Chapter 1000: Sisters
A fire blazed in the stove, casting a ruddy warmth across the floor.
Azima sat by the window and watched snowflakes drift in the north wind. Behind her, the fireplace crackled. In the past, winters had split the skin of her hands — frostbite so deep her fingers cracked and bled, and she would rummage through rubbish piles with them anyway because hunger didn’t wait for spring. On Sleeping Island, the constant salt spray had made things worse. She’d accepted it as simply the texture of cold weather, the way it was.
Now there were only shallow cracks at her knuckles. No blood. No pain. She flexed her fingers slowly, half surprised by the absence.
Neverwinter was like this, she’d come to understand. Even the ordinary houses were better built than anything she’d known elsewhere. The walls of this brick house had mortar pressed into both faces, and the corners of the windows sat flush with the masonry. No matter how hard the snowstorm pushed, the inside held. An ordinary house in Valencia would have had whistling gaps at every seam — the cold finding you through every crack in the door, every joint in the window frame.
This building also had a heat tunnel built into the fireplace — a pipe that ran through the wall into the bedroom, so the bed was warm when she and her sisters put out the fire and turned in for the night.
She had been cataloguing small things like this since she arrived. Details that accumulated into something she couldn’t quite articulate. After a long time with them, she had arrived at a thought:
Maybe they didn’t build this city to survive in the cold. Maybe they built it to enjoy being warm inside the cold.
In a place where it’s always temperate, a warm room is ordinary. Here, surrounded by ice and snow, warmth becomes a different thing. An achievement. Something to be proud of precisely because it’s difficult.
Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps only something that seems impossible is worth attempting.
She almost believed it.
“Soup’s ready.” Doris came out of the kitchen carrying the pot and set it on the low table. “Come eat.”
“Thank you.” Azima passed her a cushion and sat down.
Two dishes, one soup. All of them built around bird beak mushrooms — a Western Region specialty, fleshy and full of moisture, good at taking salt, needing nothing more complicated than a little time over heat. They were also the cheapest thing you could buy in Neverwinter, priced near wheat. Doris had bought a large quantity at a clearance sale and stored them in the room.
“Even if we can’t find much in the winter,” Doris said, settling opposite her, “these will carry us through to spring. Less tasty after a while, but filling.”
Azima scooped up some soup. The oil on the surface caught the fire’s light and turned gold. She put the spoon to her mouth — the warmth moved through her, all the way down.
She set the spoon down after two mouthfuls.
“Is something wrong?” Doris had already noticed.
“I’ve been wondering…” Azima kept her voice low. “Whether my decision was wrong.” She looked at the table. “Leaving Neverwinter — that was my choice. And because of it, everyone here lost the chance to live better, with their families in the city. If Whitepear hadn’t left the Sleeping Spell, she’d be in a large house with a heating system right now instead of—”
“Why are you saying this now?” Doris started to reach toward her. “No matter how small this house is—”
“It’s different now.” The words came out sharper than she intended.
She heard herself and stopped. The frustration had been building for weeks, and this was where it had been going. She had overestimated herself. Misjudged what she could do out here. She’d led these women through garbage heaps and fights with feral dogs over scraps of food, and she’d refused the Sleeping Spell because she didn’t want Nightingale’s witches looking down at them, didn’t want to owe anyone — didn’t want to be weak. And now she sat here in a borrowed warmth, unable to feed the people who followed her.
She had submitted job application after job application to the City Hall. Most positions required literacy. The well-paying ones required a primary education diploma. The Ministry of Construction and Ministry of Industry only recruited adult men. The clerk had told her, with real patience, that if she wanted a good career she should finish her schooling first.
Of the six sisters, only Doris and Whitepear worked. Doris had a part-time arrangement through the Witch Union — she took Mystery Moon’s magnetized copper rods and processed them further with her enchantment, earning thirty or forty silver royals on the days she worked, though some weeks she worked only once. Whitepear had found ordinary work in a tailor’s shop, no magic required, and brought home fifteen to twenty royals a month depending on her hours.
The other four — including Azima — earned nothing.
That meant two people were feeding six. And she, who had considered herself the one who kept them alive, was the heaviest of the burdens.
“I’m sorry,” Azima said immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” Doris set down her bowl and took Azima’s hands. “I know how you feel. But I need to tell you — leaving the Sleeping Spell wasn’t only your decision. We agreed. All of us. It isn’t your fault.” She squeezed. “And the living expenses — please don’t think about them that way. Everything you’ve done for us, over all the years — this is us doing something for you. That’s how it works.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I helped because I wanted to.”
“And we’re doing this because we want to.” Doris blinked, with something close to amusement. “See the difference?”
Azima opened her mouth and found nothing. She was moved in a way she didn’t know what to do with — the sincerity too direct to deflect, the warmth of it too sudden to absorb. She had spent so many years making herself necessary, making herself capable, that being on the receiving end of someone else’s patience felt almost foreign. She pressed it back down, composed herself, reminded herself she was supposed to be their anchor.
A knock at the door.
“Who is it?” She pulled her hands away and stood quickly, grateful for something to do.
“It’s Wendy,” the voice from outside said. “His Majesty wants to speak with you.”
Chapter 1000: Sisters
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
A fire was blazing merrily in a stove, casting a ruddy glow over the floor of the room.
Azima felt warm in her house. She watched snowflakes drifting in the north wind outside the window while listening to the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. In the past, when winter had come, she would have suffered severe frostbite on her hands and her hand skin would have chapped very easily. It was a memory from her childhood. Back then, she had had to rummage through rubbish in search of food every winter. After moving to the Sleeping Island, her hands got even worse because of the long-term exposure to salty seawater.
After all these years, she was already accustomed to the pain of frostbite. For her, it was nothing compared to the misery of being a tramp on the streets. However, right now, there were only a few shallow cracks on her fingers. She did not feel any pain or see any blood in them. She enjoyed this pain-free winter. She had not had such a comfortable experience for years.
She came to understand that the living environment of Neverwinter was exceptionally good and even ordinary houses were much better here than their counterparts in other towns.
For example, a thick mortar was applied to both sides of the walls of this brick house and each corner of the window was closely connected to the bricks. No matter how strong the snowstorm was outside, the people inside the house would never be affected. Without such a sturdy house, the fire could hardly warm up the whole room. If Azima was now in an ordinary residence of Valencia, she would hear a whistle of a wind blowing through cracks of the door and the window and many other clefts in the house.
In addition, there was a tunnel inside the fireplace, which was connected to the bedroom adjoining this living room. With such a heat supply pipeline, the bed would be warm when she and her sisters put out the fire and went to bed at night.
And those designs were only a small part of the new things she discovered in Neverwinter. Similar details were everywhere in this city. The longer she lived here, the more she wondered. “Maybe they didn’t build this city to survive at this place.”
“They built it this way in order to enjoy their lives.”
“As for why they built it in the Western Region, the highest-hit area during the Months of Demons, it must be because of the strong contrast. In a place where all year is springtime, one would not feel anything special in a warm room. By contrast, in a place of ice and snow, one would be deeply impressed and satisfied by the warmth. The must think that only a seemingly impossible thing is worth doing and take pride in such an achievement.”
For a moment, she really believed this speculation.
“The soup is ready. Let’s have dinner.” Doris walked out of the kitchen while holding a pot of soup and then she placed it on the low table in the living room.
“Thank you.” Azima handed a cushion to Doris and then sat down at the table.
There were two dishes and one soup. All of them used bird beak mushrooms as the main ingredient. These fleshy and juicy mushrooms were a specialty of the Western Region. They were tasty and easy to cook. They only needed a little salt instead of lots of seasonings and they did not require a special cooking method. More importantly, they were the least expensive ingredient in Neverwinter and were as cheap as wheat.
“I bought a lot of mushrooms at a clearance sale and stored them in our room,” said Doris, happily. “Even if we can’t find enough food in the winter,
these mushrooms will be enough for us to fill our stomachs until the spring, though they may become less tasty after a long time.”
Azima scooped up some soup with her spoon. Under the reflection of the fire, the oil floating on the soup’s surface shone with a golden color and looked quite alluring. When she put a spoon into her mouth, she felt its aroma fill her mouth instantly. After that, the warm soup flowed down all the way into her stomach and warmed her entire abdomen.
The soup was as delicious as before, but now she had no appetite.
After taking two spoonfuls of the soup, Azima put down her small bowl.
“Is there anything wrong?” Doris quickly noticed that Azima seemed to be a little different today.
“I’m wondering… whether my decision was wrong.” After a long silence, Azima whispered. “It’s my own decision to leave Neverwinter, but because of it, everyone lost the chance of having a better life together with their families in this city. If Whitepear didn’t quit her job in the Sleeping Spell, she would now live in a big house equipped with a heating system instead of this small house that doesn’t allow us to go about freely in our daily life.”
“Why did you suddenly say that…” Doris was stunned and then soothed Azima. “No matter how small our house is, it’s able to shelter us from wind and rain. When their relatives have enough money to pay the minimum down payment, they will move out. It’s not as good as the house of the Sleeping Spell, but I think it’s already good enough for two people to live in. Think about our old days on the streets—”
“But it’s different now!” Azima interrupted Doris anxiously.
Azima had been feeling frustrated recently. She overestimated her personal ability and failed to assess the situation correctly. In the past, she had led her sisters to search for food in rubbish and snatch food from jaws of wild dogs, but now she refused to do anything like that. She did not want to give Tilly and her witches any chance to laugh at them, even though her sisters might not mind leading such a life.
She had submitted lots of job applications to the City Hall like ordinary residents of the city, but none of them got approved. Literacy was a key requirement in the job descriptions of most positions, and well-paid jobs usually demanded a primary education diploma. She could not meet those requirements and wanted to work in some construction projects or in the Furnace Area, but the Ministry of Construction and the Ministry of Industry only recruited adult males. The City Hall clerk told her that she should go to school to finish her studies first if she wanted to get a promising career.
Among the six sisters, only Doris and Whitepear had jobs. The former was employed by the Witch Union. She further processed Mystery Moon’s magnetized copper rods with her enchantment and earned about 30 or 40 silver royals a day, almost as much as the witches living in the castle. But it was just a part-time job. Sometimes, she only worked one day in a week.
Whitepear worked in a tailor’s shop as an ordinary worker. Considering she did not have to use her magic power in this position, she earned the average salary. According to the number of her working days, she usually earned 15 or 20 silver royals a month.
The other sisters were also unemployed just like Azima.
In other words, Doris and Whitepear had to afford the living expenses of the six sisters.
For this reason, Azima felt guilty for the cozy life she had now. She had firmly refused Wendy’s invitation because she wanted to prove to Nightingale that she was not a weak person and could live on her own without relying on the Sleeping Spell. She felt embarrassed by the current situation.
That was why she sounded so impatient when talking to Doris.
She felt regret right as soon as she interrupted Doris. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay.” Doris held Azima’s hands. “I know how you feel and I want to tell you it wasn’t your own decision to leave the Sleeping Spell. We also
agreed with you. It’s not your fault. As for the living expenses, please don’t mind it. You’ve done so much for us and now it’s time for us to pay you back.”
“You don’t owe me a thing. I helped you without expecting to receive anything in return.”
“That’s the same for us. See what I mean?” Doris blinked and said.
“But…” Azima did not know what to say at this moment since she was moved deeply by Doris’ honesty and sincerity. She had not felt so touched for many years and could not adapt to it at the moment, but she soon managed to control herself and reminded herself that as the leader of the sisters, she should never mention those stupid things again.
At this moment, someone knocked on the door.
“Who’s it?” She hurriedly turned her head, pulled her hands back and stood up, trying to cover her feelings.
“It’s me, Wendy,” the person outside answered. “His Majesty wants to talk to you.”