The bakery was small in comparison to many of the others available in the town of Ashcien, Hardly worth the attention, or so would any passerby and traveller deem. What they could not understand were the many crowds in line, waiting for the door to open. That is until the smell hits them.
Pure fresh, crusty sweet bread. Cherry cookies. Blueberry pie. It was mouth-watering and was said to draw the entire town. Even the soldiers, although looked on disfavorably, would stop by to grab a quick bite to eat. Best of all, they would pay. Which was uncommon in this town.
Miray could hear the crowds. She smiled as she lifted the last pan of goods from the over and placed it in the tray. She was careful not to burn her fingers, her cheeks flushed red in the heat and a neatly tied pink cloth kept her messy brown hair at bay. She wiped her brow and headed towards the window. She knew the goods were not going to last long, and before she knew it, she would be out shopping again, perhaps travelling a little into the northern woods.
Maybe even bump into the legendary Dante Finn. His name was whispered in the streets but shouted out in the drunken taverns. Bards did not take long to start writing songs to his name. They would get arrested, a lot, but no sooner were they released did they begin their hearty chants of the great Dante Finne with his fellow mentor, David, and his fiery girl, Esmerelda. Goodness sake, the woman had the name of a warrior.
Miray froze for one moment to catch sight of the portrait she had drawn of her brother many moons ago. She shook her head. Now was not the time for her to be too distracted. She drew open the windows and there the crowd was. First was Mrs. Willow. She was always first in line, early in the morning, with her wide toothy smile and freckled cheeks.
Miray just lifted the packet she had ordered every single day.
"How are you this fine morning?" Miray asked her and she nodded.
"Good as ever sweetheart, mind you, there is a storm coming, best be indoors when dusk hits ya," She slapped the gold coins into Miray's hand and snatched the packet, hurriedly walking off. She knew that by the time Mrs. Willow reached home, half of the baked goodies would be gone. Stolen by the gargoyles, or whatever excuses she made up to her family.
She looked up at the soldier in front of her. She recognized him, Commander Herold, from the fourth army, faithfully serving the cold-hearted Kind Javier, who had been tormenting the town with both taxes and recruitment. However, he made sure to give her bakery a wide berth whenever there was an extra raid of taxes. He liked her sweet treats too much to risk her wrath.
He nodded to her, pointing to the pie and croissant steaming in the corner. She packed it in for him, and he handed her the gold coins he probably lifted off some poor beggar. However, money was money, and her bakery was feeding her father and her mother. She was not going to say anything about it. He gave her a small smile.
"Have a good day Miss Akman," he tilted his head and walked off. He never expected her to respond. There was a lot of irony in that.
Miray just watched, greeted, and smiled as her baked goods dwindled faster and faster. She eventually had to close the windows again as the people could not understand how she had sold out so quickly. Miray smiled, jingling the hefty packet of gold and walking towards the dining room. She lifted a rock and stuffed the gold in there before placing the chair back. She stopped, realising the crowd was still outside. It may take them a good two hours to leave, so she reverted to reading instead.
Miray loved fairy tales, ones written of good versus evil. She loved the hero and his companions. After all, they were brave, kind, and good. But recently, she was studying another book, one she stumbled across in the ancient dusty library in the middle of the town. It was a grey-blue dusty book with no title. The words were not in her own language, but there were translations side by side. She decided to challenge herself and learn this language.
Truth be told, she wasn't even sure if she was pronouncing it right, but the book did give detailed explanations. She did not know what language this was, nor where it was actually spoken. But each time she got drawn to the book, she just could not put it down. She flipped the pages open, slightly caressing the torn and ruffled edges on the side. She muttered the words, softly. No one was close enough to hear her, but caution was widely practiced in Ashcien. If there was even the slightest suspicion against someone, they would get shipped off to the castle to have a 'fair' trial. It was said that King Javier was the judge himself. He did not look too kindly on the words mercy and justice.
Miray only had the terror of seeing him once in her life. He was passing by the town with a whole commandment of soldiers. She stood there in the corner, near a pillar, huddled in the shadows, much like every other citizen with some semblance of common sense. He had sat on his horse, and she had just gaped.
He was incredulously tall, and she could see that with him sitting down. He had hair to his shoulders, and metallic armour encrusted with dragon scales. It was said that no arrow could penetrate it.
That was until one did.
People scattered. Miray closed the book as she thought about that moment. She looked to the side. It was Dante, holding the bow, Esmerelda next to him. She gaped, huddling in the corner when someone grabbed her shoulder. It was Roland, the warlock who followed Dante. He pulled her to the side, further away from the battlefield that was about to happen.
What was worse was it failed. The town was haunted by a bloody battle, and everyone had hoped, so hard, that this was how it would end. But it didn't, because Javier fought back, hard, and ended up escaping. The town got haunted with this action by soldiers always swarming there, tormenting anyone who even looked at them wrong.
But she knew the people in the town would do it again. She would be sure to help them. Especially as news had arrived. A small village was burnt down due to its inability to contribute to taxes. It was a warning. If a village could not pay for Javier's armies, they were worth nothing more than the ashes on the ground.
Miray stood up and tucked the book in between the couch before heading out. She grabbed a basket and some gold pieces as she walked out. She saw the WANTED posters plastered of Dante, Esmerelda, and Roland. She took a moment to look at them. They were fairly accurate portrayals from what she had only seen in that quick battle. She took a moment to look at Dante's face. His eyes seemed to draw people in, even according to the whispers on the streets. But no one ever truly knew where they were. They came and went like the wind. Perhaps it was the warlock who had something to play in this role.
She turned back and headed towards the market. It would not take long, and soon she also headed into the forest. She wandered around, picking some herbs, roots, and more. She could feel the wind picking up, tangling her hair all the more. She looked up at the skies. She guessed the old lady was right. A storm was indeed brewing. She stood up and froze as she heard an eerie shriek in the forest. Something she had never heard before. Miray stumbled back. She started heading home. No way was she going to go exploring.
"Best be heading back home!" one of the soldiers yelled at her as she reached the gates. "Best go baking those crumbed mushrooms!"
"I'll bring a batch tomorrow!" Miray yelled. They did not ask her for any gold bribes. It was always those damned crumbed mushrooms. Oh well, it was cheap and easy, and she always got a great batch of mushrooms while out exploring, and compared to the fact that the soldiers will lock people out if they could not pay a 'return fee', she was lucky.
She knew she was one of the lucky ones. Her brother wasn't, and now her parents were out and about searching for him. She dreaded the worst, but at the same time, hoping that they would one day return, brother at hand. She dreamt about that moment for years.
Miray stumbled back into her bakery and shook her head. It was just starting to rain, and she was caught for a few minutes. She lifted up some firewood and slammed it into the fireplace. She would get down to baking the moment she was just a little warmer.
"Comfortable?"
Miray froze as the voice rang behind her. She turned slowly, and her eyes widened. There was a man standing in her living room. He was tall, but she could not make out his face in the dark.
Miray grabbed her roller when his hands shot up in surrender. "I am not here to hurt you."
"Who are you?"
"We've met before, I know your voice..."
"You know my voice? What do you mean, are you blind or something?"
The man's hand lit up with a green flame. Miray gasped as she recognized him now. His wavy brown hair, his narrow jaw, and his dark brown eyes. She had indeed met him before. His face flickered in the flaming light.
"Roland..."
"Hey there," Roland smiled, but Miray frowned. His eyes did not meet hers. She took a step closer waving her hand in front of him. He did not flinch.
"You're the warlock that fights with Dante..."
"Yes, I do,"
"And you're blind!?"
"Spot on," Roland smiled again. "But believe it or not, my magic has drawn me back to you. We need your help."
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