The full moon shines brightly on the empty streets of Laumbark. The guards are likely too preoccupied with the fire to notice our absence, buying us some precious time and spreading their manpower thin.

We’re not just innocent escapees—we’re criminals who set fire to the Hero’s Cathedral. They have every reason to pursue us and a narrative of our guilt to justify it. Staying in this city isn’t an option.

“What now?” I ask, keeping up with Laura. Her steps are quicker than I expected.

“We wait until morning. I stole some money from the priests I blackmailed—the ones who set the fire. We’ll buy a ride from a merchant,” she says.

So she did threaten them. Robbery, blackmail, arson—and those guards will likely lose their fingers and toes from the cold. Leaving the city might not be enough; we may need to leave the country altogether. Preferably to one hostile or at least neutral to Aintvar.

We avoid the main streets, sticking to the alleys instead. I hope we won’t get mugged. We may be mages—one unpredictable and wild, the other weak and blasphemous—but my stature would probably make most criminals think twice, even though I have no fighting experience. Surprisingly, I’m not too worried.

The city is sprawling, and we walk for over an hour. We’re nearing the city gate now, and I can only hope we don’t look too suspicious. I’ve never dealt with border patrol or the police before; I’ve never left my own country or even learned to drive. I hope Laura knows what she’s doing.

I’d better stay quiet and let Laura do the talking; I might accidentally say something culturally insensitive. We’re dressed like monks, and monks usually don’t raise suspicion.

Surprisingly, the guards don’t ask us anything. Lucky, but come morning, a short woman and a tall man in religious garb, wanted for burning down the Hero’s Cathedral, will definitely be hunted. We’ll need new clothes—soon.

It’ll be easy for Laura, but me? I doubt anyone here has anything in my size. Still, this is the merchant’s guild area, and within sight are rows of tents. Someone’s bound to be awake and willing to make some coin.

About twenty minutes later, we’re among the tents. No guards are in sight, but I can feel the weight of a few dozen eyes on me from the awake merchants. Their community must be pretty tight-knit.

Laura spots an old merchant sitting cross-legged on a carpet, a pipe in his mouth, smoke curling lazily into the air.

“Do you know where we could buy some clothes?” she asks.

The merchant takes a slow drag from his pipe before answering. “Here.” He pauses, his eyes shifting to me. “I don’t have anything that fits you, though.”

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll buy the biggest ones you have and if you don’t mind, a corner of your tent to sleep in” She says.

The man takes a deep breath from his pipe and starts looking us up and down. He chuckles then yawns.

“You two are running from someone, aren’t you?” He asks.

My heart sinks, and Laura looks shaken too. That’s all it took for him to figure us out.

“We’ll pay,” Laura says, pulling a generously sized coin pouch from her pocket.

The man’s eyes widen, and he starts coughing. “Well, when you put it that way, I do have space for two people. It’ll cost you, though,” he says, struggling to control his cough.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“And a ride to wherever you’re going tomorrow,” Laura adds firmly.

The old man snatches the pouch from her hand. “Deal. The less I know, the better. Come in—you can cover yourselves with furs.”

The furs are warm, their comfort melting away the tension that had gripped me since the fire began. As the adrenaline wears off, drowsiness settles in. Laura lays nearby, her back turned to me. Neither of us speaks as sleep takes over.

I’m woken by the bustling noise of the tent town. The old merchant is still sitting on his carpet, legs crossed, his pipe nowhere in sight. I nudge Laura, waking her up.

“Did you not sleep all night?” I ask him.

“I did, shortly after you started snoring,” he replies without turning around.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

The man hands us water but no food. “Only enough for myself,” he explains. Fair enough—we’ve already asked a lot of him for our escape.

It’s very early in the morning, the sun still below the horizon, but the merchants are already preparing to move. Naturally, we do the same.

We help the old man pack his supplies—furs we slept on, clothes, fabrics, and various odd trinkets, half of which I couldn’t even name.

Laura and I change into our new clothes. She chose a practical gray dress paired with a brown tunic, simple but functional. I wasn’t picky and grabbed an ox-blood tunic and brown pants. Unfortunately, no shoes fit me, so I’m still stuck with the slippers the monks gave me.

The pants leave my ankles uncovered, and the tunic’s sleeves stop halfway down my forearms. The tunic is a bit tight, but the length is fine.

As the merchant prepares his horse, we climb into the carriage. It’s a gray horse—my first time seeing one in person.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Kundor,” he replies, patting the horse. “We should be there in two weeks.”

As we leave the tent town, I spot guards questioning the remaining merchants. They’re probably asking about us. Some merchants definitely saw us last night—it’s only a matter of time before the guards find witnesses.

“Excuse me, but—”

“I changed my destination at the last minute. They won’t follow us,” the merchant interrupts.

Of course. A seasoned merchant would already think of something so obvious.

The tents are already out of sight, and no other carriage is in view. The merchant remains silent, not offering his name or asking for ours. As he said, the less he knows, the better.

“What’s next?” I ask, nudging Laura.

She gasps, snapping out of whatever thoughts were occupying her mind. “Next? I’m not sure. We have nowhere to go and only each other.”

She pauses, then leans in close to my ear. “That old bastard took all of our coins,” she whispers.

I chuckle, though it’s no laughing matter. We have nowhere to go, no connections, no money, and magic that could get us both executed. But luckily for us, I already have an idea.

“I was thinking of pursuing further education,” I say with a sly smile.

“What do you mean?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“You have universities in this world, right? We should join one,” I reply.

She stares at me, stunned. “Of course, let’s pay for an education with all the money we don’t have.”

“I used to be a programmer back home. Now that I think about it, I was as close to a mage as my world allowed,” I say, chuckling.

“What’s a programmer?” Laura asks, her brow furrowing.

“A programmer is a person who gives instructions to a magic box. The box can do almost anything, as long as the instructions are correct.”

She blinks. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m not smart enough to explain it properly,” I admit, “but I’m confident that my programming abilities can transfer to other areas.”

“Like what? Magic?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Math,” I answer.

“Hmm… If you impress the university enough, you could ask for a scholarship. Are you sure you won’t make a fool of yourself?” she asks thoughtfully.

“Who do you think I am? I’ll have you know I was good at calculus in high school,” I assert, puffing out my chest slightly.

She stares at me with a blank expression, clearly having no idea what “calculus” is, then looks away.

“I have no talent,” she says softly, her head lowering.

Calculus was invented in the 17th century, and this world looks much older than that. I wonder if they even have gunpowder. However, my thoughts are interrupted by her somber reply.

“Everyone has talent,” I reassure her. “There’s something you like doing.”

“I like books,” she mutters.

“Literature it is, then,” I say, patting her back with a grin.

She looks at me in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape.

“I can’t possibly—”

“Of course you can. You taught me how to read; you’ll excel just fine,” I interrupt.

“I spent most of my time in the library. Everyone avoided me—I haven’t even had a friend before,” she admits, her voice quiet.

“You can keep reading there, but this time, you won’t be alone,” I say, placing my hand gently on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she replies, a small smile tugging at her lips.