If Renise wasn't going to wait to be saved like a heroine from a fairytale, then it fell to her to rescue herself. And she had to start by finding shelter. A place to plan her next steps. The sooner the better. She was a fugitive without a corpse.
And she'd prefer to show herself rather than be found out.
Shelter, then. She looked around at the manors bubbling with light and warmth. She spied children from the windows, their faces bright and curious versus the clear fretting of the adults.
A few eyes glanced over her figure and she knew she couldn't stay.
Ensuring her hood was secured, Renise left behind her fountain of life and swept down the well-paved lane, gold crowns in hand.
She wasn't making for The Hounded Hare, though.
As she took in the cold air free of embers and shouts, she carefully looked over each of the fenced estates that she passed. They seemed to come alive at her presence, as though the gentle tapping of her one shoe was the herald of doom.
The Hounded Hare came into view, an inn that sat comfortably in the merchant quarter. It rose above the small manors beside it, warmth and song spilling out to a tune of multiple hearths and musicians.
There was a large gathering of the richly dressed here. They and their hired guards eyed the red scar in the night sky. She walked past and made herself scarce before that changed.
Eventually, she found it.
At a corner where the perfectly crushed stones of the lane began to show signs of the faintest disrepair, she found a gloomy estate which mirrored the abandonment.
A web of vines had been allowed to tangle around the black gate. The grass beyond the fence was tall and unkempt, blooming with wild daisies. Beyond them, a deliberate silence seeped out from the curtained windows of a small manor tiled with grey clay. It radiated solitude. There was no movement and no light, despite the commotion now making its way to every corner of the quarter.
Shelter.
She didn't need an inn.
Just a roof.
Renise moved quickly. If she was lucky, the estate was empty of occupants. She imagined anyone who was wealthy enough to reside in Reitzlake's merchant's quarter was wealthy enough to reside in another city's merchant's quarter also.
And if not, well … she'd at least rummage for a new set of clothes.
And shoes.
She wondered what her parents would say if they knew what she was about to do. Father would undoubtedly slap her proudly on the back with those uncouth laughs of his, tearing down the roof as he did so. Mother would imprison her with etiquette lessons until she vowed never to shame their family again, and then do the same with Father.
Renise ignored the gate. She didn't need to be seen. Instead, she followed the fence, disappearing out of sight as she found herself staring up the back of the estate.
The vegetation was even wilder here. There were berry shrubs and even mushrooms. She saw a line in the ground where one side of the grass had been trimmed and one side hadn't. She could almost feel the neighbour's vexation from the way a few daisies were lying decapitated millimetres from the uncut side.
She glanced around, then primed herself with a deep breath.
She'd never broken into a property before. It wasn't something Gab and Lou had ever deigned to show her, although she doubted if that was because it fell foul of their moral compass. But she did know how to climb trees.
She shortly found out that fences and trees were not the same.
Renise's hands burned as she slipped down the metal fence. Try as she might, the fact became apparent that she lacked the strength to hoist herself.
Whether it was her exhaustion or the fact that these fences offered little grip, she struggled to reach the very top. She let out a feeble groan and swiped, her fingertips nowhere near the mark as she slid down again.
She grit her teeth.
It was fine. She had to be quick, but not necessarily quiet.
If any residents were on their way back from the Hounded Hare, it'd be a problem. If they were heavy sleepers on the other hand, she had nothing to fear. Anybody who slept through the commotion of a fire bell could sleep through her playing the first-time cat burglar.
She tried a new tactic.
Kicking off her remaining shoe, she planted her legs around the black spears of the fence, then used her hands to hoist herself up. Success was a slow and comical endeavour. As a result, she shuffled upwards with painstaking sluggishness.
Reaching the top of the fence, she allowed no moment of triumph to ruin her efforts. She instead pondered how to flip herself over to the other side for a gentle descent. She was answered by the meowing of a cat and promptly threw herself over the top.
“Ughhhh …”
Crashing into the soft grass mixed with the wildflowers, she lay there without concern for anything other than how terribly her night was going. Case in point, falling as a crumpled heap onto a bed of springy grass was the highlight thus far.
She tested her limbs one at a time, relishing in the continued ability to feel pain.
Once Renise was sufficiently satisfied she was not dead or immobilised, she rolled over onto her front and crawled to the nearest window. It wasn't because she was trying to be stealthy. It just took too much effort to stand up.
She paused beneath a windowsill.
Even here, the curtains were firmly closed. A sure sign that the house was either unoccupied or that the owners had no sense of hearing. But there was a way to make doubly certain.
Renise knocked on the glass. Not a gentle rap, but a sound like an owl attempting forced entry. If anyone was in, they'd hear it, sleeping or otherwise.
And so she waited.
Silence and stillness responded. The promise of shelter.
Renise felt a worrying rush of confidence, as though this were her 100th night prowl. It wasn't, of course. Otherwise she wouldn't be as stumped as she was when it came to the realisation she had no way of entering the estate.
She carried no tools or weapons and she very much doubted if the door had been left ajar. A rookie among rookie burglars. But she couldn't be hard on herself. She was starting from the ground up. Literally so.
The amateur burglar rose to her feet and searched for a solid object.
Sadly, the merchant quarter had little tolerance for litter. Uncut grass was the threshold. Even had a suitable blunt instrument miraculously fallen from the sky, one of the residents would have somersaulted over the same fence she'd rolled over and disposed of it at once.
In fact, the only out of place object tonight came with the only out of place person.
Renise scooted back to the fence, then pressed her cheeks against the bars as she reached her arm through. Mercifully, she was spared the requirement to climb once again as she fished back her discarded shoe with the tip of her fingers.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she drew her prize back in her hands.
The sole was worn and the heels were irreparable. But that was fine. It wouldn't be seeing any more use as a shoe. But as a brick.
She returned to the window, knocked once more for good measure, and then knocked again with the heel of the shoe. It did precious little other than cause the glass to wobble. The first time, that is.
After the fifth strike, the delicate glass … still didn't break.
But it did creak outwards, shaking slightly from Renise's strikes.
The window was unlocked.
After pausing to see if her arrest was imminent, she swept aside her utter embarrassment and climbed in, conscious of whatever furniture waited on the other side.
Or she would be, if her mind wasn't instead focused on the scent of a freshly cut meadow and the blooming flowers of springtime.
Past the curtains, the first thing her bare soles came into contact with was the same as what she'd just left behind.
It was grass.
Wild grass.
Long, dangling blades reached up to her knees, with honeysuckles, scarlet pimpernels and tulips among other flowers to bloom among the all-consuming green.
Even in the darkness touched only by a window of moonlight, she had no difficulty pinpointing them out. The flowers … even the grass, it all glowed with a twinkling sheen like dew in the moonlight.
Renise's mouth was wide open.
Somewhere among the interior meadow, she spotted the remains of a sofa and an armchair. Both were now the natural habitats of sunflowers the size of dinner plates. And atop a cabinet, branches and leaves had begun to sprout as though a new tree was blossoming from the body of its previous life.
Whatever flooring, carpets or tiles used to exist now served as host to a slice of nature.
Magic.
It could be nothing else. As Renise marvelled at a stream of crystal clear water endlessly falling from a jug, she knew it had to be the work of an extremely powerful spellcaster.
Even so, she was aware of no mage who had the ability or the inclination to conjure a meadow from within a building. Most mages, as far as she knew, were concerned with wanton destruction.
This was life.
Only the fireplace was untouched. Charred logs and soot sat imposingly in its brick hearth, an ugly divide as clear as the lines of trimmed grass around the estate.
Stepping carefully, Renise exited the remains of this living room and into a hallway. The grass continued here unabated, as did the subjugated state of the furnishings.
She wondered at the state of the open drawers and empty cabinets as she walked by. Either the current occupant was only concerned with filling their commode with reminders of the countryside, or she wasn't the only uninvited visitor this garden property had welcomed.
While considering the whereabouts of the mage responsible for this flourishing meadow, she paused outside an open doorway.
Peeking in, she saw a small library where the books were now being reclaimed by nature. Roots and vines formed a tight web over bookcases as if to prevent any more access, while a grand pile of tomes were heaped in the grass. Many were open, their smudged pages decaying like autumn leaves.
Renise left the library alone and continued down the hall.
Turning a corner, she was met by evidence of a ransacked lobby. Here and there, faded marks on the walls told of portraits removed, while brass hooks and stands were shorn of their lanterns and candles. Again, a hearth was untouched.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. The sight of an open wardrobe snapped her out of her daze. She entered a room offering a glimpse of hope and found a dresser. Then she saw the abyss of wooden racks empty of clothes.
Well, almost empty.
There were maid uniforms. Lots of maid uniforms.
Offering so little value that they hadn't even been pulled off their racks, an oddly varied selection of maid uniforms looked down at Renise from the largest wardrobe.
Each boasted a discreet difference. An extra button, a finer frill, a longer cuff. Below were stacks of aprons, boxes of headdresses and ribbons. Aside from the invasion of foliage chewing on the fabric, they were in serviceable condition.
Sadly, there were no shoes. Any footwear was unlikely to be as overlooked as uniforms.
Renise cocked her head, puzzled at why uniforms for maids seemed to be in the same dresser as one reserved for the estate's owner. The former luxury of the room was evidence of that. More curiously, there were far too many uniforms for an estate this size. A manor it might be, but hardly large enough for more than two attendants.
Still, it was the least of questions here. How this beautiful meadow came to be was the biggest. Next was how she could avoid the unholy bolt of lightning that was about to strike her.
Renise stared between her ruined dress and the litany of whole uniforms.
A moment later, there was the sound of her cloak falling to a crumpled heap, and somewhere in a distant dream, the laments of her mother as she was held back by her father.
She took the nearest uniform in her hands and waited for retribution. When it didn't come, she went about completing her new identity.
The nearby mirror was lost to a strangling of roots, but she witnessed enough of herself to know that, whatever the next days entailed, the practicality of dressing as a servant would do far more for her than any fine silk.
She could even enter the market district unimpeded, should necessity demand it. A maid fetching wares for their demanding employers? Few would look twice.
Not unless they knew she wasn't a maid.
In which case, they'd probably stare with their arms crossed and their eyes narrowed, unhappy that she was not only pretending to be a maid, but also borrowing one of their uniforms. Yes, something like that.
“Well, doesn't that suit you?”
Renise spun around, the unhappy reflection in the mirror now leaning against the doorway.
A woman, no, a beautiful woman frowned at her without a hint of trepidation on her face.
Compared to her, she was like a true princess from a fairytale. Tall and graceful, with unblemished skin and clear eyes as sharp as the first sunrise. And yet she was dressed as Renise was.
She wore a maid uniform and slippers, her tawny hair in a loose, carefree bun. She was the picture of calm. There was no state of panic about her. No breathless alarm that someone was trampling the lovely grass in her home.
Only … boredom. And irritation.
“And I was hoping the ghastly noises were from the critters in the cellar. Why, in the name of the trees, are you wearing my clothes?”
Renise opened her mouth, willing the words to come out. Only a weird gurgling did. The beautiful maid raised an eyebrow at the utter lack of explanation. And possibly the drowning noises.
“I suppose you midnight guests all have the strangest dispositions. Very well, then. Is the frills and headdress enough? I'll allow you to depart with the uniform, if only because I planned on throwing my spares all out in any case. Or will you further rummage through the property before you're content?”
Renise looked down at the maid uniform she was sporting sans shoes.
Then she glanced around at the room devoid of any valuables, just as it'd been throughout the estate. She wasn't sure whether any items of note had been absorbed into the grassy floorboard or if the other midnight guests had long contented themselves with this place.
Finally, Renise hurriedly prepared an apology.
“I'm … I apologise … this is … well ...”
“Yes?”
“There's a fire. I was hoping to retrieve some clothes and ...”
“Hm? A fire?” The maid tilted her head and listened. The fire bell clearly tolled in the distance, as did the hooting of an owl. “Dangerous. I'll need to make precautions. I thank you for warning me.”
It was grossly insufficient for breaking into someone's home and sampling a maid's wardrobe, but she could see plainly that the employee in question didn't care for an explanation. Only a departure. She could provide that.
There was just one issue.
Renise had caught sight of the maid's fingers.
Or rather, what should have been her fingers.
Because there, at the end of her slender hands, was something quite devastatingly wrong.
Instead of human digits of flesh and bone, there were long strands of fibrous bark, almost like the roots of a tiny tree that had been unearthed. Instead of nails, there were delicate stems painted with the buds of green leaves, as though they had only moments ago started to sprout.
It wasn't a trick of the eye, nor a pair of bizarre gloves bought from a shop of curios.
It was fingers of bark and leaves, as real as the dryness in her mouth in defiance to the fountain she'd just drank.
Renise had found the mage responsible for the garden in the estate.
It was the maid.
But not a human maid.
The monster before her blinked, her frown becoming one of puzzlement as she followed Renise's widening gaze. She unfolded her arms and held up her hands. The coarse, dark tips stood out in the pale glow of the ever present meadow.
No, not a meadow.
A grove.
“Bah. I knew I forgot something,” said the thing, rolling her eyes back in exasperation. “Now you're going to wet yourself, aren't you? Of course you are. I was hoping I could avoid that. It always leaves a terrible taste.”
Renise took a step back. A heavy mirror came crashing to the floor as her hands searched for something. Anything. A weapon. A window. A cliff to hurl herself from.
All she felt was the wall.
The blood in her face drained as she scrambled like a rat caught without a hole to hide in. Primordial terror gripped her as her night went from worst to whatever was several leagues below that.
She had to run. Or wet herself. Every other consideration was erased from her mind. Her knees shook as every thought turned to cold, imminent death.
Dryad.
It was a dryad.
Renise started crying as the dryad watched in amusement, toying with its victim, its prey. There was no rhyme or reason to her tears. Nobody could help her. No more than she could help herself.
She didn't know how long the monster stood there for, watching her as she threw herself from wall to wall, searching for a window that didn't exist. And so when the monster eventually approached, Renise let out a frightened scream, forgetting the bravery she'd shown even in the face of daggers and flames.
It was the first time she'd screamed this night.
Betrayal and treachery was terrible, but so was the criminal underworld. She would cry. But she wouldn't scream.
A dryad, though? That was different. There was no politics there. Only a monster who was about to consume her as a midnight snack.
She screamed for anyone, anything to help.
And as she did so, the monster's fingers swiftly extended towards her—
BRWWOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!
Only for a giant hole to suddenly appear in the wall.
An explosion of noise, followed by rubble, flowers, furniture … and what appeared to be a bright red mailbox blasted into the side of the dryad. It vanished beneath a mountain of debris, leaving a thick cloud of dust, destruction, unsent envelopes and an extremely confused Renise to stare gormlessly inside the newly ventilated room.
Slowly, she turned to the hole in the wall.
Beyond the cloud of dust, she thought she could hear voices. And also villainous laughter.
Her mouth was still wide open as she blinked at the first silhouette to step through.
Moonlight framed her long, dark hair as she walked inside. She flicked aside the dust with the tip of a sword burning brighter than the moonlight behind her. The blade lit up her face and revealed a girl whose breathtaking beauty surpassed even the magical glamour of the dryad. She had a snowy complexion and long lashes, and eyes which shone with a noble determination.
A girl. A sword maiden. And yet to Renise, she looked like a prince enveloped in moonlight.
Then, another girl appeared behind her. She was pretty, too. With golden hair. And eyes the colour of a glimmering reef. Renise liked her smile. It was very sweet.
She poked the first girl.
“See! I told you there'd be furniture overturning~”
Renise blinked repeatedly, not comprehending a single thing that had just happened.
That's when she noticed the key sticking out of the girl's back.
Oh. A clockwork doll. In Tirea? How quaint.
… That's the last thing Renise thought before she passed out.
If Renise wasn't going to wait to be saved like a heroine from a fairytale, then it fell to her to rescue herself. And she had to start by finding shelter. A place to plan her next steps. The sooner the better. She was a fugitive without a corpse.
And she'd prefer to show herself rather than be found out.
Shelter, then. She looked around at the manors bubbling with light and warmth. She spied children from the windows, their faces bright and curious versus the clear fretting of the adults.
A few eyes glanced over her figure and she knew she couldn't stay.
Ensuring her hood was secured, Renise left behind her fountain of life and swept down the well-paved lane, gold crowns in hand.
She wasn't making for The Hounded Hare, though.
As she took in the cold air free of embers and shouts, she carefully looked over each of the fenced estates that she passed. They seemed to come alive at her presence, as though the gentle tapping of her one shoe was the herald of doom.
The Hounded Hare came into view, an inn that sat comfortably in the merchant quarter. It rose above the small manors beside it, warmth and song spilling out to a tune of multiple hearths and musicians.
There was a large gathering of the richly dressed here. They and their hired guards eyed the red scar in the night sky. She walked past and made herself scarce before that changed.
Eventually, she found it.
At a corner where the perfectly crushed stones of the lane began to show signs of the faintest disrepair, she found a gloomy estate which mirrored the abandonment.
A web of vines had been allowed to tangle around the black gate. The grass beyond the fence was tall and unkempt, blooming with wild daisies. Beyond them, a deliberate silence seeped out from the curtained windows of a small manor tiled with grey clay. It radiated solitude. There was no movement and no light, despite the commotion now making its way to every corner of the quarter.
Shelter.
She didn't need an inn.
Just a roof.
Renise moved quickly. If she was lucky, the estate was empty of occupants. She imagined anyone who was wealthy enough to reside in Reitzlake's merchant's quarter was wealthy enough to reside in another city's merchant's quarter also.
And if not, well … she'd at least rummage for a new set of clothes.
And shoes.
She wondered what her parents would say if they knew what she was about to do. Father would undoubtedly slap her proudly on the back with those uncouth laughs of his, tearing down the roof as he did so. Mother would imprison her with etiquette lessons until she vowed never to shame their family again, and then do the same with Father.
Renise ignored the gate. She didn't need to be seen. Instead, she followed the fence, disappearing out of sight as she found herself staring up the back of the estate.
The vegetation was even wilder here. There were berry shrubs and even mushrooms. She saw a line in the ground where one side of the grass had been trimmed and one side hadn't. She could almost feel the neighbour's vexation from the way a few daisies were lying decapitated millimetres from the uncut side.
She glanced around, then primed herself with a deep breath.
She'd never broken into a property before. It wasn't something Gab and Lou had ever deigned to show her, although she doubted if that was because it fell foul of their moral compass. But she did know how to climb trees.
She shortly found out that fences and trees were not the same.
Renise's hands burned as she slipped down the metal fence. Try as she might, the fact became apparent that she lacked the strength to hoist herself.
Whether it was her exhaustion or the fact that these fences offered little grip, she struggled to reach the very top. She let out a feeble groan and swiped, her fingertips nowhere near the mark as she slid down again.
She grit her teeth.
It was fine. She had to be quick, but not necessarily quiet.
If any residents were on their way back from the Hounded Hare, it'd be a problem. If they were heavy sleepers on the other hand, she had nothing to fear. Anybody who slept through the commotion of a fire bell could sleep through her playing the first-time cat burglar.
She tried a new tactic.
Kicking off her remaining shoe, she planted her legs around the black spears of the fence, then used her hands to hoist herself up. Success was a slow and comical endeavour. As a result, she shuffled upwards with painstaking sluggishness.
Reaching the top of the fence, she allowed no moment of triumph to ruin her efforts. She instead pondered how to flip herself over to the other side for a gentle descent. She was answered by the meowing of a cat and promptly threw herself over the top.
“Ughhhh …”
Crashing into the soft grass mixed with the wildflowers, she lay there without concern for anything other than how terribly her night was going. Case in point, falling as a crumpled heap onto a bed of springy grass was the highlight thus far.
She tested her limbs one at a time, relishing in the continued ability to feel pain.
Once Renise was sufficiently satisfied she was not dead or immobilised, she rolled over onto her front and crawled to the nearest window. It wasn't because she was trying to be stealthy. It just took too much effort to stand up.
She paused beneath a windowsill.
Even here, the curtains were firmly closed. A sure sign that the house was either unoccupied or that the owners had no sense of hearing. But there was a way to make doubly certain.
Renise knocked on the glass. Not a gentle rap, but a sound like an owl attempting forced entry. If anyone was in, they'd hear it, sleeping or otherwise.
And so she waited.
Silence and stillness responded. The promise of shelter.
Renise felt a worrying rush of confidence, as though this were her 100th night prowl. It wasn't, of course. Otherwise she wouldn't be as stumped as she was when it came to the realisation she had no way of entering the estate.
She carried no tools or weapons and she very much doubted if the door had been left ajar. A rookie among rookie burglars. But she couldn't be hard on herself. She was starting from the ground up. Literally so.
The amateur burglar rose to her feet and searched for a solid object.
Sadly, the merchant quarter had little tolerance for litter. Uncut grass was the threshold. Even had a suitable blunt instrument miraculously fallen from the sky, one of the residents would have somersaulted over the same fence she'd rolled over and disposed of it at once.
In fact, the only out of place object tonight came with the only out of place person.
Renise scooted back to the fence, then pressed her cheeks against the bars as she reached her arm through. Mercifully, she was spared the requirement to climb once again as she fished back her discarded shoe with the tip of her fingers.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she drew her prize back in her hands.
The sole was worn and the heels were irreparable. But that was fine. It wouldn't be seeing any more use as a shoe. But as a brick.
She returned to the window, knocked once more for good measure, and then knocked again with the heel of the shoe. It did precious little other than cause the glass to wobble. The first time, that is.
After the fifth strike, the delicate glass … still didn't break.
But it did creak outwards, shaking slightly from Renise's strikes.
The window was unlocked.
After pausing to see if her arrest was imminent, she swept aside her utter embarrassment and climbed in, conscious of whatever furniture waited on the other side.
Or she would be, if her mind wasn't instead focused on the scent of a freshly cut meadow and the blooming flowers of springtime.
Past the curtains, the first thing her bare soles came into contact with was the same as what she'd just left behind.
It was grass.
Wild grass.
Long, dangling blades reached up to her knees, with honeysuckles, scarlet pimpernels and tulips among other flowers to bloom among the all-consuming green.
Even in the darkness touched only by a window of moonlight, she had no difficulty pinpointing them out. The flowers … even the grass, it all glowed with a twinkling sheen like dew in the moonlight.
Renise's mouth was wide open.
Somewhere among the interior meadow, she spotted the remains of a sofa and an armchair. Both were now the natural habitats of sunflowers the size of dinner plates. And atop a cabinet, branches and leaves had begun to sprout as though a new tree was blossoming from the body of its previous life.
Whatever flooring, carpets or tiles used to exist now served as host to a slice of nature.
Magic.
It could be nothing else. As Renise marvelled at a stream of crystal clear water endlessly falling from a jug, she knew it had to be the work of an extremely powerful spellcaster.
Even so, she was aware of no mage who had the ability or the inclination to conjure a meadow from within a building. Most mages, as far as she knew, were concerned with wanton destruction.
This was life.
Only the fireplace was untouched. Charred logs and soot sat imposingly in its brick hearth, an ugly divide as clear as the lines of trimmed grass around the estate.
Stepping carefully, Renise exited the remains of this living room and into a hallway. The grass continued here unabated, as did the subjugated state of the furnishings.
She wondered at the state of the open drawers and empty cabinets as she walked by. Either the current occupant was only concerned with filling their commode with reminders of the countryside, or she wasn't the only uninvited visitor this garden property had welcomed.
While considering the whereabouts of the mage responsible for this flourishing meadow, she paused outside an open doorway.
Peeking in, she saw a small library where the books were now being reclaimed by nature. Roots and vines formed a tight web over bookcases as if to prevent any more access, while a grand pile of tomes were heaped in the grass. Many were open, their smudged pages decaying like autumn leaves.
Renise left the library alone and continued down the hall.
Turning a corner, she was met by evidence of a ransacked lobby. Here and there, faded marks on the walls told of portraits removed, while brass hooks and stands were shorn of their lanterns and candles. Again, a hearth was untouched.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. The sight of an open wardrobe snapped her out of her daze. She entered a room offering a glimpse of hope and found a dresser. Then she saw the abyss of wooden racks empty of clothes.
Well, almost empty.
There were maid uniforms. Lots of maid uniforms.
Offering so little value that they hadn't even been pulled off their racks, an oddly varied selection of maid uniforms looked down at Renise from the largest wardrobe.
Each boasted a discreet difference. An extra button, a finer frill, a longer cuff. Below were stacks of aprons, boxes of headdresses and ribbons. Aside from the invasion of foliage chewing on the fabric, they were in serviceable condition.
Sadly, there were no shoes. Any footwear was unlikely to be as overlooked as uniforms.
Renise cocked her head, puzzled at why uniforms for maids seemed to be in the same dresser as one reserved for the estate's owner. The former luxury of the room was evidence of that. More curiously, there were far too many uniforms for an estate this size. A manor it might be, but hardly large enough for more than two attendants.
Still, it was the least of questions here. How this beautiful meadow came to be was the biggest. Next was how she could avoid the unholy bolt of lightning that was about to strike her.
Renise stared between her ruined dress and the litany of whole uniforms.
A moment later, there was the sound of her cloak falling to a crumpled heap, and somewhere in a distant dream, the laments of her mother as she was held back by her father.
She took the nearest uniform in her hands and waited for retribution. When it didn't come, she went about completing her new identity.
The nearby mirror was lost to a strangling of roots, but she witnessed enough of herself to know that, whatever the next days entailed, the practicality of dressing as a servant would do far more for her than any fine silk.
She could even enter the market district unimpeded, should necessity demand it. A maid fetching wares for their demanding employers? Few would look twice.
Not unless they knew she wasn't a maid.
In which case, they'd probably stare with their arms crossed and their eyes narrowed, unhappy that she was not only pretending to be a maid, but also borrowing one of their uniforms. Yes, something like that.
“Well, doesn't that suit you?”
Renise spun around, the unhappy reflection in the mirror now leaning against the doorway.
A woman, no, a beautiful woman frowned at her without a hint of trepidation on her face.
Compared to her, she was like a true princess from a fairytale. Tall and graceful, with unblemished skin and clear eyes as sharp as the first sunrise. And yet she was dressed as Renise was.
She wore a maid uniform and slippers, her tawny hair in a loose, carefree bun. She was the picture of calm. There was no state of panic about her. No breathless alarm that someone was trampling the lovely grass in her home.
Only … boredom. And irritation.
“And I was hoping the ghastly noises were from the critters in the cellar. Why, in the name of the trees, are you wearing my clothes?”
Renise opened her mouth, willing the words to come out. Only a weird gurgling did. The beautiful maid raised an eyebrow at the utter lack of explanation. And possibly the drowning noises.
“I suppose you midnight guests all have the strangest dispositions. Very well, then. Is the frills and headdress enough? I'll allow you to depart with the uniform, if only because I planned on throwing my spares all out in any case. Or will you further rummage through the property before you're content?”
Renise looked down at the maid uniform she was sporting sans shoes.
Then she glanced around at the room devoid of any valuables, just as it'd been throughout the estate. She wasn't sure whether any items of note had been absorbed into the grassy floorboard or if the other midnight guests had long contented themselves with this place.
Finally, Renise hurriedly prepared an apology.
“I'm … I apologise … this is … well ...”
“Yes?”
“There's a fire. I was hoping to retrieve some clothes and ...”
“Hm? A fire?” The maid tilted her head and listened. The fire bell clearly tolled in the distance, as did the hooting of an owl. “Dangerous. I'll need to make precautions. I thank you for warning me.”
It was grossly insufficient for breaking into someone's home and sampling a maid's wardrobe, but she could see plainly that the employee in question didn't care for an explanation. Only a departure. She could provide that.
There was just one issue.
Renise had caught sight of the maid's fingers.
Or rather, what should have been her fingers.
Because there, at the end of her slender hands, was something quite devastatingly wrong.
Instead of human digits of flesh and bone, there were long strands of fibrous bark, almost like the roots of a tiny tree that had been unearthed. Instead of nails, there were delicate stems painted with the buds of green leaves, as though they had only moments ago started to sprout.
It wasn't a trick of the eye, nor a pair of bizarre gloves bought from a shop of curios.
It was fingers of bark and leaves, as real as the dryness in her mouth in defiance to the fountain she'd just drank.
Renise had found the mage responsible for the garden in the estate.
It was the maid.
But not a human maid.
The monster before her blinked, her frown becoming one of puzzlement as she followed Renise's widening gaze. She unfolded her arms and held up her hands. The coarse, dark tips stood out in the pale glow of the ever present meadow.
No, not a meadow.
A grove.
“Bah. I knew I forgot something,” said the thing, rolling her eyes back in exasperation. “Now you're going to wet yourself, aren't you? Of course you are. I was hoping I could avoid that. It always leaves a terrible taste.”
Renise took a step back. A heavy mirror came crashing to the floor as her hands searched for something. Anything. A weapon. A window. A cliff to hurl herself from.
All she felt was the wall.
The blood in her face drained as she scrambled like a rat caught without a hole to hide in. Primordial terror gripped her as her night went from worst to whatever was several leagues below that.
She had to run. Or wet herself. Every other consideration was erased from her mind. Her knees shook as every thought turned to cold, imminent death.
Dryad.
It was a dryad.
Renise started crying as the dryad watched in amusement, toying with its victim, its prey. There was no rhyme or reason to her tears. Nobody could help her. No more than she could help herself.
She didn't know how long the monster stood there for, watching her as she threw herself from wall to wall, searching for a window that didn't exist. And so when the monster eventually approached, Renise let out a frightened scream, forgetting the bravery she'd shown even in the face of daggers and flames.
It was the first time she'd screamed this night.
Betrayal and treachery was terrible, but so was the criminal underworld. She would cry. But she wouldn't scream.
A dryad, though? That was different. There was no politics there. Only a monster who was about to consume her as a midnight snack.
She screamed for anyone, anything to help.
And as she did so, the monster's fingers swiftly extended towards her—
BRWWOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!
Only for a giant hole to suddenly appear in the wall.
An explosion of noise, followed by rubble, flowers, furniture … and what appeared to be a bright red mailbox blasted into the side of the dryad. It vanished beneath a mountain of debris, leaving a thick cloud of dust, destruction, unsent envelopes and an extremely confused Renise to stare gormlessly inside the newly ventilated room.
Slowly, she turned to the hole in the wall.
Beyond the cloud of dust, she thought she could hear voices. And also villainous laughter.
Her mouth was still wide open as she blinked at the first silhouette to step through.
Moonlight framed her long, dark hair as she walked inside. She flicked aside the dust with the tip of a sword burning brighter than the moonlight behind her. The blade lit up her face and revealed a girl whose breathtaking beauty surpassed even the magical glamour of the dryad. She had a snowy complexion and long lashes, and eyes which shone with a noble determination.
A girl. A sword maiden. And yet to Renise, she looked like a prince enveloped in moonlight.
Then, another girl appeared behind her. She was pretty, too. With golden hair. And eyes the colour of a glimmering reef. Renise liked her smile. It was very sweet.
She poked the first girl.
“See! I told you there'd be furniture overturning~”
Renise blinked repeatedly, not comprehending a single thing that had just happened.
That's when she noticed the key sticking out of the girl's back.
Oh. A clockwork doll. In Tirea? How quaint.
… That's the last thing Renise thought before she passed out.
