Lyra awoke with a start to the sound of banging coming from the room below. She yawned and stretched, then rolled out of bed. As she left the comfort of her fur blanket, she noticed a group of men standing beneath her window. Their bodies were hunched together, and their faces were close together. Every so often, one of them gave fervent looks around the empty street and whispered in another's ear.
She watched them for a moment before turning toward a dresser in the corner. She pulled out a cotton tunic dress, light and comfortable for the current summer season, and dressed with care. She looped a belt around her waist and laced up her worn-down sandals.
Lyra proudly placed her sword through a loop on the belt.
In a small mirror on the dresser, Lyra worked on her hair. She took her long, dark hair into her hands and braided it in a single plait down her back. Lyra glanced at the mirror one more time, giving a small sigh at the dark circles around her eyes, and left her small room.
Lyra entered a small hallway with two other closed doors and a stairway in the back. She hurried down the flight of stairs, leading her back into the welding room. A roaring fire filled the air with billowing smoke as Heroides shaped molten-hot metal, while wearing a large helmet and gloves.
He looked in Lyra's direction as she approached.
"Good morning," he said, his voice muffled through the helmet.
"You let me sleep in," she said, sitting down on a nearby stool.
"Under the circumstances, I thought it would be for the best. Just don't get used to it."
Lyra gave him a small smile before looking around the shop.
"Where's Alex?"
"He's off doing a delivery," he said, striking the metal with a hammer, as sparks flew around him. "It's in Erysos."
"Really? That's 50 miles outside Pricus. That seems like a long way to go for a sword order."
Heroides placed a heap of metal, now shaped into a sword, on the side to cool. He took off his helmet and gloves, giving Lyra a hard look. Beads of sweat were rolling down his face.
"Yes, but it's needed. I'm seeing more orders for weapons from the towns on the outskirts of the kingdom. If the king continues to send mercenaries to control the people. Sooner or later, someone is going to respond in kind."
Lyra reflected on his words. As Heroides sat nearby and taking a swig of water from a dirty wooden cup. He glanced at the sword as it cooled.
"It won't be long until the king begins to police the blacksmiths. Soon, I won't be able to fulfill orders without approval. The work will no doubt dry up."
He took another long sip before clearing his throat. At the familiar sound, Lyra glanced up, meeting his now uncomfortable eyes, knowing this meant something was coming.
"Look, Lyra," he said quietly. "When I took you on after Christos ran out, I didn't just do it to be kind. I saw myself in you when I was young and had lost my parents. And you share a fate with Alex, who also lost his family to the blood riots…but being a smithy is hard work. And it's no job for a woman."
Lyra stared at him in surprise. Her mouth began to open in response—
But he quickly placed his hand up to stop her from speaking.
"I know. This is not coming from me. But no one will trust a female blacksmith. It's just the way life is."
She let out an angry grunt. "But I'm good. I'm better than Alex."
"This, I know. But there's nothing I can do," he said, the sound of defeat in his voice. "Alex will continue the apprenticeship. And…I have arranged for you to become an apprentice at the sew shop."
Lyra suddenly stood up, angry.
"Sewing?! Is that what you think of me?"
"No! But it's time to grow up and stop living a fairytale," he said, an edge to his voice. You can't be a blacksmith. And you especially can't join some fool's errand of a rebellion. You are not a fighter. You are a woman. But you can still secure your future. Find a husband who will protect and provide for you. That is your duty."
Lyra stared at him, dumbfounded.
"I see."
She turned from him, tears forming behind her eyes. She headed for the door, just as Heroides called out to her:
"I am just doing what is best for you. Please understand."
Lyra did not respond as she charged straight out of the door—
nearly running into the group of men she had previously watched from her bedroom. They hurried out of her way, as her face had taken on an expression that could scare any man. One of them apologized profusely, while another called out to her as she passed by:
"Miss Lyra, don't go to the City Center. There's something bad happening there."
Lyra neither heard him nor cared, as she headed off in no particular direction. She wandered through the narrow streets of Pricus, passing by only a handful of people, who all carried themselves with their eyes pointed down. The city was eerily silent today.
Lyra passed by the old spice market on the east side of town. Its weather-beaten stalls were slowly rotting in the sun. It was a reminder of the glory days of the south-western city, a place plagued by hot summers and dry soil.
After a moment of reflection on the deserted place, Lyra continued down the street.
The city of Pricus was once the cornerstone of the spice market, bringing spices to every corner of the kingdom. The spice plants grew in abundance in the fields beyond the city and had made many of its citizens rich. But after the blood riots had left a bad taste in the mouth of the royalty, many of the spice merchants fled to neighboring cities. Sinena, a town in the north, had happily taken on the role of spice running when Pricus had fallen. Many people had prayed for its downfall and took great delight in its fate.
A few streets down, Lyra stumbled on a temple. She stopped when she recognized its towering columns. This was the Temple of Kreios. The temple, which had been partly destroyed by fire from within during the riots, had managed to survive with limited damage done to its marble, despite the desire by the rioters to bring it to its knees.
Lyra stared at the temple as a tear rolled down her cheek. Lyra had always avoided the temple but had failed to notice where her feet were headed. She could not stand to see the place that Isadora had loved so dearly. A place for which she sacrificed her young life.
Suddenly, the door to the temple opened, and a young woman and a young man, both barely of age, emerged from within it. They grasped each other's hands in a way that Lyra had seen with Isadora and Christos. The couple kissed passionately before running down the steps of the temple.
An older man emerged behind them, dressed in the same white and gold garbs Isadora had once donned. He called out to the couple as they eagerly went their way:
"May the gods bless your marriage!"
Lyra met the eyes of the temple priest. He smiled at her.
"Come in for a blessing."
Lyra quickly turned away. She would never set foot in a Temple of the Gods again.
The priest watched her disappear behind a corner. She walked the twists and turns of the city's cobbled streets for several more hours, until she had grown quite ravenous. She had bought a loaf of bread from a stall and sat down under the shade of a tree next to it.
She was close to the City Center but was still several streets down. It was not long until she noticed the sounds of a large number of people gathered, no doubt within it. But it was not an uncommon sound for the City Center.
She took a large bite of the bread when suddenly, a large man appeared just ahead, running toward them at full speed. His face was bloody and bruised.
Both Lyra and the older bread merchant watched in alarm as the man crossed the street, leaving a trail of blood.
He glanced in the direction of the bread merchant as he crossed their path.
"You'd better run, old man. The mercenaries are taking every man and boy, able-bodied or not, to fight for the king."
The bread merchant's face paled, and without much thought, he ran too— leaving Lyra with a pounding heart. She turned to look in the direction of the City Center.
And suddenly, the noise from the core of the city took a violent turn, and nothing but wails of pain could be heard.