Coffee Stained Pages

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…

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