𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

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CHAPTER ELEVEN
LANCELOT ( i. )

7 YEARS AGOMERCIA

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7 YEARS AGO
MERCIA

Sepharin and Calliope spent days journeying through the countryside of Northern Mercia without exchanging many words. They trekked over hills and plains; crossing many cool streams and thick areas of woods. As each day passed, Sepharin never once tried to harm Calliope or order her around. He wasn't treating her like he had just bought her as a slave. She would often think back to the first thing he said to; that he could help her change her life. She wanted to ask, but she had a feeling that wherever he was taking her would answer her many questions.

Calliope had suffered more than most eleven-year-old girls could survive, but somehow, she was still on her feet with a sense of strength behind her young eyes.

Ever since her village was destroyed; her father murdered; her mother taken away on horseback, Calliope has been completely alone. She spent the first year hopping from town to town, stealing from markets and sleeping in barns to survive, until she stole from the wrong person and ended up chained in a cave after a harsh beating. She still had the marks on her wrist where her chains dug into her skin, the marks from her captors' whips, and the marks from being kicked and punched and slapped. Calliope's scars told the story of the past two years of her life; a story that most wouldn't even believe. Yes, she was only eleven, but she had learned a lot, and she felt much older than she really was.

As Calliope walked behind Sepharin, her feet aching from traveling all day, she finally spotted something in the distance. Right around the mountains, in a small valley with a river on one side, Calliope's eyes landed on a village. While the village seemed quaint and austere, there was no sign of luxury or wealth insight, and for once, Calliope was glad for that.

"Welcome to Crasmere," Sepharin announced as he led Calliope closer to the village. "Your new home."

The villagers didn't seem to notice Calliope as they continued on with their daily routines of toiling away in their fields and gardens or tending to the livestock. She heard goats yelling for their supper as Sepharin walked her into a small wooden cabin at the end of the dirt path. Calliope hugged her arms around her chest as she stepped inside, glancing around the simple room with a table and four chairs. To the left sat one bedroom and there was another opposite of it.

Calliope shifted her feet unsurely as Sepharin sat down his bag on the table. She didn't know what she should do.

"Is this your house?" She finally asked.

Sepharin nodded, "It has been for many years now." He pulled out one of the chairs at the table, motioning for Calliope to do the same after he leaned back comfortably.

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