When Octienne entered the attic, Master Hughes sat with feet propped arrogantly on his desk. If he saw Alyn behind his desired guest, he gave no sign. His expression was set in a grimace, and his eyelids hung heavier than they had hours earlier.

He gestured to a seat in front of him, and Octienne neatly folded into place. Alyn hovered at his back.

"We've had a talk," said Hughes. He nodded to the back of the classroom.

Abraham sprawled, bleary-eyed, in a chair by the wall. He clutched a pocket-sized leather-bound flask. A small, round pair of golden spectacles perched crooked on his nose. The lenses were mostly missing. Jagged glass poked from the inner rims.

"Alcohol, Drew?" Octienne questioned, a stern eye upon his companion. "You gave a malnourished man alcohol?"

Master Hughes waved the scolding away. "If it kills him, then it kills him. It's at his own risk." He rolled his eyes. Even this small action came off lethargic. His gaze landed on Octienne, and his whiskers twitched upwards in mockery. "Fret not," he purred, "he's an experienced alcoholic. Carried his own flask all the way across the state for a refill."

"Oh, who are you to talk?" the alchemist sneered. "Drunk before dinner."

He shook his head and muttered misgivings to the floor. Hughes frowned. Octienne dusted his lap and straightened in his chair.

"I am not drunk," Hughes argued. "I've had a long day, William. I'd really like to be alone as soon as possible. I've had enough of your charity case."

The blacksmith flicked a plastic card at Octienne, who startled at the action. The card dropped to the floor. Master Octienne sighed and gave a small, sympathetic smile to his friend.

"I understand," he said. "I imagine you must be having quite the migraine."

"Yes..."

Octienne bent and swept the card between his fingers. Alyn peered over his shoulder to see.

"That was one of three personal belongings that he carried," Hughes explained. "The other two being the flask and the ridiculous broken glasses. It is his identification card."

There were words on the card, all gibberish to Alyn. They accompanied a small, uniform photograph of a young man in a crisp white collared shirt, a rich green waistcoat, and a black tie. There were two golden pins on his breast pocket. His shoulders were regally held back, his head held high, and his pearly whites begged for attention in a great grin—flashed as though he owned the world. To Alyn, with little experience, he looked as though he truly might. She had never seen a person with such plump, healthy weight on their bones. He appeared powerful and respectable, with the precision and care in his appearance, with not a single hair out of place and not a speck of stubble on his chin. Though the picture only captured from his chest up, everything about him radiated a pride and narcissism that spoke volumes about his character and, she thought, his wealth.

"It's funny, because earlier... your pet was here for this... he claimed 'a few pounds' was all that had saved his life," Hughes mused and raised his silver flask. "More like fifty. Ha. And he claims to be a rebel."

"I...!" Abraham began with a huff.

"That's him?" Alyn squealed.

Octienne pointed to a word on the card. "Captain. What does that mean? Ban-Ken is inland, and last I checked they didn't have an army."

"Oh, it's not a real title. More of a rank, I think."

"It is a real title," Abraham grumbled.

"If he is to stay with you, you can ask him all about it. I really couldn't care less." Hughes dismissed. "Some stupid rank system based on kissing ass. And he claims to be a rebel."

"That re-really isn't fair!"

Hughes hung his head over the back of his chair and pressed the heels of his palms to his brow. "It's all very confusing, and I'd rather... not think about it. More important than the workings inside the Shir manor is the state of things outside. Abraham has estimated that over eighty percent of the population of the city is now in Shir employ, and the remaining is... well, as you would think. They are infected. Dying. There won't be an ounce of decency left within those walls at all in another decade, mark my words. It's a terrible thing."

Octienne bowed his head. He slid the identification card onto Hughes' desk and folded his hands. "Terrible, indeed. Perhaps I have held you back here for too long. Things in the city are worse than I had thought. Only twenty percent left fighting..."

"And worse, Mr. Walters was released from the city in a group with the intent to spread plague."

"Not my intent," Abraham corrected nervously, "My Lord's intent. Lord Pallis."

Hughes sat forward, taking his boots from the desk. "It is disturbing to think that there may have been other groups... Lord Pallis must have lost his sanity. If the plague gets out, that's an epidemic."

"Indeed!" Octienne cried.

"In any case, Ban-Ken can't keep waiting to be rescued. I had hoped that someone better would have taken out the Lord and Lady by now. But... if there is no one else... I do have a very nice sword." He pointed at an intricate green great-sword that hung in a well-kept display case a few yards behind him. It was patterned with geometric lines and circles in a darker shade.

Alyn's jaw slackened and she marveled at it.

Octienne leaned back to murmur, "He made that sword himself. He's very proud of it."

"As I should be. It was extremely trying to smith."

"Wow," said Alyn.

"Yes, yes," Octienne chuckled.

Hughes nodded and rubbed his jaw. His whiskers scratched against his finger-less glove. "Anyways..." he mumbled after a while, "you can take him, now."

Octienne glanced briefly to Abraham. He pursed his lips and reached out to touch Hughes' hand.

"I don't think that you should go alone," he said. He smiled and laid his hand on Alyn's shoulder. "I want you to take Alyn with you."

Both Hughes and Alyn stiffened.

"What?" Alyn asked, ogling her Master.

"What?" Hughes asked. He pulled his hand from Octienne. "The girl?"

"Me?" Alyn asked, eyes wide.

"No, no, no, no. No." Hughes waved his hands and shook his head. He glared at Octienne. "No, I travel alone."

"You could use the company. She'll keep you on the right path. She has a good heart. Wouldn't you like to go, Alyn?"

"Uh..." She had nothing to her name but her lifelong desire to be somebody. But, despite always dreaming of leaving the doldrums of her settlement, she had never dreamt of leaving at the side of a gruff old stranger.

"Could we discuss this privately?" Hughes hissed.

Octienne folded his arms. "There is nothing to discuss." Even so, he gestured to his young journeyman. "Leave us, Alyn. Take Mr. Walters with you, if you could. Help him to my home? If you knock on the door, my wife should be around to answer. Tell her I'll explain when I get there."

Alyn didn't move right away, but was quickly encouraged by the stern eyes of the two masters. She swallowed and nodded.

"Yes, sir."

She tripped to the back of the classroom and Abraham gave her his arm. He hung uselessly from her shoulders when she tried to walk with him. His bare, bony feet pedaled weakly.

"He won't be able to walk, stupid girl," said Hughes.

Alyn frowned and scooped Abraham's legs into her arms. He was an awkward bulk; unbalanced and taller than she. Despite the uncomfortableness, and the smell, the girl trundled out of the room and closed the door behind herself. She heard Hughes almost immediately burst into argument with her master and scurried to the steel stairs.

"Hughes!" crowed the drunken refugee with reverent glee. He clutched fistfuls of her jacket. "I've been saved by Drew Hughes!"

***

July 22nd, 2815

The air was undeniably fresher that day. The dust in the wind smelled like adventure. Alyn had woken before dawn to smell it. After Master Octienne had visited her at the orphanage the previous night, she'd barely been able to catch a wink of sleep and had, in the end, succumbed to her excitement and sprung outdoors to rub her departure in the imaginary 'face' of West Haven.

From the dark before dawn, to the pink light that followed, she roamed the streets. Goodbye to the smelly alley between the orphanage and the grocery store. Goodbye, school. Goodbye, government building, goodbye, Dumbberry's. She beat Master Hughes to the front of the trade college, stopping there only after her third loop around her settlement.

She had nothing with her but her clothes and the meaningless doodads that collected dust in her pockets. She owned nothing else.

She sat on the steps of the entrance and waited for her life to begin.

Master Hughes stepped from the building at half-past five. She looked up at him, and he looked at his watch, as though he hadn't expected her so early.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted.

He nodded to her uncertainly and carried on. She watched him drift past. He slipped his fob watch into a pocket and drank from a tin mug.

As the crisp morning air grew stale, boredom began to settle. The sun hung behind the clouds, high enough in the sky for the invigorating pink light to disperse, and common orange to take its place. The child dropped to her knees and aimlessly doodled in the dirt for entertainment.

The blacksmith reappeared with a companion after what felt like hours for the girl. He came around the corner of a partially collapsed shed, quietly talking to his horse. A covered wagon followed them.

He quieted when he neared Alyn and stopped his horse and wagon before the steps. Alyn stood to meet him. Octienne had told her to be respectful, to be forgiving, to be obedient. Octienne had told her that Hughes was difficult.

"Can I help yous with anything, sir?"

"Your English," he grunted cynically, fingers to his temples. "It's appalling." He shook his head and pressed his empty mug into her hands. He walked on to the entrance of the school. "Follow me."

He used her services in loading his wagon, though there was very little that he trusted her with. His belongings waited in the foyer. He pointed her to a toolbox, a few bars of steel and bronze metals, and a roll of leather. The rest, he took to the wagon himself.

Octienne showed up nearer to seven, just as Hughes secured the last barrel. Alyn sat at the back of the wagon and swung her legs.

"I gave the man a bath before bed, and a fresh set of clothes. I burned his old garb. No more of that reek in the air," Octienne said. He sighed and spread his arms. "Isn't it nice to be able to breathe?"

"Tell me this; was he ungrateful?" Hughes asked. "I would expect him to beg for running water and a proper shower and turn his nose at your selection of clothes."

"Well, he didn't have much complaint left in him," Octienne chuckled. "Oh, but it was so strange. He was like a child! I'd attribute it to the alcohol, but, my, the wonder in his eyes at seeing my home... it was as though he'd never seen anything like it. He asked me where the water came from without pipes and faucets, as though he'd never heard of a well. He asked me if I was in the middle of a renovation because I have so little furniture, and much of my floor is just firmly packed clay." The alchemist laughed. "But, what I found most amusing was that when I offered him a choice of my older clothes, he asked specifically for a tie. As I seldom wear either, I showed him the only ties I own, and he gasped as though I'd committed a crime.

'Paisley! Paisley!' He asked for his old tie back, but it was already roasting in the fireplace. And he damn near cried over it, too."

Master Hughes cracked a grin. "As I said, turned his nose up."

"What d'you mean by running water? What's paisley?" Alyn asked, leaning forward.

Hughes exhaled, and the grin left with his breath. He laid a hand on Octienne's shoulder and turned the man away from Alyn. "He's no rebel, Octienne. As much as you would like to be optimistic, I must advise you to be cautious. He didn't tell me the whole truth for any of the questions that I asked, I'm sure of it. In fact, I can't trust that he told any truth at all. But, even if not a word was true, I have known for a fact that Ban-Ken has been struggling for decades, and that is why I am leaving. Not because of him."

"And there is every reason to be cautious. Of course, I won't deny it."

Hughes gestured to the building. "Let us get the potion."

Octienne nodded and followed his friend. Alyn hopped down from the wagon.

"But, Drew," said Octienne, "whoever Abraham was, nothing will stop me from being kind to him. Furthermore, I strongly believe that if I can blindly trust a man, he will trust me in return."

"Oh, words to live by!" Hughes cheered, holding the door. "If you intend to die young."

Alyn stepped up after them and Hughes waved her back.

"We'll be back shortly, dear girl," Octienne assured. He stepped inside, brows pinched up at Hughes. "You are the bleakest man I have ever known, Drew. The very bleakest."

Alyn sat once again. She pursed her lips. People were starting to come outside. Classes at the schools would begin at eight, within the hour. She whistled idly through her teeth and waved at a teacher as she passed her by.

Paisley? she thought. What was paisley? And how on God's forsaken Earth could water run, when it hadn't any legs? Her shoulders quivered, lifting to her ears, commandeered by a quiet laugh. She found it funny to picture water splish-splashing over dirt on formless legs. But, as was bound to happen to all thoughts, she grew bored. Her eyes drifted to the wagon, and she suddenly began to wonder.

She wondered about the blacksmith, who took only his tools and his anvil to work, liquor and water and coffee to drink, and a box of non-perishables to eat. His sword was in its case at the back, and his flowers on a shelf. A locked chest of mysteries fit in one corner, and she ached to know its contents. Her lock-picking tools weighed suddenly heavier in her jacket pocket, but she stemmed the urge to snoop. A cloth satchel slumped against the chest.

Master Hughes and Master Octienne rejoined her.

"Move," said Hughes.

Octienne helped Alyn down from the wagon, giving Hughes the space he required to slide the potion barrel inside. The blacksmith climbed up and secured it behind a long board that held all of the barrels in place. He clapped his hands together.

"Well," he said. He placed his hands on his hips. "That's that. I suppose we'll be off."

He lowered himself back to the ground and extended his hand to Master Octienne. "Goodbye, William."

"That's all?" Octienne chuckled and took a hold of Hughes' hand. He pulled closer to embrace the giant. He patted the man's back and withdrew to arms-length. "Take care of yourself, Drew. Keep Alyn safe."

"No promises." Hughes gave Octienne an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Do yourself a favor and get out of this dump, eh?"

"No promises."

Hughes grimaced. With a nod, he turned away. He waved a hand at Alyn. "Say your goodbyes, girl." He slunk to the wagon's steering platform with one more wave to the alchemist.

Alyn blinked up at Master Octienne. "It's been a pleasure, sir."

"Oh, don't be so stiff, child." He opened his arms, and she dived in.

She gave him a squeeze. "I won't miss no-one but you, sir."

"I'll miss you, too. The classroom will be so much quieter."

"Hey!" She pulled away. "I ain't that loud."

Octienne laughed and placed a hand on her back. He turned her to the wagon. "Off with you, Alyn. Go and... change the world. Be brilliant. I know you'll make a great difference."

She gave him one more energetic hug and an enthusiastic wave before she boarded the wagon. "Thank you, Master Octienne! Thank you! Goodbye!"

"Farewell, dear girl." The alchemist closed up the back of the wagon, swinging up a long board and securing it so that if there were to be any sudden motions, a little girl would not fly out. He knocked on the wood.

Hughes peered back into the cabin through an open square window. He nodded to Octienne, waved one last time, and slid a wooden cover across the window. Alyn settled on the floor. The wagon lurched and she fell forward with the jolt—but thank goodness, she caught herself on the security board, armpits sore against its edge. Octienne pushed her back up and told her to be careful.

Alyn nodded sheepishly and watched him grow smaller. She watched as dust clouds swallowed the parking lot of West Haven, and him with it. There had she lived, hidden in the middle of nowhere for all of her thirteen years.

No longer. Alyn Smythy was on her way to somewhere.

Anywhere would better than here.