The flames leapt eagerly from one object to another, turning fabric into fuel and chewing away at all the wooden frames and furnishings. I peered out of the hatch to see them head off, and closed it before any burning tendrils made it in.

Arsalan walked over to Seylas, with Kantax in his arms. The other soldiers behind Seylas moved to gather the wounded and haul them over to the carriages.

“We will both go with you and cooperate,” said Arsalan.

“..eat a foot, you noble prick.” Kantax coughed.

Seylas gave them both a look of contempt. “Move out.”

“Captain, we should hurry if you wish to enlist our daughter too. She may still be on the road home!” Arsalan lied.

The fires grew too strong for me to keep peeking. I couldn’t see them anymore. Seylas’ nervous tone probably meant he didn't want more trouble, especially since he had his way. Soon, the roaring flames grew loud enough to drown their voices.

The group could no longer be heard. Either they already left, or the fires drowned out any voices they had left. Still, every moment I spent waiting, things only worsened. It got swelteringly hot in the basement. I really don’t want to get caught by those assholes.

Thud, thud, and thud. Several crashing sounds throughout the kitchen. The structure’s starting to collapse. Shit.

I got up to the hatch again, but it barely budged.

What? Is this some kind of sick joke?

The ceiling on the opposite end of the basement caved in too, heralding a wave of burning rubble flooding the room with smoke and dust. No fucking way. I should have left earlier. The whisky barrels are starting to catch fire – and when they do, it’s so over.

Why? What was the point of all this?

I should have stayed dead.

Alone, again. Bleeding again.

Buried alive, again. Stupid.

I sat beside the barrel closest to the ladder and grabbed the tasting cup here in the basement to tap some whisky for myself. I’m going to die, again. Right here, beneath the surface again.

One cup down, and another moments later.

He promised he’d find me? What, my ashes? Stupid.

To make things worse, my monthly bleeding had come again. And it was much worse this time around. I had a college friend that suffered something she called “anal zaps” – a severely painful tingling at the asshole. It’s a rare disorder that causes periods to include rectal cramps. I can’t believe she put up with this shit. It’s exactly as she described it – bloody hell. I drew the short straw this time.

More whisky followed. A feeling of warmth caught up to me as smoke piled up in the basement. Another part of the ceiling collapsed, dropping a countertop straight onto the furthest barrel, rupturing it. Whisky spilled, immediately catching fire. Embers danced over the burning puddles.

Stupid.

I looked at the trapdoor hatch one last time, and noticed the crack where my head was struck. “Fuck it,” I said to myself. “I can’t get any more screwed than this. Might as well try.”

I hacked away at the bottom of the hatch with my woodworking blade, and the crack got wider and wider. Smoke made breathing and seeing much more difficult. I’m going to pass out soon at this rate, and probably not from the whisky.

The fissure on the hatch cracked open, exposing a charred end of a wooden beam. There’s no way I can lift that – so I’ll just bring it down entirely. I started prying my blade into the frame to loosen it.

‘Pak’ it went, something snapped in the frame. The whole wooden beam came rushing down ablaze, breaking open the remaining planks of wood from the hatch. A gust of blistering air poured in from the hatchway, as the whisky-fueled inferno on the other cave-ins began siphoning air up the other direction.

The trapdoor’s ladder is still intact, but the burning beam is still a glaring threat. It’s scorching in here and I’m running out of options. The torrent of scalding air brought some extra items down the hatch, one being Kantax’s sudariomo. It’s just big enough to tie around my head to filter the smoke as I breathe. I need to get up there.

My dress.

I took off my pink dress and tore the hood off, leaving me with little more than underwear. There’s nothing else left to use. I sheathed my blade and picked up the jar of Banush, then tucked them into the detached hood.

The majority of the dress went right on the smoldering beam. Finally clearing a path up the ladder from flames, but only for a moment as the pink dress itself began to catch ablaze. Adrenaline masked my hands’ searing pain from gripping charred surfaces. It felt like an eternity in there, but I got out of that fiery alcoholic prison.

It seemed no better.

The relentless heat pressed against my skin.

Much of the kitchen had already been set alight at this point. I could see the whisky inferno twirling out of the collapsed flooring near the front door. The burning carpets and floor planks peppered my legs with searing embers.

I crawled towards the relatively unburnt staircase; its load-bearing walls made of stone masonry. Following the smoke upstairs to the bedroom, I’ve found it’s already begun to burn here too. I’d give it half a minute before the bed starts.

With the bedside window open, smoke billowed out and I prepared to escape. I took a quick pass to loot the room, grabbing their fur blanket and tucked the jar of Banush into it. The wooden lockbox went in. Dad’s sketchbook journal, and mom’s sewing kit. Some of her clothes and mine. I couldn’t see that clearly – so I got whatever my hands could reach. The fur bedspread wrapped easily around Arsalan’s hornbow and quiver.

Hanging on the wall in the smoke was the shine of a steel kettle helmet over a quilted gambeson, which I also took. The curtains easily came off by the window. I used the edge of the helmet to pry off a loose nail from the bed table.

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The thin primitive mattress burst into flames; I only had seconds if I didn’t want to be devoured with the rest of the room.

I hammered the curtain onto the windowsill using the helmet, and rappelled out. I’m so tired. The adrenaline’s wearing off and the whisky’s kicking in much worse than I thought it would. While descending along the lowered curtain, I looked out for the bandits.

But it still seemed no better.

Infernos in every direction. Most of the gorosi fields had also caught fire from the stray fireballs. They weren’t mature but it’s still a sore sight. We’re in poor luck with the recent dry season. Their torches were near the lakeside and I’m not sure if anyone saw me leave the window. Our thatched roof burst into flames.

I ran to the forest opposite of the lake. Where Arsalan would go hunting. Occasional peeks back show they’re searching all over the lakeside hovels. Some are busy taking the rabbits and other farm animals we reared. Some of them are busy fighting off Bestatzo, and others are looting the shed. My tools – hell, my crossbows too.

…

“Hah, holy shit. I think I’m far enough. I’m beat.”

I took a breather near a clearing across a stream and washed all the soot away. My hands are still painful and trembling. It’s quiet and behind a mound; I’d hear anyone coming. Especially if they haven’t crossed yet.

The glow from the farmstead is still visible from here. The highlighted stacks of smoke are worrying, but I’m sure everyone’s left by now.

Rinsing my steel machete-saw-knife in the stream, I figured I’d need to call it something better? Guess it’s pretty much a survival knife? Yeah. I also survived that basement because of it, maybe. It’s my beloved survival knife. That Kantax and Arsalan got for me years ago. That my new folks got for me, years ago. Shit.

Clouds started layering under the full moon. There isn’t much moonlight left, but it’s still enough for me to see my reflection on the side of the polished knife. Disheveled, wet hair. Sullen, puffy eyes; choked, held-back tears.

I’ve been holding them back. I really am alone again.

And since I’m alone, I can cry all I want. But I don’t want to. Not now. Time is a luxury I don’t have and I have to hurry to Trezoro to weigh my options, before that warband gets there. With a bit more stream water, I washed away all the remaining soot along with all the alcoholic tipsiness.

I untied the fur sack and picked out a new set of clothes – a tattered brown dress with several deep pockets. Some of the other outfits weren't ideal at this time. Hell, I even got one of Kantax’s woven mesh lingerie sets? The pink dress I loved was almost too small for me, so it having helped save my life is a sweet deal. The Banush? I’m still full. Arsalan’s sketchbook only has a handful of works in it. His older ones must’ve been in the bedside table drawer, I forgot. There’s a sketch here of all three of us.

A couple of other things, then the lockbox. My hands are still trembling too much to even consider lockpicking, so I’ll just pry and bust the metal fittings using the helmet and knife combined. I’ve always wondered what’s inside? Treasure? Junk? Mementos?

The lock creaked, splintering the wooden casing. Oops.

Tucked away are 4 gold Vaiosy coins, and exactly 51 silver Sesteroy coins. I already had 18 silvers in my coin pouch. I better find a way to hide these gold ones. In the corner lies a pipe with a small pouch of dried herbs tied to it? Keeping that.

There’s one odd white coin inside, it’s way bigger than a silver, but smooth and light kind of like, plastic? Maybe ivory? It bends a little and goes back to shape. It has some faint engravings on one side, almost like an eye with a spiral in the middle. A small boring disc. I’ll leave it in the lockbox. There’s a few other things inside not really worth taking along. I looked for a large cluster of unassuming bushes and left the sealed box hidden away with some rocks.

It’s time to visit Trezoro, through the shortest path in a forested valley so I could get there before the others. The thick canopy of leaves above makes moonlight scarce on the floor, but I do have a bit of Arsalan’s low-light vision so it’s probably fine if I exercise caution. Overgrown roots, barbed vines, giant insects, and the occasional predatory beast. Arsalan must’ve led the bandits to the longer dirt road instead, this’ll buy me some time at Taido’s.

…

Rain began to pour as soon as the town’s walls were in sight.

Two guards sat by the east entrance. One was asleep with his helmet tucked down as he sat there, and the other was Rovan standing at ease. He saw me approach – bewildered, he interrogated me.

“Forlasita? What’s going on? Why are you carrying so much stuff, and what happened by your farm? I saw tons of fire and smoke from here before the rain put it out.”

“Seylas took my parents and burned the place down.”

“What..? You don’t look like you’re kidding. Have you been crying? Should I send help?”

He reached around my cheeks and checked my arms, then he saw the burns in my hands. He looked me in the eyes in worry.

“It may still be dangerous, don’t let anyone go.” I said.

“I- okay, just get in here and talk to Mikhailo, you’ll want to let him know what happened. Go, hurry!”

“Thanks, Rovan.” I said as I walked through.

Before making the turn towards the Taido household, I turned to look back at the gate. Rovan was looking outside, holding his head. The ‘sleeping’ guard however, met my gaze with a side-eye as he pretended to be asleep with his helmet tucked down forwards.

After a short walk, I got up to knock on the door.

Numerous footsteps began crowding behind the door, and before I could knock it had opened up. Mateo stood in front of me, backed with a series of maids behind him. Pipra had told Rozabela what happened, and still with tears in their eyes, they had come before Mateo to inform him. The maids pulled me into the building away from the rain and began tending to me. He peered outside left and right, then closed the door and locked it several times over.

I explained my situation to them.

Pipra and Rozabela nodded, before adding in their ends of the context. Apparently a large mercenary warband had been put together to fend off some brigands but weren’t sufficiently backed which caused them to break apart and some banded together against the other groups for survival as southern Rokmuro fell into disarray. Other islands had already fallen into ruin.

The maids applied an ointment to my hands and bandaged them up, leaving a bit of room for dexterity. Mateo’s father, Mikhailo, is out of town and the decisions fall onto him. He isn’t quite sure of what to do, but the head maid proposed he’d let us three stay over until his father returned. The middle-aged head maid added that Mikhailo would probably not be opposed to adopting us should the situation worsen.

“That doesn’t sound so bad, for Pipra and Roza.” I said.

“W-what about you?” Mateo inquired.

“I’m not sure, but they’re looking for me. I can’t stay.”

After a pause, their voices began mixing up to suggest different things in opposition to my decision. They want me around, perhaps because they attribute Taido’s recent economic success to me. The maids also love the recipes I’ve taught them.

“You guys will be fine without me. Especially you, Teo.”

He looked away for a bit, then back to me.

“Wait! If you need anything, let me – let us know. We.. we want to help you too!” he said.

That might be useful. I didn’t get to prepare, but I plan on heading to the mainland. Alone if I have to. I’ll need to set a few things up for myself so I can safely get away.

“Actually, could you guys help me with a few things?”

I had the maids re-fit and tailor the gambeson to my size, with some allowances. They stitched in some pockets on the inner black side to help me carry more, and the outer red side got some new collar buttons to mount the hood I’d brought. They spared some extra clothes for me, including an old maid’s dress which once belonged to the head maid with glasses. I’m barely tall enough to fit these.

Mateo also got me one of his dad’s old leather three-way bags, which could be worn as a messenger bag or as a backpack using the extra strap. They provided me with all sorts of extra provisions from their large pantry, and even a small partitioned box of various seasonings – primarily salt. The head maid also filled up a small jar of butter, she knew how much I loved it just from how often I had some when I visited. They also gave me a small kit of mixed copperware.

We went downstairs to have a late dinner, just the two girls alongside Mateo, and Edith the head maid. I shared the remaining Banush with them as they offered me something a fair bit more lavish – a local twist on the garlic bread recipe I gave them before, served with a platter of roasted pork which is a rarity here

We enjoyed it all together, and I left a recipe for what I’d made as well just in case they’d like to make it themselves. I hugged them farewell and let them know my plans of taking a boat from the northern coastal town of Lumoriva. I had just copied whatever maps I could onto Arsalan’s sketchbook as we ate, and had written down any bits of information I needed. Mateo and the others also gave me a pouch of 40 silvers, along with some other useful parting gifts.

“Will we ever see you again?” they asked.

“Stay alive and we’ll find out, eventually.” I replied.

The head maid, Edith, patted me before I left. “Please take care, miss Lunarka. You’re a strong lady.”

“I just wish I didn’t need to be. Thanks a ton, for being here when I needed you all the most.”

The door opened, and Rovan stood in an alley across the street. He immediately crossed and urgently told us that armed scouts were looking for me, and that I should go with him to the east entrance to escape. The head maid tightly gripped my shoulders.

“Rov, I will escort you both,” said Edith. “I have to.”

“Edith, there’s no need!” he responded with unease.

Her grip tightened. “I insist.”

And so we went. Her suspicions grew onto me too. How’d he know I was planning to leave? Before we made the last turn towards the gate, I asked him about how his ill daughter is doing. I offered him a dozen silvers to help – but Edith opposed this.

We stopped, and turned around. He couldn’t bear to hand me over to “them” as he thanked me for always being the kindest kid at the gates. He led us to a hidden exit up north. I said farewell, for now. Fuck, I really hope I see them again someday.

“Thanks, Rov. Glad I didn’t have to gut you!” she said.

“Eh, my drinking’ll get me soon enough, ‘Dith.”