She blinks at it, momentarily stunned, before making a high pitched noise of delight.

She – she produced a manalight! She's a witch, she – she's going to go to war, but she's going to get to meet so many people –

The noise stops in favour of a grin.

A neighbor - a weaver, she thinks - peers out of his front door onto the street. "Who's - what's going on? It's late."

"I – manalight!" Evelyn gets up from the ground, brings the burnt-out candle with her. "I just – sorry I don't mean to disturb, just –!"

"You're- You got magic! You're a Witch! Here in our own village. That's great! You seem too old for it, though?"

"I'm thirteen! I'd almost given up – it doesn't really matter, does it, because I am!" She looks around at the darkness, then back at where the light was. "I should, uh, tell someone –"

"It's well past sunset. Father Clemens might still be awake, but..." Yawn. "Maybe you should just find him in the morning."

She opens her mouth, looking like she might start to protest, and then pauses. "– I guess… that makes sense…"

"I mean, it's very exciting, but he'll probably just send out a rider to the army post in Cataille and ask you to pray thankfulness? Maybe you should talk to Old Man Hammond, he knew another Witch from this village... Can I see the light again?"

"I – I can try, if you don't mind just waiting a moment."

She tries to remember the feeling, when she made the manalight.

...There it is, almost like moving her hand. Twitch, and there's a mote of blue glow.

She tries to prevent the high pitch noise again. Definitely grins though.

"It's pretty, isn't it? Like a little star..."

"It really is," she agrees, grinning. A moment later, she frowns, and the light goes out. "I should really – Maman, she'd want to know –" She nods towards her front door.

"Goodnight then. I'll tell everyone in the morning..." He yawns again.

"Goodnight!" she responds with a smile, and then she heads for her door.

Her mother did indeed want to know. It prompts some happiness and some worry, a hug and a bit of a discussion – Evelyn can write, she always was curious about things in the wider world and her mother obliged, so maybe they'll be able to exchange letters, see each other from time to time.

And a bit later, Evelyn claiming not to feel tired despite the late hour, she's outside under the stars trying to practice and get a better feel for the manalights.

They take a constant effort to maintain. She can flare them up quite a bit if she wants to put that effort in. Lighting up the area enough to ruin her night vision. They're pretty warm and create puffs of force if she goes far enough in that direction, too.

She tries figuring out how much power they're using, how long she'll be able to hold them up – if it's hard to hold them steady. Can she move them around?

'Feeling' her well of power is something Evelyn has absolutely no experience doing. So when the lights just - stop working for a few minutes and only small ones work after that - it's a surprise.

She can move them around. It's clumsy, like the first time holding a writing quill.

(Hee.)

She decides to stop with the lights, for now – and goes to look for a tree branch.

Well, there are trees around. There's a grove with long, straight lengths that a couple of families tend. They're nice and straight, usually used for fences.

Or she could just go onto the Lord's hunting lands and find a fallen branch.

She doesn't really want to upset the families tending the grove, and the hunting lands are… not that much of a bad idea…

So she goes to look for a fallen branch there.

This is still a much neater place than a wild forest. Makes it easier to hunt in. There is good firewood and tinder here. The Baron forbids collecting it, but if she puts the branch back after trying to fly it should be fine right?

… It should be, because she's not, technically, collecting it. If he's nice.

… Also she's a witch.

She goes to look for a piece to try flying.

There's plenty! 

It's not exactly clear how she would try flying. Reaching for a different invisible limb-type-feeling doesn't seem to do much.

… Does anything weird happen if she tries doing a manalight, one of the smaller ones, near the stick?

No.

...Might be just that it's past midnight and she's bone-tired.

She wants to get this – or at least try a bit longer – before she goes to sleep.

It really doesn't seem to be happening tonight.

Ugh.

She'll go to bed, then, leave the stick where she found it and try to calm herself down enough to do so.

Exhaustion tends to help with that.

By the time she wakes up the next morning, everyone she sees congratulates her!

It's... Interesting how the attitudes toward her shifted overnight. She's brilliant and foresighted for learning to write now, instead of having wasted time on a useless hobby. She's kind and outgoing, not chatty and pushy. And everyone wants to see the manalights.

She can do some manalights. Preferably with more people around, not just for individuals, because she still needs to figure out what sorts of limits she should have, but still.

… It's a bit weird, the change in reactions, but she tries to take it in stride, and checks that someone has notified… someone… about everything.

Father Clemens is riding in from the chapel after his morning observances are done, and they sent a rider to the Baron to tell him the news. Would she like a free meat pie from the butcher?

… She would!

Okay really she did not realize people were so – focused on the status of witches like this. Or, well, she did but not in such an obvious way.

Or maybe it's just that she was never the celebrity herself, before.

She shows off a few more manalights trying to keep them at a constant intensity and enjoying the attention it brings her.

There's a lot of positive attention coming her way, certainly! Especially the gaggle of small children, they clap and ooh and ahh and ask her if she's going to fight demons.

She… uh… of course she is, she's going to be like one of those badass maidens in the fairytales that – they probably know about, but, without the 'badass' descriptor. (She's gonna be badass anyway.)

(Hopefully. If she doesn't get killed. Not that she says that.)

After a while the bulk of the crowd disperses. Sensible and only slightly jealous voices reminding everyone that there's work to be done, come on!

Mr. Hammond is one of the ones that remain, looking at her with a complicated emotion in his eyes. Excitement? Reminiscence? Fear?

"… Is there something I can do to help you, Mr Hammond?" she tries.

"I don't really know, to be honest, young lady. I think there might be something I can do for you, though."

Evelyn frowns lightly in response but waits.

"Advice, I mean. Maybe not where everyone can hear." He looks pointedly at the people who remained. "Indulge an old man, will you lot?"

They disperse.

Evelyn waits for the people to leave, then says, "I'd appreciate that, thank you."

"Mm. Ana... We were... Good friends. I didn't grow up with her, but I learned a bit about how magic works and what is expected of Witches from her. You probably can't fly or use a shield or know what your special ability is, yet. That will come in time - a few weeks at most."

"– I tried to fly, last night, but hadn't gotten around to trying that today," she nods.

He nods. "It's a magical time in your life. She told me how she was fearful that she was a defective Witch. But you just need to be patient. You will not have much magical endurance until you are older, too. And it will fade again when you're out of the prime of your life."

… She nods. "Do you know when it peaks? – Do you know if I'll have all my abilities, in a few weeks, or do some take longer?"

"I don't know the timing of it. I'm sure the army Witches will know, if you join them as I suspect you will."

She nods. "Do you know if they'll be good at giving me information on my options? I don't really know – what I can do – and I'd want it unbiased."

"...They probably won't outright lie, but you won't make many friends if you ask after things that aren't fighting the Neuroi. You could ask to be a courier. Less pay, no glory, but it's safe. You could figure out what your special is. Perhaps it's truly amazing. Healing or turning rock to steel or something."

"… Do you know if they have ways to figure that out, for me, if I don't have it down by then?"

"You'll do it by accident or get a feeling about it sooner or later, I think."

… She nods.

"Thank you," she responds, "for your help. It's been reassuring."

He nods and gives a cheerful old-man-smile. "I'm glad I can help folk with words now that my bones are weak. I'm meeting God soon. It's the way of things.  But you're not. Try not to die fighting demons, young lady."

She nods, solemnly, and repeats, "Thank you."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad. Today should be like a festival for you really!"

"It's been a bit surreal," she admits. "I'm not really sure – how to respond, to people."

"I think you're doing fine so far. Relax."

Nod. "It's weird." Pause. "And I'm going to be leaving. For a long time."

"Yes. You don't need to leave, strictly speaking. It's just a waste of an opportunity if you stay."

She nods. "I think I'll be leaving. It just hasn't really sunk in yet."

"Well, you'll have time to let it sink in a little more. Ah, here comes father Clements. I think I'll head home." He waves to the approaching priest, riding that same ancient-looking horse at a slow pace toward the center of the village.

"I'll – see you some other time, then?"

"Certainly. Come to my house if you have more questions - I just don't like the cold."

She nods. "Thank you."

Off he goes.

The priest is fairly distinctive, for while his clothes are simple enough, he's not nearly as skinny as most everyone else. "I hear we have excellent news and you have been blessed as a chosen Witch of God!"

She nods. "I am most thankful for the opportunity to help."

"I would not have expected God to choose you... But please, don't take that as an insult. Our Lord works in mysterious ways, and we must be faithful."

She nods. "I hope – and trust – that He chose me for good reason."

"I have dispatched riders to inform Baron Leoni and Dame Murray, of the Defence Force. I am sure they will be happy to hear about you as well."

Nod. "May I ask how long it will take?"

"The Baron's castle lies a mere few hours' ride away, but Dame Murray's recruitment post lies a full day's worth of hard riding from here, in Lindenset. But once they hear of you, I am sure they will dispatch a Witch and be here by nightfall tomorrow."

"Thank you, Father."

"Is there anything you find you might need, in light of your newfound blessing, young one? You were always studious, perhaps I should invite you to read some of the abbey's texts?"

"– If I may?"

"You may. Though I ask you to treat them with care - I would not be offering even now if I did not expect you to be more capable of this than others your age."

She nods, smiling. "Thank you."

"Whenever you would like to visit, please do. I will make sure the others know about my offer."

"Is that all, Father?"

Witch privilege is wonderful.

"Make sure to pray for guidance. Good faith is more important than ever for the blessed."

Is it now.

"Of course," she nods. "I trust in the path ahead of me."

"I have high hopes indeed for you! And since I am here already, I think I will perform rites for the village today."

She nods and follows his lead.

The rites are a shortened version of Sunday mass. Father Clements gives special attention to Evelyn and how a humble community can create a holy agent in his speech.

She could probably follow him back to the abbey after he's done.

She says bye to her mother, quickly, and takes some food as it nears lunchtime, then does so.

The Abbey is almost exactly as she remembers it - a towered church on a hill with an extended stone section and half a dozen houses plus a few small fields around it. The road leading up to it is clean stone, and the garden is well-tended as usual. It even has some stained glass windows - very pretty and luxurious.

Father Clements offers her the horse and walks. "I should have brought our other horse, too."

"Oh, Father, are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm not that old yet. You'll have to walk back, unless you uncover flight today, but no man of God should be so proud as to not lend his horse."

She nods. "Thank you."

So she takes the horse. Fortunately she knows how to ride one.

It's a short enough trip. The Father hums contentedly, saying hello to whoever they pass.

He shows Evelyn inside the chapel, says a short prayer, hands the horse off to a stablehand, and shows her the library - there are a few full shelves of books and scrolls here, perhaps five hundred in all.

"Our collection is not as impressive as some of the greater churches. Perhaps if you find interesting books on your travels you could send them here, if you feel generous. There are reading chairs by the north windows."

Nod. "I'm not sure what contact I'll have with books, yet – I really don't know what it's going to be like."

"Life is like that for most of us at some point or another."

He finds a particular book, opens it to a particular page, and sets about - apparently - copying it by hand onto blank paper at one of the desks.

She looks around at some of the books!

A whole row of Annotations on the Book of (Whoever) by Bishop Such and Such, commentaries and philosophy about the bible.

Scrolls of the memoirs of saints and old priests and bishops. Expanded books of parables. It's definitely mostly about the religious texts here.

But they do have some other books. A History of the Royal Lineages of the Western Part of Europa still seems pretty dry, but On The Principles of Medicine might look promising, or perhaps On The Movement of the Heavens and Treatises on Construction and Architecture.

She attempts not to look too much like she's blatantly skipping the religious commentaries – she's sure some of them can be quite interesting, although not super her thing – and moves onto some of the more interesting books.

… Medicine could be interesting.

Medicine could indeed be interesting.

The book is written in Albish, which she has more practice speaking but less practice reading than Latin or English. It's mostly comprehensible.

The opening chapter describes the author - a doctor-Witch who lived about two centuries ago, apparently - and her philosophy on medicine. A particularly stressed part being, 'When you practice medicine, the ideal to aspire to is to not see a hated foe or a beloved child, nor king nor outcast. To see only the patient. The doctor's duty is to do her utmost to save the patient, to serve their needs and desires. Do not withhold bandages from the wretched leper or the vile traitor, do not lavish undue care upon the king or the magic-bearer. All men and all women's souls deserve succor and peace before they face judgment on the Last Day.'

Hm.

That's an interesting view to take on the matter, thinks Evelyn, and she reads on.

The book will speak only of care for humans. Some basic things will be the same for animals - bleeding should be bandaged, as an obvious example - but applying what one knows of medicine in humans to an animal may well harm it, so it is best to be cautious.

This is the adult human anatomy, male and female! It's not very realistic-looking, but it identifies important parts, like the brain and the heart and the guts and the penis and so on. This is how the body works! Blood carries vital essence from the heart to the rest of the body, passing through the lungs to balance chemical energies with the air... The stomach and intestines extract chemical energy from food and water... The brain is responsible for rational thought but the heart is the center of emotion... So on and so forth. It gets complicated, fast.

She tries to take in what she can of it. She pays cursory attention to the images and then moves on before – somehow seeming immoral, perhaps.

The book continues in the vein of 'this is how the body works' rather than 'this is how to treat disease or injury' for at least two hours' reading.

She's not sure she needs all of that – if there are things more focused on survival than on other aspects of the body's response, she'd prefer to focus on those – but she looks over the treatment section a bit, before finishing the earlier section.

There's stuff on the basics of treatment. First-aid, really, it insists that if this is all you know you need to find a proper doctor for the injured or sick person. Washing things is emphasized for plagues.

First-aid stuff is probably what she wants, if she's going to be participating in a war.

Well, this book is designed for prospective doctors and she doesn't have a tutor around to help her understand, it's all complicated. But some general tips can be absorbed.

Cleaning wounds with actually clean things like boiled water or honey - important. Bandaging, again with clean things - important. Setting bones properly by an expert within a few days is important for long term health. They might have to re-break it. You can use cooked willow bark to reduce fever or correctly prepared poppy as pain relief. Mint or dandelion for snake bites. Honey is good at preventing infection, smear it on open wounds. If someone is very cold or very hungry or thirsty, remedy this slowly so their body has time to adjust. Also, don't listen to those idiots who want to use leeches. The body needs all its blood in most cases.

She doesn't know that snake bites will be that relevant – it depends on where she's deployed, she guesses – but she expects bleeding wounds and burns to be the main thing, probably with some broken bones.

… She doesn't really know but this seems like a good opportunity to learn, so she spends some more time looking through this instead of local history.

This section is marked as 'relevant only to treating Witches, or perhaps mountain climbers' and describes the effects of too-thin air...

The father has a dozen copied pages. He collects them and goes to put the book back and looks surprised to see her. "Evelyn, while I'm glad you're enjoying the chance to learn, have you spent all afternoon here?"

"– Uh, yes Father." She bites her lip and looks down a little. "I noticed this book on medicine and though it – prudent – to learn what I could."

"This is wise. I was just surprised. We really should get around to making copies of that book some time - it has been useful to treat our sick."

She nods. "I have not really had the… opportunity… to learn this before."

"It's usually better for each to learn one thing very well I think. Everyone has their vocation, but perhaps medicine is yours... There have been very good doctors who were Witches. The ability to fly aides greatly in visiting places that need their assistance. Father Retien petitioned for Doctor Marsal, the author, to be given sainthood a hundred and fifty years ago, you know. But the Pope refused."

She nods. "I don't know if it would be my vocation. It seems possible."

"You are still young and learning - it's fine. But perhaps you should begin walking home? It's rather cloudy, no moon. I wouldn't want you to make the trip in the dark after sunset."

"— Yes, right, thank you. I should get going." She gets up and carefully closes the book, moving to place it back on the shelf.

Father Clements shelves his own book. "Have a nice evening."

"I hope you do also, Father."

And she leaves, homeward bound.

When she gets back, the village's tavern is louder and more active than usual. She can hear it down the street.

… Is there somebody around it she can ask about, uh, why? Without going into the tavern, preferably.

The party spills out into the street. A random neighbor waves at her. "Baron Leoni's buying for the whole village because of you, Ev!"

"Is he!" she responds. "Gosh."

She should probably go make herself known.

Baron Leoni (who is somewhat old), a middle-aged butler, and a few maids from his castle have one table mostly to themselves. He laughs at someone's joke and tosses a silver coin at the tavern's owner.

Everyone's still being very respectful, despite the Baron's jovial mood.

Of course.

She tries to make it obvious that she's present while not being intrusive, in case he wants to talk to her.

She's a witch, she can do this.

"It's our guest of honor! I heard you went to the Abbey, so diligent and studious!" He's drunk. "You'll go far, little one. I like your mother's jellies."

Oh dear gosh how absolutely wonderful. "Thank you, my Lord."

"In fact... It's traditional... Where is the damned thing... Argie?"

The butler presents a piece of parchment and fancy seal. "Ah. Here we are. As is traditional for Witches... I have a writ of release. From your land tax, that is." Hiccup.

… Uh.

She takes the paper and looks it over quickly – what she can read of it in such a quick glimpse – and then smiles at him again. "I understand, and thank you."

Where the person known as Evelyn Devillers be recognized in the name of God and the most honorable Baron Linus Hartsfeld III... Release from land-bound tax for her personage forevermore... Not to be construed as release from the laws of the land or other relevant taxes or fees...

"Just show me the magic and I shall seal it, official-like."

She frowns a little and focuses, trying for another manalight.

And there it is. "Excellent! Such an honor to have a blessed person come from my lands. You are only the third Witch I have had emerge from my holdings since I received them from my father, you know."

The seal goes into an inkwell, and stamps down on the parchment with finality.

"I have already given much of my wealth to the war against the Neuroi - enough silver for a few rounds of drink nonwithstanding - or I might have arranged greater gifts."

"That's – thank you for what you've given me," she responds. "I hope to… help make a difference."

"You are very young, and yet old for a Witch... Hm. You plan to leave soon? Normally new Witches tend to stay until they've grown. Or at least for a while. War changes many things, I suppose..."

"I – I've been expecting to leave," she responds. "It seems a waste, otherwise."

"Indeed. My son told me the same. If he dies in battle against the demons, I will have to remember how dutiful he was. I almost wanted to join him. And yet, the land still needs to be administrated, grain must be grown and brought to those brave soldiers."

She nods, solemnly.

"But enough glum things! You have been blessed, I am feeling generous, enjoy the music and have something to eat!"

She smiles and goes to do as instructed. She hasn't eaten since lunch, so she grabs some food first.

Pies and cider and deer haunch that the Baron shot on his way over and cheese and...

She takes some, eats it, and then tries to interact with people before they get too drunk.

This might be implausible and she might leave pretty soon thereafter.

To be fair, most of the beer is pretty weak beer, and some of these people are practiced drunks. But they've brought out the good wine, too.

A lot of the women lament that they don't have magic. One guy drunkenly rambles that his nephew might have been a good marriage prospect for Evelyn. There's more open land because of everyone going off to fight Neuroi and some not coming back, you know, you're not stuck on a rocky half-acre plot your whole life.

… Silver linings and all.

She makes some excuse and leaves to get some sleep.

Sleep is a thing she can get, sure.

And when she wakes up she goes about her daily activity mostly as normal, for now.

There's still a strong current of attention focused on her. A witch, gosh.

One neighbor has some stones from his field to get rid of. Stones always turn up eventually, especially on the worse pieces of land. Would she like to be paid a little bit to turn them to gravel with that Witchly blasting-thing? He can touch up part of the road with enough bucketloads of gravel.

She hasn't actually done the Witchly blasting-thing, yet. Is he okay with her trying it out on the area or should she go… find somewhere to practice first…?

...When you put it like that, better go try it in his empty fallow field for the first while.

Breaking the big rocks into a few medium ones would be a big enough help, too. Doesn't need to be absolutely pulverized.

Sure! She'll go try destroying some rocks in the empty fallow field, that sounds like a good idea.

… How hard is it to go from manalights to that?

It's mostly a matter of sufficient focus and effort behind the light, to turn it from 'powerful light' to 'blast'.

And can she control the blast well enough she feels safe to use it on some rocks?

...Maybe if the rocks weren't near anything breakable. Also, it's actually physically tiring, there seems to be a separate thing than 'running out of mana', like when she stopped being able to do manalights last night with no feeling or physical sign why.

… She'll stop the practice for now, she thinks, and go see if he has any rocks fitting that criteria and if he'd be okay with her just doing a few of them for now.

Sure! Anything that helps with the demolishing, even just partial.

She gets to doing that, then! She tries to be careful to make sure it's unlikely she'll get any… collateral.

He stands well back and hauls one sizable rock at a time into the growing pile of smaller pieces. It's a bit of a spectacle. But he's grinning. Magic!

This, in a more aimed way, ought to be effective against demons, right? It's very tiring, though.

Maybe she has some stamina thing to build up with various endurance training type things – she's not the most athletic, she definitely needs to work on that to make it anywhere – or maybe it's due to her body not being used to the magic or something.

She's not sure. She does a few more rocks, trying to smile instead of looking exhausted.

Eventually it becomes clear she's done for now.

The guy looks at the rubble and muses, "Didn't work quite how I expected... Still, close enough. And it looked really cool." And she is paid.

"Thanks," she responds with a smile, and then off she goes.

What time is it?

Roughly lunchtime.

Would she like an entourage again? With a higher little-kid-ratio. Because walking through the town while being a shiny Witch is a way to get one.

She's tired but can try to smile at them anyway! Hi kids!

One of them has a broom. His mom's broom.

She can fly now, right?

She actually hasn't yet and it's taken her a while to get the hang of her new abilities! She can do lights though.

… A light. Maybe not plural, she's a bit tired.

The light show might have to be interrupted... Because that, to the east, is not a bird. The grey-and-red uniform doesn't much resemble feathers, and the lack of wings and shape of a broomstick is telling.

Evelyn looks over at it – assesses – and then apologizes to the kids but she has to be somewhere.

The Witch seems to be heading to the abbey.

… Hm.

Evelyn goes to tell her mother and make sure she has the things she needs collected together.

Who knows how much she'll be able to take with her? Might be best to pack light. Then again, maybe not - Witches can carry a lot of stuff.

Backpack, at least, and then try to figure out what else she might want to take if there's room to do so. Low estimates.

After about an hour, the Witch lands in the village square, dismounts the not-quite-broom she was riding with soldierly precision, smooths her pants (pants!) and calls out, "I am looking for Evelyn Devillers. I was told she lives in this village, and is a Witch."

One of the boys nearby, looks about fifteen, leans up from what he's doing, looks over at her, and then jumps to his feet.

"She does, ma'am! I can show you to her home?"

"Please do."

Her bow clacks in its case on her back as she moves to follow.

He starts moving down one of the paths, pausing to check she follows. A few other people watch.

"There is no cause for alarm, by the way. I'm just here to discuss a young Witch's options."

"– Yes, ma'am." He nods, but still carries on a little skittishly.

"Actually, while I'm here, I don't suppose there is a fletcher or bowyer in this village? We use immense quantities of bows and arrows. Waiting for them to come to us has stopped being quick enough."

The boy stops and pauses and hesitates then gestures vaguely back the way they came. "Uh – Monsieur Henrique?"

Sharp nod. "I'll have a chat with him. Thank you. Is this Mademoiselle Evelyn's house?"

"She's just – over there." He points at a house a few doors down from where they currently are. "Should I go back?"

"Go if you wish - I just needed directions. Thank you."

He nods fervently. "Of course, milady." And then off he goes.

The front door to the Devillers household appears to be open.

"Hello? Is an Evelyn Devillers present? And may I come in?"

Evelyn leans up from her packing and turns to face the doorway.

"– Uh, yes! Yes, hi, uh – I'm Evelyn."

"...Mademoiselle, I did not expect you to be quite this old. Manifesting at this age is very rare. Please, before anything, show me that there is not some kind of elaborate mistake. You do have magic, correct?"

"I do! I do, yes, should I just do a light?"

"Oui. Just above your hand, and carefully." The Witch's slightly-suspicious stare goes to her hands.

Evelyn tries to aim it as instructed. She hasn't practiced location much yet.

And it works fine, and that suspicious stare turns into a grin that emphasizes her weathered-looking face. "Very good. Trust but verify, you know." She walks in. The slight accent is more noticable as she speaks more casually. "My name is Farah DeVoult, we have a fair bit to talk about. I see you're packing - you intend to go somewhere? To war training perhaps? Good. Why?"

"Being a witch wouldn't be useful here – or, it would, but I don't think it would be most useful." She shrugs. "I'm not sure what would be most useful but it probably involves getting out of here."

"So you seek a place where you can serve well, hm? What if that place turns out to be unpleasant or dangerous? You may get tired of it, no? Hm, this is refreshing. I don't feel the need to talk down to you quite as much as a pre-pubescent child. Are your parents here?"

"My mother's upstairs, should I go get her –?" There's a bit of a noise, and then a sound at the stairs. "… Apparently she's on her way."

A few seconds later, Evelyn's mother comes down the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Madam Devillers. And, yes, this discussion should include both of you." She sighs slightly. "It may seem like I'm here to take your daughter away for years, possibly never to return. I am sorry for that."

Madam Devillers nods. "I expected Evelyn to grow up and – take flight, do something meaningful elsewhere." She tries not to sigh. "I just didn't realize it'd be this soon."

Evelyn bites her lip.

"Being a Witch certainly is taking flight." She laughs. "Well, the combined armies have a vast need for Witches, and not just for fighting. You will definitely make a difference if you join us. I found you quickly, so I don't suppose you have figured out what your special magic is? Well, it'll come along. Hm... Is your lord going to be a problem? Some of them are, and I don't know much about Leoni."

"– Uh, no, I don't know my special magic, and – Lord Leoni has already sealed my writ of release."

"Right kindly of him. I expect that's because he can't very well have kept you here and wants your goodwill, but still. Do you have any questions? Any preference on where I should start my explanations?"

"I don't know much about the different things witches can do," she says. "Go into, that is – there's the war, front lines, but… is there more?"

"Well... There's a surprising amount of subtlety in the fighting, we have what we call a 'wing'. A group of Witches trained together, acting together like a cohort of knights. There are three sorts of wings. Strike wings wait until the right moment and fly at speed to intercept and destroy demons. Patrol wings spend most of their time flying around, harassing the demons. Despite this, they don't directly fight as much. Guard wings... To be honest, they are filled with Witches not skilled enough for the other kinds. They are deployed defensively, meant to merely delay demons. Aside from that, we have a great many couriers, messengers, carriers, and scouts. Air transport is the fastest way to get anything anywhere, such as food and weapons to the front lines, so we always need more carriers. Also, any Witch with particularly useful special magic tends to find a job that uses it. Healers attend to soldiers in field hospitals, for example."

"So it's wait-and-see until I find out my magic?"

"Perhaps. Every single Witch in the United Defense Force needs certain essential skills, however, so you could start learning those now. Honestly, you're older than average and might have some catching up to do."

"Is there a training period of some kind?"

Evelyn's mother looks between the two of them, apparently not trying to butt in.

"There are two tiers of official training... Schools in London handle them, classes start about once every four months. They also teach the prerequisites for going into Flight School and Combat School, in smaller schools, but you don't actually have to attend one if you can pass the entry test without it."

Evelyn nods.

Her mother chooses now to engage in the conversation. "Does she have much to wait if she plans on that, then?"

"The next Flight School training group starts in about a month, I believe... You might be able to learn everything you need, get to London, and take the test in time, but more likely you will be attending the one after that, I think. Waiting is annoying, but it's for the best - there are only so many Witches who are also any good as teachers, you see."

"There are prerequisites?"

"Not as such. There is a test which you must pass to enter Flight School. It's not especially hard, it's to make sure nobody is hopelessly lost and everyone can learn what Flight School teaches at about the same pace."

Evelyn's mother nods.

"I won't be at too much a disadvantage?" asks Evelyn, a bit hopefully.

"Can you read and write? What is six, five times?"

She pauses briefly. "Thirty. And yes."

"I think you'll be fine. You may have to take the test twice, have a visit to a library in between, but with a quick answer like that I don't think you'll have too much trouble. Now, about money... You will get an account with the Royal Bank of London if you are accepted into Flight School. Even while in school, you will be paid a reasonable amount. Attending Flight School obliges you to work for the UDF for a period of one year after graduation, almost always as a courier in safe areas, or else pay some rather punishing fines. After that, you can quit the Force, continue as-is, or apply for Combat School."

"Combat School moving on to… front lines?"

Her mother tries not to pull a face.

"Not necessarily. You would be expected to serve for a while longer, but as I said, there are strike wings, guard wings, and patrol wings. A strike or patrol wing would be 'front lines,' but a guard wing does not face Neuroi very often, and usually only with overwhelming support. If you don't want to be a courier or go through Combat School, there are a few miscellaneous roles available - explorers and surveyors, the Witch Police, assisting construction work or science and development projects. Though those do tend to go to Witches who have a tour of duty behind them."

Evelyn's mother continues to frown. "Is this because they're usually more experienced, more well respected?"

"It's more about respect and rank than experience... And, well, fighting the demons or acting as a courier - you want to do these things while you are still in the prime of your magic. More intellectual work can wait until you're older."

"If Evelyn shows a talent for this, without going to the front lines, would it be enough to get around that?"

"If she had a great talent, it would. The - special assignments - do their own recruiting. If a general or a commander notices her... And keep in mind, we still don't know what her special magic is. It could be flying faster than normal, which is useful but nothing special. It could be spectacular, like seeing into the future. Depending on exactly how that works, she would be highly coveted and able to get more or less any role she wishes outside of command, immediately. It could be any number of other things."

Her mother nods.

Evelyn looks between the two of them. "So – what do I need to do next? Get to Flight School, apply and attend?"

"That's what I would honestly suggest, yes. Though I think I ought to train you for a few days. At least until you can fly a bit."

"– So I'm not leaving, right away?" she confirms.

"If you want to traipse off without the preparation I'm offering, I won't stop you. Or you mean leaving this village? I think I want to fly you to my post if you want my training. But I have other business here, so you have time to say goodbyes."

"I would like your training, if that's okay."

Her mother nods, keeping her face carefully blank.

Farah nods. "The world is changing for you. In more ways than one. Madam Devillers, I will make sure that the Flight School sends you letters of Evelyn's progress. She can certainly arrange to send you some of her pay, as well."

"Thank you," responds the mother.

Evelyn smiles, a little sadly. "Will I be able to come back, visit here? I don't know the… standard procedure."

"Of course! Not every other week or anything, but the Flight School has a week of leave after the fourth and eighth month, and you could try to find a courier assignment near here... Though that is not at all guaranteed. If you both moved to London you could see each other more often."

"I – uh, I don't know if that would be… feasible."

Evelyn looks to her mother, who seems similarly unsure.

"I wouldn't be earning money through Flight School, I think? So I wouldn't be able to help out."

"Ah... Flight School allowance is one Pound Sterling every two weeks. That's perhaps two and a half Albish measures. Not really enough to support two people."

"I think my mom might have trouble with the move, getting money in London –?" Evelyn looks to her mother to check, who nods, frowning. "So it's not doable, I don't think."

Her mother considers and offers, "I might be able to set something up, I don't rely too heavily on the locals…"

"But it wouldn't be as easy as just moving?" says Evelyn.

"… No, I think not."

"I think this is a choice for you two to make. I hear there's a bowyer around, so I'll go find them and be back in, perhaps an hour or two?"

"That should be fine," says Mme Devillers. "And thank you."

Evelyn nods and says thanks also.

"Thank you for your hospitality and goodbye for now, then."

Evelyn and her mother discuss the idea some, consider the prospects of moving to London, but it doesn't seem very feasible. They go on to check and double-check that Evelyn has the things she needs, prioritized and carefully considered, and a few last-moment ideas are gathered.

Evelyn spends a brief period of time going to the doors of some of the neighbors – those who have been especially nice, those who she forgot to say goodbye to already, those she thinks could be useful later in life – and then she returns to the house.

They discuss the feasibility of the London plan some more. No sudden inspiration comes to mind, but her mother plans to consider the idea further.

Farah eventually returns carrying what looks like a large bundle of bow-string. "Hello again."

"Hi," greets Evelyn. "The bowyer went well?"

"Well enough, yes. Have you reached a decision?"

"If the offer of training still stands, I'd like to accept that and then hopefully head for Flight School. My mother probably will not follow to London."

Nod. "Yes, it does. I see that you've packed - it should be no trouble to bring most of it to my post, but you may have to leave that one, or have it sent to the post later. You will probably want a carriage and a ferry berth to get to London, rather than trying to fly yourself there, unless you pick up flying exceptionally well."

She nods. "I'm not sure I have the currency for that? I don't know what they'd take."

"Measures should work until the ferry. And you can bet there will be moneychangers at Calais, you can get shillings and pence that way."

Evelyn looks to her mother, then back at Farah.

"I think I'm ready to go, then."

"Then we should get going if we want to get to the post by nightfall."

"Do I need to carry this stuff somewhere?"

She picks up her rucksack from the group of bags.

Farah picks up a few other bags. "My wing is in the square, we'll sling them under it for the trip."

Off they go. The 'wing' doesn't look all that much like a broom - well, the general shape is there, but this is clearly something much more specialized. She slings the bags onto hooks and pulls out a map and some kind of circular tool, peering at them.

The reaction of the townspeople seeing her leave with an army Witch is half worried, half well-wishing.

Evelyn hugs her mother goodbye, briefly, and tries to put on a brave face for the rest of town.

"Hm, first lesson, pay attention. This is a compass. You might not have heard of them before. But they're absolutely essential for finding your way around when flying. The needle always points toward magnetic north. To get home from here, I have to go just slightly North of East. That's 'heading 80'. I'll explain heading later. So we turn until the needle lines up like so on the '80' line..." And she points. "And we go that way. Right, let's get you strapped in for your first flight. I bet you'll enjoy it. Sit here..."

She brings up two sets of leather straps with a sort of metal buckle at the end that latch to each other over her legs and lap. "Tell me if you're getting nervous or uncomfortable. Flying is not a game, and I don't want to push you too hard."

"– I'm going to be flying it?"

"What? No! No. Even being a passenger frightens some people."

Oh phew.

She doesn't say that aloud.

"Okay. Uh. You've – I assume you've done this lots of times before, with a passenger?"

"Yes. Passengers are what couriers carry as often as cargo, in fact." She sighs. "You know, I was already old when this war broke out. That's why I have this post - it needs a Witch in it, and here I am, not all that useful for fighting since I don't have much magic."

… Evelyn nods, lightly frowning. "I think I should be okay," she says. "With flying, I mean."

"Then let's get going."

Farah settles into the second seat, in front of Evelyn.

The 'wing gently hovers. There might be a subtle thrumming in it. Magic.

Evelyn holds on, trying to help keep herself stable despite the fastenings.

(She's going to be flying! She… is going to be flying! She is going to be in the air, so high up, held in the sky by magic. … It's somewhat frightening.)

Farah leans forward and shifts her grip on the handles at the front. They start moving forward and slightly up. It would be like riding a horse if a horse's motions were eerily smooth.

"Want me to stay low and slow, or want to go higher and get a nice view?"

"I think, for now, low and slow might be best?"

"Certainly." They ascend to about twice horse-height, not even above rooftops, and a bit faster than a horse in canter, and follow the road out of the village. Then she turns toward the forest, gliding over fields of grain low enough that Evelyn could reach down and touch the tips of the plants. 

"Can you feel the magic in the 'wing?"

She frowns and tries to – reach outward, pay attention to her surroundings more.

That thing she does to do manalights?

If that was, say, blue, except not... There might be something around here that is yellow, except not. So to speak.

"… I think I can," she responds.

"You will pay attention to it while I fly several times, and then try it on your own, until you get it. You'd eventually get it on your own anyway, but that's faster. And then I can give you actual flying lessons."

She nods, trying to put on a brave face.

Farah looks back at her, then nods slightly.

The broom goes a bit higher and speeds up some. The wind pushes against her face.

And Evelyn tries to focus on the magic in the broom – the 'wing – while leaning into it.

There's not really much to feel - it's - a thing - and the steadily increasing drop from where she is to the cold, hard ground is kind of distracting. And after a minute, the somewhat shorter distance between her and a lot of sharp, fast-moving branches of a forest.

(You can see two towns, the Abbey, and the Baron's castle from here.)

She opts to close her eyes when they get high enough, and instead try to focus on the magic without the worry from looking down.

Well, the magic is being low key and steady. Though it's not exactly easy to see it. It shifts slightly when Farah turns at all, like a scarecrow in a breeze.

After a while, "Navigation time. How far would you say have gone?"

Evelyn opens her eyes.

… Can she see the town in the distance, some point to anchor off? She didn't realize she was supposed to be keeping track, tries to be careful of looking at the distance to the ground.

The landscape below is not particularly familiar. There's a lake to the right.

"No pressure, just take a guess. Maybe from how fast we're going. And, sorry to distract you from the soul-searching bit. I'm just introducing you to the idea that you have to pay attention to half a dozen things when you fly."

Uh. Hah.

"Um." Paaaause. "A few miles?"

"Mm. Five and one quarter miles by my reckoning. You don't have any experience flying, so of course there's no way for you to tell. Yet."

"But it comes with practice?"

"Study first, then practice. Yes. How do you think sailors get around? Navigating is probably the most important life skill that non-Witches don't need to pick up, but it's still a skill. Learnable. You can navigate by dead reckoning, by the stars, by landmarks, by compass..."

… Fair.

She nods. "I don't really have much to… anchor off."

"I see. Then perhaps I should stop testing you and wait until I can give a proper lesson."

"– Maybe?"

Farah chuckles and flies on silently for the rest of the trip.

Evelyn tries to be a good passenger, quiet unless spoken to.

She gets chilly about an hour in.

But Farah sticks to her promise of low and slow. They approach a town, with its own cathedral and a river winding through it, at around the time the sun is setting. 

"Welcome to Caville. My post is on a field just past this place."

"Oh – it's pretty," comments Evelyn. Trying to be polite.

"It's not gonna be a middle-of-nowhere town for long. See that?" She points to a curiously de-treed area on the horizon. It's an ugly brown scar of land. "That's the site of a lumber mill, cutting down whole forests to fill the demands of the war. They're building new roads, steel roads, to it to get the trees out easier. All the villagers hate it. Some of them tried to burn it down a couple months ago. So be careful if you head in that direction."

Farah angles north and descends.

… Less pretty horizon.

"Why do they hate it?" she asks. "Too big…?"

"It's loud, it makes lots of sawdust, if it keeps cutting at this rate in a decade there'll be no forest left and they're worried about what happens then."

"Ah. … Seems weird for them to burn it down."

Farah seems... More tired, suddenly.

"...It's a visible symbol of the war and the demands it's made on them. And a fundamental change in the world too. You don't think industry like this would make the older farmers in your village gasp and clutch at crucifixes? It would, if they had to see it every day."

They approach a large free-standing building, built like a hunting lodge. It probably is a hunting lodge, sans hunters.

"Oh," she says. "… Yeah. I guess they would."

She relaxes a little more as they near the ground.

"If you have any clever solutions, feel free to let me know and if it's particularly insightful and might be actually helpful I will be grateful and write a letter to the War Coordinator for this part of the country about it."

She thinks a bit. "… Do any of them have jobs, at the mill?"

"Yes, but-" She glides in for a landing as smooth as the beginning of the flight was on the grassy yard "-most of the ones with jobs are young men who got out of being soldiers for it, which makes it a bit complicated."

"Oh." She gets a bit distracted by the landing, then pulls a face in response the previous topic.

"Go ahead and ask, whatever it is you're mulling over. I should rest, your few days of lessons with me can start tomorrow."

She steps off the 'wing and starts unpacking gear. A maid-or-something comes out to help. 

"Oh, hello, dear. I take it you're the new Witch? I'm Mary, one of Dame DeVoult's assistants."

"I am," she smiles. "Evelyn – it's nice to meet you."

She looks over at Farah and pauses some more. "I just — yeah, it seems complicated."

"They should just be glad they don't live in Karlsland," mutters Farah. "Evelyn, you should get settled for the night. Mary, get her the navigation book when you get her settled, will you?"

"Of course, Dame DeVoult. I'll show you one of the guest rooms, Evelyn. Shall I carry your bags?"

"– Oh, uh, I'm sure I can manage."

She picks them up, one by one. There are a couple too many for a single trip.

Mary carries the remainder inside. She points out the kitchen, toilet, lounge, Farah's offices, guest rooms, bath room - "Your bath will be ready in two hours, after dinner." - and so on, along the way.

It's totally a hunting lodge. The walls of the central hall are still adorned with trophies, taxidermied heads of impressive-looking deer, boars, even a bear.

… Wow. Uh. Um. That's, uh, showcasey.

She inspects them as she passes.

"You think they're a bit creepy, too?" Asks Mary, a little hopefully. "I heard the condition they gave on letting Dame DeVoult use this place is that she leaves all the trophies where they are."

"… Don't see why they couldn't be moved temporarily."

"Barons're easy to offend, it's better not to unless there's a really good reason."

Evelyn tries very hard not to make a face.

"I can ask Dame DeVoult if I cover them with sheets or something if you wish, young miss."

"It's not that bad, just – didn't realize."

"Very well, young miss. I'll bring you the book Dame DeVoult asked me to show you in just a minute."

"Thank you," she nods.

And her bags are delivered into the guest room and they'll wash what she's wearing during her bath if she wishes and here's the book, simply titled Don't Get Lost.

That's very nice of them!

Does she have time to start the book before dinner?

Dinner is served pretty much immediately, so unfortunately no.

Oh well. She should have time after dinner and then maybe after her bath.

Dinner is... Quiet. Mary and another servant set out a meal for Evelyn and Farah, then set their own at the far end of the table. The servants speak quietly to each other, but Farah is silent.

It's reasonably good food, but not any kind of fancy. Either Farah eats humbly or she doesn't actually get paid all that much.

… It's possible it's the latter. She made it sound like she was sent to do some low-priority field work.

Evelyn can't really complain. She tries to keep quiet, in accordance with the atmosphere.

Once Farah is done, she asks, "The room is acceptable, Evelyn? And... My apologies for being brusque earlier. I don't want to hold you up from your journey to London very long. Tomorrow we will both be fresh and I have no pressing jobs. I have hope you will learn what I think you need to know in three days."

"I didn't really know how long this would all take," she responds. "The room is good, thank you." Smile.

"Very well. But if I dally too long, you will miss the current entrance period and have to wait four months - which may not be a bad thing, necessarily, but you are already older than most other entrants so you might wish to catch up."

"Is there a final deadline, where I'll be too old for the school?"

"It won't be until you're well and truly an adult, if there is one."

Nod. "And –" She hesitates. "I'm not all that sure what… things… are available, when I'm older. There's the standard route through the, uh, military, but then… I assume that leads onto other things, later on?"

"Hm. To be honest, as a Witch, almost any mundane job you would wish to do, besides perhaps being a noble Lord, you could take and do well. Using magic to aid your work or supplementing whatever failures you encounter with magical income. Serving as a courier or guard or using your particular magic, whatever it turns out to be, is the other main civilian option. For the military specifically, if you show promise you could very well be promoted to positions of command. The politics are a bit complicated, but the Witch sections of the UDF must be commanded by other Witches, even if they sit at a desk and do not use their magic. So there is a significant lack of Witches trained to command, and a lack of skilled administrators generally. The UDF is relatively new and does not truly know what it is doing yet, in my opinion. There is much opportunity there. Aside from that there are the special assignments I mentioned earlier - police, civilian aid, and research aid being the most significant."

Evelyn frowns. "… Why do the Witch sections have to be commanded by other Witches? – Is the UDF headed by a Witch?"

"The Unity Mother heads it, while she still lives, rest her soul. One-" She sighs a bit. "One of the greatest arguments that allow the UDF to exist at all are that Witches are independent of their countries - few Witches are truly beholden to their local lords. It has been this way for a long time, and Witches are better off for it. But this also means they are capable of being trusted to be impartial. If the Duke of Brittany was head of Albion's forces in the UDF, and a Neuroi were attacking both Bordeaux and Brittany, which do you think they would defend more stringently? With a Witch in command, one who is serving the world and not her home, all lords can contribute to the fight without feeling like they need to hold back and reserve strength to protect themselves. That's the idea, anyway."

"That doesn't sound like it'd make that much difference…"

"Trust and stability of power are the most scarce of commodities in politics. Scarcer than gold and diamonds, scarcer than mana. Besides that, nobles think differently. Almost none would have agreed to join the United Force, a truly world-spanning coalition rather than one of a few dozen lords, without a condition of this sort. Perhaps the Unity Mother should have seen the problems this caused coming ahead of time. Perhaps she did and this was the better option than letting the coalition die. Either way, here we are."

"– The nobles, uh, didn't want to be ruled by other nobles? Or?"

"Essentially, the nobles didn't want to be directed in such a huge war by other nobles, yes. Not all people have nobles and lords, but those are another wrinkle entirely."

Nod. "This might be for the better."

"I quite agree. But it still leaves us Witches with a command problem, discipline problems." She grimaces. "Little girls grow up hearing 'a Witch can do whatever she wants to'. That attitude doesn't usually take well to working as a team."

… Evelyn nods, again. "I don't think I feel that much different, really?" She pauses. "Maybe a little."

"Well, you need to get that out of your head right now. There are invisible walls for everyone. Things you can not say or do, lest you face consequences. In the world of peasantry, a man works and fights wars, a woman works and bears and cares for children. Anyone who deviates from the pattern takes on risks. In the world of Witches there are rules just the same. Fewer of them, admittedly. And now I have notes to write. If you wish to be a diligent student, you will either read the first twenty pages of that book or practice holding your mana-light more steady than a candle flame before sleeping."

"I do," she affirms. "I'll try that — it seems wise."

"It is also good practice for staying steady in flight. Very well then, I bid you good night."

"I hope you sleep well," responds Evelyn.

And then it's off to start reading the book before her bath.

(She feels so fancy.)

The opening chapter describes how to use a map and compass. It insists that being careful and diligent is key. As is having a good map. If you estimate distances wrong, if you misplace landmarks, if you think you're going at bearing 80 degrees but it's actually 75, you will be hopelessly lost very quickly.

After this, the book continues with an explanation that the world is a sphere. It includes some math and talks about experiments done by a guy called Euclid to prove it. You cannot go one hundred miles north, then east, then south, then west, and end up in the same place you started. It will be a little bit off. For navigation at sea or over large distances, you must measure your latitude - how far north or south you are. You can do this by-

Her bath is ready.

She manages to tear herself away from the book, frowning a bit confusedly.

"Best be quick about it, or the water will get cold. We have soap waiting for you in the bathroom."

Ooh. "Thanks."

She heads towards the bathroom.

The bathroom contains nice stone floors that slope downward to a drain, a wooden bathtub plenty big enough for her to lie down in, radiating warmth, and a small table with a dish of soap, a small cloth, and a larger, fluffy-looking cloth.

Presumably she knows how to take a bath - they're rare, not nonexistent, for ordinary folk. But the warm water is very, very nice.

After the bath there's perhaps an hour of sunlight left, and Mary says that Dame DeVoult forbids candles. So after that last hour she'll have to try and wrap her head around the navigation book tomorrow.

She tries to fit in what she can before bed, then briefly tries creating and holding a mana-light steady, but she's rather tired and so doesn't continue that for very long.

Then: bed.

The math for larger navigation is really difficult to follow, but the techniques for 'local' navigating are easier.

In the morning there is a note, apparently written by Farah. Do as you please until about an hour before lunch time, then return here for your lessons. I am visiting the lumber mill. Mary should have breakfast for you.

… She sort of wants to wrap her head around the navigation book but the message seems like it might be a hint to look around a bit.

She decides to go looking around, at least briefly, but resolves not to lose track of time.

The only real item of interest here is the town. It's much bigger than her little village. They have buildings three stories high, more than one properly paved street, bridges over the river and water mills, a fair number of interesting-looking shops...

Though she could also wander over towards the lumber mill if she's more interested in that. It sounded like some kind of advanced technology is being used there.

She is impressed by the town.

If it doesn't look like it'll take too much time, she's curious enough she would in fact like to investigate the lumber mill.

As she approaches the denuded sections of woods, she can see the cluster of buildings near the lumber mill. One large building with a team of men feeding logs into a door on one end - must be the main saw? It's also emitting a steady stream of smoke from a chimney. A few smaller buildings around it might be tool-houses or something. A big, brown, muddy open field has dozens of piles of cut trees resting on it, denuded of branches and bark. Those are in separate piles. In the distance are some more buildings, too far to make out yet. This place of industry is almost as big and complex as a village, all on its own.

And lumber mills are very, very loud apparently. The sheer noise coming from the building that she can hear even from this distance speaks to powerful machinery, much louder than a grain mill would ever be.

Eech.

Are there any people who look like they might want to talk? … Perhaps if she conspicuously creates a mana light?

The group of women and old men gathered at the top of a small hill, pointing and gesturing at something, are looking at something more interesting than a young Witch's manalight apparently.

Evelyn heads that way, curious.

As she crests the hill, she can see... A line of sort-of-carriages, wheels with platforms on top, stacked high with logs. The last one in the row being loaded up with more logs with help from Farah.

There are two metal lines with wooden planks between them on the ground. The log-cars are resting on them, and they end a couple hundred feet past the loading platform. Is this the 'steel road' Farah mentioned?

At the head of the line of carriages is a car full of coal and then a large mechanical-looking thing, a giant metal cylinder sitting horizontally on the track, with a tall smokestack and a plethora of levers and controls in a little cabin behind it. It's a very strange sight.

"What in the world is that thing?"

"I saw it coming in. Steel horse, pushing and pulling on that steel road."

"Steel monster, defiling our forests even faster... What will the damn army do to us next..."

"It looks ugly and scary like the rest of the new inventions, indeed. Where does the steel road lead?"

"To Guenroc. I overhead them talking about it. Then at Guenroc the logs will get loaded onto barges and sent down to the shipyards at Saint-Malo."

Evelyn's not really sure what to make of it all. It seems likely it'd be the steel road, but… it looks like it would be – complicated – to move. 'Steel monster' sounds like a very charged word to refer to it with though. Even if it is, uh, monstrous.

"Hi there!" she says, to the people. "I'm. Uh. Visiting."

Most of them glance at her, but then go back to observing the... Thing. One woman asks, "What for? There isn't too much to see 'round here. Especially not with the hunting forests going away like this. They're tearing up old growth!"

"Oh, uh. Just a short… apprenticeship. What's up with the – uh – thing?"

"The UDF put it here. Something about steam making the wheels move? Building the steel road for it must have been hideously expensive. And now that it's here... They're going to use it as much as possible. More logging."

"… How would steam make it move?"

She opts not to comment on it being used more.

"How should I know? I just... Don't like the thing." She glances over towards the workers loading logs, instead of the engine itself, though.

"All this science!" Rants another man, interrupting. "Uprooting the things we've done the same way for hundreds of years... I'm sure God would be ashamed if we accepted it by learning how this devilish machine works!"

… Perhaps.

"I haven't heard anything, nobody's really mentioned it where I'm from. It's… weird." She looks over at Farah, then points in that direction, frowning. "They get help from witches?"

"We only started hearing about these things two, three years ago. Dame DeVoult, I believe she is there as a member of the Defence Force. Not as a Witch. The war against demons needs many sacrifices..."

Old man clucks at this. "Don't take their side, Lottie. Besides, those boys would be sacrificing a lot more if they learned to use a sword and went off with the knights, as is proper."

Uh… huh…

She tilts her head inquisitively. "If they help more here – isn't that better?"

"They're not helping more here. They're looting the forest to build some ships for the UDF slightly faster. Swords and magic kill demons. Not logging."

Frown. "Then why are they doing it?"

"Greed! Some noble is profiting on this, or I'll eat my hat."

"Or maybe one old man's opinion is not the whole and unbiased truth." A man missing most of his right arm speaks up. "I fought, Cormick. I saw the demons. Trust me when I say the Force has desperate need of ships. They have desperate need of many things."

"Pah!" The old man pointedly turns away from the crippled veteran. Some people give disapproving noises at this, but he continues. "See the piles and piles of felled, butchered trees, sitting there and rotting in the summer sun! They are taking without any care for us at all, if this is the kind of planning the Witches do I would bet that the ships they build all sink! They're doing as much damage to our lives as the demons would!"

Most of these people are listening to the old guy, still, despite his hypocrisy in not respecting the veteran. The veteran looks like he dearly wishes to say something, but just shakes his head, looking pained. Shivering despite the warm sun.

Evelyn shivers some, herself, in response.

"If there's a problem –" She hesitates. "Could you tell them? Would they do anything?"

A few of the listeners admit that they did send plenty of grain to the town last winter, when the town's stores turned out to be full of mold. The old man thinks they just didn't want to interrupt the logging.

Sounds like someone's biased. (Sigh.)

Evelyn stands around a bit more, watching the sight. She pokes at the topics a bit more, seeing if there are other interesting details.

There are rumors that there will be extra taxes, rumors started by that old guy. More discussion of how disgusting the iron horse is and what a bother the loud sawmill and bare former forests are. One person wonders how much she could sell a piece of the iron rails for. Just a little piece. 

The veteran leaves.

The final rail-car is loaded. Dame DeVoult lands and talks to a merchant-looking type, gesturing. They shake hands, then a trio of workers start shoveling coal into the furnace-on-wheels, but it doesn't start moving immediately.