Chapter 3

3
Serojin had a lot in his mind. Lord Truchard had occupied his castle and Serojin had to move to the Prior's house. It was more or less a castle though it was called a house.

Priory had been closed and the prior and all the monks had been banished following the coronation of Lord Truchard. Some of the monks were allowed to stay and work as craftsmen but were not allowed to teach or follow the way of god. They were just commoners and were not treated any better.

Serojin was fortunate to be left in power after the fall of the kingdom. It had everything to do with his cunning mind. He had convinced Lord Truchard that he was a useful ally but now Serojin was wondering if he hadn't done a very good job.

Lord Truchard didn't trust him. That much was clear. But the recent events suggested that Serojin needed to be careful of everything he does. And of everything that happens in the Colton alley.

Lord Truchard's infantry has taken residence in the alley. Serojin knew that apart from the official military, many of Truchard's spies had entered in to the villages and the town as countrymen coming to witness the ceremony. He wasn't sure how many of his council members were spies to Truchard. At this point, he could not trust anyone. It was as if he postponed his and the region' s fate.

Lord Truchard of the Northern mountains invaded middleland, overthrowing the emperor and the Royal family  reducing the castle to rumble. He built a new Castle on the banks of river Eneer.

The land did not accept him as their king. This made Truchard even fierce. The land was his  and he did whatever he deemed fit with it. Most regional rulers have been driven away  or killed. Serojin was fortunate.

It was his time to change things for his own good. And the plan was already set in motion.

He would claim what he deserve.

Chapter 2

"Kruscha, you're late again. You don't want to be late today."

She went to the door and removed the small wedge of wood that acted as a lock. It helped her feel safe although it offered no real protection.

The door opened with a creak revealing a woman old enough to be her mother in ragged clothes same as hers.

"Kruscha! Look at you? You're hardly ready! You know what would happen if we're late today, don't you? " Celia exclaimed, full of concern.

Kruscha made no comment. She simply walked to the corner and gathered her tools. She put them all on a piece of old cloth and tied them all together to make a pack.

She took the torn pair of socks from the top of the table and wore them and then she slipped on her wooden sandals. The sandals of a crafter.

She hipped her tools and stepped out of her room, pulling the door  behind her, shutting it close.

Kruscha stared at Celia with a blank expression. It was genuine worry that was painted all over her face. Celia wanted to care for Kruscha. After all, she was her sister's daughter.

"Let us go. We're already late. " Celia said turning away from Kruscha and starting to walk up the road, silent, knowing very well that she wouldn't hear anything else from her niece.

This has been the way, ever since the day Kruscha's parents have died. Celia tried to get closer to her. Try to warm Kruscha's stiffening heart. Try to make up for the loss she had to bear. But no matter how much she tried, Kruscha wouldn't let Celia in. But Celia never gave up. She always tried.

Silent the trees were. Silent was Kruscha. Cold was the winter. So was Kruscha's heart. That is who she was to everyone. That's how people knew her. 

Kruscha followed Celia's steps up the path covered with snow. The thin, worn off socks were already damp and neither of them could feel any sensation through the skin of their feet.

"Lord Truchard  arrived this morning. I heard the horns. " Celia said while hurrying her feet through the snow covering the path leading up the hill.

" The Gorgon pass is open. Countrymen have been passing through the village the whole night. "

Kruscha made no attempt to respond. Her mind had wandered far away. She was staring at the direction of the pass. As they headed further up the hill the pass came in to view. The grand decors and the lines of carts and people on foot passing through looked out of the ordinary for Kruscha. It was nothing ordinary for the rest of the village either. After all, the Clausehall had been closed for the last century or so.

"There are so many. " Kruscha's silent lips let out an exclamation.

Celia looked at the people passing down in the alley while coming to a halt.

" Lord Truchard had ordered Serojin the presence of all men of the kingdom. The villagers are not so happy with all these people coming in." Celia said turning towards Kruscha.

"Herman says there are spies among the Countrymen. And most would settle down in these parts. It would take decades to build any hope of trust again. " she went on to say.

Herman was the headman of Milenis, the village Kruscha lived in. Herman was a pawn of Serojin and most people knew better than to say no to him.

" what difference would it make? " Kruscha wasn't expecting an answer to her question.

Celia couldn't understand half the things Kruscha said most of the time. But she feared that Kruscha's way of thinking would not do her any good.

Celia didn't know what to say. But she understood Kruscha's concerns. Herman himself was not a person anyone could trust.

They walked down the hill now, the path spiraling. The terrain was rough and unpredictable. But the villagers were well acquainted with the nature around them. Celia and Kruscha walked down the path with ease, reaching the foot of the hill. The guards were at the worker's gates, letting the craftsmen and other workers in.

They blended with the crowd and moved towards the open gates.

Chapter 1

She woke up with the ring of bells in her ears. The straw bed was nowhere near comfortable but it was a luxury not everyone could afford. The plank of wood underneath thrust against her spine, compressing the mattress of straws reminded her of the days long gone. Things were different now. And she, nor anyone else, had imagined all this would happen.

She got up and scanned the room, which was also her whole house. Nothing had changed while her escape from the reality. The pieces of  off-colored paper still resting on the ragged table in a stack. She haven't even touched them yet. She had planned to start working on them two days ago but the circumstances lately had not allowed her to.
The empty plate was resting on the small wooden stool beside the table, still dirty from the last meal she had from days ago.
She sat up on the bed and stared at the dusty window above the bed. She couldn't see anything specific but the sunlight shining through, filling up the room. She heard distance voices speaking to each other. But she made no attempt to make out what they were saying. It wasn't material. She already knew what she needed to know.

She slowly brought her bare feet down and let them touch the floor. The cold floor sent shivers up her spine. She pulled up her feet back on to the bed quickly. A tear rolled down her cheek knowing that she has to work more than she can in this blistering cold. There's no escape from her fate.

The hook on the wall held her work clothes, with layers of dirt unable to clean anymore.
She took a deep breath and let her feet touch the floor again and got up trying not to feel the numbing sensation passing along her feet.

She walked to where her clothes were hung, took them off the hook and got dress up. Nothing grandeur about the way she looked. She looked nothing more than the average commoner of the Middleland. But covered by her simple robes were the scars of a person gone through much more.

Her ragged clothes had no power to keep the cold out. As soon as she set her foot outside her small haven, she would become a part of the cold unmoving surrounding. Not much different from the rocks and frozen trees covered with snow. Except for the fact that she had to move. To live, she had to move.
She walked over to the table and undid the knot of the strings which were holding the paper bundle together. She looked at the writings on the papers. She couldn't read all of them. Most words didn't make much sense to her. But she never gave up. She liked to learn. And that's exactly what she was doing.

She had already deciphered the first few pages some weeks ago. Last week there had not been a single moment of will or fitness to carryout her studying. work at the Clausehall had kept her busy that she couldn't even come home at night. She had to sleep in a corner of the hall with nothing to keep her warm but her ragged clothes.
But even a moment of attempting to read the papers gave her so much of pleasure and fueled her life, giving purpose to her living.

Commoners couldn't read. They were not allowed to learn. She believed this for quite a while but after her parents died, the lack of authority and purpose drove her ambitions high, seeking higher pleasures than most others would seek. Trying to learn how to read was her biggest secret. No one could know. No one should know. She would be dead if anyone found out about it.
She had no time today. It's the day of the ceremony. The Clausehall was reopening today. Work  was finished last morning.
She tied the strings back together forming a tight bundle and hid it under her straw bed.
If someone came in to her room she would be in trouble if they saw it.

There was a knock on the door.