When Theora woke up the next day, Lostina was already gone. She rubbed her eyes drowsily and wondered if that should have her worried. As Amala had foreseen, that daughter of hers hadn’t returned that night; at least not to Theora’s knowledge.
First off, Theora went on to tidy up — folded the bedsheets together, dusted and cleaned the room, and collected Lostina’s change of clothes on the ground to go wash them.
Amala was already up, sitting on a chair in the kitchen of the lower floor, so Theora took a break from cleaning to make her some tea.
“Good girl,” Amala said. “You don’t meet young ones like you much nowadays.”
Theora decided to keep quiet about probably being the older one between the two.
“Have you seen Lostina?”
Amala shook her head. “I’ve been up for two hours, if she’s not in your room, she must have left really early.” She gestured to the stairs. “Would have noticed.”
Why hadn’t she woken Theora?
There was a certain possible reason — maybe it was a repeat of their first meeting. Perhaps Lostina was up to no good, and worried that Theora would disapprove. Although last time, Lostina had at least been upfront about it.
“Are there any rich people in this village?”
Amala laughed. “No, my dear. Nobody like that. Anyone rich would leave this place, since there is not much their money could buy.”
What then? If Lostina had wanted Theora to follow or find her, she could have left a note or the like, so that was unlikely. But, Lostina was the one with detailed information about the plot and the upcoming events.
Was Theora simply supposed to stay put?
“Do you need help with anything?” she asked, but Amala shook her head.
“I’m fine. Raka should come back soon, so no worries.”
Theora sipped her tea, and stared through the window. It was raining softly, and there were less people outside than the day before.
“Is there a bakery in this village?”
“Ah, yes, there is. Young Auburn just took over from his father. He’s the one who made our little frames yesterday. Not too far from here. Down the street, then to the left, you’ll see a wide red house with a large chimney.”
Theora nodded. “We are almost ready to leave. If Lostina returns, could you tell her I’m there?”
“Ah, sure, sure. Sorry, I would offer you a longer stay, but with Raka back… There’s a family on the other side of the street, but their son is out for work during this time of the year, so they might offer his room for a few coins.”
“Thank you very much. I appreciate your help.”
“Oh, no, thank you. Yesterday would have been a bit tougher had you not shown up. In the sense that I’d have had to chat someone else up to do Raka’s job!”
She laughed.
About an hour later, Theora had finished her further errands and finally arrived at the red house with a big chimney. She stood in front of the somewhat imposing oak door for a few moments, hand raised in a loose fist. Why was she feeling nervous?
Just as she was about to knock, the ground started shaking ever so slightly. It was the kind of tremor Theora was used to paying attention to; like back when Dema had been sick. Exactly like that, in fact. The feeling of large monsters slowly approaching. Their footsteps.
Theora turned back to look into the distance, but couldn’t see very far, despite how wide the road was, since it led upwards and then disappeared behind a hill. Soon after, these vibrations stopped, and others started in its place.
What was Lostina doing?
At that moment, a young man with very long, curly hair and a short stubble opened the door.
“How can I be of service?” he asked, in a tone that sounded almost mocking, with an amused note, but still very polite and soft. “You’ve been standing here for a while. Noticed from the window.”
“I, uhm,” Theora started, but had already forgotten the sentence she’d prepared in advance in her head. All she could hear was the soft thump, thump, boom of something going on up above on the cliff.
“Yes?”
“I… was pointed here by Amala. I got reincarnated as a [Baker] and was wondering if you could teach me. Maybe. I uhm. Have money.”
He looked surprised, and then nodded. “Unfortunately, today is my rest-day. I just finished my apprenticeship, and helped out with the festival until yesterday. I will take over the bakery starting tomorrow.”
Ah. In that case, Amala’s information had been slightly incorrect, it appeared.
Auburn tapped his fingers against his chin, thinking for a moment. “Let me ask my father. Maybe he will entertain the thought.”
With that, he disappeared back inside and left Theora standing for about five minutes, and she desperately considered running off to see whatever was happening on top of that cliff.
Eventually, an old man returned in Auburn’s stead; very wrinkled and seemingly grumpy, wearing a long, simple dress of linen and triangular shaped glasses. “So, ye wanna be a baker?” he asked.
Theora swallowed. “Y-yes.”
Just as she said that, a loud rumble came from above. The earth shook. He frowned, looking up. “Damn, they be doing construction work in the hill again? Has been ages. Why’d nobody tell us?”
“I’m sorry,” Theora said. “I need to check that out.”
With that, she made her way up. At least to her knowledge, a concept similar to ‘auras’ in her home world did not exist here; although she couldn’t be entirely sure, since maybe she just hadn’t met anyone strong yet. It was weird, to feel these kinds of eruptions, these hints of a fight, without any aura attached to it at all. Was it a natural disaster? Were the Errata already pouring in?
Street after street, she went higher, then pushed herself along rocks to make the last stretch up the mountain. Up there was a wide plateau, a meadow of short grass and moss. The drizzle was still going, tinting everything in a gentle grey.
The first thing Theora saw was a massive animal, almost the size of a building, just sitting somewhere at the edge overseeing the settlement. It had a giant grey horn on its head, and thick, leathery skin with folds around its four legs. There were some lines of red running across the edges of its body.
It was a gargantuan rhinoceros.
Suddenly, a flood of red liquid appeared out of nowhere in the corner of Theora’s eye.
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Well, not nowhere. It appeared out of Dema, who was tiny in comparison to the streams pouring out from her. She’d mounted herself on a rock pillar, grinning wide while filling the meadow with sheer endless amounts of her blood. The target of her attack was another woman who stood further away, and then jumped to avoid the splurge.
Jumped, and stayed in the air. She could fly, as if gravity just didn’t affect her.
Dema vaulted off her pillar, and new ones tossed themselves up from the ground to catch her, with each leap she made. At the same time, she flicked a hand, and a boulder launched towards her target from beyond the cliff.
As it was still soaring, Dema noticed Theora, and started waving. “There you are!” she called out. “Knew you’d come if we made noise!”
Theora hurried closer, undeterred by the pools of crimson on the ground.
“Let me introduce you to — Skulduggery!” Dema said, pointing to the rhino. Then, she turned to the person she was fighting, and as she gestured at her, she also fired a few more rocks that direction.
The woman already acted like she had trouble dodging the first boulder. The rocks in its wake shattered against her shoulder turned in defence.
She was large, athletic, and stood out, wearing a red, fine poncho and a complex crimson mixture of thin metallic armour plates that put themselves together into the shape of a tight robe, wielding a thin rapier. She had very dark, freckled skin, and long, brown hair reaching down the side of her head, with the other cut to a buzz around the ear. An old scar of a slash went down the side of her neck.
She was also smeared in blood.
“And this—” Dema added, “Is Gonell!”
The woman gave an amused smile, and, in a low and resounding voice, said, “I take it you are Little Rabbit, then. I’ve heard a lot.”
“I—Hello,” Theora stammered, totally overwhelmed. Her eyes awkwardly darted between them. “What is happening?”
“We’re sparring!” Dema let out. She clapped her hands together, causing the ground around Gonell to bite, snapping shut like a trap. “Wanted to see which of us was stronger.”
Gonell laughed, barely managing to evade the attack, and upon meeting Theora’s worried gaze, she wiped a bit of red off the back of her hand.
“Don’t worry,” she said nonchalantly. “This is my blood.”
And then, they just resumed their fight. If it could even be called that.
Despite Dema’s cheerful attitude, she was quite obviously taking this rather seriously. Blood whips lashed out at Gonell from every direction. The ground spat rock after rock, walls of earth roared up, limiting her movement. Even when Gonell soared up to escape the threats beneath, torrents of blood awaited above, turning into scarlet crystal projectiles firing at her.
Theora just stared at this marvel of an altercation. It was a display of such intricacy she had rarely seen before; a showcase only possible between beings of vastly differing strength.
The way Dema was slowly gaining ground, despite Gonell’s sword slashing through her attacks. The way Dema’s spells landed hit after hit, only reaching at the very last moment, the way the damage they left piled up — at first, just bruises from rocks, but then, more little slashes made their way across Gonell’s arms and face as well.
The way Gonell never quite found a chance to retaliate; the way her muscles slowed down to emulate fatigue.
It was choreography. It was obvious.
Gonell was letting her win.
Soon, after closing off all escapes with rock pillars and walls, Dema theatrically launched her arm forward in a large arching motion, which was followed by a sharp blood vine gushing from a pool behind her mirroring the movement. It stopped right as it would have pierced Gonell’s forehead.
Gonell, on her knees, dropped her sword, and the vine sloshed to the ground.
“I won!” Dema cheered loudly, the blood all over the meadow boiling with her joy.
“Sure did,” Gonell acknowledged with a smile, even though, based on the speed she’d shown before, she could have dodged that last attack. Gonell was playing with Dema like one would with a child.
And oh, was it worth it, for that raspy and full laugh Dema was laughing, the pure bliss she showed at being able to let go of herself and succeed.
Gonell was a miracle. Anyone who could make Dema this happy was a miracle.
“Lemme clean up!” Dema said, still beaming, as she started to pull back the torrents of blood into the space under her fingernails, and tapped her foot against the ground to return the earth she’d moved to the way it was before. “Li’l rabbit gets mad when I don’t, you know?”
Gonell gave a hum. “Blood is salty,” she said. “Might make things harder to grow if we leave it.”
“Yeah!” Dema agreed. “By the way,” she added, turning to Theora. “What were you up to, before we summoned you? I thought you might be with Lostina?”
Summoned her? Was Theora this predictable?
“I lost Lostina,” she said. “But — I left a message for her, saying I’m at the baker’s place. If we go there, we might be able to meet her.”
Gonell shrugged, and grazed through her hair. “I guess we take it, then? Could use a little rest for my legs. When do we have to depart to stay on schedule?”
Dema pulled out a rattled note from her cloak, accidentally dropping a few other pieces of paper in the process. “I wrote it down. There! We gotta leave tonight at two!”
“Thank you,” Gonell said, and smiled at Theora. “She offered to be my assistant. What a cutie.”
Theora nodded weakly.
Dema made her way to the edge of the cliff, saying, “Dang, love being called that. Take note, li’l rabbit!” — then stumbled over a rock before creating a large staircase leading down to the village with loud cracks. Large enough, in fact, for Skulduggery to walk it too.
Gonell followed, and looked down at Theora in passing with a faint and knowing smile.
A gentle shudder went down her back. When had she last met someone taller than herself? What a feeling.
The rain still softly pattered and Theora pushed a few strands of wet hair out of her face, gave Skulduggery a nod, and finally picked herself up enough to follow after the others, and return to the village.
When they arrived at the bakery, Theora knocked, and the door was opened quickly, and, after a moment to orient himself among the new arrivals, the old baker grunted. “Don’t bring your rhino inside the village!” he yelled, stomping the ground. “Dangerous!”
“Not our rhino!” Dema chirped. “We’re friends!”
“I’m sorry,” Theora said, turning. “I didn’t expect this to happen. Would it be alright if they joined, too…?”
“Oh, whatever,” he said. “You were sent by Amala, I’ve heard? Good enough for me, y’all can come in if you want, have a drink or something, for all I care. Rhino stays out, though.”
With that, he disappeared inside, leaving the door open.
Dema made her way towards it without properly looking, saying, “Can’t wait to meet her!” — then bumped into the doorframe before scurrying inside.
The next hour went by in a bit of a haze. The old man — Flint — had already baked his quota for the day, but the large oven was still warm from the firewood, so he decided to ‘show Theora the ropes’ by making another small batch with little loafs. He explained ratios between water and flour in the mixes, spoke of percentages and salt and some particular brand of tiny fungi and eventually showed off the cutest thing Theora had ever seen — a small blob of dough inside a jar that he said needed to be fed flour daily in order not to die, and it would bring the bread alive when used as an ingredient. And it smelled so peculiarly sour and creamy and nice.
“What’s that look on your face?” he asked as Theora couldn’t stop staring at the little blob in the jar, even as he was about to put it back into a cupboard.
Meanwhile, Dema and Gonell were sitting at the table, entrenched in a talk with Auburn about some story-inherent geopolitics involving the kingdom and its neighbours, although Theora lacked the context to understand it.
“She wants one too!” Dema interjected to answer Flint’s question. But how did she know?!
“Ahh. Well, sure. I can feed it now, and in a few hours we can split it. You’ll get half or something?”
Theora’s eyebrows went up in wonder. “You would do that for me?”
Flint waved off. “It really costs me less than nothing. Whatever.” He then proceeded to explain how to keep care of it; how the amount of water used to feed it as well as the temperature it was kept at would impact the frequencies at which it needed to be fed, and he talked about it so much like it was a living being that Theora couldn’t help but really look forward to taking care of a dough of blob of her own as well.
And then, if she managed to keep everything else he’d told her in mind too, maybe she’d be able to make bread from it one day.
Eventually, baking time was over, and with a large wooden spatula, he fetched one finished loaf after the next out from the slid inside the oven, and placed them on a large table. With the final one, he smiled. “There we go! My very last loaf.”
That sentence gave Theora a start. “What do you mean?”
“Well, this is Auburn’s place, starting tomorrow. I retire!”
Theora gently clenched a fold of her cloak. “Maybe you will feel like baking again one day,” she said softly.
He raised his eyebrows, and then slowly nodded in approval. “S’pose that’s right. Maybe I’ll feel like doing it again, if it’s not a job. A year from now. Who knows!”
“Yes,” Theora said. “That sounds good. A year from now. Let’s all eat bread together again, a year from now. If possible.”
Flint laughed, and then went to clean up. Theora offered help, which he stubbornly refused. So, she was forced to sit down and watch, her gaze shifting to that one loaf of bread every few seconds. She couldn’t keep herself from staring at it.
The last loaf.
It wouldn’t be the last loaf.