Friday Night
Forum began with myself being accosted by inquisitors, despite knowing nothing of the goings on within Runeheim, and Nephele drowning in an endless dirge about Santiago.

Honestly, I’m tired of hearing it, even though it’s only just begun. He is Santi-ah-gone, she needs to move on. Knut doesn’t deserve to be dragged through her misery—or tangled up with me. I don’t love Knut; I admire him. His steady calm, his quiet strength—they’re rare, and frankly, impressive. But love? That’s for fools. Knut deserves someone who isn’t me—someone who won’t inevitably break his heart. Someone who is a fool, like Nephele!

So I’m doing them both a favor. Admiring Knut from afar, sparing him the chaos I’d bring, and setting him up with Nephele—bitter and mournful, yes, but steady. Exactly what he needs. And she needs her focus redirected away from Santiago.

I keep slipping Knut drink coins for Nephele’s bar—free drinks on me—much to Nephele’s outrage. “Aurelia, how many more tokens will you steal before you bankrupt us? That one-handed oaf isn’t worth a coin!” she snapped, bitter as ever. She mocks Knut’s missing hand too. Just last night she joked loud enough for half the bar: “Maybe you should trade those coins for a second one.” Knut grinned through it all, patient as ever. I know the way to any man’s heart is through their stomach, Nephele will win him over quickly with her delicious beverages.

Knut attempted to collect his bill from Nephele, itemized list and all, to be met with her balking and handwaving frantically while near-yelling something about “I’ll figure out what to pay you” and me refitting his armor to him as part of whatever agreement she dredged up. She denies she has my mother’s riches. I know she is just lying.

Saturday Morning
I “accidentally” sent Knut to Nephele’s bar at opening, forcing an awkward moment between them. Nephele snapped, “Don’t get soft on me, Knut. And don’t expect free drinks every time—one hand or not.” Knut laughed it off, and I swear Nephele’s glare softened just a touch. Progress.

I am so generous that I fed the entire town by providing resources to the cook– who is also a mage! And contributed to the town’s stockpile. Yes, Aurelia—the benefactor of Runeheim. If anyone deserves to live well, it’s me.

I saw Nephele sneaking not just one, but two cupcakes to Knut while she thought I wasn’t looking. The embers of their shared love are slowly burning brighter.

Saturday Night
Runeheim burns; the Inquisition tightens its grip. Yet Nephele managed to coax a secret story from Knut—someone threatening someone she cares for. She actually paid him for it, like a savvy merchant. A fierce spark lit in her eyes—a flicker of life I haven’t seen since Santiago disappeared. It’s proof they belong together.

As we left the city late, flames painting the sky red behind us, I indulged in a sweeter fantasy: Nephele finally handing me the entire chest of my “inheritance”—that supposed fortune she’s been “holding” for me—while I live free from debts and worry.

I imagine a day when Nephele is married to Knut, finally quieting her endless mourning, while I sit back, knowing I masterminded it all—for their good and my own. A free guard and a silent cousin, what more could a girl ask for other than her inheritance?

Nephele pushes me to pack up my belongings, quipping about how long it’s taking and having the audacity to tell me to just leave my scarf. I give her a look, she shuts up, we leave the city before the smoke is thick enough to prevent us from being able to see at all. My cousin is in a desperate hurry to protect her wards and her belongings–my belongings she owes me.

Sunday Afternoon
Back home, surrounded by Nephele’s wards—Dong Quixote, Damascus Steele, and Cass a’Nueva—grown men softened under Nephele’s care. I indulged their antics with amused affection: Dong Quixote’s tales of misplaced chivalry, Damascus’s restless pacing, and Cass’s absurd poetry. Their laughter brightened the room and softened Nephele’s bitterness, if only briefly.

I’m doing them a favor. Knut deserves someone who isn’t me. Nephele needs to move on. And I deserve to live free of worry—and debt. If pairing them means Nephele foots my bills, hands me my inheritance chest, and marries Knut, then every stolen coin and sharp word was worth it.

Romance is for fools—I’m better than that. I’m simply the architect of a better future, one where everyone wins—especially me.