In the city of Taubernest, many knew of a famous dressmaker called Madam Belladonna, for each one of her dresses were rare and coveted pieces of art. Despite only being used in the most prestigious balls and parties, they were the dream of almost every girl and woman in town, even those who couldn’t afford them. They all imagined themselves dancing around in those beautiful dresses in equally beautiful halls whilst their beloved held them by their side.

Nobody knew how she managed to make such well-crafted clothes. No one ever dared to enter her atelier, nor was she foolish enough to share her secrets of the trade. However, if someone were to sneak into her house, climb up the stairs and enter her attic, they would find among the fabric samples and the mannequins a plain young woman working on a dress with determination and precision beyond her age.

A singular streak of grey poked out of her dark brown hair that she tied in a low hanging bun as she tirelessly worked on Belladonna’s latest design. But before she could finish it, her godmother called her from downstairs.

“Asche! Dinner is ready!” She squawked.

Asche immediately stopped what she was doing and swiftly placed her sewing equipment back in its box before hurrying down the stairs.

Quiet as a mouse, she tiptoed on the parquet floors towards the dining room. Her godfather was taking a break to make adjustments to his prosthetic leg when she arrived at the table while Belladonna was still finishing her prayers. She pulled out a walnut wood chair for herself and started her own prayers before Belladonna snapped at her.

“Elbows, Asche.” She coldly said with her eyes still closed.

“Sorry.” She quickly murmured as she promptly took her elbows off the table.

They all ate their meals in the usual silence. None of them cared enough to say anything interesting nor did they think anyone had anything interesting to say. Afterall, it has been a while since the smooth fog of winter turned into a suffocating fog of war. With each passing day, the residents of Taubernest felt the ever-present pressure and apprehension that hung over their city like a merciless executioner about to strike down. It’s victims ranged from a few nobles seeking glory in the battlefield to the dozens of poor and battered souls that threw themselves into the fray, hoping to get a better life for their families only to become yet another unmarked grave. Only the truly rich and powerful could really afford to escape the war, but the Shwartz’s were not that rich, nor that powerful. At least not in those harsh times.

“Did you finish Miss Sandy’s dress?” Belladonna asked, breaking the silent atmosphere.

“Not yet, but I-I’m close.” Asche timidly answered.

“Hurry up then, I don’t want to lose the few customers I have left. It’s bad enough that I can’t sew my own dresses anymore…” She said in a sourly tone.

Asche nodded and hurried to finish her food a tad faster than before.

“We should marry her off.” Friedrich said after taking another sip from his glass.

“That’s out of question Friedrich and you know very well why.” Belladonna replied

“I honestly doubt your post officer salary would be enough to maintain this house.”

Friedrich scoffed as he glared at his wife.

“Better than barely having any work at all. That pity money you get isn’t going to last forever, Bella.”

“My customers pay for my work because it's beautiful, not because they feel pity for me.” She responded with a barely contained rage before returning to her usual glacial tone.

“Besides, someone of my skill can do much more than just dresses.”

“Hmph, like what?” He inquired, raising one of his thick eyebrows and raising his chin in defiance.

“Embroidery, bedspreads, curtains and sheets just to name a few.” She said with a tinge of pride.

“Here’s what you don’t understand woman: all of those things are luxuries! We are at war, remember? People can’t afford to waste their money on things that they can’t eat or use. If we marry her with some baron or noble we would at least have some emergency money in case those bastards put us through another siege!”

Asche slumped down in her chair, trying to make herself as unnoticed as possible.

“And what about after the war, Friedrich? Have you ever thought about that? Do you think I can just tell my clients that I suddenly can’t make their dresses anymore? I would never hear the end of it.”

“Oh no, not your precious reputation. I tremble at the base thinking about what would happen to us if you hadn’t such loyal and generous clients.” He sarcastically slurred .

“Face it Bella, we can’t rely on their charity forever. This war is far from over and people are getting desperate by the minute. I say we grab that opportunity while we can! The girl already knows how to cook, clean and sew, what else could a husband ask from her?!” He said as he got up from his chair and hit the table in anger.

“Lower your voice Friedrich, otherwise the whole neighborhood is going to hear how desperate you are.” She said in a low but commanding tone.

After hesitating for a moment, he sat back on his chair and emptied his glass of wine.

“Tsk, sod it.” He said before grabbing the bottle and stomping his way into the living room.

It was at this point that Belladonna realized that Asche wasn’t at the table anymore. She turned to the stairs just in time to see her reaching the second floor. She then sighed and looked at the half-empty plate with a thoughtful but worried expression for a few moments, before getting up and starting to clean the dinner table.

In the attic, Asche continued to work on the dress, finishing it within a few minutes before gently placing it in a box on top of her workbench. She took out her hair ribbon and reached for her bed, but just before she could lay down, someone knocked on her door and entered the room a second afterwards. She jolted up as she saw Belladonna, who calmly perused the dresses scattered across the place before addressing her in a disinterested tone.

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“I see that you’ve finished the dress.” She gestured at the box.

Ashe nodded.

“I’ll hand it to Friedrich first thing in the morning.”

Belladonna simply nodded in approval. An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry for not wishing you goodnight.” Asche softly murmured with a hint of guilt in her voice.

Belladonna dismissed her comment with a brief wave of her hand.

“I don’t blame you, Friedrich can be such a simplistic man at times.” She wearily replied.

“But worry not, nobody leaves my house without my permission. He knows that very well.” She proudly smiled.

“Thank you…” Asche nervously responded.

“Well, I just wanted to make that clear. Good night Asche.”

“Good night, ma'am.” She cooed.

Belladonna then left the room just as calmly as she entered, leaving Asche to ponder thoroughly about the consequences of what she said. She laid on her bed and tried to sleep for quite some time without success. Her mind aimlessly wandered around the attic, swinging on the beams up in the ceiling and scurrying under the skirts of the mannequins like a devious child that refused to stay put. That was until she suddenly found herself inside a vague and old memory, one from before she was confined to that spacious but limited place.

She saw herself on a bench, laying on her father’s lap as he told her fairy tales whilst her mother tended to a beautiful bed of colorful flowers. She couldn’t remember the name of the book in her father’s hands, nor what kind of flowers grew in her mother’s garden, yet she could still hear the soft song that came from her lips as she worked. It was the kind of melodic humming that would gently sweep her consciousness away and give her a sound and peaceful sleep. And for a few precious moments, that was exactly what she did.

However, a crude noise from outside ripped her out of her dreams and plunged her back into reality. Every muscle in her body turned into stone as she heard the sudden clashing of metal. Deathly afraid yet overwhelmingly curious, she quietly approached the window and cautiously peeked down below. She saw a strange man perched on the blacksmith’s window across the street. His face was hidden by a plain metallic mask of a crow and he turned his head from left to right as if he was searching for something.

As their eyes inevitably met, they both stared at each other for a brief moment, without really knowing what to do. After the spell was broken however, the man narrowed his gaze and started to analyse Asche as a predator does to their prey. As soon as she realized that, her heart violently sank into her stomach. She then jerked straight down to the floor and ran downstairs as quickly as her legs could manage.

She entered the living room and saw Friedrich sloppily laying on his favourite leather armchair with a bottle of wine precariously hanging from his hand. Asche approached him quickly and tried to shake him out of his drunken stupor.

“Friedrich!” Asche cried as she shook him.

He grunted in response, his eyes barely open.

“Friedrich please wake up! There’s someone raiding the blacksmith and they are heading to our house!” She desperately pleaded.

When Friedrich finally opened his eyes, he looked at Asche and his expression instantly soured.

“What do you want you fucking pigeon...” He slurred.

“There’s someone trying to break into our house! Please, you have to believe me!”

“Tsk, stop bothering me with your nightmares and go back to sleep for fuck’s sake.” He said as he turned his back at Asche and pulled the bottle of wine close to his chest.

“But it’s tru-” She never finished that phrase, for a gloved hand covered her mouth while the other one held her arm in a tight grip.

Asche didn’t have to turn around to know who her aggressor was. The coldness of his metal mask pressed against her ear told her exactly who he was.

“Do not make a sound” the cloaked figure snarled.

Terrified to her wits end, she couldn't find a single fiber in her body to contest him.

Realizing something was wrong, Friedrich turned around and jumped from his chair as he saw the stranger in his house.

“Who the fuck are you?! Get out of my house before I split you open!” He bellowed, pulling a sword from atop the fireplace. He took a moment to grip it firmly and tried his best to remember the correct battle stance, despite his intoxicated state.

“Shut it you drunk, one wrong move and the girl gets it.” he said in a low threatening voice.

“Pick on someone your own size, fuck face!” He angrily retorted.

Aiming his sword up and towards the intruder, he charged at him with the false confidence of a drunkard. The invader swiftly threw Asche to the side and immediately unsheathed his hidden short sword to block the attack, sending Friedrich’s sword flying across the room. A heartbeat later, he slit the man’s throat in one clean cut.

He staggered for a moment, holding his throat in surprise, before slumping over the coffee table and finally falling to the floor, his blood forming an ever expanding stain on the carpet. His last moments were filled with frustration and regret for the life he wasted and the dreams he left along the way. His life left him in a silent whisper.

Asche looked at her godfather’s body with a horrified expression. The color was drained from her face and her limbs shuddered too violently to support her body, leaving her paralized. She felt a strong pull on her arm that hoisted from the ground.

“Move.” the masked figure commanded, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Having no choice but to follow, Asche let herself be dragged away towards the backdoor while tears streamed down her face. They exited into a dark alley and made their way to the streets. But just as they were leaving, the painful scream of a woman made Asche instinctively turn her head towards the house. She wanted to scream in return but she couldn’t muster the strength or the will to do so.

A group of equally strange and intimidating men were waiting for them on the other side of the alley. They all wore the same attire as her captor with the exception of their wooden masks and the big bags on their backs. Without a single word of warning, the metal masked man put Asche on his shoulder and nodded to his companions before they all moved as one under the growing shadows of the city. Their passage nothing more than a breeze in the night and the occasional rustle of metal from the bags they carried.

The dim light that came from the dying oil lamps announced the arrival of the morning sun, forcing them to drop their stealth in favor of more speed. Once they reached the city walls, two of them prepared a crude grappling hook and aimed at the top. They passed by the bodies of the sentinels that littered the battlements before hopping over to the other side.

One by one, the invaders left the city in a cleverly hidden cart, taking a good portion of it’s weapons along with one confused and scared young woman, who did nothing but look at her hometown as if it was the last time she would ever see it again.