Alicia squirmed in the cradle, beckoning the soldier who held her to move towards the source of the cries. There she saw a woman, weeping over a figure cloaked beneath a pall.

"N-no way...," Alicia croaked, "I’ve thought I’ve touched every patient here. Is m-my concentration still lacking...?"

"I believe you have touched all the patients... who yet breathe...," Semar replied to the girl's words.

The nearby healer confirmed Semar's assessment, and the village chief translated it to Alicia, "Indeed, some have passed since our arrival."

The healer's words proved to be true as Alicia surveyed the room and espied a handful shrouded in white. She still failed to come to terms with the stark reality. "But... I thought I could save them all—"

"Don't blame yourself, Alicia," Semar consoled her. "Kalimasada cannot be used to resurrect the departed."

Even the strongest might in the world of thaumaturgy was not worthy of wresting souls from the clutches of the reaper. Orb could tell from the girl's disappointed look that she demanded an explanation. Its melancholic tune whispered to Alicia alone.

Whoever dies, dies. It’s a fate not meant to be altered.

If Orb did not give her blessing, it seemed that Alicia would need to temper the grandeur of her ideal utopia. But even with death surrounding them, Alicia's every deed remained a great joy for the denizens of Nusakencana. The entire community enfolded her and the soldiers as they made their way to the inn.

Alicia's head felt light after finally resting on the pillow and a sip of the same drink she had savoured upon waking in this unfamiliar land. Lojitengara was known for its exquisite spices, and they were right to make excellent use of them as beverages and foods that delighted both the palate and the body's well-being. Stillmajik's chamomile concoction mixed with frog poison was now a distant memory.

The room grew dim as the villagers blocked the sunrays from entering the louvres. The only companion in her room was Semar seated on a wooden chair, while Badra's soldiers were maintaining vigil outside. Wisesa, on the other hand, had wandered off somewhere, and his foster father did not seem to mind.

A knock on the door was heard. A new figure awaited at the doorstep, wearing a surjan ontrokusuma—an elegant collared shirt with long sleeves, adorned with a carpet of petals gracing its silk weave. Semar knew that only a noble wore such a garment. But he had also discerned the wearer's face prior to his entrance.

"Raden Darmawangsa!" Semar approached him with warmth. "I feared I had missed you."

Darmawangsa nodded. "The crowd caught my attention. I wished to ascertain the existence of the wielder of Kalimasada. For generations we have never seen him in Yawadwipa,” he lowered his voice, “except for you, of course."

"Ah, don't let the girl know." Semar chuckled. "The owner of Kalimasada is a young lady. Please, do come in."

Darmawangsa entered the room alongside Semar and Kenthol Badra. Alicia, clutching her bag to her chest, adjusted her round glasses to inspect the new arrival.

"Alicia," Semar gestured towards his acquaintance, "allow me to introduce Raden Darmawangsa Shashangkuri, the headman of Nusakencana."

"Nice to meet you, Ki Darmawangsa," said Alicia.

"The pleasure is mine," Darmawangsa replied using the common language. "I offer my deepest gratitude to the gods and to you, whom they have sent. You have saved many good people in this village who fought against the oppression of Alas Purwo. It seems there is not enough from us to repay your honorable deeds."

"T-thank you for your kind words, Sir. I hope our small deed can help. Providing me with a place to rest is more than generous."

"Therefore, Miss Alicia, if you wish, this village and Pulomas as a whole would be very happy to have you stay with us. We are in great need of your services and the might of Kalimasada."

Semar rose from his seat. Alicia was somewhat surprised. "S-sir...? I'm sorry, but I can't—"

"Darmawangsa," Semar interjected. "Unfortunately, she is a guest. She is only in Yawadwipa for a short while and must move elsewhere to complete the mandate given to her."

The look on the Darmawangsa's face slowly shifted. "What a pity. Kalimasada could have helped fight for our sovereignty over Alas Purwo. Not to mention that the sunanate is backed by the neighbouring state of Girah, the center of shamanic black magic of Lojitengara."

"I am deeply sorry if I cannot be of greater assistance," Alicia murmured, her gaze lowered.

"No, I understand," Nusakencana's village chief grinned again. "It is I who must apologize if this entreaty imposes any burden on you."

But then, Alicia's mind suddenly conceived a rather ingenious solution. "A-actually, it's not much, but I can give you something..."

***

The sun descended upon the mist of trees. Alicia, Semar, and Wisesa had been already riding to Tumaritis, accompanied by a contingent of Nusakencana's soldiers. They knew they would arrive at the village late into the night, but both Semar and Alicia agreed to go back anyway to alleviate any concerns among the villagers.

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Before their departure, Alicia had bestowed a considerable amount of Arcane might to Nusakencana within a grand vessel, and blessed the potion bottles with Divine Grace as well. Such a large supply of Arcane for a village made Nusakencana technically the wealthiest hamlet across the entire island of Yawa.

Even the generous Alicia had fallen asleep on a soldier's back due to sheer exhaustion.

One could hope they use this newfound wealth judiciously, especially since they bordered the territory of Alas Purwo, the true holder of Yawadwipa, and its Sunan, who held the title Panggaraknagara. If Alicia did not mishear, Alas Purwo also had an ally with Nagari Girah, a state steeped in the dark arts and known to lend support to the Sunanate in quelling revolts. This was probably the first time the lass had lived in a region that took a neutral stance on black and white magic—an added fact to her ever-growing personal encyclopaedia. Her memory replayed her encounter with the Danhar monks, who perceived Arcane and Khaos as mere natural forces locked in perpetual conflict.

And they said states should not interfere in the affairs of other states.

They finally reached Tumaritis at midnight. Of course, his wife and three adopted children greeted them with concern.

But despite the late hour, their hunger demanded attention. Thus, a late-night meal ensued. Kanastren, Semar's wife, had thoughtfully prepared some dishes for their weary return.

How the Divine had cursed Alicia (and Wisesa). Alicia wished he would disappear back into the forest so she would not have to endure his perpetually sour demeanour. Wisesa shared the sentiment, as her presence was an incessant source of incitement.

"Since you had such a big fight this morning, let's end the dispute for today. Let's end it with a plate of rice, a piece of boiled chicken, vegetables, and chilli sambal!" Semar exclaimed to the two juveniles as they were about to go their separate ways.

Now, they had to sit across from each other and eat. Wisesa's face contorted into a scowl that could rival the ages, while Alicia, with her fair complexion and "Western" appearance, seemed to trigger an allergic reaction in him, leading to bouts of apoplexy.

Even as the meal progressed, Alicia could not help but fidget while nibbling on the side dishes. She was acutely aware of Wisesa's penetrating gaze as he, too, indulged in his meal.

"Do you need anything?" Alicia posed a polite question—which was fatal because whether polite or not, Wisesa would revile her to no end.

"I need you to get away from here. The magic ball stays with me," Wisesa predictably retorted.

"I dinnae want to hear that nonsense anymore." Alicia continued with her meal. Semar was still busy savouring the tender and juicy meat of the stewed chicken, so his ears could only hear the sound of his own mastication. The chatter of the two youths somehow slipped from his earlobes.

Wisesa brought his head a little closer towards Alicia. "Tonight, after dinner. The orb is already in my hand when I leave the village!" he whispered.

"Turn into Barong and fight with me in the village centre. Then we'll see what happens."

"I will have the magic orb in your bag and leave you entangled and gagged in the pigsty—"

"Ki Semar! With all due respect, can you ask Wisesa to stop threatening me?" Alicia shouted angrily.

"Wisesa. It's late." Ki Semar's response lacked enthusiasm, perhaps a consequence of the continuous typical behaviour of his foster child. "If you don't want to be forced to sleep here, then stop harassing our guest!"

"Your guest, Old Man. Not mine," Wisesa responded.

"My village, foolish boy. Not yours," Semar shot back. "But my farts can be yours."

"You old codger."

Wisesa leaned back on his chair. No, his antics were far from done. He launched his ultimate bully: pelting Alicia's head with grains of rice and bits of side dishes.

"Hey, did you hear?" he hissed. "Hand over your ball or I'll have all my food in your face!"

Alicia felt like she was back in her academy days. She initially chose to ignore him, but there was no way the lass could be that patient, especially when a pair of intrusive legs under the table followed suit. Wisesa's relentless kicks and stomps on her feet were clearly designed to vex her. Indeed, he wanted her to be vexed.

"Can you stop?" Alicia implored softly.

"I can. The ball first."

Alicia lunged hard at Wisesa's ankle, making the man flinch and almost cry out. Irritated, he retaliated with a kick of his own. Both were now engaged in a leg-to-leg skirmish. The dishes on the table remained untouched, growing cold as their hands rested firmly on the table. Their upper bodies tensed up. The more intense their leg battle became, the more the table shook under their grip.

"Are you fighting with your legs?"

Both Wisesa and Alicia were startled by Semar's icebreaker. Since sensing the slightest movement on the table, the old man had been watching them all along.

"He started it!" Alicia pointed at Wisesa.

"Me?" Wisesa retorted. "The culprit is you!"

"You're—"

Semar's hand struck the table with force, causing his empty plate to fly off. A stern, foreboding gaze was fixed on both of them. "Neither of you is leaving this table until you've finished your meal! Show some respect for my wife's hard work!"

Alicia became increasingly concerned about how Semar perceived her. She placed all the blame on Wisesa, the culprit. She returned to her meal, while Wisesa looked up with his plate and swept the remaining rice and vegetables down his throat.

"There, that's all. See you tomorrow," Wisesa said.

Semar nagged him once again, "Wash your plate, son. By the gods!"

"Huh?" Wisesa's facial expression suggested that this was not the norm. "There's this woman. Isn't it her duty to clean the dishes and kitchen utensils?"

Alicia rose from the chair with her horse's wrath mounting. "I'm nae yer bloody thrall, ye glaikit, shameless minger!"

"Shameless, me? You're the guest here. The least you could do is lend a hand, guest mistress. Shameless woman!" Wisesa shot back.

"Wisesa!" It was Semar's turn to yell at him. It was obvious that the old man's patience was wearing thin. That arbitrary lad spoke as if he had set foot on the land of Tumaritis since the creation of the universe.

"One more insolent word out of your mouth, and I'll give you a thrashing!" the old man scolded again. "Now, apologise to her!"

Everyone knew how things would go. Wisesa brushed past Semar and headed for the kitchen. "I'll wash the dishes first."

The Crimsonmane lass could not decide which expression to wear. Anger? Sadness? Disdain? Or perhaps tears? The feelings were all mixed up. Perhaps this was part of her adventure—meeting people who had lost their civility. Her expectations were not broad enough if the only bad people Alicia had to deal with were black mages and rogues.

She returned to her seat, heaved a deep sigh, and finished her meal with a vacant stare. []