Liberty woke up to the scent of ash and brimstone, there's also the hint of something more uncanny in the air? How can she tell that it exists? She really doesn't know. Whatever her nose is picking up aside, there is also the problem of her lacking any kind of memory.

  She doesn't remember anything besides her name, her mind is full of esoteric knowledge that to her, means almost nothing. Where did she learn how to fix a goddamn car? How did she learn how to care for an animal? Why does she have several books worth of know-how in her mind? None of these questions had an answer.

  She let out a shuddering breath, her legs shook as she forced herself to stand up, a headache pounded against her skull and every breath felt like inhaling fire. She gasps, the fire in her chest only worsened.

  'Where am I?' And more importantly, what did she do before this? 'I can't remember anything!'

  The dread sets in and she grabs her head in a vain attempt to keep her mental state steady, she begins hyperventilating as a panic attack assaults her mind, her senses dull and her thinking narrows, the pain in her chest felt outright incomprehensible to her.

  Her fingers curl above her solar plexus, her skin contracts as her grip pulls them together, her ribs shake as the headache lessens.

  "Put her to sleep." A deep, resonant voice full of authority dictates, Liberty couldn't quite register what it meant but her ears picked it up at least. She tried to scream for help, to beg for whoever spoke to make the pain stop!

  "Not that you fool! Do you want to kill her?!" Screamed the speaker, then he sighs. "Fine, I'll do it myself."

  Something washed over her mind and Liberty lost consciousness. Her last thoughts as she disappeared into the depths of her thoughts was one question: 'What was that light?'

  ...

  Something bright pushes past Liberty's closed eyelid and disturbs her sleep for long enough to wake her, she lets out a sigh and sits up. The nightmares had been rare recently but it didn't mean that they were gone for good, and Liberty didn't hate them. She knew that the safety she's feeling now is false.

  They are still out there, searching for her.

  And they would not stop until they're holding her by the neck, their four-eyed hounds surrounding her, eager to sink their teeth into her flesh—

  Liberty whimpers, the thought freezing her in place for a moment. The people who brought her here paid a price for her arrival, and they would not stop until they got her back. She knows this. She does.

  'No, everything ends no matter what, at least this way, I have a fighting chance.' She gets up, determination and vague hope of salvation was the only thing that keeps her going. 'I'm not dooming an entire city, I'm taking refuge in the only place I know they wouldn't be able to touch me.'

  And that, on its own, is more than enough. She can save the world with just that, and if not? Buy some time for those who can. She just needs to keep herself hidden until everything resolves itself.

  How hard can that be?

  Liberty reaches forward, her fingers press against the fabric dangling in front of her, on the other side, sunlight comes down to the world like a blanket. Layers of wool fold on the back of her hand as she pushes the flap away, sunlight spills into the back of the carriage, she hisses.

  But there's no time for her to worry about something so trivial, she spends a second or two sitting back, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sudden burst of light before grabbing a clay jar to her right and opening it.

  Cold, viscous cream covered her index, middle, and ring fingers as she ran them across the jar's contents. Liberty transfers them to her face, marking both her cheeks with several white lines that told others her practice and also faked her culture.

  'Well, it's not really fake. Master is one of the Lampiy.' Liberty hopped down the carriage, she pulled her hood over her head and scanned the early morning camp. 'Just one more night and I arrive at Valdrosen, then I can sign in as an adventurer and slowly become more powerful.'

  Her master had told her that she didn't have any potential for magic, so she had to use alchemy and similar things in order to get stronger and survive her pursuers. That's easier said than done, though.

  Liberty reached the head of the caravan, her eyes moved from place to place, looking for the merchant who had organized this entire trip. Thankfully, she didn't have to knock on his door this morning because he was already awake, she goes near and quickly gets spotted.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Liberty! My wife has been doing fine! Last night she had eaten an entire plate." The man was all smiles, Liberty followed his example. Even if she didn't understand why he's so happy for her, isn't it better if his wife died?

  "Hello, Sir." She does not bow, does not show more respect than she needed to. "I'm glad she's on the path to recovery, do you still need me to check up on her?"

  "Well, that's what you came here for isn't it?" The merchant laughed, it was hearty, and strangely suited his chubby form. "Go on, check on her, I'll prepare your breakfast. It's on me."

  "Thank you." This was one of the better benefits she gets from being a Leech— the term used to refer to doctors. — and without it, she would have starved to death long ago. "I appreciate the offered meal, just like always."

  "Mhmm. It's meat and bread today, we're eating most of our stock and sacrificing the rest as a thank you for the good journey."

  At the mention of sacrifice, Liberty freezes, color drains from her face and she gives herself a moment to compose her suddenly chaotic mind. Religion in this world was, strangely enough, monotheistic. There is only one god the people worship, and it is the world itself.

  This is true for the common civilian, but underneath the surface, there lies another one: The Crescent King.

  Little is known about this particular religion, just that it is filled with people worse than devil worshippers and that simply mentioning it to anyone is very taboo. In some cities, uttering the religion can lead to death, mostly in the form of getting burnt in a pyre.

  "Is that so?" Liberty forced a smile, the time she spent calming herself wasn't long enough for this man to be suspicious of her. "Please tell the Land that I am grateful as well, as I know that my prayers every night are still not enough."

  "A religious one, are we?" The merchant shakes his head, then nods. "Very well, I'll make sure to mention you two times." In this world, saying something like that is a compliment. "Hope it blesses you, and maybe it already has! I have never seen a Lampiy as young as you possessing three marks! You must be a prodigy huh?"

  "You can say that, and I think I must tend to your wife now." Liberty turns to leave, the merchant lets her. And she also does the same.

  Once upon a time, when she visited him to tend to his wife, Liberty saw something she shouldn't: the wealthy merchant stripping one of his maids, she listened in on the two of them and realized it wasn't anything forceful, but a consensual affair. How this started was irrelevant to Liberty, she only focused on him cheating.

  She confronted the merchant about it and promised to keep her silence. The man watched her for a few days after that, but quickly stopped once he saw Liberty wasn't doing anything.

  Whether or not he treats her so kindly because of this, Liberty is unsure, but both of them know that they will part ways the moment they reach Valdrosen so it is clear that this secret will quickly become irrelevant.

  "Hello, Miss. I have heard that you have recovered enough to start eating healthily again?" She hasn't even gone through the doorway before speaking. The woman heard her anyway, she knows this.

  Carriages are, more often than not, very cramped. Two seats and a small gap between them is the most common design, but every so often, when a nobleman or a wealthy merchant desires it, a hollow carriage is made.

  All the supports are outside, and the interior is just one giant box with a bed. Comfort carriages, these are called. Or mobile rooms. They're very common among the wealthy and influential.

  These carriages have stages, or course, the one before Liberty had simple furniture: on the back sits a metal chimney that keeps the place warm— now constantly alight by Liberty's suggestion. — and then there are two chairs sandwiching a small table.

  Paintings depicting grassy landscapes and sunny skies sit on either wall next to the bed. Behind it, just above the bedframe, is an artwork of a man and a woman, both smiling.

  "Yes." On the bed is a woman with ashen hair, she used to be gaunt but now that fat has returned to her face, Liberty couldn't help but think that she looks beautiful. She wears a simple night gown that covers her entire body from head to toe, a black blanket that consumes the sunlight filtering through the curtains is on top of her.

  "I am happy for you then." Liberty becomes more formal, her way of speaking has also softened as to not agitate the woman. "Has your chest pain lessened?"

  She places her medical bag on the foot of the bed then takes a chair and gently plops it beside the woman's head. Liberty takes a seat, she reaches out and presses the flat of her palm on the woman's forehead.

  "No fever, that's a good sign." At the start of her treatment weeks ago, the woman was constantly feverish and could only be awake for an hour at best. "Have you felt weak when standing up recently? Not in the legs, that's normal after being bedridden for so long, but everywhere else?"

  "No, not as far as I'm aware, the wound on my back has healed as well, I think the poison has disappeared?"

  'Poison huh?' This is why determining the cause of the wound is important, as if Liberty really did believe that the woman was poisoned then she would have killed her. 'Goblin feces is full of bacteria, she was just incredibly sick. No poison was involved.'

  Putting in anti-venom into the wound would have made things worse, her immune system would fail and she would die very quickly.

  "Yes, I suppose it has." A tiny glass jar— one of the few glass items Liberty owns. — comes out of her bag, she knocks on the bottom by hitting it with her index finger two times. The powder loosens and Liberty is able to see if moisture has seeped into the jar again whether or not particulates fly around.

  Fortunately, it didn't, but just to make sure, Liberty placed a piece of paper inside the jar after she took a spoonful of powder from it. She grabs a clay jar this time and unties the cap, she pours it into a wooden cup, then mixed the powder within the water.

  "Here, drink this. No sugar this time." The woman frowns, but this was necessary. Liberty no longer needed to add flavoring to penicillin as the woman's body wouldn't reject it anyway, this also means that she can use larger doses.

  "Bitter." The woman's face turns ugly.

  "Medicine often is." Liberty shrugs and puts the cup away. She rummages in her bag and takes out a roll of bandage, a ceramic of healing salve, as well as a jar of honey. "Your husband said last night that I should use honey to hasten your recovery."

  "How expensive is that?"

  "He says the price doesn't matter, take off your gown."