Daybreak gleamed over the vassal state of Caldraveth, its streets teeming with life. Lavish carriages rolled through the city and people in plush dresses greeted each other cheerfully—though their eyes betrayed hints of duplicity. Nevertheless, life seemed utopian in this pristine city.
Or so the uninitiated might think.
Beyond the city's immaculate heart, in its outskirts, a slave writhed beneath three guards' lashes.
One of them sneered at the pitiful slave: "Worm, your kind is not to loiter outside your dingy slums after dawn." He continued flogging ceaselessly until his hands grew weary.
As she looked at the atrocity outside her window, a woman in her mid-thirties lamented. She might once have been beautiful, but years of toiling and malnourishment had left her wasted and aged well beyond her years.
A jubilant voice sounded from behind her: "Maa, will you be staying with us today?" The voice belonged to her younger daughter.
The Mother drew the curtains. She looked at her adorable daughter, and smiled: "Yes, love—today, tomorrow, and forever after."
Lifting her daughter in a loving embrace, she added, "Go, get yourself ready, love—today we are going shopping." She placed her daughter carefully, and the girl bolted to freshen up.
"Did you have to lie?" The older sibling asked. She had been awake for some time.
The Mother approached her glum daughter and gently stroked her child's hair: "She should enjoy her childhood while she can. It's not as if this bleak life of ours will vanish tomorrow. I want to preserve her innocence until she is ready, at least."
The older sister clutched her legs nervously: "I know, I am just being..."
The Mother placed a palm on her child's cheek: "Childlike, love. Because that's what you are—my child."
They wrapped their arms around each other, finding solace in mutual warmth. They stayed like that for some time, then the Mother said, "You get ready as well, love. And please check if your sister is playing inside the shower."
The older sister stepped outside the room: "Okay, Mum."
After a brief passage of time, the family finished mundane chores and ate a light breakfast from the café. When they left King's Delight it was already noon.
The sun blazed at its zenith, casting blistering rays over Caldraveth. It forced most gentry either into carriages or into postponing travel altogether. Yet, a trio of mother and daughters ventured into the marketplace; too poor to afford a carriage, and too stubborn to let a measly yellow circle dictate their schedule.
They wore simple tunics, devoid of any embellishments. Only the younger sister had a purple flower woven on her dress. The Mother had donned a brimmed hat to shield against the heat; she had endured enough of it for her lifetime.
The Mother had saved enough money—courtesy of the Manager—to indulge in occasional frivolous shopping.
"What do you girls want to do? We have the whole evening to ourselves."
The older sibling showed little interest: "I don't want anything, Mum. Let's go under a shade."
"How about some clothes? We can also buy something for Uncle, he's always wearing the same thing. Then we can shop for toys and books, then... we'll decide later, but first things first—to the dresses," the younger sister found everything enthralling—everything.
The younger sister marched ahead, dragging her mother along, while the older sister followed behind at her own snail-like pace.
On the way, the younger sibling noticed an antique store. It quickly topped her to-do list.
They entered the store and the younger sister engaged the salesman. The older sister, unbothered, sat on the store's couch. Watching the unfolding scene, the Mother reflected:
My one daughter is reserved, smart, and thrifty, while the other one is lively, sweet and, a materialistic goblin. Hopefully, they will learn from each other and cultivate what they lack. Though, this spending habit of hers must go.
So immersed in her thoughts that she was late to realize the mounting cost her 'sweet' daughter had incurred.
The culprit in question, meanwhile, was in the middle of bargaining for an axe twice her size. The Mother gathered her nerves to confront her child, "Love, what are you planning to do with such a mighty weapon?"
She threw a sneaky glance around, and when certain her sister was not around, she spoke in a hushed voice, "To... scare sis."
The Mother sighed. It took her some convincing and the arrival of her other child to dissuade the younger sibling from her shopping spree.
Before dusk settled, the family had retreated back into the King's Delight, mainly because it was inadvisable to stay outdoors after dark. Though the foreboding that a certain 'goblin' might push them to the brink of deprivation, may also have been a factor.
Fatigued from a hectic day, the younger sibling went upstairs to their room and fell asleep. The older sister helped with some pending chores, before following suit.
The Mother, meanwhile, was accustomed to a far more gruelling schedule, so she remained unfazed. Joining her friend, the Manager, for some drinks, she sat over an old couch. The café was closed to visitors, so they had plenty of space and time to catch up.
They sipped away their sober selves, talking over frivolous and inane topics. Relishing each other's tales and outlooks, they drank themselves to the point of intoxication—perhaps to escape reality, or utter something that sobriety forbade.
Their idle chat continued for a while, until the Mother's eyes suddenly turned pensive: "You know, I only have one more day with my daughters, friend."
Taking a sip, the manager replied, "Don't worry, you're already done with three rounds of pilgrimage, just two more to go. Then it will be two whole years before the clock resets. That is plenty of time to be with your daughters, and don't blame me if they overwhelm you."
The warm-amber light of the café shimmered in her eyes as she spoke in a dull tone, "Still, who can say what awaits after those two pilgrimages? Even if I survive, there's always more... every third year, the nightmare always repeats."
She drowned herself in yet more liquor, then added, "Can the likes of us ever 'not worry'? Sometimes, I feel safer out in the wilderness than inside the city, which shelters us from it."
"I've spoken to an acquaintance, she works at a noble house renowned for its benevolence; no slave has ever been flogged there. I've arranged for you to swap places with her. And don't even fret about the children, they are as much mine as yours. So like I said, friend, you don't have anything to worry about."
Seeing how fortunate her family was, the Mother eased back in her seat with a faint smile on her face. Yet, her eyes soon grew bleak as she said in a grim tone, "She is almost eighteen now."
The cordial mood inside the café suddenly vanished; the soft light seemed gloomy and the chill in the air grew sharper. For one of the Ironclad Dictums of Caldraveth stated: Every slave and slave-born above the age of eighteen shall undertake five pilgrimages every three years, until the age of fifty-five. Evading it meant death, often public, and always merciless.
However, in the hierarchical society of Caldraveth, all laws were pliable for those with the resources and authority. Therefore, certain slaves and slave-borns—such as pleasure slaves of noble patrons—were spared from it. Though this was an exception, not the norm, and both the Manager and the Mother knew the inevitable fate awaiting their daughters.
At a loss for words, the Manager was unable to placate the Mother, much less himself. They had long known this moment would arrive, still they held onto some illusory hope, some misguided optimism that something might change. Nothing had.
Ever since his beloved's tragic end, the Manager had lost the will to live. It was the sisters to whom he owed his reason to smile despite all that he endured. He earnestly wished for his daughter to be spared that accursed drudgery. Yet, he knew his wishes remained as trifling as ever.
All the drink in the world could not keep them from turning sober again. Yet, the Manager poured another glass. His hands shook, spilling liquor onto the floor.
"I have an idea," the Mother spoke.
The manager remained quiet, but his dismal countenance suddenly lit up with a fierce resolve; one he scarcely recognized as his own.
A few more hours quietly drifted by. Not a single glass of liquor was emptied during this time, yet their words were one that even a heavily inebriated person would not dare utter. They talked of the only path for their daughter's survival—treason.
After the duo finished conspiring, the Mother rose to go upstairs to join her daughters. But stopping after a few stairs, she spoke, "I'll never... ever be overwhelmef... by my children, friend... goof... night." Her words slurred as the effect of her many drinks finally caught up to her.
Resuming her wobbling steps, she took her leave, leaving the Manager to his solitude.
Entering the room, she looked over her peacefully sleeping daughters. How can these love bundles ever overwhelm me...
Then her fuzzy vision noticed a pile of futile trinkets that one of her 'love bundles' had bought. She whispered, "Mayve... sometimes... just sometimes".