The adjacent table was already occupied by Adriane, Tali, and two other adventurers who had expressed interest in learning. Adriane looked deeply uncomfortable to be included with the beginners even though she could read now, but Chelsea was very proud of her for showing up anyway.
Chelsea set the job cards in a neat stack, then pulled out the slate, chalk, and the pages she had been using for the lessons. The routine had become almost second nature at this point. She gave Adriane her letter practice, checked Ivy’s current sheet, handed Tali a review page, and instructed the newer learners to copy the same few letters until they could write them.
Passion watched the whole process with increasing confusion.
“So you can read?” Passion asked.
“I get by,” Chelsea responded.
She turned back to Passion. “Do you know the ranks of adventurers?”
“Yeah, everyone does.”
“Good.”
Chelsea instructed Passion exactly as she had on Adriane and Ivy’s first day. She wrote out the rank letters, keeping the exercise simple enough that Passion could begin immediately..
“And remember, as you write it, say the letter out loud,” Chelsea explained.
Passion looked skeptical, but she picked up the chalk anyway.
The group set to work.
Chelsea had the process down to about thirty minutes now. The lessons were short, but consistent. She had learned quickly that most adults were more embarrassed about not reading than they were incapable of learning. Give them something manageable, praise the progress, correct the mistakes without making them feel stupid, and they would usually keep coming back.
Chelsea released the line early as she finished early.
A few people said the usual “Honor to the Twelve” as they came through.
Chelsea reciprocated, helped them with their job posting, and kept the line moving.
Passion watched from the table, her chalk paused over her slate.
“No one is afraid of you?” she asked.
Ivy looked up from her page. “Everyone is afraid of Chelsea at first.”
“You weren't,” Chelsea said, glancing back at her girlfriend.
Ivy laughed under her breath. “Are you joking? I was pissing myself.”
Chelsea gave her a wounded look, but Ivy only smiled and went back to her letters.
Passion studied Chelsea more openly after that. “You definitely have a scary presence. You say ‘Honor to the Twelve’ so easily. I'd think you'd been a Valkyr for years.”
“Thank you,” Chelsea said, looking back at her with a smile.
She chose to take it as a compliment. It was easier that way.
Once the line finished and the lessons were packed away, Chelsea gathered the supplies she had prepared for the next stop. Ivy was practically glowing with excitement. Chelsea had been trying to keep this from becoming a spectacle, but Ivy was having none of that.
“So what do you do for the orphanage?” Passion asked curiously as they moved through the city streets. “Do you deliver them food?”
“You'll see,” Ivy said excitedly.
Chelsea sighed. “Ivy.”
Ivy looked at her, still smiling.
“It's not a big deal. Please stop acting like it is.”
That only made Passion more curious. Chelsea could practically feel the questions building beside her. What could be more interesting than food? Clothing? Weapons? Probably not weapons.
The orphanage came into view a short while later.
It was an older building, but not an uncared-for one. The stone had been patched in places, the shutters were worn, and the front steps had seen better years, but someone had kept the place swept and orderly. Chelsea liked that about it. Poverty was everywhere if someone bothered to look, but so was effort. People here had been trying with almost nothing for a long time.
That bothered her more than ruined buildings ever could.
An old woman in a black robe opened the door before Chelsea could knock. Her face lit up the moment she saw them.
“Miss Chelsea,” she said excitedly. “Please, come inside. The children are all ready.”
“Oh, Miss Harlo, you didn't need to wait out here for me,” Chelsea said.
“I certainly did!” the old woman chided. “You don't need to bother yourself with something like knocking.”
Chelsea let out a laugh. “Miss Harlo, I assure you my knocking hand works just fine. Let's go get everything sorted out.”
Miss Harlo opened the door wider and ushered them inside. Chelsea tried not to make a fuss about it. She had learned quickly that Miss Harlo had very firm ideas about hospitality and gratitude.
The moment Chelsea stepped into the main room, the younger children lost every bit of discipline they had apparently been pretending to have.
“Miss Chelsea!”
They came at her all at once.
A few went for her hands. One tiny girl immediately grabbed her tail with both hands like it was a rope made specifically for her amusement. Two boys ducked beneath one of her wings before she had even fully opened it.
Chelsea laughed and crouched down before they pulled her over.
“All right, all right. I missed you too. Please do not climb on the wings unless I say you can. They are attached to me, and I am very fond of them.”
That warning did almost nothing.
—
The Valkyr of Passion
Passion watched from a few steps inside the doorway.
She had seen townspeople praise Valkyr after a battle. She had seen nobles smile at people they wanted something from and priests bless children because the crowd expected them to. This was different. These children were not being polite and they certainly weren’t afraid. They were attacking Havoc with full confidence.
Passion slowly moved closer to Miss Harlo.
“So they aren't scared of her?” she asked.
Miss Harlo turned to the ashen-haired Valkyr as if the question itself was a little silly. “Oh gods no. Every time she visits, she brings them little gifts or treats.”
Passion looked back at Havoc.
The demon was now on the floor with one wing stretched out. Several children had crawled beneath it, and another was inspecting the membrane with careful little fingers. Havoc produced a blanket from nowhere and draped it between both wings, making a little shelter. The children immediately cheered and crowded inside as if she had gifted them a castle.
Passion had heard stories about Havocs before.
The other Valkyr spoke of them with a mix of fondness and exhaustion. Havocs were unpredictable. They broke rules. Havocs made weird decisions because they felt right at the time sometimes that would get them killed. Sometimes it just made more work for the other Valkyr. One detail had come up more than once, though Passion had never understood why.
They were always drawn to orphanages. It didn't make sense to her.
They were just street urchins. Little unclaimed people. Sad, yes, but there were sad people everywhere. The world was filled with people who needed help, and no warrior could carry all of them.
“You seem deep in thought,” Miss Harlo mused.
“She doesn't make sense to me,” Passion admitted. “She is a demon who eats humans. Is she helping you out so she has a steady supply of food?”
Miss Harlo burst out laughing.
It was not a polite laugh either. It was the kind of laugh that made Passion realize she had said something foolish.
“You truly don't understand her at all, then.”
The old woman looked back toward Havoc. The demon had pulled the blanket higher over her wings, and the little shelter was now full of whispering children. One child peeked out through a gap, giggled, and disappeared again. Havoc lowered her voice and made some sort of silly monster noise that caused the entire little crowd beneath the blanket to squeal and dart out.
Miss Harlo nodded toward the scene. “Still not seeing it?”
Passion frowned. “She is a demon Valkyr. Those two things alone don't make sense. Let alone the nice...” Passion stopped and turned back to the woman. “Seriously? She's just being nice?”
“Oh hun’, no. No, no, no.” Miss Harlo’s smile softened. “Nice is bringing sweets to orphans whose parents either died or abandoned them. Miss Chelsea is something different.”
Passion looked back at Havoc again.
Miss Harlo continued, voice quieter now. “She bought this building and is going to have it rebuilt from the ground up. While that happens, she's putting all of us up in a local inn. She's paying for everything. Food, shelter, new beds, clothing, whatever the children need. I've been requesting the church rebuild this place for years with no reply. Miss Chelsea came here, looked around once, and decided waiting was foolish.”
Passion stared at her.
Miss Harlo wiped at one eye, though she did it quickly, obviously annoyed that she was doing it again. “Miss Chelsea had to have been sent from the gods.”
“It still makes no sense to me,” Passion said. “Why would she do all of that for, what, twenty kids? It's so much money.”
Miss Harlo’s smile got bigger. She had been waiting for Passion to ask the right question.
“It's not just us, hun’. She's rebuilding all twelve orphanages in the kingdom.”
Passion turned fully toward her. “You're joking.”
Passion asked, looking at Havoc as if seeing her for the first time all over again. “Is she a crazy person?” That sort of money is... I get that her mom is rich, but there has to be a line somewhere.”
Ivy had edged closer to the two of them, drawn in by the conversation despite herself. She had been watching Havoc with that soft look she got sometimes, the one that made Passion wonder how long the elf had been with Havoc.
“Adriane isn't the rich one,” Ivy said. “Chels is.”
Passion looked at her.
Ivy seemed to realize how absurd that sounded, but continued anyway. “This month alone she's made amounts of money it would take normal people like me lifetimes to make. And I'm an elf.”
Passion looked between Ivy, Miss Harlo, and then at demon currently being used as a blanket fort.
“So it's just that the money has no meaning to her?” Passion asked.
Ivy let out a small breath, not quite a laugh and not quite a sigh. “No. That's not it either.”
Passion waited.
Ivy watched Havoc for a moment longer before speaking again. “Chels sees the world differently than the rest of us. The things she does. The things she accomplishes. Then she turns around and does this.”
She gestured toward the demon in front of them.
Havoc had a child clinging to one horn, another trying to braid part of her hair, and three more hidden beneath her wings. She looked ridiculous. Happy too, in a way that did not seem like she was faking it.
“Every person she meets walks away thinking they are the most important person in the world to Chels,” Ivy said.
Passion nodded slowly. “That sounds powerful.”
Ivy let out an exasperated groan.
Passion looked at her, confused by the reaction.
“You still don't get it,” Ivy said.
She took a breath, then seemed to decide she was not going to be able to explain Havoc properly with words. Maybe nobody could. Maybe Havoc was something a person had to watch happen.
“But you will,” Ivy added. “By the end of the day, she will probably do something that will blow your mind and change how you view her.”
Passion glanced back toward Havoc.
The demon had pulled another blanket from storage and was now helping the children expand their wing shelter into something more ambitious. One little boy asked if it could have a front gate. Havoc took the request seriously.
Passion still didn’t understand her. Not yet. But for the first time, she began to suspect the other Valkyr had been wrong about what made a Havoc dangerous.