Song recommendation :November Rain by Guns N' Roses
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Year 1763
It was sometime in the evening and it was pouring down heavily all over the land of Arcardia. Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the darkened sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. People usually preferred to stay indoors due to the unexpected change in the weather.
In one of the houses not far from the capital village of Arcardia, a young girl placed a log of wood beneath a large vessel filled with water and gently blew on it with an iron blowpipe, causing the flames to burn more brightly. The fire in the hearth crackled, radiating warmth and infusing the room with a cozy feeling.
Satisfied with the warmth of the fire, the girl stood up and lightly touched the surface of the water in the vessel, feeling its moderate heat.
Perfect, she thought, smiling to herself.
She picked up a mug from an empty bucket and began pouring the warm water from the vessel into the bucket until it was full. Once finished, she arranged all the bathing accessories on a small wooden slab next to the bucket of hot water before leaving the bathroom.
"Uncle, your bath is ready," Amyra informed her uncle, who had returned home from the market, drenched in the rain. He had asked her to set up a warm bath for him. Everyone in the family called her Myra, a shorter version of her name she'd grown used to hearing more often than her real one.
Uncle Ravin, who was sitting on a rocking chair in the veranda, was lost in his own thoughts, staring at the raindrops with a forgotten cup of coffee in his hand. An air of melancholy surrounded him. He didn't even respond to what Amyra had said, making her wonder whether he'd heard her at all.
Once again, she repeated her words, this time a bit louder, "Uncle, your bath is ready," thinking he hadn't heard her the first time.
"I know," came a bored reply from her uncle, who was still watching the rain. "I heard you the first time."
Ravin didn't seem to be in a hurry and took his own sweet time finishing the cup of coffee. After what seemed like ages to Amyra, he handed the empty cup to his niece, who had been patiently standing next to him. With a huff, he got up from his chair and went to take a bath without uttering another word.
The Brookes were an average middle-class family who earned their living through trade. Amyra's parents had passed away in an accident when she was seven, and since then, she had been living with her paternal uncle, Ravin Brooke, and his family.
Amyra was on her way to the kitchen when someone called out to her, making her stop in her tracks. It was her cousin April, walking in her direction with a heap of maroon-colored clothing in her hands.
"Stitch this!" she said, dumping the cloth into Amyra's hands.
"That's my favorite gown, and it's slightly torn in the back. I'm going to wear it to the soiree at the Laurels' household," she informed her curtly.
"Okay, I'll stitch it once I'm done preparing dinner," Amyra replied. The sky was getting darker, and her aunt Lyla had ordered her to prepare food a bit early that day due to the cold weather. She wanted her children to eat and retire to bed earlier than usual.
"No! I want you to mend it now!" April could be stubborn sometimes, and she sounded irritated too. "Dinner can wait," she said with finality.
Myra sighed. Her cousin April, two years younger than her, was the most pampered child in the family—or rather, the most spoiled. If she didn't give in to April's demands now, she would undoubtedly throw a tantrum, drawing everyone's unwanted attention, and Myra didn't want that at the moment.
With no other option, she went to her attic room with the gown and retrieved a wooden box containing different colored threads from the table drawer. Then she sat comfortably on the wide windowsill.
A small amount of light filtered through the window, enabling her to see clearly. The rain had reduced to a light drizzle, and she opened the window slightly to let in the fresh air.
Taking a deep breath to smell the wet soil, Myra returned her attention to the task at hand. She first inspected the gown thoroughly, searching for the tear, and found a small slit on its back, just below the left sleeve.
Picking up random threads from the box, she matched them with the gown. On finding the right shade, she carefully put the thread through the needle and began stitching it neatly, humming a song to herself as she worked.
Her task was done in a matter of minutes. She checked the gown thoroughly once again for any other tears and, finding none, sat there for a while admiring the dress.
Myra had never gotten the opportunity to wear anything grand. All her clothes were secondhand—mostly April's old ones. Not that she minded, but this gown she held in her hands was truly beautiful.
It was a maroon-colored, off-shoulder dress with black, vine-like embroidery at the bottom. Myra could only dream of wearing such designer dresses. Maybe things would have been different if her parents were alive. But they weren't, and this was her reality. She wanted to try it on just once, but it wasn't hers, and she knew April would kill her if she ever dared.
Just then, someone knocked on her door, and before she could respond, the door opened and a small head popped in. It was Peter, her ten-year-old cousin — the only genuinely sweet person in the family who talked to and spent time with her.
"Hey! What are you doing?" he asked, inviting himself into the room and shutting the door behind him.
"Hi, Pete," Myra said, giving him a warm smile.
Sitting up properly now, her back to the window, she made space for Peter to sit next to her. She tapped the empty space beside her, signaling for him to sit, and the young boy obediently hopped on.
"Did you finish all your homework?"
"Yep," he nodded, flashing a cute smile. "Did you buy a new dress?" he asked curiously, since he had never seen her with clothes like this before.
Myra sighed.
"No… This one's your sister's. And I don't think it's new, since it was slightly torn."
Pete pressed his lips into a tight line, silent for a moment.
"Myra… you know what?" he said suddenly, grabbing both her hands with a look of determination in his eyes. "When I grow up and start earning, I'll buy you loads of luxury dresses. I promise!"
Myra chuckled softly, ruffling her cousin's blond hair. "I know you will."
Putting the thread box back in its place, she asked, "So, what did you learn today?".
"History… of the five lands", Peter replied. "Did you know? There were only four lands before: Arcardia, Wendyln, Stonefort and Northwick?" he asked excitedly, eager to share everything he'd learned.
Though Myra was not formally educated—her uncle didn't see any value in it—she knew the basics of reading and writing, all thanks to Beth, a maid who once worked for the Brookes. She had taken pity on young Amyra and taught her what little she knew.
Seeing Myra not respond, Peter continued, "Recently about seventy years ago, Northwick was divided and one fourth of its land area formed the Zantra Valley. Sir Walter—". Pete was interrupted by his mother calling out for Myra.
"MYRA!" came the shrill voice. "Where are you, You Stupid Wench?".
"Sorry, Pete. I'll listen to you later. Gotta go!" she said, hurrying downstairs with the dress, cursing herself for slacking off and wasting time.
Her aunt Lyla stood in the kitchen, clearly angry.
"Are you planning to starve us tonight?" she demanded sternly, tapping her foot as Amyra entered.
"No, Aunt Lyla," Myra mumbled, bowing her head.
"Then why the hell haven't you prepared anything?" she shouted, pointing at the empty utensils before grabbing Amyra's ear and twisting it hard, making her flinch. "You're utterly useless. What were you doing all this time? Can't you do even one job properly, huh?"
"I—I'm s-sorry, Aunt Lyla," Amyra pleaded in pain. "April asked me to mend her dress, and I was stitching it."
Her aunt still didn't let go, and it hurt. "Please, Aunty… This won't happen again. I'll prepare dinner immediately."
Myra had long planned to leave this house and live independently, without having to rely on her relatives or anyone else. She had even saved a bit of money once — but April found it and spent it all on pointless shopping.
Still, that hadn't stopped her from saving again. This time, she'd made sure to hide her money well, so no one could find it.
"You'd better prepare it soon," Lyla snapped, finally letting go of her ear, which had turned red. Her eyes then fell on the gown Myra was holding. "Give that to me," she ordered, snatching it from her hands and walking off with a look of disgust.
Tears welled up in Myra's eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. This treatment was nothing new. She was used to it by now. Crying wouldn't change anything, it would only make her feel smaller.
Soon enough, I'll run away from here and live a better life, she thought.
With that resolve, she began preparing dinner for the family.