The Eternal Empire

Anna had always lingered at the edge of Heimrich's awareness, an anomaly in a village where nearly everyone else had come to trust him. Her seclusion and wary glances might have gone unnoticed by others, but Heimrich's analytical mind could not ignore patterns, especially those that deviated from the norm. He had decided to observe her more closely, determined to uncover the reasons behind her mistrust.

Anna was a woman of about 165 centimeters in height, her figure unremarkable except for her noticeably narrow waist. Her blonde hair, long and unkempt, fell in uneven waves. Unlike the other women in the village who kept their hair short for practicality, Anna's hair hung over one side of her face, partially obscuring it. Heimrich couldn't help but wonder if this was deliberate. Her figure was average, except for her chest—flatter than some of the men in the village who carried extra weight. He theorized that perhaps her long hair served as a declaration of femininity, a silent statement to counter her otherwise androgynous appearance.

This day, Heimrich decided to follow her, careful not to betray his presence. Anna's daily routine began with a task no one envied: maintaining the village's communal toilet. She spent her mornings shoveling waste, a thankless job that explained why she avoided others and why others avoided her. Yet, she performed the task with methodical efficiency, hauling the foul-smelling contents to a pit far from the village.

Heimrich had learned from snippets of conversation that Anna had not always been in this position. Once, she had worked in the village's tavern, celebrated as the most beautiful maiden in Freising. Her youthful charm, lively spirit, and angelic voice had made her a favorite among villagers and travelers alike. But something had changed. Now, no one spoke of her past except in hushed tones, and Anna herself seemed content to keep her distance.

Perhaps it was the nature of her work that made her so withdrawn. Every evening, Anna left the village and ventured far into the woods to wash herself in a secluded stream. For most villagers, bathing was a rare event, done once a fortnight or even less. Anna's insistence on daily cleanliness was unusual and had not gone unnoticed by Heimrich.

This evening, Heimrich followed her. He moved silently, his well-trained senses keeping him hidden behind the trees and underbrush. Anna carried a small bundle of cloth and soap, her steps purposeful as she made her way to the stream. Heimrich reminded himself that this was not voyeurism but an investigation. Anna's mistrust intrigued him, and he needed to understand its roots.

When Anna reached the stream, she glanced around briefly before setting her bundle down. The forest was quiet except for the gentle burbling of the water. Heimrich crouched low behind a thick cluster of bushes, his sharp eyes observing her every move. She began to undress, removing her outer garments with a mechanical precision that spoke of routine.

As the layers fell away, Heimrich's analytical mind registered details that would have shocked any mentally sane and normal person. Anna's back and shoulders bore a lattice of scars, the kind inflicted by severe burns. When she turned slightly, Heimrich caught sight of her face. The reason for her long hair became horrifyingly clear. The entire left side of her face was marred by heavy burn scars. Her ear was deformed, barely more than a misshapen nub, and her left eye was an empty socket. The sight was jarring—so much so that it would have sent chills down anyone's spine. Heimrich, however, remained composed.

He continued to watch as she stepped into the stream, the water rippling around her. Anna's movements were methodical, scrubbing herself clean with an intensity that suggested not just hygiene but a desperate need to erase something intangible. Then came another revelation. As she washed, Heimrich's eyes were drawn to her chest. At first, he thought she was indeed flat-chested, but the truth was far more harrowing. Her breasts bore deep, jagged scars, not the result of any surgical intervention, but from a savage and violent act. It was as though her breasts had been forcibly torn away, leaving gruesome furrows and scars that testified to an unimaginable level of cruelty. The sheer brutality of the act seemed almost designed to destroy not just her body but her spirit.

Many people might have gasped or made a sound of horror, but Heimrich did not. He observed in silence, his expression impassive as his mind processed what he was seeing. The scars told a story—one of pain, violence, and survival. Whatever had happened to Anna, it had reshaped her into the withdrawn and wary figure she was now. To Heimrich, this discovery was not disturbing but fascinating. It deepened the mystery surrounding Anna and strengthened his resolve to uncover the truth.

When Anna finished bathing, she redressed quickly, her movements brisk as she packed her things and began the trek back to the village. Heimrich waited until she was well out of sight before slipping away from his hiding place. His mind churned with possibilities, each more intriguing than the last.

He had no intention of confronting Anna directly, not yet. Instead, he resolved to gather information from others in the village. There was always someone willing to talk, especially if approached with the right questions. Heimrich already had an idea of who might know more about Anna's past, and he intended to find out everything he could.

As he made his way back to the village under the cover of twilight, Heimrich felt a curious mixture of anticipation and determination. Anna was no longer just a suspicious figure avoiding him; she was a puzzle, one he intended to solve. Whatever secrets she held, Heimrich was certain of one thing: they would be worth uncovering.