Episode 3 – The Fog

The Spring Festive brought to town groups of people from all corners of the Empire and, more often than not, from outside the Empire. Our small town flourished with music, commerce and foods of all sorts. Although for us, children, this period was mostly a happy and musical moment, the adults knew that the caravan gathering in town were not always friendly towards each other. Many times they could be outright hostile and fights were not uncommon during the Spring Festive.

Caravans came in all shapes and forms. They were merchants, different fiefdoms convoys, travelling families and artists, diplomatic envoys and the three big ones: The Tower (how the common folk called the Wizards Tower caravan), the Holly Church Procession and the Royal Palace Armada. Each one came from a different part of the Empire but all parading through the country as a stand-off of power.

The three of them met in the Colina, a large city in the geographic middle of the empire and then made their way to the capital. By the time they arrived in our town, the pilgrims were already tired and at their limit — and so what was once silent disputes would often become violent arguments that had, more than once, ended with a few men on my mom’s treatment table.

The Tower came from the Wizard Territory, on the Western side of the Empire. These huge magic-driven carriages and travails must have burned through at least 1000 magic stones each year for the journey. Wizards can easily travel through their magic gates directly into the Capital, but there’s nothing like parading all through the empire to emphasize their power over the people. Many nobles sent their second or third children to the Tower, as it was a way to gain political power over their fiefdom’s commoners. If the child did well in the Tower, they could even try for a Royal Appointment, which meant even more power in the national and political scheme of things.

The Holly Church’s Procession officially started in Colina — the Church’s Holly City. However, as the church was present in pretty much any city or small village in the country, smaller Holly caravans made their way through the empire to meet and form the Holly Church’s Procession. Most priests and priestess made their way to the capital by foot following along the carriages of the higher-ranking clerics, like bishops and archbishops. With no sneakers in this world, their feet got destroyed from walking on those non-impact absorbing leather sandals. However, as they have healing power, it all ends up being some sort of self-sacrificing meditation, with them healing their destroyed feet every night or fortnight… It’s a weird thing to witness.

Mother always kept her distance from both caravans. Wizards and Witches never had the best relationships and just like in my original world, the church really hates Witches. As soon as I started learning witchcraft, Astra taught me how to keep myself out of those watchful, hateful, and powerful eyes. But it was only at that Spring Festive, when I turned 11, that I understood the reason why Wizards and Witches don’t get along.

The smallest caravans had made it to town the night before, and now The Tower and the Holly Church Procession were slowly making their way as well. I was eating a corn dog with Astra while people watching — a young noble-borne Wizard had his long dark green cloak stuck under a carriage’s wheel. He needed the help of other two young wizards to even begin to disentangle it. In my childish eye, the boys looked so silly, with their voluptuous heavy cloaks and shiny ornaments now dirty with mud.

“Mother, why do Wizards dislike us so much?”

Astra laughed as if knowing that I was judging the kids’ inability to move the carriage forward.

“Well, a Wizard could never be a Witch. But a Witch could easily become a Wizard. And they can’t stand that, my love.”

“I thought only those born with mana could do magic and witchcraft.” — I said while chewing my last corn-dog bite.

“Magic comes from chaos, and only those who allow chaos into them will be able to conduct or create magic.” She said, and took a clear magic stone from her leather pouch and showed me.

“Wizards conduct or create magic by restraining it through the use of magic stones.” Astra eyes fixed on the stone, which started to emanate a deep pink light until it was completely pink.

“Witches conduct or create magic by accepting it.” She put the now fully charged magic stone back in her pouch, and then her hands pulled from her chest a string of magic that rested in her palm, a beautiful reddish flame.

“A regular man can learn to be a Wizard, but he could never learn witchcraft. A regular woman can become a Wizard and she might learn Witchcraft — but to really awaken she’d have to let go of all the things she had learned before, even those things she had no idea she knew.”

The flame in her hand went out as if a stream of fresh air had just run through it.

I’ve always loved this. In this world, a Witch and a Wizard are not the opposite genders of one another. You can be a woman and be called a Wizard, but you could never be a man and become a Witch. As I had my memories from my past life, I could kind of grasp the gist of why that was, or why a man could never become a Witch, but it took me a few more years to fully understand the rationalization behind it – I mean, if there even is rationale when it comes to magic.

As we started making our way to the town’s square horns broke the festive music coming from the Circus’ Caravan and the streets cleared — the Royal Palace Armada had arrived in town.

Every year, the Spring Festive only starts when the Royal Palace Armada arrives in the Capital. The same was true for any small festival on the way. Every year the Armada comes from a different side of the Empire, and this year their caravan came from the Southern Territory, where the Empire’s land met the ocean. Due to their proximity to the water, it’s a place of great trade with other countries and is also considered a scary, corrupted and ragged place by many — It always sounded like an exciting place to me.

A couple-dozen soldiers wearing fancy dark blue uniforms spread in an organized fashion through the streets, followed by hundreds of soldiers with light blue uniforms. Leading the Armada was a dark-haired and light brown-skinned boy, maybe a couple of years older than myself. He looked tired and destitute over such a huge and imposing black horse. He must have been riding for a month, it made sense to be overly tired, but it was more than that. It was as if he dreaded being there, in the centre of all that attention. As if he didn’t want to be seen, even though he was part of a beautiful dark contrast in an ocean of light blue uniforms.

It came out of nowhere.

I felt, and so did Mom, as the cold stream of wind blew through us – it was magic. Something was amiss with it, though. It felt dangerous and my eyes got teary. Mother pushed me closer to her.

One of the horses let a loud neighed in pain, and the crowd went silent. A deep and painful child scream followed and a hoovering shadow formed a moon-shaped fog figure in the sky, standing there for a second before storming out, dissipating through the streets. The scream continued, coming from the Royal Palace Armada — one of the princes was attacked. There was blood everywhere and the crowd stormed out of the way as the knights organized a protective circle around the royals.

I assumed Astra would run towards the injured, but she stood her ground, holding me even closer to her body. Something was off.

“It’s witchcraft, the southern witch did this” – One of the Armada soldiers screamed while drawing his longsword. Their light blue uniforms were known all over the Empire as a symbol of minimum decorum, low work ethics and danger. They were the First Order of The Empire and were supposed to work mostly as guards during our day-to-day life, or soldiers during war times. But it was vastly known that they were under the Concubine’s family control.

The Moon Guard had already gathered around the crown prince, their shields up and swords unsheathed. Some of them were Wizards, the ones closer to the crown prince, and had their magical crozier up from the floor.

“Mother, what are they—” I tried asking Astra but was cut off by another light blue soldier.

“It’s the Empress, the crown prince attacked the third prince!” Another First Order guard shouted. More of them drawing their weapons of choice.

From within the light blue flanks emerged a tall pale middle-aged man. His uniform was filled with medals and ornaments, a sword in his hip and a horse wooden whip in his hand. His gaze met my mom’s gaze for a second and sent shivers through my skin. This was General Mescal, the First Order’s Chief.

“Stand down, you fools.” The knights immediately put their swords away and saluted him – all, but the Moon Guard.

The General left a scorn out. The Moon Guard answered to the Crown Prince and him only, they need not to comply to anyone else order.

“I received word your mother fell ill, boy. You should go to her.” General Mescal said, looking past the Guard, to the Crown Prince.

It was no secret that General Mescal hated Crown Prince Augustus. Mescal was the older brother of the royal concubine, the one who gave the emperor the second and third princes – the Crown Prince was nothing but a threat to his nephews and little sister. But to call the future King and Emperor “boy” was defying the royal etiquette and, had he been anyone else, it could have led him to his grave.

The Crown Prince, however, was unconcerned with the title. When he heard about his mother he, who had so far been too shocked to speak, uttered a few words of command to his guards and they stormed out of the city.

I watched as Mescal tried to find my mother’s gaze again in the crowd, but Astra had already pulled me by the hand and we were rushing through the streets. We only stopped once we reached Breadcraft, the bakery we often visited, and where Layla, her friend, lived.

“Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be out in a second.”

I sat on an old wooden bench, right next to the back door of the bakery while my mother went inside. And it was as if a fog started to dissipate from my mind and I could for a little while think straight, like the adult I was in my previous life.

I felt sick to my stomach as if my body had realized something my mind had yet to.

I could sense the danger. It was not in the air like it had been in the square before the fog. It was in my mother’s words urging me to stay put, in the people talking as they pass by me, in the lingering gaze Mescal shot in our direction.

I need to remember. Remember what story this is, what world I’m in. I can feel my mother’s in danger and I can’t lose her. Why was he looking for her? Why did he gaze upon her? What does she fear so much more than the church or the wizards? What can I do? What can I do that will help me remember?

Although I was far from being as powerful as Astra, I managed to pull a faint string of magic from my own heart. It was a light reddish flame, but looking at it always felt comforting. In this world I am not hopeless, in this world, I can do something. In this world, I will not die helplessly under someone else boot.