Page 19 of Blood Red Woes

I have no idea who this Frederick is or how he knows—as far as I’m aware, the only people that know are the people that saw the whole spectacle in the upper district. I didn’t see any regular-looking people there, so I don’t know how this Frederick could know that.

“Uh, yeah. I can.”

“Frederick says you can help us.” Okay, nope. The girl definitely sounds hopeful.

“I don’t know about that. I’m not from here, Prim, and I really just want to go home—”

We’re now in the lower district, where the streets are full of houses jam-packed together and the air smells a little dirtier. Prim halts, nearly causing me to bump into her, and she whirls around on me so fast her hood falls… and she turns those big, wide eyes up at me.

“You have to help us. If you can walk through the shadowstorms then you can make it to one of the castles. You can find the empresses and ask them why they left us.”

These empresses are starting to sound more and more like a religion to these people, a freaking cult, and if there’s one thing I know from watching the world around me back home, it’s that cultists who are willing to believe anything their leaders say are bad. No drinking the Kool-Aid for me, thanks.

“I don’t know about that, kid,” I say.

To say she appears crestfallen after that would be an understatement. Her whole expression falls, and she looks up at me so sadly, like I just kicked her puppy into the mud and told her how worthless she is. My heart hurts, but I want nothing to do with these empresses.

Prim sounds beyond sad when she mutters, “Come on. We’re almost there.” She turns without saying another word, leading on once more, hopes dashed.

I don’t carry after her right away. I stand there, wishing I could help her but knowing I can’t. Rune lights up on my wrist and says, “It sounded like she wanted you to be a hero.”

Prim is about thirty feet ahead already, which is the only reason I whisper back, “I’m not a hero. I’m just me.” Just a regular girl that stumbled into a weird alternate fantasy reality, a girl who now has a wizard stuck to her wrist and his magic flowing through her.

Okay, so maybe not so normal right now.

I hurry after Prim. There is apparently a pond down here, where the houses turn to wood instead of stone, like they were added on after the fact, built because this city is housing more people than it was ever meant to. Prim leads me up a set of wooden stairs, and she’s the first inside the house.

I take my time in walking up those steps, and as I do, I turn my head to the moon in the starry sky. It’s funny; the moon looks the same, craters and all, if a bit closer to the world. It’s beautiful, really.

Inside the shoddily-built wooden house, I hear a man’s voice say, “Thank you, Prim. Tomorrow we’ll go to the markets and you can pick out whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” The girl gasps, and as I walk inside the home, I’m greeted by the sight of Prim squealing and hugging the man who must be Frederick.

Candles are lit and burning, illuminating the inside of the front room with a dull yellow glow. A table sits between me and where Prim and the man stand. I don’t know what I expected, but with the name, I kind of assumed he’d be old.

He’s not.

If this man is Frederick, he’s only five or six years older than me—the only person I’ve seen so far in this stupid city near my age. He wears a gentle smile as he hugs the girl, his jaw laced with short stubble. Brown hair, from what I can see, cutshort enough to stay out of his eyes. He wears a long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the waistband of his pants. The shirt is ridiculously loose. The pants are not.

Speaking as an objective person, he’s kind of cute, in a bookish sort of way.

Prim pulls away from Frederick, and then she looks at me, a wistfulness crossing her face for just a few seconds before she races around the room and leaves. As the wooden door closes, I’m now alone with the man who, apparently, is buying Prim whatever she wants at the markets tomorrow for helping get me out of jail.

Good for her. Using her skills to get shit she wants. I need to be more like her.

Frederick is slow to walk around the table, and his eyes drop as he studies me. He’s eight or so inches taller than me, probably just under six feet tall. “You, Rey, must be wondering why you’re here,” he says, finally meeting my stare once again.

“You mean why a little girl just broke me out of jail? Yeah, I’m a little curious.”

“My name is Frederick,” he tells me. “Frederick LaRoe. I was in the conclave when you tried to plead your case.”

He must mean the auditorium-like area with the four judges, juries, and executioners who kept calling me a demon. Funny, I don’t remember seeing him there, although I couldn’t exactly turn around and study each and every person in the audience.

“They dismissed you, and knowing how they work, they’re still bickering amongst themselves over what to do with you,” he says, shaking his head once. “Wasting time. It is true that you walked through a shadowstorm?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Ever since the scourge’s first appearance in Laconia years ago, there has never been a survivor. Anything the storms touch, it either kills or twists into abominable creatures. The onlybeings immune are ones with the blight.” Frederick circles me, and he stares at me so hard I can feel his eyes on me. “But you are perfectly human, no blight to be seen. I wanted to get a better look at you to be sure.”

---