Bri yearned to sit down as she kept on working with her pestle and mortar, grinding herbs with vigour. She had much to do today. Winter was setting in, and with it, an increasing chance of illness. This year was a harsh one, and now, more than the other seasons, the people of Krylla would need a herbalist.

‘The collector is coming, the collector is coming!’ Bri heard a man cry. Her head snapped up from her work as she gritted her teeth and braced herself.

It wasn't long before a man, dressed all in black, entered the village at speed, an entourage of soldiers following behind. The gold trimmed cloak he wore, emblazoned with the insignia of the King himself, fluttered behind him, billowing in the wind. Dismounting, their loud and commanding voices carried through the small hamlet.

‘You!’ A soldier pointed imperiously to a grubby boy who sat pressed against a wall, trying and failing not to be noticed.

‘Sir?’

‘Fetch the stablehand, I want these horses well taken care of. Quickly!’

The boy leapt to his feet and scurried away to do the soldier’s bidding.

Meanwhile, the tax collector's piercing gaze swept over the village, eyes cold and calculating. He looked over towards the window Bri covertly watched them from. Don’t look at me, don’t look at me. She opened the drawstring pouch she kept her coin in and counted them into her palm.

‘One, two, three, four…’ She muttered, silently counting the others. Eleven silvers exactly. Bri breathed a sigh of relief. For now, she had enough to pay the ever-rising taxes. Her family would be safe for today.

She relaxed her clenched hands as, with a curt wave, the man signalled to the other soldiers and they scattered, doubtless searching for the poor souls who couldn’t pay them. Sure enough, they began to bang on doors, even kicking some of them in as they shepherded and dragged their victims outside roughly. She couldn’t stifle the feeling of dread. What would happen today? Who were they going to punish and how? Bri couldn’t bear it.

Her stomach was in knots as one soldier turned and looked directly at her. She recognised him as the quieter, more subdued man who often came away laden with several sprigs of assorted herbs from her each time he visited Krylla.

‘For the others, not for me,’ he explained proudly, as he slipped a few silvers into her hand.‘No-one’s left a mark on me yet.’

After a while, the herbalist and the soldier had struck up a friendly yet cautious rapport, if you could call a courteous nod and a tentative smile here and there a rapport. Neither of them could afford to let their guard down too much.

The man’s hard gaze lifted for a second when his eyes landed on her. He’d always been one of the kinder soldiers, if you could call any of them that, simply doing his job, no matter how much it weighed on his conscience. Bri surprised herself with the slight pang of sympathy she began to feel for this man who seemed just as trapped as the villagers. Then, just as swiftly, he turned on his heel, walking out of sight.

All around Bri, the villagers hurried to gather up what little coin they had, hoping they would satisfy the King’s seemingly limitless “need” for money in order to “keep them safe,” from the evils of sorcery. He should’ve been a court jester instead of a royal.

Suddenly, Bri’s mouth dropped open in horror.

‘Gwendoline!’

A soldier dragged her friend and neighbour out of her house by her hair, as the girl fruitlessly lashed out with flailing hands and feet.

Bri moved to run after her, but rough hands pushed her aside. ‘Look at what they’re doing! They’re hurting her! They’re taking her away!’

She tried to get to Gwendoline once again, only to find herself being firmly grabbed and shaken as Letitia continued to block her way.

‘Letitia!’ She protested as her mentor clapped a hand on each of her shoulders.

‘Don’t be foolish, girl!’ She snapped. ‘Unless you want to share the same fate, don’t interfere! Just stay here, keep your head down, and do your work!’

‘But –’

Bri was prevented from saying anything further by hearing some other soldiers banging on her own door.

‘Behave!’ Letitia hissed under her breath at her before opening it.

‘Ten silvers, ladies.’ One of them said briskly.

Ten silvers! Last time it was seven. The time before that, five.

It took every ounce of Bri’s strength not to spring at them, to call them out for who they were. The vilest people in the Six Kingdoms.

Jaw clenched, not trusting herself to respond, Bri thrust the coins into his hand before turning away. Only then did she allow the silent tears to trickle down her face.

She turned back to the window. Gwendoline was still kicking and screaming. What good will that do? Yet it did nothing to still the stream of insults that flooded out of her mouth. She only fell quiet when a soldier viciously slapped her.

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‘Next time you speak, it’s the whipping post!’ He spat.

Bri inhaled sharply, her anger and fear nearing boiling point. She had seen a whipping before, once when she was very young. It had made her sick to her stomach, unable to block out the memory of the rivulets of blood dripping down their victim’s back, forming one big puddle on the ground.

Wisely, Gwendoline fell quiet. Bri feared for her friend’s future. Her best hope would be if she were deemed pretty enough to secure a place in the King’s household, but that was a rare opportunity. The soldiers knew her to be a troublemaker, bad-mouthing them behind closed doors. They must’ve found proof.

She cast her eyes downwards, back to her herbs. Letitia’s right, she thought, the only thing I can do now is work and help whoever’s left.

Gyron entered, supporting Jonah, a boy not that much younger than Bri, whose face contorted with pain. A sharp gust of wind slammed the door shut behind him.

‘Got a nasty burn with this one,’ Gyron grunted, as Bri rushed to help him seat the boy on a chair.

‘What in Tûndir’s name happened?’ Bri exclaimed.

‘Idiots and open flames don’t mix,’ he replied.

‘Hang on, let me get the lavender oil, should help with the pain.’

‘Thanks, Bri. He’s hopeless! Hopeless!’

Bri grimaced sympathetically. She’d known the baker and his overeager apprentice for years. Despite Gyron’s gruff exterior, she knew he cared deeply for Jonah.

The apprentice groaned in pain.

‘Don’t be overdramatic, Jonah! I’ve seen far worse injuries than that,’ Gyron barked.

‘It hurts!’ Jonah moaned again.

‘Bri’ll fix you right up, won’t you Bri?’

‘Sure,’ Bri said, bandages draped over one arm.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Gwendoline, the image of her being taken away had imprinted itself in her mind. And Irys. The similarities between the two abductions caused her heart to break all over again. She was hard-pressed to stifle a sob. Not here. Not now. Save your tears for when no-one’s watching.

Whilst bandaging the burn, she didn’t even notice Letitia come bustling in.

‘Gyron,’ Letitia, business-like as ever, gave the baker a respectful nod.

‘Bri, now you've done that, go make yourself useful, get that comfrey into a poultice.’

‘Yes, Letitia.’

Bri immediately moved to obey her orders, she knew Letitia well enough not to make her repeat them a second time. Her scowl is enough to cause the King to cower in his throne room.

Just as she went to grab her knife, the baker's boy raised his good hand.

‘Is my hand supposed to feel numb?’

Letitia took one look at the bandage Bri had applied and pulled her aside. ‘Girl, what’s wrong with you? That bandage is far too tight! You aren’t paying attention and you know we can’t afford to be making mistakes like that.’

‘I’m sorry! I just wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘Which isn’t any good when you have a job to do!’

‘Letitia…’

‘I know you’re hurting, Bri,’ she said, not unsympathetically. ‘But we can’t afford to dwell. Not in our profession. We have to carry on. Redo Jonah’s bandages, then go home.’

After diligently following her instructions, Bri forlornly set off into the dark, pulling her cloak tightly around her in a feeble attempt to protect herself from the howling winter gales.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and a hint of a smile began to twitch in the corner of her mouth.

‘Stealing again, Jack? They’re going to catch you one of these days.’

The boy jumped down from a wall in one fluid motion.

‘Got to make a living somehow, Bri!’ He grinned impishly.

‘But from the soldiers?’ she said under her breath. ‘That’s a dangerous game to play. Especially when they’re here to collect taxes.’

‘They’ve never caught me yet. Speaking of taxes… can you spare a copper?’

Bri rolled her eyes. ‘You never change,’ she said, tossing him a coin, which he caught with one hand. ‘They took Gwen, if they catch you…’

Jack’s expression turned grim. ‘I know. That’s part of the reason I do it. It’s a way of getting even.’

‘It’s a stupid way of getting even.’

‘Is there any other way? Look, things are changing. People have had enough, they’re getting braver. I heard there was a rebellion in Krym.’

‘What?’

‘Aye.’

‘Well, did they win?’

Jack shook his head. ‘But one day the rebellion’s going to be here, I’m sure of it.’

Bri sighed. ‘I can’t see it, Jack. I wish you were right, but I don’t see anything changing, unless it becomes more dangerous.’

‘You’ll see,’ Jack replied confidently. ‘Well, I need to go, see you around.’

‘I hope so,’ Bri replied under her breath, shivering as she continued on her way.

She was greeted home by the sound of a mangle squeaking.

‘Mother, I’m home!’ Bri called unnecessarily.

The squeaking sound halted as her mother almost ran towards her. ‘Are you alright? The soldiers…’

‘We had no trouble,’ she replied, ‘but Gwen… Gwendoline…’ Her voice cracked on the name whilst her mother guided her to a chair.

That got the attention of her father, whose head snapped up from cleaning animal hides. ‘They took her?’

‘They dragged her out of her home. It was awful,’ Bri shuddered. ‘Those raekin –’

‘Language!’ Bri’s mother interrupted.

‘Sorry mother, but that’s what they are. I hate them. They treat us like scum, but they –’

‘Enough,’ her father rumbled, ‘at least lower your voice. You know well what happens to those who get caught talking.’

‘Who’s going to tell anyone? You?’

‘Bri! We already lost one daughter. We are not ready to lose another. Think on that.’

Bri could’ve said so much more, but her mother's fearful expression silenced her.