Coffee Stained Pages. Volume 1

Day 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 day. 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 Kantinian language.

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

Primish 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 and 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 a language and had begun to study them all at once. She began to confuse them, unconsciously switching from one to the other, causing another barrage of ridicule. Ami was already considered quite strange.

…I had to make some efforts to end up speaking only Kantinian…

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 according to her mother's notes. Which she was generally forbidden to approach.

But once again her persistence paid off. Then another difficulty arose. There was nowhere and no one to practise on.

For obvious reasons, aliens rarely appeared in Kantine, which was unfriendly to neighbouring witch towns. 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 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.

“Yes. It doesn't hurt to dream… It hurts 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 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 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…

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

Well… Let’s think about something positive and pleasant. About food. Food for a stomach, not just food for thoughts.

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, houses that could hardly be mistaken for dwellings, a fairy-tale city that could already boast of magnificent views beyond its borders, buried inside it in 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… 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 inner 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 behave badly. When she grew up, she did not stop behaving like that. 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, crawling along it 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 days, 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. Just like that.

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 decomposes, but not before she's cold and still. She's empty inside. Everyone's gone.

What's left will serve another and go where it's sent. Nothing matters. If it doesn't get what it wants, why go on? What's the point?

Silence. Total surrender. Empty body, empty mind. No more ideas; no one to control. No need to. It has not led to good results.

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, she could have stayed in one of the mainland cities as a student or a service woman. She wouldn't even have to escape her hometown. Her neighbours and relatives would send her away, providing supplies additionally.

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 was like an endless holiday. You were placed outside the Kantine and there was no question – stay in the familiar warmth of your swamp or get out. There is only a choice – where to go next.

Most chose Prime to develop their skills and find a new place in their suddenly broadened horizons.

Exile would at least be an unequivocal, direct and explicit rejection. And not that awkward case when nobody here is interested in your hopes and wishes, but nobody is going to let you go. Because you immediately find out that your relatives and homeland desperately need you. For some reason. You might be useful in different weird ways. For example, to look better against your background.

Exiled ones became the very witches, whose services in critical cases, even kantinians themselves were not afraid to use, forgetting about dislike and their own beliefs. The dogmatic beliefs that hold the kantinians together. The ‘unshakable’ traditions that were the bedrock of family and society.

Yeah. Comfort is much more important.

But it turns out that not everything is as optimistic and joyful out there as it first seemed.

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 wanted anywhere. And as an ignoramus, you will soon find yourself back in the Kantine.

Again and again.

There is enough work for everyone. Agrarian Kantine has plenty of jobs, as one of the largest city-states. And, of course, the most boring.

According to Ami.

Of course, there are other options. Zeth, Lim and… just a deep Forest. Here, without society as the main source of constant stress, she feels much calmer.

She feels kind of loved and supported here. Finally. Strange things she never knew and barely can feel and name.

All these jumps, antics and attempts to escape or settle down now look simply ridiculous.

She knows it. 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. Maybe except this Forest. Because it is how it is. She rejects herself. What to say about other people? They just follow.

So it is fine. It is fine here, and it will be the same everywhere.

One could come to terms with all this. At least something worked out. At least she has a home. Everyone is comfortable. Her relatives have the workforce, and Ami has some stability.

In the sense, she is not disgracing herself more than usual, in new and unfamiliar ways. She is still a kantinian and also values comfort and safety. More than abstract things.

She almost convinced herself, but suddenly one big hairy BUT appeared on the horizon.

This damned medium-urgent appointment to Omill.

How 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 in it. It's pure mockery.”

But… Don’t be so bitter. It’s a small mockery. 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…

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

… May it all fly away with gnats and swampers…

An amazing huge lake of delicious life-giving water under the mountain near Omill inevitably made this city the capital of drinks and a place of pilgri for all those who care and adore. Mainly people came here for the coffee.

… And let it all fall into the swamps…

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.

… Eat all the six-mouthed monsters…

Admiring the dark-skinned, smiling, joyless and slightly arrogant selvas, the vast majority of whom were also very good-looking, and it’s an additional pleasure. And, as if this were not enough, they sing and dance beautifully, weave fabrics with mesmerizing patterns and… all of them are witches.

Isn't this a reason for envy? Definitely it is.

These witch people do not live in Kantine, and Ami still remembers how surprised and enchanted she was the first time she met a living selva. It was rude to stare like that, but the pictures in the textbooks did not give any idea of what the selvas were really like.

It's… Like the difference between a map and a landscape. It’s easy to stare in admiration here, losing control of yourself and your manners.

So, as it seems, despite the violent internal protest and seething hatred, there were always many more 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. It was worth a lot. It was even possible to simply go to Omill under this pretext and return again to rot here.

At least minus once the stupid songs, for the planned forced fun, accelerated by ale, unfunny jokes and inappropriate and unpleasant signs of attention, stupendous dances and literally sickening round dances!

… What could be better for the psyche than the absence of odes to one’s own unwanted fertility.

‘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.

Alrighty, but still, in order to try to avoid one day of fertility, one could agree to almost anything. Also because these days made Ami’s mother nervous and even more withdrawn.

But this did not bring them together with their daughter. Yvette simply locked herself in her room with a supply of food, tea, and a hygiene bucket. And no amount of screaming, threats, or persuasion could lure her out of there.

However, persuasion-threats-screams were another holiday tradition, repeated from cycle to cycle, as stable as the very presence of a swamp holiday. Everyone loved this swamp theatre.

Even the dialogues have not changed over time. Immortal recognized classic. Nobody 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 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 manure container and threatened to douse the contents of this bucket on anyone who interfered with self-isolation.

Ami winced.

Every cycle of her life she felt as if she had already been watered from this same bucket. Desire to quickly tear herself away from home and the glorious traditions, ancestral memory and great city was almost invincible. And to find herself as far as possible from the concentration of those things.

From the comfort of home. From the family bonds. From the mother with this permanent verbal and non-verbal hygiene bucket.

Her behaviour was understandable. It was probably painful for the older failed tramp to see her ridiculous reflection. No matter how hard she tried to forget who she was before, she had to look. She had to look at this. Her past mistake.

Mistakes, in fact, Amelia was one of three… mistakes. She made them systematically. For what’s sake? One never knows.

Maybe she wanted to be accepted here. But she didn’t succeed either.

She wanted her daughters to be respectable plant workers and respected mistresses of the fields, she had never been herself. The failed family.

Though… not everyone. Ami’s sisters were much more promising individuals. They fit well here. Aunt Tata took care to raise strong in spirit and body peasant women and hard workers. But for some reason this not-magic didn't work with Ami.

Can’t say she 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 off” as little as possible and to catch the eye of her family, disappearing into thin air at work or, if she was really lucky, on a business trip, and at her favourite secluded edge.

Under this delightful starry sky, among the trees and on the moss-smelling earth. Isn’t it a wonder.

Not to pretend ‘normal’ anymore. Not trying to hide or to please someone. This is probably only possible in communication with nature.

Everything is easy. Just wander aimlessly and sing along with the voices in your head. The forest did not demand you to change, to behave, to be ‘as you should be’ so that “they wouldn’t be ashamed in front of the neighbours”, “make an effort”, “stop being a bungler”.

The just forest smelled wonderful and looked wonderful. May it always be as easy as that? They must move to a Forest some day. Forest has food and answers to almost everything. Perhaps she’ll move here after all. None of the cities like her.

Maybe she 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.

She could even go looking for elves on her way. She’s never seen them ever in her life, but would really like to.

They say elves rush past here on their unknown business.

… Well. Coming back to now. The 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 Prime, may it all be overgrown with grit!..

… 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…

Wait. What if someone else is sent to Omill instead of Ami? 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 for Ami.

It’s a daily basis here and there that no one bothers to tell you about it, but everyone is sincerely perplexed when you act differently. It’s a daily basis of you saying and doing something weird. It’s a daily basis you suddenly become a tiresome troublemaker, when you didn’t mean it and have no clue what part of your speech or deeds is a trigger. If she knew, maybe if not avoid, but she could use it somehow. But even asking and analysing didn’t help. She just didn’t see something common between the cases.

It’s a strange world, and 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 her colleagues that they were relieved that it almost happened. In this situation, Ami was the invincible Stella the Clayhand. With whom no one fights.

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.

Wait? Really?

Perhaps it’s better this way, she doesn't want to come home. Barely only managed to calm down, too weak to repel the attacks of her nosy loving family.

I didn’t want to listen again to the story about the complication with the repair due to the presence of her developed egoism and the lack of her not particularly skilful hands, la-di-da. The statement of the fact that she is hiding at work, and also, if she is sent somewhere again, then most likely she will return to the beginning of a new stage of construction and so on, and so on. We all know that diligent passive-aggressively shirking is the best way to go. What did they expect from a careless mistress?

And she was totally satisfied with the look and size of the house and her room; expanding the space and increasing their family was also not part of her plans and would even be an extremely undesirable event for many reasons. The house itself was strong, stood strong and only needed cosmetic repairs.

There are much more interesting things in this life. So, whoever requires it, let them do this useless work.

And Amelia had to wait until everyone fell asleep. Good thing kantinians went to bed traditionally early, because in the morning most had a new day of work in the fields and gathering in the forest.

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 came up with this routine that was so deadly for the body.

Well. It’s not the first time she has anxious insomnia. And not the last one.

She will survive. Like she did before. Until she wouldn’t. Then she wouldn't. Why try to fight the inevitable?

My eternally alert anxious mind, pray tell me what else you have in store? Let’s pour it out.

… 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 definitely need this useless one here.

Or the Omillians will finally understand that working with an ignoramus is of no interest to them.

And?

…

… That’s all you can say? I waited for more.

Great. Come what may. Everything is equally pointless.

Amelia smirked vindictively at invisible Fate, demonstrating with her whole appearance that nothing would be able to disappoint her anymore. She would like to hope this is undoubtedly the bottom. And there’s nowhere further to fall.

Okay, it was simply ineffective and useless to panic and freak herself out. Have to keep her mind and hands busy. We can start packing things. What could be an equally sweetly soothing continuation. It feels like an escape. And this is just what we require. 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 quickly dashed into her room, hastily closing the door behind her.

The apathy that had become habitual was replaced by a somewhat malicious and gambling enthusiasm.

Let's go! Now we're talking.

About the feeling of escaping. Without hopes or plans. They all came out. For the very last time. They died with the previous version of Ami. And now… let's pack a bag full of our favourite things.

The unfortunate plant-giver jumped up a bit energetically and looked around the room matter-of-factly.

Unconsciously, she also began to hum softly. Interesting. She didn't make it anywhere out of the Forest for a long time. She doesn't sing in captivity.

But now freedom was close and seemed almost tangible, as if it could be reached at any moment… And it was not the first time. Amelia quickly shook off the storm cloud of depression that was creeping back into her soul.

Don't get distracted. What to take and what to leave?

The dictionary is definitely going in the bag first! The avid bookworm turned the dictionary respectfully in her hands, 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. It is not clear where she got the copy, but you will not find a better one in the Kantine!

Similar literature found in the local Archives was almost completely useless. It is difficult to say why this was so, and it's really hard to say what was more there – mistakes or irrelevant topics.

But this rare, valuable copy will come in handy.

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.

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 flee quickly from 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.

OK. Who's next?

Favourite shoes and clothes, of course. The first friends of all travellers. Comfortable, practical, even if they have holes in them and are stitched and glued over and over again wherever 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. I don't think we'll be staying long.

But I have the feeling we're missing something important.

Rest stops! And then… We need food… Food! The most important and enjoyable part of any event! This walk is no exception.

Rarely would a Kantinian disagree, 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. 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 campaign. 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 cold 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… Oh 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… Let's go 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 and compensation for the bitterness of another fruitless movement to crawl out of our hole. Good, good.

What else?

Somewhere at the bottom of this mess of a table is our typical travel checklist. Somewhere in the chaos of her life. Too tired to look for it.

Ami is so organised. Internal chaos often turns into external mess, there is nothing you can do about it.

But… she sees a writing tissue, stick and and some juice sticking out of the habitual tabletop clusterflip!

Great. A cheerful company of writing instruments and materials is always welcome. Especially if your own memory isn't eager to keep you company.

Amelia quickly walked back to the table and pulled out several pieces from a stack of cut-up writing cloth. And of course what's on the top is immediately scattered on the floor.

Shhh. No noise, no noise.

Ami picked up the paper cutter that had gotten out of hand and playfully shook her finger at it. The fugitive's gaze, as she gathered her things, stopped on the scraps of writing cloth, already covered with drawings, half hidden under the table.

Pieces of a unique map of the Continent made by mother. Her own work, torn and trampled by her own hands…

How symbolic.

The eternal victim of her own curiosity didn't even want to recall the very episode, so she 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. If Ivette's too weak to finish her own job.

Beyond the fertility-obsessed Kantine lie the lands of Normality. And there, with the proper sources of information, she could surely find the materials to restore this treasure.

To reunite these disparate pieces of the former mother's personality. Or maybe, joking aside, we'll be able to add something to it.

Not in a negative way. Maybe Ami the Misfortune will still fulfil her mother's wishes and justify 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 we're going to be employees 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's not as difficult to get access to as, say, the Central Prime Archives. In theory.

If… If she stays in Omill and is not sent back. If it is sent to Omill at all.

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 ready. 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 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 other lowlifes, 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.

…But we're being unproductive again…

It's better not to think about it now. It's just a story. The ridiculous story of a stupid life. Surely there are thoughts in her head that interest her.

Not to mention weird Ami. Ones can be rejected even when they are outstanding persons, which the VST agents definitely are. Or, maybe even, because of being eminent.

Remember that strange case when the Department compromised its principles by asking the VST to send no less than one of their witch agents.

Big deal, you know.

But 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 how much "assistance" the "metropolitan upstart" received in the Kantine. 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.

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 sympathised with a stranger.

It's a pity that the investigation of this agent 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 Archive… but very deep.

The new employee, Ami, was simply asked to tidy up the station and wipe the shelves in the official archives in the absence of the secretary. He knew what the real value of these documents was, which were temporarily stored away from the other documents… She would have examined them more closely.

Such a fascinating, mysterious puzzle in the middle of the flat field of boring Kantine everyday life of 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 one. Second, secrets and fortune will not wait forever. Either you do 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 of prying 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.

Although she couldn't shake the thought that she could somehow help a stranger 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. And, 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 to the Mainland at least occasionally. The job suited the inquisitive mind of the active Amelia, Ami loved her job.

This would be a complete breakdown. Or is there a reason to take it and live in the forest? Hm. Perhaps.

However, due to the specifics of the job, curiosity and initiative were, frankly, never particularly encouraged in her ranks. Which is true for their city in general.

"This is how they lived before us, this is how we will live".

A step in any direction promises a citywide clusterflip.

Somehow, they have deliberately forgotten that it was curiosity and 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”, which are declared to be the basics 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 everyone, 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 personally, but for some reason she felt that potentially such acquaintances might make her life more interesting.

However, she did not try to meet anyone during her business trips to neighbouring towns. 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 sadly, put aside the things she had been clutching thoughtfully in her hands, and critically examined her more than bulging bags, which had been collected absent-mindedly in a total volume comparable to her own size.

Almost everything she need is here. But will it be possible to lift all these sacks? 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.

… 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.

Then, even if not for long, you will definitely go somewhere from here. It doesn't matter where, if there are no specific plans.

They were before they were smashed to pieces, now 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 the daily thoughts in her head.

One thing was annoying. The service woman couldn't sleep properly again. Sunrise is coming soon. And another dreary day.

Challenge accepted. Let it try to surprise her.