Merlot's Eyes

Chapter One

Four years later...

"Away with you!" I shouted to the ravens near the racks of steaming bread. I had just pulled two pans of delicious oklouven crusts from the ovens, setting them on my windowsill to cool in the harsh winter weather. I truly despised the snow and coldness, yet the warmth of my bakery bestowed pleasure onto me and anyone who may stumble in from Korath's bustling streets. Whether they were in for hot tea or simply the warmth, I was there to accommodate them. The bakery was known throughout Korath Kingdom for its scrumptious lemon-cheese pasties and its signature sage loaf. Finally, my life felt like it had gotten on track. Believing or not, I praised the daemons for this new chance of living—as I did nearly every day. Not everyone got such mercy from a Silver Sentinel of Safety and they would be a fool to take it for granted. Since the incident with Uncle Azzaro, I had never stepped foot in Calanthe, the third of the Threefold Kingdoms. My name was not tainted in the remaining two lands. And I would be royally screwed if I did something to get me Banished from Korath or Iakkethis. I would have to leave the continent or take my chances in Köd Kunta... yet I would be nothing but dog meat to the exalted and damned beings lurking there. I promised myself I would do better—that I would make it in this strict world. And so far, I have.
     "Merlot!" A cloaked woman rushed into the bakery, her headscarf askew and her old cheeks flushed crimson. "I could smell your crusts miles away and had to get to them before the other sewer rats could," she continued as she hung her snow-glittered cloak on the wooden pegs provided.
     I chuckled. "Good Mrs. Mosag; always the first to show once I take them out of the oven." I gave the old lady a heartening smile and went to remove the oklouven crusts from the sill. "How many shall I bag for you? Remember to leave enough for the hungry soldiers and Sentinels that pass through."
     "Those big boys and brave ladies need to eat, too, yes," Mrs. Mosag giggled, using a cane of twisted maplewood to point at the crusts. "I'll take three... two for me and of course one for Swatch."
     Those kind of moments were the ones that made me forget my past—my traumas and all those who have ever hurt me: getting an old lady and her mangy cat hot buns during wintertime. I'd never known peace before, but I believed this was it.
     "Here you are," I said, handing Mrs. Mosag the leather satchel with the tepid crusts inside. "You tell that scruffy Swatch hello for me, okay?"
     Mrs. Mosag nodded and waddled to the door, grabbing her auburn cloak and fixing it tightly around her. "Farewell until the next batch, sisar!" she called to me. My heart was jumping around in my chest, my smile stuck on my face. Nothing made me happier than helping people and making others joyous. Skipping over to the window and ducking my head out before closing it, I checked the sun. The Gold Sentinels of Moth should be coming from their work in the fields. I wasn't one to gossip about the town's ongoings, but rumor had it that Calanthe was waging war with the Night Realm. Which to me, sounded preposterous. Battles have been waged and lost with Köd Kunta for many generations. Even before the Threefold existed. The realms entities have been alive longer than any human being on the earth. They were haunted and immortal and harnessed magics and necromancy that the Threefold would not recognize. Still, the thought of it made me shiver. Köd Kunta kept to themselves; they never set foot in anyone else's lands. Yet if a lost soul wanders onto theirs, that soul is owned by them and they will do what they wish without penalization. If Calanthe dare bite the toes of the gods they frown upon, there is a large probability of the Threefold becoming involved with that war. I prayed to the Threefold daemons it would not happen, and if and when it did, I would be long dead.
Creak. I turned to see the bakery door open and over fifteen Gold Sentinels of Moth push their way in, forming a long line that stretched around the single room. That was my busiest time of the day and I was well prepared for it. But when I went behind the counter to start taking requests, I saw a flash of silver and a spark of emerald amidst the sea of gold and red. Silver Sentinels of Safety and Verdant Sentinels of Ataraxia were mixed in, grim looks on their honed faces, yet their eyes were hollow and desolate, as if in a state of shock.
     If Sentinels from both Korath, Calanthe and Iakkethis were gathered... that must have meant something was wrong with either the Threefold or with another harboring kingdom. Or realm. Gah, stop! I told myself, pasting a precious grin on my face as I stood and handed the Sentinels their orders and pocketing the hekte that was given in return. I mustn't worry about the duties of the Sentinels nor the Threefold. Deep down, I wasn't a true believer. I didn't believe in anything. Not even the dark numas that the Night Realm worship. For too long was I left stranded and alone, wallowing in my own blood and suffering, and no amount of praying or venerating brought me the peace and solitude I have today. I'd walked out of the phoenix's den alive thanks to my own hands... and the pity of that Silver Sentinel.
     "...We're fucked if they don't make things right."
     "Leave it to the lower class to mess up our way of life."
     "Just because they're at the tip doesn't mean they're above us."
     I strained my ear to listen to the rabble of the Sentinels.
     "Captain, you know that if we engage in this call to battle with the shadowland... we won't make it out. King Carmen should know this!"
     "Steady thyself, soldier. It is not up to us to question the king's decisions—foolhardy or not. All we can do is go on standby and wait and prepare. The Monarchs will decide by the end of this moon. Ah... get me one of those honey and bruburry clusters, like a good man, would you? Gods, I get such an erection when I picture this woman's cooking—" Immediately, I closed my ears to the Sentinel's conversation and focused on my hands as I worked.
     At last, the bakery was empty. Yet my mind wasn't. As I cleaned and swept and prepared to close until the new week, the agglomeration of words stayed in my head, repeating themselves, trying to make sense of it all. Was it true? Was this perfectly organized continent finally going to crack and fall apart? Just like all of the other lands before its time? Where will I be? Where will my bakery be? Stop, I said to my brain, shaking my head as if the thoughts and conclusions could fall from my ears. Instead, I focused on scraping oil and grease off of my stoneware ovens before finally heading upstairs. The bakery doubled as my own home. A year of doing chores for courtyard gardener's and even giving aid to a weaponry blacksmith brought me enough hekte to buy the property—including the hekte I'd saved from my years dancing for drunk sailors and workers.
     It wasn't a large space but it was more than enough for me. Raised in a small area with naught a bed for myself, my bakery was the same as a castle. Yet more rustic-looking. And I loved every square inch of it. Hand-quilted comforters were strewn about on the rough, wooden floor, a small table with a single chair in the corner. In the other corner laid a bed that doubled as a drawer for my clothes and personal belongings, even though I didn't have much. Flopping down on the feather-stuffed pillow and mattress, I exhaled loudly and closed my eyes. There was nothing special to see behind my lids—simply a plain of black and grey with the sudden explosion of purple and yellow, green swindling in on a carousel of golden strings. Tranquility was a luxury I'd never owned before, but now... now I had all the silence in the world. At least for now... I sat up.
     "What is with yourself today, Mer?" I asked myself aloud, shaking my head. Running my hands through my raven-black hair, I sighed. Worrying would do me no good. Does worrying truly do anyone good? To me, it felt like each minute spent in worry was a handful of minutes scraped off the lifespan. Though I didn't strongly believe in the cause, I knew the Threefold Kingdoms were strong—the Threefold daemons themselves even stronger. Perhaps this was a calling to me to start worshiping them and attending the daily services held at Lumière Monastery. Tomorrow was the Resting Day—a day of peace and break from work, toil and concern. Families and singles around the Threefold Kingdoms would enter the grand Monasteries and sing and bow and dance for the daemons, offering up sacrifices of hekte and batches of homemade foods and pastries. I'd seen it decreed on the outside of the monastery itself that peace and calmness was guaranteed to all who paid extolment there. All right. My mind was made up. On the morrow, I would visit the Lumière Monastery with a basket of pork and bean buns to offer to the daemons. Hopefully after, my heart would cease hammering and my consciousness would feel at ease.
     After brushing out my hair with a horsehair comb and changing into my nightgown, I settled into my bed and crossed my hands over my bosom, staring at the pane of glass through my roof that allowed me to gaze at the myriad of stars above me. For some reason, the night sky always brought me a sense of comfort... a sense of longing. As if there was someone just like me, alone and staring at the stars for companionship through the nightly hours. Through the tough times I'd went through as a child, the sky had never betrayed me. The moon had stayed the same, despite all its phases. The legion of stars glittering above me made me start to lull into a deep sleep, and I let myself. No longer was I afraid to close my eyes and leave myself vulnerable. I was safe—I was away from my past. People who had hurt me were dead and gone. Crime wasn't a thing that came easily or went quietly in the Threefold Kingdoms, so the only true thing I had to worry about was sleeping in past the start of the services at the money—for my life.
     Relaxing, I decided to take that chance.