Disaster tourism is defined as the practice of visiting locations at which an environmental disaster, either natural or man-made, has occurred. Don’t ask me why humans did it, but I found joy in the red snow. Naturally, I hid it from everyone around me, including the few guards who finally had the guts to leave their fortress. They even shut all the gates during the night, forcing me to use one of the few tunnels the earth mage dug out to get back home, but also enabling my fellow criminals to throw copper coins at the peasants in the southern slums.

“Who would do such a thing?” I asked, trembling slightly as I noticed how guards burned hundreds of corpses to stop illnesses from spreading. A few tears fell down my cheeks as I knelt in front of the fires, and interlocked my fingers with each other. Looking down to the ground, I prayed … okay, I thought about the crossword puzzle I tried on my way there, but it looked as if I prayed. And that was all that mattered.

Around midday, finally having solved the crossword puzzle, I stood up wrapped in a thick blanket some kind soul gave me. There were quite a few others, mourning for their lost ones, as I stood up quietly and walked way, shielded by two guards who themselves feared to be attacked. Well, I could assure them the probability of that was rather slim, but I didn´t do so. Instead, I rather looked at the tears a few humans shed … luckily there were no children among them.

Or rather, we pulled every child possible out of the areas we murdered in and remembered the families who still had their children. I met most of them after all and the probability someone who had a family being outside that late to enjoy booze were slim in the first place … at least that was my hope.

Soon afterwards, I was back in my carriage, driving home without further hiccups. I had done what was expected of me which was to give them a bit of relief. I would hold a speech for them the day afterwards and mourn with them together once more, but it didn´t feel right to do that the very day their friends were murdered.

Back at home, I sat on Mary´s desk and snipped against a gold coin, letting it twirl on the costly wood. Once again, Hannah was summarizing the contents of a few letters, but I didn´t feel like going through any myself.

“… the newspaper stated the attack was instigated by a group of bandits.” The newspaper did? Or was someone else influencing them to write this? “Was that you? Did you spread that rumour?” I would never spread such a boring rumour. Bandits? Attacking the royal capital? That was way too unbelievable.

“No … as long as the peasants think the nobles did it, everything is fine. The nobles can think whatever they want in this case.” I declared and noticed how all momentum slowly left the gold coin.

“… and it is written that the attacks on the noble mansions were done by a group who has deep rooted support in the slums.” The nobles thought the peasants were behind it, the peasants thought the nobles retaliated. I loved it.

“Well, that was me.” The divisions I sowed with such little actions were quite frankly hilarious. As I noticed way earlier, this city was an explosive waiting to blow up. And I was slowly lighting the fuse. “How did spreading the money go?”

“At first, they apparently had a few struggles, but the guards were soon ordered back into the city walls, giving us free reign. At daybreak though, they came out in large numbers and confiscated everything, except the copper coins. Our thugs were already away at that point though. Next time, Tom plans to get rid of the silver and gold coins altogether.” Well, that was going nicely.

“What about the seamstress?” I asked, remembering I still needed a dress for that birthday party.

“She is here. The dress should be ready in time.” Hannah said, looking out of the window to gauge the time. I could only hope I didn´t let my seamstress wait too long.

“Hmm… bring her in.” I said and stood up as Hannah left the room. While she was away, I looked at the mirror on the wall. Back stared someone with no visible emotions whatsoever, until the door opened once more and I wore my usual gentle smile.

“Your holiness.” The seamstress said, curtsying slightly sloppily and deeper than what was usual.

“Please, do call me Lucy, or if you insist, Milady. Olivia, was it?” I asked and curtsied as deeply as her, breaking all the rules of etiquette in one go. Nobody talked to another noble with their first name initially, and nobody greeted a lower noble as flashily as I did. But my behaviour was already wildly known, so it wasn’t completely surprising the woman kept her cool. At least I left her the option to call me Milady, otherwise I wasn’t so sure she would be able to remain calm.

“It is. Milady, you asked for my assistance?” She asked, smiling from ear to ear.

“Indeed. It will be my first appearance in public to most of the nobles, so I don’t want to leave a bad impression ... even though I wish I didn´t need to go considering our current troubles.” I stated while looking quite sad.

“Hmm … this is an entirely understandable sentiment, but without socialising with other nobles …” As expected of a noble lady, she knew exactly how it went.

“I won´t get far without them. I understand that much as well, which is why you are here today. What do you think of the design?” I asked, looking at the piece of paper she had in her hands.

“It is … certainly fitting for a saint, but the costs …” She said, avoiding my gaze in the process.

“Money is not an issue. As long as I leave a long-lasting impression with the nobility and manage to secure funding for my projects this way, I will spend every coin I have.” I said.

“I understand. Am I allowed to take your measurement?” She asked, pulling out a tape measurement from one of the pockets in her dress … her dress had pockets! As expected of a seamstress, she knew what woman missed … and then proceeded to make dresses without pockets.

“The dress wouldn’t fit very well otherwise, would it?” I asked, smiling wryly and lifting my arms up.