I needed a moment to catch my breath. There was no going back. Innocent, brainwashed little girls. It was tough not to think about, but I had to focus on finding Maria.

Harald’s motionless body had gotten caught in the branches of the ash tree by the main entrance. My rifle hung by its strap from one of the twigs. I stood on my tippy toes and tugged on the rifle until the twig broke off.

I walked down the same road I had come from with no real objective, just wondering what Joe Barth might have exposed my sister to, fueling the hatred towards this place inside of me.

Horse hooves clacked against the cobble street. I quickly hid behind a cart full of hay. Peeping over the hay, I could see someone dressed very fancily but old fashioned, reminding me of a French renaissance painting I once saw. The person’s face was hidden beneath the shadows of their tricorn. A blue feather stuck out of the hat. They were also holding an equally as fancy but outdated musket.

As soon as the horse passed, I came out into the middle of the road.

“Stop!” I yelled. “Drop your weapon!”

The person turned their head, and looked surprised to see me. It was the gardener from McDowell’s front yard! He halted his horse. I couldn’t let his kind eyes fool me, he must’ve been in this town for a reason.

“I said drop it!”

He leaned his musket against his horse, with the barrel pointing upwards.

“Good, now don’t try anything stupid,” I growled.

“You’re making a mistake,” he told me. “I’m not one of them.”

“Yeah right! Everyone in this town is twisted, why would you be any different?” The adrenaline rushed through my body. What difference would killing him do? I had already lost count anyways.

“I’m working undercover for Sandfort, gathering intel for the atta-”

“I don’t want to hear it, give me your horse!” Every minute wasted is a minute less for finding Maria. A minute more for Joe Barth to hurt her.

“Okay, okay,” he got off his horse on the opposite side of the one with the musket. Wise.

I tried to place my foot in the stirrup, the horse was too tall. I didn’t reach the saddle horn to pull myself up. I jumped and held onto the seat. No luck, I slid down.

“Uhh,” the gardener scratched his head.

“What?!” I was only mildly embarrassed of my unsuccessful attempts.

“Do you need help..?”

“No!” A man’s help was the last thing I needed. I continued to struggle.

Two arms wrapped around my thighs, I was lifted enough to grab the horn and throw my leg over the other side.

“I said no,” I was unamused by his gesture.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

“Do you know who Joe Barth is?” I asked. Had to make some use of this friendly stranger while I could.

“Mr. Barth? He’s only the richest man in the valley, living in Barth Manor on Banana Island surrounded by hundreds of pirate mercenaries.”

Yeah, right. A sister in need, and this guy was talking about pirates on banana islands.

“You think this is some kind of joke?! He has my little sister for God’s sake!”

The gardener began to understand the seriousness of the situation.

He looked me in the eyes and said: “We’ll get your sister, but first we’ll need an army of our own.”

“We? Who invited you?” I wondered.

“Oh please, you don’t even know which direction to take out of town, and last time I checked, I’m the one with connections for that army.”

Fair point.

We rode out the town gate. I sat in front of the gardener, with his musket in my lap, and the tip of my loaded rifle under his chin. Just in case.