I figured out at an early age that most tales my mother told had the sole purpose of frightening children into good behavior. My father, on the other hand, had a wicked sense of humor about it. One night, my mother had told me the story of Golgmarsh for the hundredth time and tucked me into bed. My father tiptoed into my room. He leaned over my pillow and whispered in my ear, “Zaira, giants are real. I’ve seen them.” I hid under the bed that night eight years ago, and I wished I could do the same now. The earth rattled, rocking the field behind my farm. Tree branches from the orchard just past the lane leading to my house snapped. The world rumbled. Solid ground shifted and gave way. Mr. Gentry’s thresher, billowing steam from its engine, swayed against the backdrop of the summer sun. I didn’t need a children’s tale of giants to scare me.
My legs wobbled, and I lost my balance. The tomato plant to my side became the first casualty. Even though I considered myself to be quite lean, my entire weight atop the poor plant squished it and ruined its potential crop. Moisture trickled through my clothes. I glanced at my coveralls. They were sure to stain. On the bright side, I always wanted red clothing, though I always expected it to be in the form of an elegant crimson dress, something I could wear to a ball in Rislandia City. Something flowing and less sticky. I pushed myself up and wiped my dirty hands on my coveralls. I didn’t have time for these frivolous thoughts of clothes and balls. My life on the farm prevented those fantasies from ever becoming a reality. I needed to make sure my barn and house took no damage. I grimaced at the lack of productive harvesting I’d done today. Living alone allowed me little leeway in time. My neighbors and I went to market in the village once a week with our crops and goods. This week, I wouldn’t have much to sell. Ever since my father disappeared two years ago, I’d done my best to provide for myself. It wasn’t that big of a difference from when he was around, except that I had less coin than I ever did before. He’d often disappear for months, but would bring back spoils from his latest adventure. He showered my mother and me in exotic gifts, from the stationary ferromagnetic high-frequency howler, which helped scare off wolves from the farm, to beautiful porcelain dolls. Before he disappeared for good, I’d been blessed with far more than most farm girls could want, at least in a material sense. Selling off his spoils lasted me for a while, but I needed to find a way to increase my crop yield, and fast. Today didn’t help matters at all. Darkness covered my field as a long shadow spread across the land. I shielded my eyes from the sun and peered at the sky. A large shadow in the shape of a ship blocked a portion of the sun. It moved with tremendous speed. Giant brass pipes protruded from its hull, brightly reflecting as it passed. The sight sent shivers down my spine. The last time I’d seen a ship in the sky, my father had come home to tell me he’d be there for me more often. He’d shut everyone out since my mother had died, and then he had spent a year sorting out his life. That was three years ago. He’d left and hadn’t returned since. This airship didn’t set down in the large field by Plainsroad Village’s main street as my father had done so many times before. It flew at tremendous speed and shrank into a small dot in the sky before finally disappearing. As startling as it was to see that airship, I had more immediate problems. My house rumbled again. I scrambled to my feet, momentarily forgetting my own inconveniences, and bolted toward my abode. The quake had knocked me over, and I hoped my poor country home wouldn’t suffer a similar fate. Shutters hung at odd angles. The screws stripped from the hinges several months ago, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to fix them. My gutters overflowed with leaves, and the wood shingles of my roof desperately needed replacing. I’d have to find a way to fix those before the rainy season set in. I rushed toward the house, ignoring the tall weeds growing at the entrance along with its general state of disrepair. With all the farming work I had to do, I had to make hard choices when it came to day-to-day chores. My poor home suffered because of that. “Toby!” I screamed as I ran through my front door, the worst of scenarios playing out in my mind. I imagined the kitchen in flames and poor Toby whimpering and trapped beneath some beam as he slowly suffocated to death. By Malaky, my thoughts were morbid. Part of the roof had collapsed over the table in my kitchen, which I could see from the entryway. My home consisted of a large open room that spanned into the kitchen, with my bedroom to one side and my parents’ former room to the other. Bright sunlight trickled over the kitchen where the portion of the roof had given way. Dust and debris covered my now-tilted kitchen table, one of its three legs having snapped under the weight of the roof material. A whimpering squeak came from under the table. I rushed over, pushing aside fragments of plates, baskets, and the remains of a flower arrangement. “Oh, Toby!” I said, holding my breath in hopes he hadn’t been crushed. My ferret poked his head up from under a fruit basket, staring at me like I was crazy. He held a half-eaten apple between his front paws, but lost his grip on it when he stumbled on the tile floor in excitement. His apple rolled toward my feet. Toby scampered and clawed up my pant leg, moving with fervor around my body. His paws tickled me with each step. When he reached my shoulder, he nudged me lovingly with his nose. “I’m so glad you’re alive, Toby. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said, leaning my face toward him. His whiskers slid across my cheek. He sprawled over my shoulder to make himself comfortable. Toby’s frantic chittering brought me relief. It scared some of the other children in Plainsroad Village the first time they heard him, but I’d likened his noises to their kittens purring. I surveyed the damage. Broken dishware covered my counter and floors. My lamp had fallen over and, as I’d seen before, the table and the roof were in a shambles. All in all, I was lucky, considering how violently the earthquake had rocked my old house and the surrounding area. I leaned against one of my cupboards. The roof patching could take me the better part of the day, which would set me further behind for the market. How many coppers did I have left? I didn’t relish thinking about how I’d pay for more supplies in the coming days. More dust and debris fell from the roof, forming a cloud of dirt in my kitchen. I coughed and sneezed. Toby buried his head in my thick, curly hair. His wet nose pressed against the nape of my neck. “Stop that!” I said, pushing his head back. He hissed at me in reply. Both of us jumped when someone knocked at the door. “Anyone in there?” a muffled but distinctly male voice called. I turned to see my door wide open. James Gentry stood in the doorway. He wore his farming coveralls, similar to mine, but his clothes hung loosely on his body, giving him an air of confidence and impassiveness. With his chin up and an elbow leaning against my doorframe, he exuded a masculine quality that few of the other boys in town could match. His curling bangs fell into his face as they had so many times before. I kept telling him he should cut his hair, but I think he enjoyed brushing the strands from his face. James and I were best friends from the moment my parents settled outside of Plainsroad Village. We both had a farming life. We also had the privilege of being only children. So many others had siblings, but we had to grow up on our own. That led to him treating me like a sister over the years. But, for some odd reason, the way he stood in the doorway today made my hands tingle. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to make of that sensation. Toby scurried around to reclaim his place inside my hair. He poked his little nose out from beside my ear and sniffed around, bringing me out of my reverie. “Hey, James.” I moved to open my large pantry door and grab my broom and dustpan. “Is everything all right? That was one crazy earthquake. I saw your roof caving in from my house,” James said, surveying my kitchen. “Looks worse from outside. This shouldn’t be too much trouble for you to clean up.” “Not even going to ask me if I want help? How chivalrous.” Teasing James came all too easy sometimes. I knew very well he dreamed of becoming a Knight of the Crystal Spire in the capital. Ribbing him about chivalry was the best way to get him to help me out. James lifted the fallen side of the table off the floor. He studied the broken leg. “No, I know you better than to offer help. Last time Da made me ask if you wanted me to mend your broken fence, you nearly ran me out the county. ‘Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t do the hard work myself!’” He mimicked my voice. “That was different. Besides, it’s a lesson you needed learning.” I wagged my broom at him. It amazed me how many people thought I couldn’t handle myself because I only had sixteen years to my existence. How many of them had lived on their own for more than two years and managed a farm? Toby chirped from his perch atop me. Sometimes it seemed as if he could hear my thoughts. James and I spent the next couple hours cleaning the rest of the place. As much as my words sounded strong, his being there comforted me. I spun the round tabletop out of the way of the other debris. James brought in a shovel to clear most of the roofing material. Toby did his best not to get stepped on, though we tripped over him a couple of times over the course of the afternoon. The table leg had split off, but without much damage to it, and I nailed it back together while James held it in place. When the kitchen was tidy, we wiped our respective brows and looked up through the caved-in roof to the plain blue sky above our heads. “You know, when the earthquake hit, I thought of this story my mother used to tell me about giants,” I said, carrying a bucket of water into the kitchen for mopping. “The one about the Golgmarsh Ocean?” James asked, hovering over my countertop as if he were looking for a snack. “That one. You think there’s anything to it?” “Naw, I’ve heard enough stories about giants and faeries and hobgoblins growing up. We all have. The most interesting things I ever see in the night are owls. They have it out for me, I swear, hooting for hours and making sure I don’t sleep.” I laughed. “Yeah, but we’re just in Plainsroad Village. There’s a whole world out there we haven’t seen.” “Your father went and saw that world.” James bit his lip. His eyes widened as if he realized he’d said something inappropriate. We fell silent, standing there in the kitchen. I squeezed the handle of my mop. James cared about me, he really did, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get under my skin. “It’s okay, James. I don’t want to forget my father. It just reminds me I’m alone, is all.” James squeezed my shoulder and brought me into a big hug. “I’m sorry, Zair-bear. I miss your parents too, but you’re not alone.” His voice had a low, serious tone. “You have me.” “Can you stop calling me by that idiotic pet name?” I said, unsure of how else to respond. The reminder of my parents’ untimely demise had struck me to my core. I bit my lip to make sure I wouldn’t cry. By Malaky, James made it hard when he was so right. I nodded instead. “Thank you, James.” “And you have my parents too, you know. It’s like you’re my sister in a lot of ways,” James said, pulling back. His voice reverted to his usual cheerful, energetic tone. Silence descended upon the room again. Why did him calling me sister sting so much? What would my father have said in situations like this? He had a way with people that few others could manage. James cocked his head toward the hole in my roof. “Probably should patch that before nightfall. It won’t look pretty finishing up that quick, but at least it’ll do what a roof’s s’posed to.” “Thank you, James. For all your help. I mean it.” He locked eyes with me and smiled. Then a knock came at the door. “Might be Da, wondering where I’m at,” James said. “You didn’t tell him you were coming here?” I asked. James did little without his father’s approval. My eyes widened. “What about your house? Shouldn’t you be helping there?” “Our house is fine. I was inside when the quake hit.” James waved off my concern and took hold of the doorknob. He swung the door open, and immediately stumbled backwards. “Who are you?” At the door stood an older gentleman and a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. The man stood much taller than either James or me, lanky in his build, with a gaunt face and a small divot in his chin. Despite it being the height of summer, he wore a black suit with a jacket that had its lapels curling outward, and a burgundy vest beneath that with clockwork designs and brass buttons. His pants matched his coat, and his white shirt ruffled at the sleeves, protruding from his pockets where he’d stuck his hands. His musky cologne with a hint of cinnamon filled the air. I held back the urge to plug my nose from the distasteful scent. No rural farmer would dress or smell like that. He had to have been from a real city. His companion wore a military uniform, laced boots up to her knees, with black pants and a black jacket that had purple stripes across the front. She had a leather holster, which held a sword on one side and a pistol on the other. A metal pin with angel wings and the Crown of Malaky atop it adorned her right breast pocket. Her face was cool, with dark, tanned skin and pale blue eyes. Her similarly dark hair fell just below her ears, covered by a military cap, which also bore a gold pendant with the angel wings and Crown of Malaky. They both struck me as fancier than I would ever expect of a visitor in my home. I dropped my mop, and the handle clanked on the floor. “Can I help you?” I asked. A lump grew in my throat. If they had intended on intimidating me, they were certainly succeeding. “I’m here to speak with…” Before the suited man could finish his sentence, his companion produced a scroll. The lanky man brandished an eye piece, which he squeezed under his right eyebrow, and glanced at it. With a tsk, he shook his head. “I don’t need that, I know very well to whom I wish to speak.” He turned his attention back to me. “Miss Zaira von Monocle.” “That would be me.” I crossed my arms. Toby scampered away to my room. I suspected the cologne disturbed him. “What would someone like you want with her?” James asked, star struck. He held a wide-eyed stare upon the woman, then blinked. “No offense, Zair-bear.” It took everything in me not to roll my eyes and punch him in the gut for calling me that in front of proper company, but also because of them, I had to act accordingly. “None taken. It’s a valid question.” The lanky man inclined his head toward James, letting his eye piece drop. It dangled from a chain on his vest. “I’m afraid it’s a private matter, and, according to my documents, she is of proper and legal age and doesn’t have a husband.” “Ha! That’s darn right I’m not her husband,” James said incredulously. He crossed his arms. First the sister comment, and now this. Before a few moments ago, I’d never thought of James as more than a friend. Well, never might have been a bit strong of a word. Yes, he was handsome and older folk made so many comments about how we would be married one day, but farm work took precedence over any energy I could expend toward those kinds of relationships. But that didn’t excuse his outburst. Was the prospect of marrying me truly that awful? I turned to the side in hopes he wouldn’t see the pain on my face. James noticed my distress and frowned. He stepped toward the door, possessively placing himself in front of me despite his prior words. “Even though we ain’t married, I’m not about to leave her with some stranger in a fancy suit and some military officer all by her lonesome. I’ll tell you that right now.” The military woman mirrored James and stepped in front of the lanky man. She stared James down. The lanky man grabbed her by the arm. “Now, Captain von Cravat, stand down. This is a friendly proceeding. Or it should be,” he warned. I’m not sure what it was about the man, but something in my gut told me he was no threat. “James,” I said, touching his arm. “I’ll be fine. If you want, you can wait outside while I talk to him. You can keep your eye on me. It won’t be but a couple of minutes, right? Why don’t you get to know Captain von Cravat?” Captain von Cravat took a step back to where she’d stood before, holding herself in a much less threatening posture. She motioned to my porch. James frowned, holding steady, and then dragged his feet as he moved away. He glanced over his shoulder at me when he crossed the threshold. “Holler if you need me, Zair-bear.” Captain von Cravat handed the man her scroll, then ushered James out of earshot. The lanky man slipped the scroll into his coat pocket. He grimaced, brushed some dust from his suit, and entered my home. He removed his top hat and frowned at the state of the residence. Though we’d done the bulk of the cleaning, there were still piles of debris that needed to be removed and very little in the way of formal furniture. I noted my own attire. If he thought my house didn’t hold to his standards of society, he must think worse of me. My hair was in tangles, and I was covered in sweat and dirt, not to mention dried tomato juice. If only I’d had time to make myself presentable before they arrived. “I’ll take that.” I grabbed his hat from his hand. I set it on my kitchen table behind me. The man didn’t seem pleased with the choice of hat racks, but it was better than having him standing there frowning at my home. He raised his chin and paced my front room. His long strides left little space for maneuvering. He appeared lost, as if unused to such a quaint structure as my house. “I suppose I should introduce myself,” he said, extending his hand toward me in a regal, yet almost feminine manner. “My name is Matthias du Gearsmith. The reason for my sojourn out to the country to greet you is that I am, rather was, charged with this duty as your father’s attorney.” A blank expression crossed my face. “What does that mean?” My words came out as a mere whisper. I sounded exactly like the fool young girl I tried so hard not to be in front of these fancy folk. “An attorney is a person given power to… No, no. I can see that’s not what you meant by the question.” Mr. du Gearsmith dropped his eyes to the floor with a genuine emotion I hadn’t expected. I thought nothing could faze a man like him, but looks could be deceiving. “Indeed. Your father has been missing in action in the Wyranth Empire for two years now, which Rislandia Kingdom law defines as formally deceased. I regret that we meet under such circumstances. And though it is far too late, I must give you condolences with regards to your mother as well.” My strength broke. A few tears trickled from my eyes, though I squinted to try to hold them back. I laughed despite myself. Two years since my father disappeared and four since my mother died in the cholera epidemic. I should have moved on by now. Wasn’t that how adults acted? “I see.” “I’ve been charged with executing his will, which brings me first and foremost to your residence. Your father bequeaths you this land, as I’m sure you presumed, but the primary object of your inheritance is several hours away. You must forgive me that it wasn’t something I was capable of transporting myself,” Mr. du Gearsmith said. “You are to come with me to Loveridge, where I will give you further instructions.” “Loveridge?” I didn’t understand what sort of business I could have there. I’d been to Loveridge once when I was eight years old. The city had five times the number of people as Plainsroad Village and a market so big I couldn’t believe my eyes. “That’s hours from here, I can’t just leave.” I glanced to the hole in my roof. “I have repairs to make before sundown.” “Your repairs can wait. Besides, I doubt you’ll be coming back this evening to have to deal with the elements. My time, however, is short. I must return to the capital soon,” he said. His heels clicked on my floor as he moved to my table. He retrieved his top hat, dusted it off, and motioned toward my front door. “If you would be so kind.” “Wait a moment,” I planted my feet and crossed my arms in front of my chest. Toby regained some of his courage and poked his head out from my room. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? I don’t know you from—” Matthias held a lone, crooked finger squarely in front of my face, cutting my sentence off before I could finish. He reached back into his coat and produced the scroll Captain von Cravat had held earlier. Unwrapping it carefully, he spun the scroll around so I could see. It read: I, Baron Theodore von Monocle, under the laws of the land of Rislandia under the stewardship of King Malaky XVI, grant power of attorney to one Matthias du Gearsmith, that he might execute my will and seek out my daughter Zaira von Monocle at such a time as I am deceased or incapacitated. Zaira, if you are reading this, it means time and fate have caught up with me. I’ve been very lucky over the years, but it was only a matter of time in this line of work. I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with you. In retrospect, I should have dedicated myself to being a proper father. King and Country can fill one’s mind with a sense of duty and purpose which cloud what’s important in life. Try to keep that in mind when you have a family of your own. I, likewise, have to apologize for saddling you with the burden that my attorney, Mr. du Gearsmith, will impart. Some will see it as a great treasure, but as with any great gift in life, there comes great consequences. Know that I love you, and I always will, even from beyond the infinite. Signed, Baron Theodore von Monocle I staggered backward. Mr. du Gearsmith had warned me, but seeing the words penned by my father’s own hand made the facts so much more real. My throat dried, and I skipped a breath. My father wouldn’t be coming home again.
