1 ◦❀◦ Lizzie From The Slums

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It hasn't been a day since Lizzie escaped and now she was abducted for the second time. Although she had escaped the first one, this time, Lizzie's abduction was strange.

She was hiding in the bushes for a few minutes waiting for Red at the forest opening when another teenage boy with black hair appeared. "Found you."

Lizzie blinked up at the boy with noble and dignified clothing and eloquent speech. Then she fled, only to be caught by the big men the boy came with. "It has been a challenging search, but it's pleasure to meet you, little one."

Oddly, there were no cuffs and cages. Instead, the same boy and his older followers brought her to an inn. A maid was waiting for her and wordlessly, washed her up and clothed her. Not in rags, but laces, and silks and ribbons. Then they fed her with soups, soft things, and warm milk.

If not for the black-haired boy taking a spoon of her meal first to assure there was no poison, she would have died in hunger. And now, they are currently riding a carriage with an explosion of pink and pastel that hurt her eyes.

There was news of nobles who has an appetite for children and some immoral categories. Although slavery is a grave crime in Gran Dacchia, not everyone follows the law. Despite the lavish treatment, she did not trust the refined teenage boy, who seemed to have calculated movements and a gentle demeanor.

"Would you like to sleep?"

Lizzie looked away. Behind the oval-shaped glasses, he has the same blue eyes as hers. His name was Erdan, with kind eyes and a polite smile. Although she assumed he's about fourteen or fifteen, she could never tell with rich people. They look so healthy and their bodies mature better than poor people. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

She did not answer, scooted farther away, and peeked through the window, only to be amazed by the huge gate of stone pillars and shiny sparkling lights around it.

"That's the Medakaz Gate, only those with permission to enter are allowed. They take people to different places."

Despite the queue of carriages in all colors, the wagons, and the line of people, the pink carriage bypassed the line on unstoppable speed.

A knight on horseback tapped the glass window and Lizzie flinched away, not by the surprise of the armored man and another one, but by the fact that Erdan was already beside her, showing his face from the window. "Is there a problem?" he asked in a calm voice.

"N-Nothing, Young Master," the guard standing stuttered.

"I told you it was him," the knight on the horse said.

"But the carriage... pink..."

The conversation was cut off when Erdan closed the window glass and fixed the curtain in place.

Young Master. Lizzie's suspicions of his nobility were confirmed. Red's words echoed in her head and the nagging ideas that she once thought was an outrageous hilarity, have come back in waves.

"Where... where are we going, sir?"

"Oh, you do speak," he mused. "Home, of course, Feliziia."

"Home?"

She ignored the name she called her. Lizzie prayed and prayed and prayed to whoever gods could hear. The loud beat of her chest climbed up to her head. She clenched and unclenched her fist on the skirt of her fluffy yellow dress. Her feet who had previously dangled froze in place.

There was a flash of light outside, the proof that they had crossed a month's journey to mere seconds with magic.

Erdan opened the window, his hands motioned her to look. She stood, her body trembled yet she moved mechanically like rusting wheel hinge.

The first she saw was a lone knight speeding ahead to inform their arrival.

Then, loomed farther was a rocky mountain cut in half, with a giant gate half the mountain, but still looked limitless it reached heavens.

She saw the severed heads perched on the high walls of the mountain, eyes pecked by crows, and halos of flies buzzed around the dead traitors and criminals of the duchy. There was a sound of a deep horn and the gate opened.

She looked back to Erdan, who, despite his smile, it was distant and cold. "Welcome back to the North, Feliziia."

He added murmurs of "That musclehead will flip when he finds out, I can't wait." and "The North would be in chaos." And honestly for her to have met fairly terrible men of the streets, the well clothed Erdan terrified her more.

However, at that moment, Lizzie didn't mind whatever delight Erdan had for disturbing the order of things by bringing her there.

All she had were Red's words echoing in her head, now as it seems, has become reality.

Her mind had somehow only restarted its functions minutes later after they passed a long-winded road, the capital, and the road up another mountain, then a second gate with another line of severed and rotting heads. Now she was standing in front of a second boy who looked like Erdan, but bulkier and had a wild expression of surprise, eyeing Lizzie then to Erdan behind her.

"You called me off from my training for this thing...?"

"As if you need any more training."

Lizzie stepped back, overwhelmed by the sweaty boy in armor. Still, she never took off her eyes from him, as if one look away and she'd lose her head. One instinct, her hands covered her neck and swallowed a big lump of fear down her throat.

The new boy raised his sword, "Oi Erd, the hell is this? The hell is that ugly pink carriage?"

"Children would feel at ease with this color, wouldn't they?" was Erdan's answer.

And then, the other boy's sword pointed to Lizzie, just below her chin, "The hell are you?"

She wanted to faint but she couldn't. Maybe it would be the last time she'd be alive. But what took her by surprise was Erdan's calm answer from behind.

"Lizzie, say hi to your second brother."

Shut up, she would have screamed. She didn't understand, as if the world had played a joke on her and it wasn't funny.

Life as a street rat was better than a noble with a tragic end and to a hand of her family. Now she was more eager to see Red and strangle him.

Lizzie was desperate and mad.

In her minuscule courage, she repeated the same questions, screaming for anyone to explain the ridiculous joke of her circumstances.

In shaking hands, she pointed at the sword still aimed at her. "T-The hell is this?" Then to the massive grey castle beyond them, "The hell is that?" And lastly to the boy, as if frozen like a stone in front of her, "The hell are you?!"

And thus, Lizzie's legend began.

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