# Coffee Stained Pages

Lilla Somn

In her native town, Amelia served as an operative. The dream of her whole life since childhood was to leave this place and go… anywhere. If only it was further away from here. After several unsuccessful attempts to escape and to find work and a new life in the capital city Prime, she agrees to a boring job that is unsuitable for her, in a smaller city… but not in her homeland. New place, new hopes. But not everything is rosy. Will the stranger be able to find a place in the city of witches?

Cover designer Lilla Somn


© Lilla Somn, 2025

© Lilla Somn, cover design, 2025


ISBN 978-5-0067-1889-0 (т. 1)

ISBN 978-5-0067-1890-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

## Light 1. Ami in the hole

Ami walked to the edge of the forest, thoughtful.

The light was gloomy, but inside, it seemed, a luminary of hope began to rise. An annoyed kantinian waved it away.

“Please roll back into the swamp. And don’t show your face again. How many times have you done this suddenly, when it seemed that I was going to succeed? How many times have I had this vain hope”…

… However, the news was interesting…

The Temples of Prime, Omill, Kantine and Zeth exchanged service people.

“To improve networking and simplify interactions,” is written in the general message. Well… A very vague formulation, what can one say.

But you don’t give a damn if you’ve been chosen to represent the Kantine Department.

And we have to go to Omill! Not bad! To put it mildly…

And it’s absolutely awesome when you are ready to go literally anywhere, just not to stay here.

What does Ami remember about Omill from her last business trip?

It’s a pretty quiet and nice place, there’s not much lawlessness and the Temple staff is small. They are mainly involved in logistics, checking and accounting for cargo passing through town and patrolling the local woods to see if anyone has got lost or into trouble…

Something like that. Sounds a bit boring. But truly anything is more fun than the usual local land disputes and accounting for food shipments in caravans.

… Exchange of service people, hmm.

Some of these poor losers will end up here. Although for many, this is not such a big problem. There is even such a concept as the ‘simple life’, which people from all over the Mainland come to Kantine in search of.

To live freely, to build one’s own big house in the middle of vast fields. To work for oneself on one’s own plot of land, to be dependent on no one, to grow one’s own food, to eat heartily, to admire nature at sunset, to sleep well after a hard light. To communicate with ordinary people, simple, straightforward hard workers, nothing extra…

At least that’s what it looked like in theory.

Ami’s life did not resemble this bookish idyll at all. She avoided construction sites, harvesting and socialising. Maybe that’s why life here has never been “easy” for her.

Perhaps for some people, it was a good idea to calm down after an eventful life. But for the young, active Ami who was born here and had already had enough of this “simplicity” and predictable regularity, this was the real “complexity”.

In addition to external conflicts, it was torn apart by numerous internal ones. Excessive “peace” also does terrible things to people. Especially those who are not yet ready for it. Those who have not yet had enough of all the worries that distract those who are not yet ready to calm down and watch the chthonic monsters that live there begin to emerge from the depths of their souls…

Probably, Ami’s “replacement”, who will arrive from Omill, will be somewhat similar to Ami herself, who loves courier work, does not disdain operational work and knows not only her native language.

However, it is not difficult to learn the most popular languages: Kantinian, Omillian, Zetish and Primish. They are grammarly so close to each other that it is unclear how learning languages could even become a problem for someone.

Only if this one doesn’t want to. Or a group of people, not finding other, more constructive points of contact, decides to form a “commune of the chosen ones” on this basis. So… Primish language is the closest to Kantinian. The language of the persecuted witches has not deviated much from the original. The differences were only in a number of words – their pronunciation and use. And they are just as big as in other languages, and not as big as the Kantinians wanted to show with all their appearances, demonstrating that they do not understand the speech of strangers at all.

“Can’t these clayheads speak normally! Why distort our words so stupidly? Sounds like a moron.” – was the aunt’s vivid indignation.

At a young age, as was her sad habit, the addicted Amelia was unable to choose one language and had begun to study them all at once. The textbooks were hard to find, but nothing is impossible if you set your mind to it. You can find it even in the shed of your house. So, with youthful enthusiasm, Amelia set about studying everything she could get her hands on, and soon began to confuse languages, unconsciously switching from one to the other, causing another barrage of ridicule.

Even not mentioning this, Ami was already considered quite strange.

But the purpose was to make some efforts to end up speaking only Kantinian. She wanted to see the whole Mainland. It is true that her pronunciation of non-native languages left much to be desired, as she taught them from old, half-decayed books that she was only able to find in the city Archives thanks to her perseverance.

And… with a huge help of notes from mother found in the barn. Which she was generally forbidden to approach. But once again her persistence paid off.

Then… another difficulty arose. Well, where without it. There was nowhere and no one to practise on. For obvious reasons, aliens rarely appeared in Kantine, which was unfriendly to neighbouring witch cities. So Amelia had to grow up, enter the service of the Kantine Department of the Order, and give herself the opportunity to continue her own education. She acted as a courier between the towns, accompanying the trade caravans, and asking them for some assistance.

She was in the service of all kinds of business trips. It was the only one of her initiatives that her own department was enthusiastic about.

But still, it was beyond their comprehension. How could anyone want to tear themselves away from their native fields, drag themselves through hunger and lack of comfort to gnats knows where? Then they waste precious time on such nonsense as studying those idiotic, distorted dialects of those filthy “for-the-next-eternity-not-to-see-their-faces” witches. There were few. To be more precise, there were practically no such people willing.

And now… Well. Theoretically. Sort of… Kinda…

For Ami, there is the opportunity to go for half a big cycle with joy, envy and curiosity to have a close look at the life of such interesting and attractive “filthy witches” and to improve her language skills in Omill.

The vagabond always carried a few dried beans and a few trinkets from her travels to remind her that her way of life wasn’t the only way. There are other ways. More interesting, more joyful, more meaningful.

Somewhere, even if it is hard to find now, there is freedom and fresh new knowledge. And the main thing is not to stop jumping.

One light you can reach it by pumping your muscles. Or you can grow into it. Or you can accept failure, but first do your best. “Yes. It doesn’t hurt to dream… It hurts a lot to fall back from a cloud. Nothing will work out again. It’s obvious. How many times has it happened that everything is going to get better, and… the bag is full of holes and gnat swamps. And no improvement of the situation at all… Our fate is still a sadistic humorist”.

Dreaming is good in this case. Especially when life has squeezed you so tight that you can’t even move, and there’s nothing left but to dream. And if you really want to dream…

Then why not talk about Prime right away.

… Prime.

Ami closed her eyes.

The chic, charming city seemed like the ideal place to start a new life. There is always a whiff of something that will provide her with a meaningful, promising and interesting existence and a worthy future.

The prospects are vast, like the unforgettable view from the cliff on which the city was built, of the endless Ocean and the equally endless and beautiful bottomless sky above. All this gave an exhilarating sense of freedom and unlimited possibilities in this incredible corner of the Continent. It is said that in the cold season, when there’s no clouds and no fog. From this height of a Mountain Prime you could see the Continent from the Wastelands almost all the way to Zeth, and even draw a map of it… Many who were able to catch this rare moment probably did.

To see the rest, one had to descend from these dizzy heights and go into the Northern Wastes beyond the high hills to Youlle or the Elven Forest. Then walk to Zeth and look over Mount Omill, go through the Great Forest.

But even if you don’t go far, Prime is a place where you can get a lot of information about anything in the Mainland without leaving the city. Practically, we can say that this is such an awesome enormous Archive.

It is not established with certainty who was more hungry for knowledge – the Prime academic witches or Ami, but the first ones, unlike her, had exactly what everyone needed. Information, which they painstakingly gathered from all possible sources and poured into the Prime Central Archive in deliciously wide streams and the Royal and University Libraries.

Knowledge here was truly power and wealth. Prime was not only a place to obtain information of a scientific, technical and magical nature, but also a large Market for trading information from all over the Mainland.

This was done by large, almost monarchical organisations like the VST Agency, as well as influential scientists and royal families, small offices and private intelligence agencies. Everyone who could was trying to find something, to find out something, to make a discovery, to profit from something… Of course, this was not without its intrigues and rivalries among the competitors.

Primers are obsessed with knowledge and information, and as it turned out, it was a valuable resource, thanks to which the city lived and prospered.

… Even for Amelia, who had no practical use for it, whose ever-hungry, inquisitive mind was in desperate need of new stimulation and nourishment, this approach was close at hand. Prime is the perfect place for people like her.

A city of ageless students. Ami walked for a long time between the buildings of the educational institutions, mingling with the crowds of students, anxiously hurrying somewhere, imagining that she was also hurrying somewhere, alone. For something meaningful and interesting… What can you get now if you go into one of those carved towers, get a stack of tablets full of tasty knowledge and disappear from this world, swept away by an exciting stream of new, tasty information. Like a speck of dust in the rays of light passing through those beautiful, infinitely varied, multicoloured windows of which there were so many in this City…

…The Kantinian sighed dreamily.

This is life! Damn it. Somewhere… Where she is not.

Well… Let’s return to some positive and pleasant thoughts, if there are any.

About food. Food for a stomach, not just food for thoughts. Food is fine, you can’t go wrong with it. Prime includes chic restaurants and refectories. Local magical fruit dishes, famous for strange and unusual combinations, refined and simple, traditional and regularly appearing innovative, which were an eternal reason to snort for those who preferred simple and satisfying vegetable dishes from the Kantine. If Ami had enough dried herbs and grains to trade, and enough time to try everything… she would probably go mad with happiness, because there would be no more pipe dreams in her life. Eating and wandering around the city had always been her favourite pastimes.

Here, the pleasure was multiplied tenfold. An incredibly bizarre architecture, Om houses that could hardly be mistaken for dwellings, a fairy-tale city that could already boast of magnificent views beyondeven on the approaches to the city, with a huge number of coloured stripes of fabric and ribbons stretching across the streets, fluorescent plants of different colours and glowing witch lanterns that looked absolutely fantastic at sunset, attacking the visual receptors with a rainbow of coloured pebbles on the paved paths. Incredibly beautiful stained-glass windows and shining glaze covering the buildings complete the picture perfectly.

An enchanting, hypnotic sight that for a long time took away the will and the desire to live… somewhere else.

The Om houses themselves and their interiors were the main source of pride for those who owned them. Everyone tried to build something fundamentally new and different from their neighbours. As a result, the shapes varied – from buildings that looked more like strange vegetables or local sweets, to transparent structures, looked like the crystals of the Zeth Mountains, they all attracted the eye for a long time. Witches could take some liberties with reality. All this was already amazing, even if one had never seen one of the bright and abundant local festivals with all kinds of entertainment and delicacies…

Ami sighed enviously.

… Prime also meant for her five unsuccessful attempts to settle there, the complete collapse of all hopes for the aforementioned bright future and a dull resignation to the dark present…

“I’m going to sit here, in this beautiful place near my personal swamp, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve had enough of this…”

Ami reached her only true love in these places – the soothing green edge.

… When she was a teenager, her parents threatened her to be taken to the edge of the forest and given to the elves, if she continued to be naughty. When she grew up, she did not stop being naughty. And also began to come to the Forest herself, hoping that the elves would take her.

Of course, no miracle happened. Again.

But Ami found a wonderful place for herself, which helped her a lot to come to her senses and calm down.

Thoughtfully, Kantinian sat down on the log, slided down to a comfortable half-lying position, and exhaled, staring at the sky and the treetops…

… This place consoled her every time she came here with confused feelings, it was the only being that understood her, giving her, if not rest and inspiration, then mind saving indifference to the world. …which helped her not to go mad after each successive failure…

She had already internally agreed to this swamp, a “pit” with slippery slopes, having decided in some kind of humble detachment that if she sits here until the end of her time, then so be it.

Without wasting any more strength and nerves, she will do it with maximum indifference.

She will not struggle to climb and slide down again.

… Everything is pointless. Everything is meaningless…

Everything in this life.

And Ami gave up her long-held idea of running away from here, and let herself be drawn into a boring daily routine in the form of her relatives, into plans to renovate their shared house. They lived with their whole large, unfriendly family, according to the bad old Kantine tradition.

And… That’s it. Sometimes it’s just simple like that and there’s nothing else.

…And it was definitely the Bottom…

Now Amelia knew what it looked like. And could examine its slippery, viscous base in detail. Feel with her cheek the wet, viscous cold of despair slowly seeping into her core…

For there she lay, face down, turning away from the hideous, eternally inaccessible light of hope shining from above.

… Remarkable cosmetic procedures, you know. Quite effective.

Nothing is scary or unnerving. The frost is an excellent painkiller. Her life is over.

The body moves, breathes and fusses, but there is a grave cold and stillness inside it. Everyone’s gone. To a better place. Empty body, empty mind. No more bold ideas. No more tries. It has not led to good results. What’s left will perform tasks and do what is necessary, but no more.

So Ami has escaped. Mentally.

‘Wake her up when it’s over’. This breakdown came after her failed attempt to get a job in Prime.

Was it her fault? Yes and no. If she had witchcraft skills, things could be different, she could be a student or a service woman in any witch city she likes.

She wouldn’t even have to escape her hometown. She would have simply been thrown out of here by her neighbours and relatives. And they would even give us some food for the journey. Exile would at least be an unequivocal, direct and explicit rejection. No half measures, no manipulations. They just go. There’s not that awkward case when nobody’s interested in your presence, but nobody wants you to leave. Your relatives and homeland suddenly desperately need you. You might be useful in different weird ways. To look better against your background at least. Since time immemorial, all Kantinians with witchcraft gifts have been banished.

“Don’t expect any good from a witch,” they said. Well. Ami would expect. She was jealous of the exiled witches.

It could be like an endless party. You were kicked outside the Kantine and there’s no choice – stay in the familiar warmth of your swamp or get out – but one – where to go next.

Most chose obvious Prime to develop their skills and find a new place in their suddenly broadened horizons. Exiled ones became the very witches, whose services proud Kantinians used in critical cases, forgetting about their dislikes and beliefs, their ‘unshakable’ traditions that were the bedrock of family and society. Yeah. Comfort is much more important.

Ami could be one of the fortunate few… no, she couldn’t. Don’t believe the ones who tell you you can do everything. No you can’t. Because life is life and everything’s not that optimistic and joyful as it first seemed, that’s what you learn when you grow up.

Without work, there is nothing to do in any big city. If you do not benefit the place and its inhabitants, no one will register you as a citizen or give you temporary accommodation.

Parasites are not welcomed anywhere. And as an ignoramus, you will soon find yourself back in the Kantine, again and again, and there is enough work for everyone, plenty of agrarian jobs in one of the largest city-states.

(and the most boring. According to Ami).

Of course, there are other options… Zeth, Lim and… just a deep Forest. Here, without human society as the main source of constant stress, everything gets easier. The outcast feels kind of loved and supported here. Finally. Don’t know why, but it’s fine not knowing, it’s just fine here. All these jumps, antics and attempts to escape or settle down somewhere else now look simply ridiculous. It’s good to be here. Sociophobic Amelia had troubles with people. And people are in every city. And so the problems are.

It won’t magically get better anywhere except in the forest, of course. She knew it somewhere deep inside. Everything will be the same in Omill and everywhere else.

She will bring herself and her depression everywhere. It will never be easier anywhere she goes. New attempts to catch on and adapt, new awkward situations that contribute to uniformly covering oneself with shame from head to toe. Not as plentiful as on the first visits… but still in a fairly thick layer.

There’s no magic land and no perfect people. She will always be just a rejected weirdo everywhere. For everyone. Because it is how it is.

That’s why the main skill is to choose yourself, no matter what. Be the closest to yourself, because there is no one closer. At least this thing is under control. So. One can come to terms with all this.

At least she has a home. At least she has a job. At least she’s an adult and can already argue a lot. And if she tries (to bite her tongue sometimes basically), she could even be finally accepted by family and neighbours.

And this seems to suit everyone. Her relatives have the workforce, and Ami has some stability. And she’s not disgracing herself more than usual here. It happens in old familiar ways. So be it. She is still a Kantinian and values comfort and safety too. More than any abstract things. Is this adulthood? Hmm. A frightening prospect, if you look at the local adults, faded from hard work and monotonous life. That’s why this damned medium-urgent appointment to Omill looks double tempting, even if it contradicts a previously made “mature” decision…

What did she feel when the opportunity she was looking for came to her and poked her into her hands?

Grief. The most real grief. Intense bitterness and all-consuming resentment.

And now, more than anything else, she would like to throw this unsolicited handout from fate back into her maliciously laughing face.

“Take it and choke. Why even bother?! Why now?! I accepted my way and my life. I’m weak and tired. And desireless. There’s no joy or passion in it anymore… It’s pure mockery.”

But… Don’t be so bitter. Maybe we shouldn’t. It’s a… small mockery, you know. Just for half a large cycle…

…That’s enough to make gnats laugh!.. What can be accomplished in half a cycle?!

“Ah… really. What? Well… for example…

You could come back to admire the wonderful giant landmark mushrooms, lovingly grown in the city by witches, softly shimmering in different colours at sunset.

Drink refreshing drinks with local water…”

Yesss… By the way, the difference is striking! Sacred water, revered even by elves we have never seen, gives to all omillian dishes and drinks a special, unique fresh and slightly sweet taste. You won’t find anything like this anywhere, not joking.

“That’s my point.” … May it all fly away to bog with gnats and swampers, anyway…

“Hold your gnats, Amelia. Do you remember that amazing huge lake?”

Of course she did. One can never forget such magnificence. A huge pool of delicious life-giving water near the mountain. It inevitably made this city the capital of drinks and a place of pilgrimage for all those who tried once and became obsessed with Omill’s coffee.

Of course, the famous Omill green and ground coloured coffee was delivered to all the cities of the Mainland… But it lost a huge share of its flavour bouquet and witchiness, being served not fresh, just picked, not with local water and not according to any old selva recipe. And, on her own behalf, Ami would add that without being drunk at a street table in one of the many coffee shops in Omill under a huge landmark mushroom decorated with coloured lanterns. And also without local sweets – pressed from wild nuts, cereals, and berries. … And let it all fall into the swamps…

“Ami? Can I talk to Ami, please?” … Eat all the six-mouthed monsters…

“I already got the point. Stop it. How about… admiring the dark-skinned, smiling, joyful and slightly arrogant selvas?”

They are good looking ones. And, as if this were not enough, they are great singers and dancers, weavers, coffee makers… all of them are witches. It’s not a reason to go there, it’s a reason for envy, actually. The internal dialogue was displaced by Ami’s memories. These witch people didn’t live or come to Kantine often. The Kantinian still remembers how surprised and enchanted she was the first time seeing a living selva. It was rude to stare, but book pictures didn’t give any idea of what the selvas were really like. It’s… Like the difference between a map and a landscape.

Well, ghouls are with this damned appointment. Let it be.

Who is she trying to cheat? She will gladly get away from here again. Even being indifferent and powerless. Even if it’s not for a long time.

She will just go, just because. Whatever. Even for appearance’s sake. Just go there and come back with a dejected look: “I didn’t succeed again. It is fine.”

It’s not her coveted Prime, but at least it’s something.

…Damn Mother Universe with her stupid manner of care, feeding us not with something “tasty” we want, but something that corresponds to her perverted ideas about “healthy”…

…but “it is fine” again. So, as it seems, despite the violent internal protests and seething hatred, there were obviously many good reasons for going to Omill.

What made Ami especially happy was that she would supposedly leave Kantine before the start of the Fertility Festival, hated to the point of gnashing teeth.

She almost forgot about it. Then… It was worth a lot!

It was even possible to simply go to Omill under this pretext and quickly come back here after that to continue to rot here.

At least minus one time of stupid songs, forced fun, accelerated by ale, unfunny jokes and inappropriate and unpleasant signs of attention and literally sickening round dances!

Good good. What could be better for the psyche than the absence of odes to one’s own unwanted fertility. This place already has enough of all types of fools. “It’s not the city’s fault that you feel bad here. And not people. They get along well with each other. It’s like you’re something foreign here.” – she reminded herself. – “And not everything is black and white. This city has its own virtues. Here, in the Mainland’s food capital, you can be sure of tasty, nutritious food in abundance, quiet sunsets, walks in the Forest and flowery streets.”

Alrighty, but in order to try to avoid one Fertility Fest, one could agree to almost anything. Now we have no doubts. Yes, it’s a big light for the locals. Many people look forward to it, and decorate their houses with bouquets of beautiful leaves and carved fruits, and prepare special foods and drinks. They get beautiful tablecloths and draperies, and dress themselves up too. Almost everyone here enjoys the lively jamboree, even people from neighbouring towns come to see it. Ami saw enough. What kind of allergy is it? What’s so terrible about it? Why was she clinging to it now, when it was just happening in her head? Why not just walk by indifferently if you’re not really interested? Otherwise it means you’re still “interested”, you know, but in a perverted way. What is she resisting? Why?

No answers. But she can’t deny her eagerness to stay away from these pleasures. And she’s a great master of playing dead. If something is systematically imposed on her, she will do her best to systematically avoid it. Additional reason to escape the Fertility Festival is that those lights made their mother nervous too. And even more withdrawn. This was something they had in common, but it didn’t bring them together at all.

Every big cycle Yvette simply locked herself in her room with a supply of food, tea, and… a hygiene bucket. And no amount of screams, threats, or persuasion from her relatives could lure her out of there.

However, persuasion-threats-screams were another festive tradition, repeated from cycle to cycle, as stable as the very presence of a swamp Festival.

No one planned to stop it. Everyone seemed to love this boggy theatre.

Even the dialogues have not changed over time. Immortal recognized classic. And nobody ever got tired of this unfresh scenario.

The mother was asked not to disgrace herself in front of her neighbours. She answered in a calm voice that she would not disgrace herself, since from here she would not be able to greatly harm everyone who congratulated her on her still fertile age and the ability to reproduce further. She only went out at night to empty the bucket and threatened to douse its contents on anyone who interfered with her self-isolation.

Ami winced.

Every cycle of her life she felt as if she had already been doused from this same bucket. Desire to quickly remove herself far far away from home and the glorious traditions, ancestral memory and great city became almost invincible again. To find herself as far as possible from the concentration of those toxic things that already killed her morale. Far away from the comfort of home. From the family bonds. From the mother with this permanent verbal and non-verbal hygiene bucket. Great. On the other hand Amelia couldn’t say she doesn’t understand mother’s behaviour. It was probably painful for the older failed tramp to see her mistakes and especially one read-headed ridiculous reflection. No matter how hard she tried to forget who she was before, she wasn’t successful.

One can’t cheat one’s soul. She had to look. She had to look at all of them. Her past mistakes. Amelia was one of three. Mother made them systematically. For what’s sake? One never knows. Maybe she believed that this would transform her from a fractious tramp into a respectable citizen. Maybe she wanted to be accepted in the house of her husband and in the city in general. But she didn’t succeed either. And with new hope she switched to the desire to see her daughters become respectable plant growers and mistresses of the house and fields, she had never become herself.

Quite a dysfunctional family. Though… not everyone here was a failure.

Ami’s sisters were much more promising individuals. They fit well here.

Aunt Tata took her part in raising strong in body and spirit peasant women and hard workers.

For some reason this not-magic didn’t work with Ami. A bad seed. You can’t slap genes with a slipper, the mother should only be displeased with herself. Can’t say Tata abandoned the attempts. Although nothing could be cut out of the grown-out part, persistent methodical attempts to tear it into shreds and sew it together in a new way were periodically renewed.

That’s why Ami tried to show herself as little as possible. Not to catch the eye of her family became her main goal, and she reached it by disappearing at work, in the Archive or, if she was really lucky, on a business trip.

And at her favourite secluded edge of the Forest, of course. Under this delightful starry sky, among the trees and on the moss-smelling earth. Where one can stop to pretend “normal”, or try to hide away from everyone or to please someone if they got “caught”.

Isn’t it a wonder… This is probably only possible in communication with nature.

Everything is easier here. Just wander aimlessly and sing along with the voices in your head. The Forest will take you as you are, alive or dead, it doesn’t demand you to change, to “make an effort” and “stop being a bungler”, to behave, to be “as you should be” so that “it wouldn’t be ashamed in front of the sky” or something.

The Forest smelled wonderful and looked great. Maybe they must move to a Forest sometime. It has food and answers to almost everything. Perhaps they would do it in the end, because none of the other cities like her either. Or they can travel to the Ocean! Some maps say there’s a real unimaginably huge Ocean on the other side of the Forest! Imagine!

No, you can’t. Boundless spaces are hard to imagine. You have to see it for yourself. Great thing is to look for elves who rush around here on their unknown business also. Ami’s never seen them ever in her life, but would really like to…

Well. Coming back to now. Still anxious. Why?

My eternally alert anxious mind, pray tell me what else you have in store? Let’s pour it out. “Alrighty… What if… someone else is sent to Omill instead of us?”

Ha-ha. And ha. Who? There are no other weak-minded people in the area.

Everyone has business in their houses and plots, fields, families. No one wants to mess with these “helpless, clueless, stupid” witches. Nobody wants to adapt to new people, new language, new circumstances, new everything, no one wants to look ridiculous, feel the lack of the usual and necessary and the abundance of the incomprehensible. It’s a daily basis just for us. It works here and there because nobody bothers to tell us what’s wrong, they need us to guess. So it’s a daily occurrence that we say and do something weird. It’s a daily basis of us suddenly becoming annoying troublemakers, even if we didn’t mean it, and most of the time we didn’t mean it, and having no clue what part of what you say or do is a trigger. A knowledge could at least be useful for analysis.

But even asking and analysing didn’t help and just made things worse. It’s a strange world. But maybe it’s a cursed gift to be a stranger anywhere in it. Maybe. So… Although her candidacy had not yet been officially approved, it was clear from the faces of our colleagues that they were relieved that it almost happened. In this situation, Ami was the invincible Stella the Clayhand. With whom no one fights. What’s next?

“Suns will rise.”

Wait? Really? Aye. The first night lights appeared above the edge of the forest. If you sit a little longer, you can see how shining stars float into the sky on trails with a haze between them.

Perhaps it’s better this way… she doesn’t want to come home. She’s barely managed to calm down. And too weak to repel the attacks of her nosy loving family.

The fugitive didn’t want to listen again and again to the story about the complications with the roof repair due to her developed egoism and the lack of her not so skillful hands, la-di-da… If she is sent somewhere again, then most likely she wouldn’t return to the beginning of a new stage of (useless) construction and so on, and so on…

One answer to all of this is diligent passive-aggressively shirking. What? What did they expect from a careless mistress?

She was perfectly happy with the look and size of the house and her room. Enlarging the house and expanding their family would be extremely undesirable for many reasons. This family is already big enough to be disastrously annoying. And the house itself was sound and only needed cosmetic repairs. Also there are much more interesting things in this life than getting bogged down in unnecessary things. So, whoever requires it… let them do this useless work. And Amelia will wait until everyone falls asleep. It’s a good thing that Kantinians traditionally go to bed early, because the next morning most of them had a new light of work in the fields and gathering in the woods. On the other hand, Ami’s habits did not exempt her from getting up early for work with everyone else. May the ghouls in the swamps gnaw at those who devised this routine so deadly to the body. And it’s not the first time she has anxious insomnia.

And not the last. She will survive anyway. Just like she did before.

Until she wouldn’t. Then she just wouldn’t. Why try to fight the inevitable?

Next one. “Our superiors decide that the witches have come up with yet another stupidity, and they shouldn’t pay attention to this, nor to follow their lead… Or they will suddenly find out that there are not enough people here in the Department. And they desperately need this useless one. Or the Omillians will finally understand that working with an ignoramus is of no interest to them…”

Amelia didn’t answer, smirking vindictively at invisible Fate, demonstrating with her whole appearance that nothing would be able to disappoint her anymore.

It was simply ineffective and pointless to panic and freak out when you were already at the very bottom of your life’s expectations.

Instead, you need to keep your mind and hands busy. By starting to pack things, for example. It feels like escaping, it’s calming, and that’s exactly what we need. Even if the authorities don’t plan us to move to Omill tomorrow. Anyway, it’s time to finally go home and have some sleep. The servicewoman stood up abruptly and reluctantly walked towards her dwelling. All the moons were hidden by clouds, and it was difficult to see the path, but the road was so familiar to her that she could walk there with her eyes closed if she wanted.

Literally. She tried. I only tripped a couple of times. She saw well in the dark.

Although, of course…

… The witch could now illuminate her way. Or stay away from these places.

The Kantinian quickly reached the partly undesired destination and quietly slipped inside. Luckily, there was no one in the corridor.

The tramp exhaled with relief.

She hurried into her room, hastily closing the door behind her.

The apathy that had become habitual in recent cycles was replaced by a weak but noticeable, somewhat malicious and gambling enthusiasm. Let’s gooo! Now we’re talking. Not hoping, not planning this time, just packing a bag full of our favourite things. The unfortunate plant grower jumped to her feet a little energetically, glanced around the room eagerly and began to hum softly, unconsciously. Interesting… She didn’t make it anywhere out of the Forest for a long time. She doesn’t sing in captivity. Freedom seemed so close and almost tangible. But it was not the first time that she had been misled by her feelings and that her desires had been mistaken for reality.

Amelia quickly shook off the darkest storm cloud of depression that was creeping back into her soul.

Don’t get distracted… What to take and what to leave? Hm. …The dictionary is definitely going in the bag first.

The avid bookworm picked up a large, tattered bundle of roughly stitched cloth. She turned it over respectfully, as if weighing it.

It had once belonged to her mother. Back when, according to unconfirmed rumours, she was still a normal person and not a swamp ghoul who had replaced her later. It is not clear where she got the copy, but you will not find a better source of information in Kantine. In fact, it was priceless. Any similar literature stored in the local Archives was almost completely useless. It is difficult to say why this was the case and what dominated these works – the number of errors or irrelevant topics. This rare, valuable copy will come in handy. Because no matter how much you learn a language, you will still fall into a stupor when you need to say something immediately. Mean words quickly flee the battlefield.

And these ones are captured in the book. They have to serve and simply have no choice. And that’s why they will always come to the rescue. Come on, good old tattered fellow… it’s not your fault that your ex is a grumpy fury. You are very useful and you will not bear collective responsibility.

Alrighty then. Who’s next?

Favourite shoes and clothes, of course. All travellers’ first friends. They’re comfortable and practical, even if they have holes in them and are sewn and glued over and over where possible. They’re in.

In our clothes bags. Which are also spacious and light, handy for any hike. And an old, trusted, no less beloved blanket. It comes in handy anytime, anywhere. Even for sitting at rest stops.

This and that, we don’t take much… Don’t think we’ll stay long there. But… have the feeling we’re missing something important. Food. We need food!

The most important and enjoyable part of any event. This little journey is no exception.

Rarely would any Kantinian disagree with it, and in at least one thing Ami agreed with her compatriots. An absolutely sincere love of food.

So it was absolutely necessary to think about what hearty dried food she could steal from the family pantry. And put it in her omillian food bags.

Food bags are critical. She hasn’t learnt to wrap food and even drinks in big leaves like the graceful Selvas do.

But it is fiiine. That is not the only thing she will never be able to compare with the Selvas. Ami took from the drawer the beautiful embroidered bags she had brought from the last Omill trip. It seemed they still had the smell of small flatbreads and takeaway pies. But no. They could only contain the spirit of Omill’s coffeehouses.

Hmm… It’s such a heartwarming memory… Especially in these dull Lands.

What else? Water bags. Of course.

Coffee-coffee-coffee… And our favourite shell cup, made from the shell of a local nut.

Did we leave our cup at work? Oh no… Let’s not forget it tomorrow. We need to make a mark on our hand…

No, we don’t! Luckily it’s here. On a table, behind the usual clutter. Waiting for something. And it looks like it’s getting ready too. Brilliant. Come on, beauty. We’re going for a walk. Far away from here. Once again. I’m not leaving without you, you know that. Soon we will both be filled with exotic, delicious drinks.

Quick dopamine is a nice compensation for the bitterness of another fruitless movement to crawl out of this hole. Good, good…

What else?

Our typical travel checklist is somewhere at the bottom of this mess. Somewhere here, in the chaos of our life. Too tired to look for it, as always. So organised. Internal chaos often turns into external mess, there is nothing you can do about it. There’s a writing tissue, stick and and some juice sticking out of the habitual tabletop clusterflip… Hm. Great. A cheerful company of writing instruments and materials is always welcome. Especially when your own memory isn’t too keen on keeping you company. Amelia quickly walked back to the table and sharply pulled several pieces out of a pile of cut-up writing cloth. And of course what was on the top is immediately scattered on the floor.

Shhh… No noise, no noise…

Ami angrily picked up the out-of-control paper cutter and shook her finger at it. But it wasn’t the only troublemaker. The scraps of writing cloth, already covered with drawings, also ended up on the floor. Pieces of a unique map of the Continent made by mother. Her own work, torn and trampled by her own hands…

How symbolic. Ami winced as if from a sudden spasm. The eternal victim of her own curiosity, she didn’t even want to recall the very episode, and quickly suppressed the feelings of guilt and anger and shoved them into a travel bag along with the pieces of the map.

…Maybe we can do something about that in the end, you know. If Ivette’s too weak to finish her own job. For the Lands of Normality lie beyond and above the fertility-specialised Kantine. And there, with the proper sources of varied information, we could surely find the knowledge and materials to restore this undervalued treasure. And to reunite these disparate pieces of the former mother’s personality.

Or even, joking aside, we’ll be able to add something to it. Not in a negative way.

Perhaps Ami the Misfortune could still fulfil her mother’s wishes and live up to her hopes. But not by becoming a decent plant breeder, but by becoming a decent researcher. Of course, she is a far cry from her mother, but considering how tightly the “advanced” Yvette is mired in her problems, she has long since ceased to be a worthy rival. And even the desire to compare herself to her has completely disappeared. Given that Amelia is going to be an employee of the Omill Department of Truth, there must be a way to gain access to the Omill Temple Archives. Perhaps there’s some sort of simplified access procedure. It should not be as difficult to access as, say, Central Prime Archives. In theory. If she stays in Omill and is not sent back, of course. If it is sent to Omill at all. “So many “ifs”. Here we are again, feeding our depression and feelings of rejection. Enough of that. It’s not relevant. What’s next?”

Sleep. Sleep is next. Everything is packed except the food.

Ami doesn’t have many things. She doesn’t need much. Only the most comfortable. A big travel bag is ready and other things wait for her return.

And she always returns. Ami clicked her tongue in annoyance, remembering the old “resentment” towards the beautiful and inaccessible cities that did not accept her the first, nor the second, nor the third time. It is fiiine.

She has to get used to rejection and ghosting, they have been her best and most trusted friends for as long as she can remember. It’s time to accept them and stop ignoring their unseen daily presence. …Mimicking, sarcastic remarks… silent ignoring or smirking… She’s had enough of that in her whole dung life. At home, among siblings and others, at work… Big gulps of it, in full abundance, everything you want from this set, Ami, everything is for you…

The Kantinian growled softly from the anger that had surged up and plopped down on the couch with a pile of unpacked things in her hands.

…Wouldn’t it be better to crawl somewhere and never come out again, never come in contact with anyone or anything?..

Yes. If only everything was that simple. Anyway, everything is pointless. Everything…

“We’re being unproductive again.”

Definitely… It’s better not to think about it now.

It’s no more but a story. The ridiculous story of one stupid life.

“Surely there are many much more interesting thoughts in that head.”

Right. Some can be rejected, even if they are not just plain weirdos like us, but outstanding people, which the VST agents definitely are. Or, maybe even, they were rejected because of being eminent. Remember that strange case when our Temples compromised its principles by asking the VST to send no less than one of their witch agents. It was a big deal of great importance. But of course something went wrong and the investigation was inconclusive. Which says nothing about the professional qualities of the agent himself or the level of competence of the VST as an organisation.

One can only imagine the level of “assistance” the locals provide to the “metropolitan upstarts”. This makes any complex investigation doubly difficult. If not triple…

…Contempt, devaluation, small-minded pride and arrogance.

An inexplicable fear of the incomprehensible and unexplored. Energy saving mode for limited minds. Why learn when you can project…

To be more educated, more curious, to have superior knowledge was only a reason for additional ridicule. That’s what happened to the agent. Rejected for another reason, Ami deeply sympathised with a stranger. It’s a pity that his investigation didn’t take place during her service – she came later.

Once, under silly circumstances, her curiosity had led her to some interesting lists and reports, which disappeared shortly afterwards. Perhaps they are still somewhere in the depths of the Office Archive… but very deep.

The new employee, Ami, was simply asked to tidy up the shelves here in the absence of the Secretary.

If she knew the real value of these documents, which were temporarily stored away from the other ones… She would examine them more closely.

…Such a fascinating, mysterious puzzle in the midst of the flat, boring life of the Order Department. It was quite intriguing, and she decided to take a closer look at it after carrying out the orders of her superiors with maximum speed and all the zeal of a rookie… If only she had known two important things then.

First, the faster you carry out your superiors’ orders, the faster you will get the next ones. Second, secrets and fortune will not wait forever. Either you take it now, or you go your separate ways.

And of course, a late quick inspection of the contents of the shelves revealed nothing. There was no way to snoop any more. The Secretary kept the secrets.

And he would not tolerate any intrusion into his fabric manor. Ami was pretty sure that the agent had found nothing either because it’s been deliberately hidden.

Although she couldn’t shake the thought that she could somehow help this random VST guy, who was somewhat similar to her, she understood perfectly well that it was too late to do anything.

The case was closed. And maybe even destroyed. Even if she could find a way to sneak into the Archives under a good pretext and quickly figure out which of the heavy, dusty cabinets contained the necessary information…

How do you copy a document quickly? Absolutely not. They’ll definitely notice. Of course, neither the Secretary nor the Chief would approve, to put it mildly. And Ami did not want to be thrown out of what was practically the only non-planting job in Kantine that allowed her to travel the Mainland at least occasionally. The job suited the inquisitive mind of the active Amelia, Ami loved her job. In general. Though, frankly, curiosity and initiative have never been particularly encouraged in their ranks. Which is true of their whole city.

“This is how they lived before us, this is how we live”.

A step in any direction promises a citywide clusterflip.

Somehow, Kantinians have deliberately forgotten that it was curiosity and a passion for research and exploration that made Prime the great and admirable city it was, starting with a bunch of witches hastily and uncertainly settling on a windy mountain plateau.

…to heights beyond the reach of Amelia…

Witches who did not possess the “basic Kantine virtues” declared to be the basis of survival, demonstrated a fundamentally new way of not only surviving, but thriving.

Yes, the Kantinians also look forward with malicious impatience to the fall of the Witch City from its mountain heights, and eagerly discuss all the real and fictional gossip about it.

But unfortunately for them, Prime doesn’t fall at all. It just grows and gets better.

“And those stupid witches will lose the game.”

Aha. Ami would willingly play along with them. She didn’t know any witches closely, but for some reason she felt that potentially such acquaintances might make her life more interesting. However, she didn’t try to socialise during her business trips to neighbouring cities. Each time, shyness took over and she preferred to familiarise herself with the local food and architecture.

An obvious choice, you can’t go wrong here. The tramp grinned, put aside the things she had been clutching thoughtfully in her hands, and critically examined her more than bulging bags in a total volume comparable to her own size.

Almost everything she needs is here. But will it be possible to lift all these? And even if you manage to lift them, how long will you be able to walk with them on your shoulders?..

After all, the weight of what you are carrying has a nasty tendency to increase with almost every step you take.

Soon everything will be clear. As clear as a sky in the hot season with three luminaries at the zenith at the same time. In the meantime, she has no intention of taking anything out of her bags.

She might even add more. A food. Something else she forgot. … Preparing herself as if she were leaving this place for good, and not just for half a cycle. Ay-ay. Dreams, dreams…

Doesn’t matter. The main thing is to go. Away from here. Just go, when expectations are already smashed to pieces, she is free. Anywhere out there is still better.

Ami threw her bag over her shoulders and tried to walk with it, bouncing slightly.

Well then… No heavier than her daily thoughts. One thing was totally annoying… The service woman couldn’t sleep properly again. Suns will rise soon. And another dreary light will come. Challenge accepted. Let it try to surprise her.

## Light 2. Release the monster!

It… it worked! So… ridiculous. Sometimes luck is far more discouraging than the usual failure. When things go well, Ami has great discomfort. What’s wrong with everything?!

Nevertheless… Everything started fine. The boss ordered her to leave as soon as possible.

Happily at least once he and Ami had the same aspirations. On this beautiful light, the swamp opened up and spat out Ami like a witch.

Funny thing… not funny, actually. As it turned out, it could have happened a long time ago, but their Department had happily forgotten about the old agreement, and only recently “remembered” it. For some reason. And now, of course, they’re blowing all the deadlines again before they’ve even started to fulfil anything. Timeless classic. And a standard situation everyone is used to. Because “there’s a lot to do”. Especially at harvest time and during the festivals, when everyone is more “active” than usual. It’s good that the agreement was remembered at all. And it’s great that it happened so suddenly, so that Ami’s family didn’t have much time to talk her out of it or blackmail her.

Because “the harvest is not yet in”, “the construction is not yet finished”, “the festival is coming soon”.

Run-run-run. The bag is packed. The food is taken. Messages and documents to be handed over to the Omill’s Temples as extra weight are here.

The boss has not changed his mind about participating in this “stupid witch’s nonsense”. One less courier is fine. Fewer dispatches to write and read. It’s no big deal. It feels so good and calm, despite the sleepless nights, the confusion that everything started too well, and the anticipation of new worries. Even if the affair was completely pointless and led to yet another disappointment, she wouldn’t complain and couldn’t blame herself.

It wasn’t her choice. At least she hadn’t initiated this fiasco. Well, at least on the way back the bags will be heavier by the weight of the souvenirs. Heavier by a bag of coffee, for sure. It’s a great thing that makes every trip worthwhile. Ami smiled involuntarily. “Coffee. Wait for me. I’m on my way.”

The business traveller threw her bags over her shoulder, adjusted her clothes so that they wouldn’t gather in creases under the straps and looked critically at the apartment she was about to leave.

Everything she wanted to take with her was taken. The rest was tidied up and well packed, the room locked. Her belongings would be safe.

That’s all that matters. Her parents’ house stared back at her with its empty window eyes. Ami’s heart tightened for a moment. It looks so naive, so disappointed, so… unloved. And it felt like a betrayal. It didn’t deserve such an attitude. He gave her his warmth and safety. At least here things are clear, simple and unambiguous. What to do, what not to do. Who to be and who not to be. Why does she always leave it so easily and happily? Without a shadow of gratitude? Will it miss her?

It’s painful to feel unloved and discarded, but it’s also painful to feel that you can’t give love and care to something that desperately needs it. Because you just don’t have it in you.

Sorry, old boy. Don’t be angry with me. I just… can’t. Try someone more capable. So… it was time to wave, try to smile and say goodbye to everyone from afar. And to hide the unwanted smile on her face and to portray the sadness of parting. She often smiled inappropriately, but there was a good reason not to do so here. For in half a cycle, or perhaps much sooner, she will return here. And if she has a happy face now, others will have the same wickedly satisfied look when she returns, the echo of her broad happy smile multiplied many times over. “She didn’t crawl far. The place of your birth is the place where you will be of use”. Remembering that would certainly speed up her steps.

Let’s run from our local problems to the other ones.

For a moment she had another epiphany. You can’t avoid problems anywhere, no matter how hard and how far you try to run away from them. They can only be resolved by standing up and facing them.

She won’t be happy. Nowhere. Ever. There’s no such thing like happiness.

There’s no such thing as happiness. Why try harder?.. …and. What do you do?

Drop everything? Go back? Lie about being ill? The family will certainly approve. The boss wouldn’t mind postponing or cancelling this stupid witch business. “The Fertility Festival”

Aye…

Ami huffed in annoyance. Yes. Let’s go then… Bye, house, bye, Kantine. Be well. She turned slowly and carefully, trying to minimise the inertial movement of her heavy bags, and strode out of town, dusting and shuffling her feet along the familiar part of the Great Road. The Kantine vagabond loved the heavy therapy of walking. It reduced her usual high levels of adrenaline and stopped her messy, chaotic thoughts with fatigue. Before she could move, she stopped abruptly, swaying under the weight of her load and struggling to keep her balance.

There was one thing she was determined to do. No matter what. And she had no intention of denying herself that pleasure. It would be nice to see the city with the fresh, unaccustomed eyes of her replacement!

The best way to do this was to climb the hill on the way out of settlement.

Ami carefully dropped her things on the ground and quickly climbed up the hill. …The settlement looked quite harmless from there. Even… nice. It was fair to say that despite the unimpressive, squat, plain buildings, it was a very beautiful and charming city. In its own way. It has fields. Yellow, green, in the colours of the crops.

Ami had never been able to learn all their names, which was reason enough for her immediate surroundings to look at her with some pity.

The scents of fruit and flowers from the gardens reached here too. There was growth and blossom everywhere. Even on the roofs.

A quiet, measured, delicious and nourishing life. Work that yields a pleasant harvest, pleasing to the eye and the stomach. Peace and stability. Quiet, peaceful… too peaceful for her. Perhaps it’s her fault. This service woman preferred travelling to operational work because she didn’t want to be involved in people’s business. And they say it was more or less interesting when she was away. A few cases of amnesia, to be precise. And a missing person at the same time, which is no no particular cause for concern in this Lands. People leave this town from time to time without telling anyone, or get lost in the woods. It’s a usual thing.

There’s not much to remember in this place, if we’re talking about amnesia. lights and cycles are similar, sowing and harvesting, warm and cold winds and the clouds that pass over it all.

Perhaps it could be a strange quest to find yourself again. To get to know life and yourself again. Right here. Right now.

To truly find out who you are, what you want, without outside interference. But does the wipe mean that your unconscious programmes go away too? If they don’t, this is pointless…

Ami didn’t have a chance to finish her thoughts as her attention was fully drawn to the dark clouds gathering in the sky above the city, apparently coming from somewhere in the Wastelands.

The Kantinian frowned in unison. She hadn’t noticed them before. They looked somehow… threatening. Not like normal clouds. At least they made Ami uncomfortable. Then why look at them. Rain doesn’t make a journey any more comfortable. Let’s hit the road. She came down the hill, grabbed her belongings and walked to a wide trade route that led to the next city.

It’s an easy journey. You can’t get lost here. Not if you try hard enough.

Just walk. And walk. And you’ll inevitably find Omill. And what’s nice – this time there was no hurry. Maybe the journey would be more comfortable if she waited for the caravan. But she spent too much time trapped by the home-work route. She really needed some exercise.

And something to chew. It would make the walk more pleasant. She left the house a moment ago and her appetite was already whetted, as if she’d walked a good part of the way.

She’s such a chthonic Glutton. Kantinians were considered gluttons, but who wouldn’t be, with all this food? No surprises. They worked a lot, they ate a lot. The peasant slipped her hand into the small pouch hanging over her belly and fumbled for a large piece of her favourite dried vegetable. She found one, took a good bite and began to chew slowly and contentedly as she walked. …There must be something good about her homeland.

These vegetables. Such important things seemed so insignificant when they were within reach. But when you suddenly realise that there’s no way to get them. Ami looked carefully at the piece of vegetable in her hand. “We won’t be gone too long. There’s plenty in our bags. Anyway, you’ll have time to eat them all in a whole Kantine when we get back. Don’t you want something new for a change?”

Quite right. She has already eaten here, and here she goes to reduce Omill’s stocks of coffee and flat biscuits.

## Light 6. A Hot Reception

Amelia appeared briskly on the doorstep of the Omill Temple’s Truth Station, clutching the documents she had previously retrieved. It wasn’t the first time she’d brought dispatches here. But these appointment papers…

What position would she be appointed to here? What would she do? Courier again? Translate? Dealing with conflict situations? Search for missing people and property? Escort valuable packages?

Because of her limited knowledge of the language, she couldn’t work with the people here. Much to her relief. But as for the other things, she was good enough at her previous job…

Well. There’s only one way to find out. And soon everything would be clear. She walked confidently towards the Secretary’s cabin, out of habit from previous visits… And suddenly, before she even realised what was happening, her body bounced a decent distance away from… something. Something dangerous. It was good timing, though. A wave of barely bearable heat passed by the dazed servicewoman. Mentally thanking her good reflexes, she looked in surprise at the source of the danger, next to which, without any apparent discomfort, Truth Station Chief Milo walked hurriedly with a concerned look on his face, obviously trying to explain something. And surprisingly, her potential killer wasn’t some kind of fierce-looking villain who had taken over the Truth Station, but a graceful, slender, short figure in the uniform of the Temple Witches. What a fascinating beginning… – It’s not just our reputation that’s been damaged, it’s my people who have suffered, don’t forget that! – an angry retort filled the air and ears. How could anyone possibly forget something that had been presented in such a murderously extraordinary way?

The refined witch, the source of the searing aura, raised his long, pale forefinger in a sharp warning and gave the interlocutor a piercing look with his frighteningly bright blue eyes. – My people are making every effort to get to the bottom of it. And you know it. Milo tried to put maximum conviction into his words. Not the best time to pester the boss with your petty affairs. It’s not the best time to be here myself… when your instincts are screaming “Run! Hide! Run, run, run…”

“We can’t run, we’re here on business”. “Then… hide? Maybe hide? Or freeze. Freeze, don’t move… Oh no, get back!”

Amelia wasn’t a coward. She had been in many dangerous situations during her service. But there’s always something frightening about dealing with raging witches. No matter how much training you’ve had in your home department and how many techniques you’ve learnt. It was good practice, but it was not about “coming from behind”, “sneaking up”, “stunning”, but “retreating quietly” and “hiding quickly”. Nature’s forces stay striking nature’s forces. And Milo is definitely in a bad place right now. Reflexively, the servicewoman took up a more or less safe position in the improvised shelter near the exit and cast an appraising glance at the ominous witch. She… knew him. His name was… his name was Finnian. Right. He’s a Head Witch of the Omill Temples Witchery. Ami had seen him a few times, delivering documents to the Chief of the Omill Temples and picking up what needed to be delivered to their Office of Order and the Kantine Temples in general. And… a creature of such cold, inhuman beauty that emanated a powerful sense of power, such a combination was almost impossible to forget, she had to say. It leaves a kind of icy scar on the soul, as if from a collision with something incomprehensible and unattainable.

And his image was somehow toxic and irreversibly embedded in the memory. Only the proverbial amnesia could help with that. As the dangerous couple moved past the frozen “don’t mind my presence” Kantinian militiawoman towards the exit, without even noticing her, she was less and less inclined to the “run and hide” plan of action. Just in case, she made one more cautious step aside, unconsciously sighing with relief. And found herself involuntarily pulling her head into her shoulders… …and noticed the edge of the fabric of her documents began to smoulder!

Slightly shocked by the new unexpected extreme situation, the servicewoman quickly looked around for a remedy to the sudden affliction. A dark-haired man in a Truth officer uniform was holding a cup of greenish liquid. Amelia quickly dipped the ready-to-flame edges of her document into his cloth-saving coffee. The Omillian raised his surprised gaze to her with a puzzled look of silent disapproval. – I’m terribly sorry! – Ami quickly gave him her most guilty look. – That bog witch set fire to my service cloths!

She quickly showed her interlocutor the burnt documents to justify her actions, noting with annoyance the greenish liquid dripping from them. The only good thing about the situation was that she remembered the foreign language so quickly that she didn’t realise it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone fixing a problem with the entrance curtain. It was an impenetrable, fireproof, specially reinforced curtain made of special materials. What in the ghoul’s life is going on here?! – Why not cool them down, but extinguish them in such a spectacular way? – Fortunately, the officer wasn’t cross with her, just curious. But he already knew the answer. The accent and the telltale pauses, searching for the right word, gave it away immediately. – I didn’t see a quicker alternative… I’m really very sorry. Can I at least wash your cup? – It’s quite all right, – he said nonchalantly, sipping his drink as if nothing had happened. – — Mmm. Smoky… Don’t worry. By the way, you could have asked me to extinguish the document. – I’m subconsciously sure that if I can’t do something, no one can. And I’m extremely rarely surrounded by extinguishing witches. Ami felt colour creep into her face.

Yes, this was definitely not the best way to make a first impression when meeting someone you might be working with. But… this wasn’t the first impression. She had met him before too. Funny thing. She knew a lot of people here, but no one in particular. – And I think I’ve seen you here a few times before, – the new acquaintance blinked peacefully. – I’m Davin. Or just Dave. I work here. – Ami. You’ll see more of me lately. Perhaps. Watch your feet and coffee. Clumsiness and awkwardness are my best friends. And there’s a chance that the three of us will be working here soon. – I see. – Look… – Amelia really wanted to change the subject. – Do… Do you get this sort of thing here often? – Visits from Finnian? – The officer smiled. – Fortunately not… But at least it’s not boring. – That’s a mild way of putting it… – Amelia frowned in displeasure. – I was lucky to have your cup nearby. – Feel free to call on me and my cup for help. Finnian’s visits are a serious test for all the Station’s furniture. And sometimes people. But… he’s a good sort. Dave gave a friendly wink and waddled off up to the second floor. The servicewoman saw him off and exhaled in relief again. Such a nice bloke. If everyone here was like that, it would be a lot easier to work. If she were unlucky enough to find herself in a similar situation in Kantene, she could expect a coffee shower, insults and lectures about her low intelligence level. People here are less picky and more easily offended. The abundance of passive aggression in relationships tells them that they were definitely meant to be insulted. Yes, it’s not easy to be clumsy and daft, but it seems easier to be daft anywhere away from home. Poor locals would have to…