《The Incendiary Plans of Cassandra Hattings》 Chapter 1 - The Border Forest (1) Chapter 1. Writer: thursdays ????????? Cassandra Hattings was taking a much-needed nap inside the prison wagon when the wagon was hit by a fireball. The wagon promptly toppled over to its side, making Cassandra crash against the wall, and she dazedly took note of the savage violet flames eating into the metal structure. Violet? ¡°Magicians,¡± Cassandra said. The word was shaped like a curse in her mouth. She looked left, then right. Her hands were still bound, and the flames were approaching quickly. Smoke filled the interior of the prison wagon, and Cassandra had no choice but to inch herself like a worm toward the backdoor of the wagon, hoping that the heavy impact had jostled the locks. At least it was easier to breathe closer to the floor¡ªor the wall, as it were. When she leaned against the wall to brace herself up, she could hear the yelling of the wagoneer who had escorted her thus far. She smiled grimly. S?a?ch* Th? N0v?lFire(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality. The man was of sadistic stock and had mocked her the entire grip. He had taken joy in elaborating in gory detail what the Senecian heathens would do to her. It was ironic that he would wind up in their hands first. She threw herself forward. Luckily, the door gave way, and Cassandra tumbled out to the dirt road. Cassandra took a deep breath once she was free from the stifling hot air. The full moon illuminated the orange and gold foliage of the surrounding forest, but Cassandra had no time to admire the leaves. She was focused on the cloaked figure before her. The magician¡ªand it had to be one of those horrid people, didn¡¯t it?¡ªloomed over the wagoneer. ¡°P-please spare me,¡± begged the wagoneer. ¡°I can give you money, the prisoner¡ª¡± The wagoneer¡¯s eyes flicked toward the burning prison wagon and widened as he saw Cassandra. ¡°There! She¡¯s there! Take her!¡± Cassandra could only take two steps away before a wind pulled her back and into the grasp of the magician. A large hand held her by the neck. Cassandra gasped for air, and the magician let her down. Then, he turned to face the wagoneer again. ¡°Detestable being,¡± said the magician. ¡°As if I needed any more reason to kill you.¡± His words were spoken in Senecian instead of her native Ulran. It was fortunate that Cassandra had taken the elective class when she went to finishing school.1 ¡°I don¡¯t understand!¡± wailed the wagoneer. ¡°What do you want?¡± Cassandra asked the magician. ¡°What is your goal?¡± The magician tilted his head at Cassandra in interest. It was then that she saw his features for the first time: luscious silver hair, unblemished dark skin, and purple eyes the same hue as the eerie fire behind them. He would have been beautiful if he didn¡¯t stand for everything she was against. ¡°This caravan is not authorized to enter Senecy,¡± answered the magician. ¡°It¡¯s top-secret, but it has been authorized by your republic,¡± said Cassandra. She raised her cuffed arms to clue him in. Luckily, he understood. ¡°A prisoner exchange? Or are you a hostage?¡± Cassandra smiled thinly before the magician opened his mouth again. ¡°But nonetheless, my duties are to eliminate all enemies in the Border Forest. I would rather not take my chances.¡±2 The magician waved his hand, and the wagoneer was dragged back from where he had tried to sneak away. Damn. Cassandra had hoped that at least one of them would make it, even if it was the good-for-nothing wagon driver. The two knights who had accompanied them on this trip, as well as all the horses, were nowhere to be seen. There were only rumpled piles of armor and cloth and reins scattered on the ground, as if the ones wearing them had simply disappeared. She found out what happened to them soon enough. The magician began to chant esoteric words that were neither Ulran, Senecian, or any other language she recognized. Maybe they weren¡¯t words at all but nature itself, given a voice. Wind wrapped around the wagoneer like a tornado, and something like steam seemed to escape from his pores. Before her eyes, the wagoneer reversed in age¡ªa young man, entering his teenage years, childhood, a babe. He screamed, loudly and horribly. Then, there was nothing. The forest was silent but for the owls and nighthawks, and the wagoneer¡¯s clothes fell to the ground. A small, separate pile, just like the rest. Cassandra could only watch in horror. Her legs refused to move, and the screaming filled her head until she couldn¡¯t think at all. ¡°Now, for you.¡± Her legs unfroze for an instant as she scrambled back. ¡°Don¡¯t come near me!¡± she yelled. ¡°Witch, begone!¡± The magician sighed. ¡°Know that I take no joy from this,¡± he said. He stepped closer to her and touched the tips of her long hair. It was greasy, she knew, but the magician seemed not to care as he pressed his lips to the black locks. ¡°A lady deserves better. I¡¯ll try to be quick.¡± Then, the chanting began anew. It was one thing to witness the terrible wizardry. It was another to be subject to it. The tornado she had observed was suffocating her, pushing inward like a tunnel. Cassandra was being squeezed from all sides, and even worse, something was being squeezed out: her life itself. She couldn¡¯t breathe in, but she could scream. Her neck did not grow hoarse as it should have because it continued to reverse in time. Then, from afar, there was a gunshot. It was a signaling shot intended to draw attention to a location rather than to hit anyone. Someone had probably noticed the flames. It was enough to startle the magician into dropping her. ¡°Damn it all,¡± cursed the magician. The cloaked man disappeared. Cassandra dry-heaved on the ground, trying to process what had happened. Her own scream was ringing in her ears. She registered how her clothes pooled like lava below her legs and the handcuffs were loose around her wrists. They didn¡¯t fit anymore. Her body automatically began to move, not giving her mind a chance to catch up. There was no time to be confused by what was happening. What was important was that she was alive and that she had the chance to continue being alive. Efficiency and pragmatism had been drilled into her from childhood. She changed into the dead¡ªthe no-longer existing?¡ªwagoneer¡¯s clothes, which looked less remarkable than a prisoner¡¯s uniform. In the process, she found his knife, and she rushedly cut and folded the clothes to be a better fit. When her hair got into her eyes, she paused. It was much too long, and even worse, it had been touched by the magician¡­ And it¡¯d be troublesome if her hair were to leave a trail of her presence. She hacked it off with the knife and tossed it and her old clothes into the violet flames. The acrid smell of burning hair reached her nostrils. Cassandra finished taking care of her appearance just in time. Muddled voices approached from a distance. Evidence erased, Cassandra ran into the woods before the soldiers of either country arrived. ????????? Notes 1. The Benedictus School for Young Ladies, at this period in time, was the most renowned finishing school in all of Ulra. The school offered two whole language electives, which was much better than the 0.5 languages that most Ulran girls were taught: Many peasants, especially women, were unable to read. ???? Return 2. This may seem overly harsh, but the magician had slept nearly as poorly as Cassandra had. As such, he fell back on what he understood¡ªthe orders he had been given. It didn¡¯t help that Cassandra looked so annoyingly smug. ???? Return Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter! Chapter 2 - The Border Forest (2) Chapter 2. Writer: thursdays ????????? The Border Forest. Located on Ulra¡¯s eastern front, the forest had long been a source of conflict with Senecy. Truthfully, neither nation had use for the land. It had little resources other than lumber, but years of pride and blood meant that neither side wanted to give it up. Cassandra thought that they should have. The forest was said to be haunted by soldiers, both dead and alive, and it was easy to see why as she ran through the thicket. The thin branches looked like skeletal hands trying to drag her to her death. The wind carried faint voices to her, or maybe it was just her imagination, or maybe the soldiers were right beside her¡ª ¡°Cassandra!¡± ¡°Cassandra! Come back!¡± ¡°We won¡¯t hurt you. Don¡¯t run away, Cassandra. Stay.¡± Cassandra remembered the stories that the girls in her dormitory used to tell each other on hot, summer nights. There wasn¡¯t a point to discussing romance when all but one of them were already engaged, and so they had shared whatever spooky stories they knew. ¡°Don¡¯t ever enter the woods after dark,¡± said Miss Juniper Wolet. Her eager face glowed, moonbeams highlighting her cheeks through the sheer curtains. ¡°Everyone in my hometown says so.¡± While the other two girls leaned in, hanging onto Miss Wolet¡¯s every word, Cassandra had scoffed. ¡°I bet your hometown is full of uneducated, countryside bumpkins,¡± she said. ¡°What would they know?¡± Miss Wolet turned red. She looked as if she was going to throw a pillow at Cassandra, but one of their roommates appeased her. ¡°Come on, Juni. Miss Hattings is just scared. Look at how she¡¯s clutching her nightgown.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not scared!¡± Cassandra squawked. She yanked her hands away from her clothes like they were on fire. As one, all of the girls shushed her in fear of waking the dorm mother. Cassandra pouted as Miss Wolet laughed and continued. ¡°Moving on, then. Soldiers from both countries occupy whatever part of the woods they can, but they almost never stay the night. And if one of them falls in battle while they¡¯re there¡­ They leave the body behind.¡± Despite herself, Cassandra asked a question. ¡°Isn¡¯t that disrespectful? The soldiers¡¯ families deserve to mourn.¡± Miss Wolet shook her head. ¡°The thing is, the bodies don¡¯t stay there.¡± The girls gasped. ¡°No way!¡± ¡°What does that mean, Juniper?¡± ¡°Z-zombies?!!¡± Miss Wolet relished in their shock, and once her audience had calmed, she continued. ¡°They used to put the bodies on a carriage to bring home. The corpses were stacked on top of each other like toy blocks. I guess it must have been uncomfortable for them because, during the night, the corpses walked off. Nobody saw it happening, but I have it on good authority that there were tracks leading away from the carriage.¡± ¡°Where did they go?¡± ¡°They must stay in the forest, I assume. Fighting battles over and over, re-enacting their deaths. Sometimes you can hear sounds of battle when there¡¯s no fighting going on, at least not officially.¡± Miss Wolet grinned evilly. ¡°Or maybe they¡¯re searching for something. A nice, juicy kid to eat up¡ª¡± There was a knock on the door, and the girls screeched. The dorm mother entered. ¡°Shush! Shush, you all! Why, I ought to inform the¡­¡± Boom. Cassandra¡¯s memories were interrupted by more gunshots in the distance, and she nearly tripped over a root in surprise. ¡°Cassandra! Come back!¡± How did the voices know her name? She was tempted to look back. The voices sounded so gentle, so welcoming¡­ But nobody had ever welcomed Cassandra in her life, so they had to be fake. The wind playing tricks on her ear, nothing more. Cassandra ran on. Eventually, a bright light made Cassandra stop. It was the sun¡¯s reflection on a river. When Cassandra took the moment to catch her breath, she found that there weren¡¯t any more sounds of gunshots or ghosts. Her knees collapsed on her as she abruptly registered her exhaustion. Kneeling on the riverbank, she stared into the running water and let out a broken laugh. ¡°Ha¡­ Haha¡­¡± The pebbles against her knees were smooth and cool. Encouraged, Cassandra dipped her hand into the water. The coldness jolted her awake, and she cupped the water in her hands to take a sip. It was then that she noticed her reflection in the water. Her features were much the same as they always were: startling gold eyes that she inherited from her father and black hair that reflected her Hino heritage. However, her cheeks were plumper than she had become used to, and the bags beneath her eyes were gone. That blasted magician had stolen about a decade from her. She looked like she was ten. Cassandra fumed over the indignity as she washed the scratches she had earned on her desperate race. She was supposed to be nineteen! She had only reached her age of majority last year, and then she spent most of the year in one jail cell or another. She never had the chance to stay out all night drinking at a tavern. She never got to dance at a festival. She never got to dress in the clothes that she wanted instead of the stifling school uniform dresses. She never got to officially move out from her father¡¯s home and find a place for herself in the world. As a Hattings, Cassandra¡¯s life had been restricted on all fronts.1 From the friends she was allowed and her engagement to Prince Emmett, Cassandra was never allowed a voice. She jerked up as an epiphany struck her. All the things that she hadn¡¯t been able to do¡­ She could do them now, except maybe drinking all night. She was free from her family. If she hid well enough, her father wouldn¡¯t even realize she was alive and assume that she died with the wagoneer and knights. Cassandra would have to disguise herself, maybe trim her hair a bit. She was young enough to pass off as a boy, especially with her current short hair and stolen clothing. S~?a??h the N?v?lFir?(.)n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality. In the morning light, the things that had terrified her last night seemed ridiculous. While the threat of soldiers had been real¡ªthere was no imagining a gunshot¡ªthere hadn¡¯t been any undead soldiers calling out to her. She had just spooked herself because of a schoolgirl¡¯s stories. Rather, luck had allowed her to rid herself of all imminent threats. Cassandra smiled, looking into the clear water of the river. She could see little fish darting to and fro between the rocks. Maybe there were bigger fish, too, if she could fashion a spear from the nearby trees. It wouldn¡¯t be good to starve. She was about to look for a good stick when there was a strange, human-sized movement in the trees. Frightened, Cassandra stepped back. The river stones were slippery. She fell into the rushing water. ????????? Notes 1. The history of the Hattings family is an unusual one. While they became famous in the kingdom as so-called kingmakers, they had started as humble hatmakers¡ªtherefore, ¡°Hattings.¡± Their motto-cum-slogan was ¡°The Right Hat for the Right Man.¡± At some point, one of Cassandra¡¯s ancestors had the bright idea to become a priest. Cassander Hattings, our main character¡¯s namesake, climbed higher and higher in the temple until he became the high priest and put the right hat (the crown) on the right man (the first king of Ulra). Thus, the family remained in the illustrious position of kingmakers and temple snobs until Cassandra Hattings, the only daughter of Hector Hattings, tried to poison a member of the royal family and was caught doing so, unlike her wiser and sneakier ancestors. Cassandra has her reasons. ???? Return Thank you for reading! Chapter 3 - The Border Forest (3) Chapter 3. S?a??h th? ?ov?l?ir?.n?t website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality.Writer: thursdays ????????? The water roared in her ears. Theoretically, Cassandra knew how to swim. She once read about the practice in a book, looked over the diagrams, and laughed about how silly it looked. You had to move your arms and legs at the same time, twist your torso so you could come up for air, and float in a level position. But while diagrams and explanations may have helped in still waters such as a lake, they were near-inapplicable in the river that seemed to be swallowing her whole. Cassandra struggled to paddle with her limbs, but the force of the water kept pushing her down. She attempted to hoist her head up and gasp for breath, or maybe see if she could find footing, but the waters were too deep. She would have drowned, then, if it weren¡¯t for the nudging of a thick, long branch near her shoulder. She grasped onto the branch with both hands, and soon, she was pulled out of the river and onto the banks. Her knees were scratched where they had been dragged along the rocks, and her hands were raw from the friction of the branch¡¯s bark. Cassandra let go as soon as she could. The ringing in her ears stopped, only to be replaced by a loud noise of another sort. Someone was yelling at her. Cassandra¡¯s eyes followed the length of the stick until she saw her savior. A peasant boy with flushed cheeks and light brown hair was gesticulating wildly as he spoke. Gradually, Cassandra began to comprehend his words. ¡°What in the ancestors¡¯ names were you thinking?¡± he scolded. ¡°You idiot! You can¡¯t be playing by the river! You shouldn¡¯t even be in the forest! Hasn¡¯t anyone told you to be careful?!¡± Cassandra tried to respond, but only a watery cough came out. That made the boy¡¯s expression change into something of worry, and he patted her on the back like he could punch the water out. ¡°Dumb kids,¡± he muttered under his breath. Cassandra was about to take offense when she saw the mushrooms and fruit that lay strewn about them. Many of them were crushed or overrun with insects. The boy must have tossed his gathering bag aside in order to focus on helping her. She swallowed her ire. Now, she just felt tired. ¡°Don¡¯t cry now,¡± said the boy. ¡°There¡¯s a good boy. Come on. Can you stand up?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not crying,¡± said Cassandra. The boy huffed. ¡°It¡¯s a natural thing to do when you¡¯ve nearly drowned. Don¡¯t act so tough, kid.¡± Cassandra wiped her eyes with her hand and was surprised to see that there were tears. Her knees felt weak, but she was able to stand with the boy¡¯s help. He was surprisingly tall, nearly the height of an adult, and she figured that he must have been behind the movement she saw in the trees. The dampness of her clothes and hair got all over the boy¡¯s clothes, but he did not seem to mind. ¡°Thank you,¡± Cassandra said, as sincerely as she could. The boy frowned for a moment before shaking his head. ¡°Anybody would do the same,¡± he said. ¡°Now go home.¡± ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know where to go.¡± The admission rankled on her pride. ¡°I¡¯m lost.¡± The boy goggled at her. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Seriously.¡± The boy sighed. ¡°Well, then. I guess you¡¯re tagging along with me for now. First, you should take off your clothes and let them dry. It¡¯s chilly, so you might catch a cold.¡± Cassandra blushed at the suggestion. The boy seemed to take her appearance at face value and assumed she was also male. ¡°That¡¯s all right,¡± Cassandra stammered. ¡°I¡¯ll be colder without it.¡± The boy leveled a deadpan look at her, but he only grumbled something about youthful bravado. The irony almost made Cassandra smile. ¡°We¡¯ll be out here for a while,¡± the boy warned. ¡°I haven¡¯t finished gathering.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡± said Cassandra. It was the least she could do after ruining the boy¡¯s haul earlier. As they walked through the woods, the boy introduced himself as Lizen, no last name, 12 years old. He lived with his older sister and a few other kids in town. He talked about them in a very fond and proud voice. ¡°My older sister is the most reliable person you¡¯ll ever meet,¡± Lizen said. ¡°She takes care of all of us. And Poppet! Poppet is the prettiest girl ever, but she¡¯s also vicious to everyone outside our group. She¡¯ll stab anyone with a needle¡ªshe¡¯s the seamstress¡¯s apprentice, you see. She¡¯s also my sis¡¯s best friend. We also recently brought in Hilary. He¡¯s a little boy, even littler than you, and he¡¯s a massive scammer.¡± Cassandra nodded indulgently to Lizen¡¯s rambles, all the while crafting a background story for herself. She didn¡¯t want to go by Cassandra in case anyone was looking for her, but she could use a shortened version of her name, like Andy. She had family, but she was cast aside by them¡ªtruth. She had run away¡ªalso the truth. She didn¡¯t want to talk about it¡ªvery much the truth. A small part of her enjoyed the theatrics of being someone else. Casting off her identity gave her the same feeling she felt when she slipped out of the handcuffs the night before, though she didn¡¯t realize it then. Joy. After a while, Andy grew comfortable enough to interrupt Lizen¡¯s monologue. Currently, he was talking about which plants were safe for consumption. ¡°By the way,¡± she said, ¡°Is it safe to be in the forest like this? I heard that there were ghosts. And soldiers.¡± Lizen looked at her and blinked. ¡°Who told you that?¡± Andy felt embarrassed, for some unknown reason. ¡°A girl I know.¡± ¡°She was pulling your leg. There hasn¡¯t been fighting in this area for years, since the focus of the battle moved north. So, no soldiers other than a few irregular patrols. As for the ghosts¡±¡ªLizen pointed to a thorny bush on the ground¡ª¡°this plant here causes hallucinations, so there¡¯s probably a lot of rumors because of that.¡±1 He picked a little pink berry from the bush and popped it into his mouth. ¡°The berries are edible, though. So collect them very carefully.¡± Andy was still confused. Even if she had hallucinated the voices, there was no mistaking the sound of gunshots. Thus, she kept a wary eye on their surroundings as they continued to scavenge. The sun was much lower in the sky when Andy sneezed. Her clothes had dried a while ago, but maybe it hadn¡¯t been a good idea to wear them in the first place. Lizen looked to her in concern. ¡°The bag is full enough,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll take you back to town.¡± Lizen pointed out the markings, two upside-down triangles, carved into the trees that would show their way to town. Andy knew that the information was important, but she could barely focus with her headache and how cold the air was. Somehow, she made it into the small house that Lizen said was home. He tucked her into bed, all the while fussing about stupid runaway kids who didn¡¯t know what was good for them. Without thinking, Andy reached out a hand toward him for comfort, and equally without thinking, Lizen held it. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to my sister about letting you join the gang,¡± he said, and he used his free hand to stroke back Andy¡¯s hair. ¡°For now, sleep.¡± ¡­A gang? Andy must have misheard because of her poor condition. She entered blissful unconsciousness. ????????? Notes 1. Miss Juniper Wolet was many things, including Cassandra Hattings¡¯s sworn foe, but she was not a liar. It just happened that the information she gave in the past became outdated, as information tends to become with time.???? Return Chapter 4 - The Scammer and the Scammed (1) Chapter 4. Writer: thursdays ????????? In the establishment commonly known as Poppet¡¯s Place, every single door squeaked. The ancient building was erected nearly half a century ago to house a rich man, but after that man¡¯s mysterious death, the first floor was converted into a seamstress¡¯s boutique. Perhaps his spirit cursed the building: No matter how much the doors were oiled and the hinges replaced, the doors continued to creak and screech at the lightest draft. On the second floor of Poppet¡¯s Place were the bedrooms. This was where the seamstress, her companion, her companion¡¯s younger brother, and the brother¡¯s playmate lived. These orphans of war lived as respectably as they could considering their circumstances, and they cared for each other like family. But there was an unfamiliar presence on the second floor. A boy child that wasn¡¯t a boy or a child slumbered in one of the bedrooms. By her side, a boy child that was a boy and a child wiped at her forehead with a wet rag. The bedroom door squeaked. Lizen lifted his head to see his older sister, Tino, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed across her off-white apron. She frowned at the fake child on the bed. ¡°We can¡¯t keep picking up strays,¡± said Tino. ¡°Hilary was bad enough. Do you know how much little boys eat?¡± Lizen twisted the wet rag over a wooden bowl and dabbed at Andy¡¯s forehead. He was worried because the child was still feverish. ¡°Was I supposed to let him drown?¡± asked Lizen. ¡°Like you said, he¡¯s little.¡± In Tino¡¯s eyes, they looked about the same size. The only difference was that Lizen¡¯s heart was much too big, and Tino was certain that one day, she would find it raw and bleeding because he offered it to the wrong person. She changed tactics. ¡°It¡¯ll be dangerous for us and him if he¡¯s around. Od¡¯s group is trying to poach our territory, and our clients have been talking about going over¡ª¡± ¡°Tino,¡± Lizen interrupted. He placed the rag down. ¡°I¡¯ll vouch for him. I don¡¯t think he has anywhere to go.¡± ¡°No.¡± His sister¡¯s response was swift, and Lizen huffed. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous, he doesn¡¯t look like us, and I don¡¯t trust him,¡± listed Tino. ¡°He¡¯s a sick child,¡± said Lizen. ¡°And what is he like when he isn¡¯t sick? You¡¯ve known him for a day.¡± Lizen nodded, acknowledging Tino¡¯s point. He had only met Andy earlier today, and Andy did look different from them. His hands were uncalloused, his skin pale like he didn¡¯t spend much time in the sun, and even though he was sick he still looked to be in a better physical condition than the rest of them combined. But Lizen remembered how antsy Andy had been when Lizen asked about his past. Nobody ran away from a comfortable life for fun. Regardless of his origins, Andy must have been as damaged as they were. ¡°Let him prove himself,¡± said Lizen. ¡°Poppet could use some help in the shop, or he could find something else to do.¡± S?a??h the N?v?lF?re.?et website on G??gl? to access chapters of n?vels early and in the highest quality. Lizen¡¯s eyes grew rounder as he imitated an injured puppy. A moment later, Tino had to look away. ¡°Fine! He has a week.¡± Tino scowled at herself for giving in. ¡°And you have to convince Poppet, too, not just me. If he turns out useless or untrustworthy, I¡¯ll punt him to the streets myself.¡± They shook hands on the deal. ????????? A gentle melody hung in the air. The song sounded a bit familiar, like a half-forgotten lullaby. There was a soft touch against her leg. Andy snapped open her eyes and jerked up to see a small hand reaching inside her trouser pocket. ¡°Ahh!¡± ¡°Ahh!¡± The hand slapped her. ¡°Sorry, sorry. I thought you¡¯d be asleep longer.¡± Andy turned her head to see a blond boy, about seven years old, wearing a long, green, and lumpy overcoat. ¡°You picked my pockets,¡± she said, somewhat dumbfounded. The boy grinned. ¡°I just thought it¡¯d be uncomfortable for you to sleep with heavy pockets. Not that there was much. Here¡¯s your knife back.¡± He handed over the knife that Andy had pilfered from the wagoneer. It was a good knife, with a smooth wooden handle and a leather sheathe. ¡°Actually, I appropriated it from someone else,¡± admitted Andy. It was hard to feel angry when the boy was so upfront about it. ¡°But you have my thanks.¡± She tucked the knife in her waistband. ¡°By the way, where is this?¡± The decor of the room was gaudy but bare. There were traces of gold scraped off the furniture and empty spots where large portraits or mirrors would have hung. What remained was many decades out of style and had yet to see a renaissance in high society. It was still a step up from prison, though. ¡°This is Poppet¡¯s Place,¡± said the boy. The emphasis he put on the words made Andy think that ¡®place¡¯ was a proper noun. ¡°Lizen dragged you in last night.¡± ¡°Lizen!¡± exclaimed Andy, recalling the kind boy who had saved her. ¡°Where is he? I should thank him¡ª¡± ¡°He¡¯s out working. He told me to take care of you while he¡¯s gone.¡± The boy shrugged. ¡°You do need an awful lot of caring, and I owe him.¡± Andy furrowed her brows and looked at the boy again. She hazarded a guess. ¡°¡­Are you Hilary?¡± ¡°Right-o. Good to see that Lizen didn¡¯t forget about us with his new find.¡± Hilary clapped his hands with joy. ¡°Well, please give him my thanks. I¡¯ll be on my way now that I¡¯m awake and feeling better.¡± Andy made to stand up from the bed, but Hilary pushed her back down. It was a testament to her weakness that such a young child could push her down. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere,¡± said Hilary. Andy bristled. ¡°Is that a threat?¡± ¡°No, but you¡¯re definitely going to get yourself robbed and killed (when they find out you have no money) out there. At least lose the accent before you head out into the big, scary world.¡± For the second time in five minutes, Andy was at a loss for words. Finally, she said, ¡°The accent?¡± ¡°Yeah. You talk funny,¡± said Hilary. His words weren¡¯t meant to be an insult but genuine advice. Andy considered it. She had noticed that the way Lizen and Hilary talked was different from hers, but she wasn¡¯t sure how to replicate it. Noticing her struggle, Hilary suggested, ¡°Stop dragging out your words. Stop using fancy words like ¡®appropriated.¡¯ If you stole something, just say you stole it.¡± ¡°I stole the knife.¡± ¡°Much better! Do you know any cuss words? We¡¯ll have you talking like a street rat in no time!¡± Andy was so drawn into the lesson on elocution that she didn¡¯t notice the time passing. When her stomach growled in protest, Hilary dragged her into the kitchen like it was only natural. It was nearly night, and far too late for Andy to leave Poppet¡¯s Place as she had intended. Andy remembered belatedly what Lizen had said about Hilary: He was a massive scammer. Andy utilized one of the vocabulary words Hilary had taught her. ¡°Fuck.¡± ????????? Notes Thank you for reading! Up next, the introductions of Poppet and Od.