A girl was huddled inside a toolshed, face smeared with ash and mud. Shouts and screams echoed outside, followed by guttural roars from something inhumane. Flames rose across the town as the wooden buildings burned down, accompanied by the stench of charred flesh. The girl’s eyes stung from the smoky air as she peeked between the wooden boards, heart thudding as she watched for an opening.

Once the path was clear, she slipped out of the shed, dashing for the mud wall that surrounded their village. She was so close.

Twenty feet, fifteen, ten.

Just as she reached the base of the wall, a pained cry came from her side. Looking down, she saw a man crawling on the ground. Through the blood and dirt on his face, she recognized him as her neighbor, the hunter. He visited their family’s bakery twice a week, trading small game for freshly baked bread.

At the moment, his leg was twisted unnaturally as a long scratch on his torso bled profusely. The girl hurriedly pulled him up, propping him against the wall. Tearing off part of her blouse, she pressed the cloth against the wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“We need to leave,” He spoke through gritted teeth. “The forest. We can hide in the forest.”

The girl nodded nervously.

“You first.” He got up unsteadily and crouched, back against the wall. “Help me up after.”

The mud wall was little more than the height of a grown adult and only a foot thick. Standing on his shoulders, the girl clambered up before extending her hand down, pulling the man up. She prayed that they wouldn’t be noticed, that her parents were safe and sound. The stray cat she had snuck out to feed tonight had already run away a long time ago. She hoped it was safe as well.

Dropping off the wall, the girl helped the man slowly descend down, making sure to not make any noise. Leaning on her shoulder, they began to hurry south towards the forest in a semi-jog, taking care to not put pressure on the man’s injured leg.

Soon, they arrived at the edge of the forest without being noticed.

Behind them, the burning town lit up the night, clouds of smoke rising up. The girl bit her lips until they bled, but kept moving forwards with the limping man. A half-lidded scarlet moon floated in the sky. Crimson light shone down, partially obscured by smoke and clouds and casting long shadows through the forest.

She wanted to wait in the forest to see if her parents were safe, to see if anyone else was able to get out. At the same time, she was afraid, and had an instinctive urge to run, as far away as possible from here. The two emotions collided with each other, equally matched as they fought within her body.

She hesitated between running and staying, too preoccupied to notice a shadow behind her.

 

“I’m sorry.”

There was a dull thud as she was hit in the back of the head by a blunt object. Although she didn’t faint, the impact left her in a daze as she fell forwards, unable to comprehend what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” The man repeated as he tossed a wooden rod aside. 

Her lips were bleeding and her head was buzzing, eyes unfocused.

It wasn’t until the man dragged her to a tree and began tying her arms behind the trunk that she was able to formulate a response.

“You… What’re you… Why?” She asked in disbelief, mouth dry from the heat and smoke earlier.

“I’m sorry,” The man repeated a third time with a hoarse voice.

The girl trembled as she looked up. His eyes were hazy, seemingly in a trance as he muttered quietly. His pupils were dilated to an extreme, both irises colored by hints of a dark red.

For as long as she could remember, the two of them had been acquaintances. Their families' relationship stretched over a decade and never had there been a reason for conflict.

“They… They’ll catch up to us.” He muttered, trembling as a cold wind blew through the woods, causing the leaves to shake eerily. “You’ll run and leave me behind.”

Her wrists were tugged sharply as the man finished fastening the rope and tested it. 

He opened his mouth as if wanting to say something, but nothing came out. Silently, he gave her one final, forlorn glance before turning around and limping away. Sometime during his actions, the man’s wound had torn open and began to bleed again. He trudged away, seemingly not noticing the scarlet path he left behind.

The girl shouted until her voice was hoarse, but was met with only silence. There was fear, yes, but it was overshadowed by overwhelming anger. Anger at the betrayal, anger at orcs, but also anger towards herself for being useless.

She continued to yell, until she became dizzy, hoping that someone, anyone, would be able to hear her. Her voice echoed through the trees. She shouted and yanked her arms until her wrists were rubbed raw.

In the back of her mind, a fiery emotion took hold. It grew slowly as she continued struggling, the smell of smoke growing stronger until she felt her bindings fall apart. No longer tied to the tree, the girl collapsed forward, eyes blurry and heart pounding.

Hazily, she noticed that the ropes around her hands were charred black, wisps of smoke matching those above the village.

Gasping for air, she managed to stand up, and without looking back, stumbled further into the forest.

 

-

 

In front of him was one of the city advisors, who had just arrived at his office to report on a concerning matter. In the northern regions, the number of orc raids had grown significantly despite the end of winter. Even the villages further south that had never had orc sightings were being threatened.

“Is that all?” Calun asked.

“Yes, Lord Calun.” The man nodded. “Multiple refugees were questioned. All their stories match up.”

Calun let out a hum as he looked outside the window. Although previously visible, the moon was currently hidden behind the clouds, unable to be seen. At times it appeared normal, and at others, it appeared red. It sent shocks throughout the people in the city, but after pacifying from the priests, most of their worries had been settled down.

He had already visited the head priest, who admitted to not knowing anything about the supernatural occurrence. Neither did he know the reason behind the orc’s recent increase in activity.

The territory of Larmes was farther south than many of the villages that had been attacked, but Calun still felt a hint of unease.

“Increase the number of patrols in the northern part of the territory.” Calun spoke.

The advisor bowed to him and left. Ever since his excursion with Klaes, he had pried out information on the nearby territories from interrogating the bandits. As such, he knew that many of the northern Lords had increased taxes, stockpiling both food and weapons. Now, under the guise of defending against orc attacks, countless nobles began to draft soldiers, armies patrolling dangerously close to the territories of other lords.

Venice’s marriage was supposed to form an alliance with one of the neighboring territories, the city of Randell. However, she had since fled, and only after sending the Randell Lord several gifts was the Viscount able to mend their relationship, who had fallen ill in recent days.

Either way, the various events had led to an increasing number of refugees. The number of refugees taken in every day by Larmes wasn't high, only around a hundred. It wasn’t much, but until the orc attacks were resolved, the number of casualties would keep growing.

There were several powerful factions in the Empire that could resolve the issues with ease. However, many of the current powers were in a deadlock around the capital, preparing for the Emperor’s departure and the ensuing conflict. It was safe to say that, until the situation turned dire, many of those powers would be content to just sit back and watch. After all, the barren lands of the North were barely even worth glancing at for them.

Calun had just finished going through the work that had been built up since his requisition of Venice’s position. The overall situation of Larmes wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, but it was still quite miserable. 

Through farming and hunting, the city’s food situation was relatively manageable, only becoming somewhat dire during winters. Similarly, the city’s monetary reserves were decent. Although the income from taxes wasn’t high, there were no major expenditures either. The city was poor, but stable.

However, it seemed that stability would soon be broken. Though the bustling of people gave off a semblance of safety, it was an appearance that could shatter easily.

Humming to himself, Calun made a decision, planning the visit the orphanage later. He had already sent out Elliot to go to the blacksmith to design a new weapon, a crossbow, as well as ordering several more squads of militia to be trained. The surrounding villages were also shoring up their defense with earthen walls and wooden stakes. Hopefully, by the time conflict struck, the city would be well prepared.

 

Outside, Aliz was on one of the main roads, figure huddled within a tattered cloak as she weaved between pedestrians. The guards had questioned her, but otherwise, it had been easy to get into the city. Unlike the cities that had shooed her away on the way here, Larmes felt as if it welcomed refugees, rather than disdaining them. 

All the refugees she had seen in Larmes were busy rather than begging, carrying shovels and materials to set up makeshift tents outside the city wall. Not only were they fed two meals daily, the guard had told her that laborers would receive ten coppers a day as compensation. Many of the refugees that Aliz had traveled here with took the work instantly, treating it as a life-saving straw. Others, like her, went out to find friends or relatives.

Following the guard’s instructions, Aliz looked for the street where the city’s orphanage was located. Her father had told her that if something ever happened back at the village and they had to flee, they would go to Larmes, where her aunt ran an orphanage.

Aliz had no idea where her parents would be, or if they were even still alive. Maybe they had already escaped and were now likewise looking for her. She pulled the hood closer over her head, tightly covering her now-auburn hair. 

She had no idea as to why her hair would suddenly change colors. Since that day, she had realized that with a simple thought and gesture, she could summon and control flames. Although she had been initially delighted, that joy was overturned at her current situation. 

It was an entirely likely scenario for her to be executed. If someone saw her red hair and denounced her as a witch, she had no doubt that others would follow, especially with the crimson moon hanging in the sky. She knew that many blamed the recent orc attacks on it. Aliz had no desire to be mobbed to death, so she hid her hair, coloring it with a mixture of mud and soot and covering it with a hooded cloak.

Searching for a sign of the orphanage, it didn’t take long for her to find it. For some reason, a long line was outside, and the chattering of people filled the air. Unlike her village and many others, it was still peaceful here, still safe. 

Suppressing her anxieties, she hurried closer, looking for any sign of her parents, while wondering why so many people were here. It didn’t take her long to find out why. In front of the line were several counters where bowls were being handed out, the aroma of stew heavy in the air. Next to the building, a clearing had been made, tables and benches set up in an orderly manner as people scarfed down their meals.

 

It seemed like food was being given… as charity? Aliz blinked in surprise. She could understand her aunt running an orphanage, after all, that woman loved children, but Aliz remembered that her father had mentioned that she wasn’t doing that well. 

How could she afford to run a soup kitchen in addition to an orphanage? Perhaps the church had helped? Aliz scoffed at the thought. The various churches had long since given up on charity, at least from her own experience.

Then that left the question - who would be so kind when no one else was?

Soon, Aliz found out the answer.

There was a sudden commotion in the crowd. Looking through the sea of bodies, Aliz could vaguely see a person leaving the orphanage, surrounded by youths and children. Unlike everyone else here, that person was dressed well, neat shirt and trousers the opposite of her ragged cloak and blouse. The most eye-catching detail, however, was the person’s white hair, as pure as fresh-fallen snow on a fall morning. Watching the youth, Aliz only looked away as he stepped onto a carriage, disappearing from her view. Several guards stood around the carriage imposingly, iron-tipped spears glinting in the sun. As the carriage moved and the soldiers began to march, the crowd parted, making way for the procession.

When the carriage could no longer be seen, a stranger next to her sighed. 

“How fortunate. Being able to see the young Lord, I’ll have good luck the rest of the week.”

Unable to help herself, Aliz opened her mouth. “That was…?”

“The youngest son of the city Lord.” A woman answered. “I didn’t think I’d get to see him today.”

“He runs the orphanage here?” Aliz asked. “Not the church?”

“Pah. What can the church do?” The first man scoffed. “The young Lord is more a saint than any priest.”

Chewing her lip, Aliz looked into the distance where the carriage had disappeared. “I see.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a thud. Looking up, Aliz saw an older woman staring at her, an empty bowl spinning on the ground a few times before coming to a stop.

“Aliz? Is that you?” She muttered dazedly. “Where are your parents?”