Knowledge Is Power: The Last Reader

The mill erupted into chaos.

Kelme and the soldiers entered carefully, weapons drawn, their movements cautious and deliberate. The first thing they saw was a white blur—a woman in a beautiful white dress fighting several armed men at once, her movements fluid and precise despite being outnumbered.

The second thing they saw was Edward Colston standing behind his guards, his expression one of calm amusement.

Kelme’s eyes widened. "That’s her!"

The Duke raised a hand. "Wait."

"Wait?!" Kelme pointed toward the fight, his voice rising with panic. "She’s outnumbered!"

The White Princess moved between two attacks, barely avoiding them. Kelme looked at the Duke in disbelief. "We need to help her!"

"No."

Kelme stared at him. "What?"

The Duke’s eyes remained fixed on Aria, his expression cold and calculating. "This is perfect."

"Perfect?!"

"She’s the White Princess."

Kelme looked at him, then at Aria, then back at him. "Yes, she’s the White Princess. That’s exactly why we should help her!"

"No." The Duke’s voice hardened, carrying a weight of old grief. "She killed my daughter."

Kelme froze. For a moment, he said nothing. The Duke finally looked at him. "You knew?"

Kelme nodded slowly. "I heard about it."

The Duke’s expression changed, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "So you know why she must die."

"Yes. I understand the feeling."

"So you understand why she’s the bigger threat?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she didn’t kill your daughter." Kelme pointed toward the battlefield. "She sells sugar. She didn’t walk into your house and kill your daughter."

The Duke’s jaw tightened. "You don’t understand."

"Then explain it."

The Duke looked back at Aria, his voice dropping to something almost reverent. "They call her the White Princess."

Kelme sighed. "Yes. It’s a stupid name."

The Duke looked at him. "You think it’s stupid?"

"I’ve heard worse."

The Duke’s expression remained cold. "You know why they call her that?"

Kelme shrugged. "Because children made it up."

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. "Exactly." He looked toward the fighting. "When sugar was banned, children didn’t understand why. They only knew that suddenly something they loved had disappeared."

Kelme listened, his expression carefully neutral.

The Duke’s voice became quieter. "My daughter loved sweets. She started hearing stories about the White Princess. Children said she brought sugar back to them. They thought she was some kind of hero." He paused. "One day I heard my daughter singing about her." He swallowed. "I asked her what it meant. She wouldn’t answer. She was angry with me."

The Duke’s fists tightened. "Then she became sick. She had a tooth problem. She hid it from me." His voice cracked slightly. "By the time I understood how serious it was, there was nothing I could do. She died from the infection caused by her rotten tooth before the healer could even arrive. And yes, a rotten tooth can cause a serious infection. Bacteria can spread from the tooth into the gums, jaw, or face, creating swelling and pus. If untreated, the infection can enter the bloodstream and cause sepsis, a life-threatening illness that can damage organs. Swelling can also block the airway and make breathing difficult. These outcomes are uncommon ofcourse, but a severe toothache, facial swelling, fever, trouble swallowing, or breathing problems can make you suffer before you leave this world."

Kelme didn’t interrupt. The Duke’s grief hardened into anger. "I lost my daughter because of the White Princess."

Kelme knew immediately that arguing with him wouldn’t work. The man wasn’t listening to logic anymore—he had built his entire understanding of the world around one conclusion. Aria had taken something from him, and now he wanted it back.

Kelme tried another approach. "I’m sorry."

The Duke didn’t respond.

"But don’t you want revenge?" The Duke finally looked at him. "What?"

Kelme nodded toward Colston. "Why should that man be the one to kill her?"

The Duke’s eyes moved toward Colston. "Because he has more men."

"Exactly." Kelme’s charm pushed gently against his thoughts. Nothing. The Duke didn’t even blink.

Kelme tried again. Nothing. He’s too focused. This wasn’t a man looking for persuasion. This was a man who had already decided what he wanted.

Kelme needed something else. Something he was unfortunately very good at—being an idiot.

He sighed. "Wow."

The Duke looked at him.

"You’re remarkably calm." Kelme continued. "Honestly, I’m impressed."

The Duke frowned.

"You lost your daughter, and you’re still standing here calculating numbers." Kelme said with a dumb face.

Silence. Kelme knew he was walking onto dangerous ground. He continued anyway. "Actually, I’m surprised."

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. "Surprised by what?"

"That you didn’t notice sooner." The Duke stared at him. Kelme swallowed. "Your daughter was sick, and you didn’t realize. You didn’t protect her."

Kelme immediately knew he had crossed the line. But he kept going. "And you’re still young. You can always—"

The Duke grabbed him by the throat. Kelme’s feet left the ground.

"Say another word."

Kelme struggled—not because he couldn’t escape, but because he had just discovered something. The Duke had lost control. And that was exactly what he needed.

Kelme screamed in pain from his grip. The sound echoed through the mill.

Several of Colston’s guards turned. "What was that?"

The Duke realized his mistake. He released Kelme. "Prepare yourselves!" His soldiers raised their weapons. "Kill the White Princess if you can!"

Colston turned. His eyes widened. The army. He looked at Aria, then at Kelme. Understanding arrived all at once.

"You."

Aria was still fighting, her white dress a blur of motion. Colston pointed toward her. "You set me up."

Aria smiled, her voice carrying across the chaos. "Maybe."

"Why?"

"Business."

Colston’s face twisted. "It doesn’t matter." He gestured toward his guards. "I brought enough men."

The Duke raised his sword. "Then we’ll find out."

The two groups collided. The mill exploded into movement.

Aria saw the opening. She didn’t hesitate. She ran.

Colston ran too. "Get her!"

Aria ducked through a doorway, her white dress catching on splintered wood. Colston followed close behind. "You won’t escape me!" She kept running. "You hear me?!"

Aria glanced back. His expression was almost fanatical. "I will find you!"

She turned another corner. "You belong to me!"

That sentence sent a chill through her. Not fear. Disgust. She ran faster.

Behind her, the sounds of fighting continued—steel clashing, shouts echoing, magic crackling through the air. The Duke’s soldiers were losing men. Colston’s guards were doing the same. Neither side was willing to stop.

The Duke looked around the battlefield. One of his soldiers fell. Another staggered backward. The Duke’s face twisted with frustration. Then he saw Kelme.

"You!"

Kelme was still catching his breath. The Duke grabbed him by the shoulder. "This is your fault!"

Kelme coughed. "I know."

"I lost her!"

"You haven’t."

The Duke stopped. "What?"

Kelme pointed. "Look."

The Duke followed his finger. Nothing. Then—a figure stepped out from behind a stack of broken wooden crates.

Normal hair. Normal clothes. No white dress. No pale skin. No strange eyes. Just Aria.

She looked around. "Did I miss anything?"

Kelme stared. The Duke stared. Aria smiled awkwardly. "Long story."

The Duke stepped toward her. "How?"

Kelme raised a hand. "Before you blame me again, remember something." The Duke stopped. "You didn’t know what she looked like." The Duke frowned. "You didn’t know what she wore." Kelme pointed toward Aria. "We did. We read your reports. Without us, you would’ve had almost no chance of identifying her."

Kelme took a breath. "And I’m sorry."

The Duke stared at him. "For what?"

"I misspoke." Kelme rubbed his neck. "Very badly."

Aria gave him a look. Understatement.

"But give me another chance." Kelme’s voice became serious. "We can find you a much better lead."

The Duke considered him. Then Kelme added better than: "Her face." He paused. "Or what she wears. What are you even going to do with what she wears?"

Aria slowly turned toward him, her eyes narrowing. Seriously?

Kelme continued. "But, whoever bought that dress has excellent taste."

Aria’s expression became murderous.

The Duke ignored her. "You’re right." He looked toward the road. "The dress was unique."

Kelme nodded. "Exactly."

"If we identify the merchant who sold it..." The Duke’s eyes sharpened. "...we find out who bought it."

Kelme was not trying to hold a fake smile and failing. Aria was now nervous—that big mouth of Kelme’s was going to get them killed.

"A dress is stupid. We can find better leads. And what about the slave trader?" Aria said nervously.

The Duke finished the thought, ignoring her. "No. We follow the trail."

Aria’s smile slowly disappeared. She didn’t even understand why he was so focused on the small fish when a creep like Colston was out there.

The Duke turned toward the city. "For the first time..." He looked at the bloodied mill behind him. "...we have somewhere to start."

Aria looked down at herself, then at Kelme, then back at the Duke. Her expression said only one thing: I hate this plan.

And somewhere in the city, a merchant still had the receipt.

The hunt for the White Princess had just become a lot easier.