The garrison of Kwent, trapped on the other side of the river, did indeed surrender the town without a further fight. The garrison commander later signed articles of surrender in front of a triumphant Earl Darius, who strictly monitored how his troops conducted themselves in Kwent.

Frances didn’t see Timur or Morgan again, but she and her friends had seen their boat safely reach the opposite bank, where they probably disembarked and fled. By unspoken agreement, the trio said nothing to Earl Darius about the presence of the Alavari prince and his ward.

To mollify and reward his troops, Earl Darius had had the camp cooks prepare a victory feast, on the Erisdalian bank of Kwent, right in the middle of the town square. Long trestle tables and benches had been set up and soldiers sat down eating roasted chicken, beef and pork from trenchers of bread. Beer and wine were aplenty and in the centre of the town square soldiers danced with one another and the human residents of Kwent, who had lived under Alavari occupation since the war’s beginning.

Elizabeth, Martin and Frances were sitting at one of these tables, sipping from full mugs. Elizabeth’s ale was watered down, but Frances and Martin nursed full frothy cups. As for food, Frances had stolen away from the cooks some ingredients and by using a campfire and an iron skillet, had grilled the three steaks. Since there were no potatoes, she had to substitute them with the Erisdalian substitute, a cross between carrot and potato called a “Dale-brick.”

“So this is how you Otherworlders eat beef. Intriguing, but delicious,” Martin remarked after he had swallowed a bite. Knights of Erisdale were trained to have excellent table manners as well as combat skills.

“Not always, Martin, but we do have it like this.” Elizabeth grinned at Frances. “It’s really Frances who is amazing. How are you so good at cooking?”

Frances’s joy at how her friends enjoyed her food easily overcame the painful memory of why she was forced to learn the culinary arts and her smile was much easier than it had been.

“It’s a hobby of mine, Elizabeth. If you have any friends who want to taste something from Earth, I can try making it before you head back to Lehrbeck,” Frances said.

Elizabeth’s smile immediately vanished as she remembered Charlie and Alan, and how they had summoned themselves back home. Her shoulders sagged, as she realized that she was heading back to Lehrbeck, away from the only two friends she had left in this world. Friends who fought by her side, who defended her, and who cared for her.

“I… I don’t have any friends left, except for you both. They summoned themselves home.”

Frances gasped and shuffled along the bench so she could touch her shoulder to her friend. Martin reached across the table and placed his hand on Elizabeth’s.

“I’m sorry. It must be hard for you to be so far away from your friends and family,” he said.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She wanted to cry, but the presence of her friends acted like a balm that soothed her hurt and her homesickness. “Thanks. I… It’s alright. I… I still want to stay in Durannon. I know I’ll miss my friends, and my home, but I want to do this.”

“Why though?” Frances suddenly asked. “I… I don’t mean to pry Elizabeth, but you don’t seem the type of person to do this simply for the gold that was promised, or someone to do this out of a lust for adventure.”

“No. You’re right… but I was raised to try to help people, and I want to help end this war… like… like how we did today. With humanity, and without hurting people unnecessarily,” Elizabeth said.

As much as she missed her home, and her family and friends, Elizabeth could see how relieved Timur had been not to fight her and Martin. She had seen how full of joy the soldiers were now that they’d taken the town, the locals for being liberated, and from the glances she’d seen of the Alavari in Kwent, she saw they were relieved their town hadn’t been sacked. Why? Because she and her friends had acted to make it so.

Martin, his eyes glowing with admiration, looked at Elizabeth. “That is a very honourable goal, my friend.”

Frances nodded quickly. However, behind her smile, she was deep in thought. Elizabeth’s altruistic goal ran in significant contrast to hers. Frances knew she didn’t want people to be hurt and wanted to help the Alavari, but she also knew that a key reason she was staying was that she wanted to run away from Earth and her parents.

It was a realization that made Frances feel a bit torn. On one hand, she felt a bit ashamed at her selfish motivations, but she also knew it wasn’t wrong to have that goal. Edana had repeatedly told her to take care of herself, and she was, the best way she knew how, whilst helping as many as she could.

“Aw, thanks. You guys are the best,” Elizabeth said.

Martin chuckled, but Frances could tell he was touched by the compliment.

“Speaking of, Frances, why have you decided not to go back home for the moment?” Elizabeth asked.

But when Elizabeth turned to her friend, she saw Frances’s shoulders stiffening.

“Um. I…I…” Frances crossed her arms, shoulders hunching over. “Well… it’s complicated… I mean…”

To say Elizabeth and Martin were confused was an understatement. They were alarmed. Their friend who was just a moment ago, smiling and laughing, had suddenly frozen as if in abject terror.

Elizabeth was wondering why and trying to remember the last time this had happened. Come to think of it, they’d been talking about home, Earth, and the possibility of returning home.

She knew Frances didn’t have a great home life. Her friend wouldn’t be scrounging in the highschool garbage can for food if she did. But… no, it couldn’t be.

“Frances, you don’t want to go home? But why? Don’t you have a family? Friends?” Elizabeth demanded, giving voice to her suspicion.

Frances’s gaze flew up from the table to meet Elizabeth’s and for a moment, Elizabeth caught a flash of anger in her friend’s eyes.

That anger was instantly followed by a deep sorrow that turned Frances away from Elizabeth and elicited a deep sigh that shook the smaller girl’s frame.

“I do miss Earth. It’s just… well.” Frances shook her head. “I don’t have a choice.”

Elizabeth blinked. Unable to believe what Frances was saying. Unable to believe that somehow her friend didn’t feel the slightest bit homesick for her family when she herself had nights where she’d cried herself to sleep about not seeing her mother and father.

“What do you mean? We all have a choice to go home! Besides, we have family there who love us and care for us!” Elizabeth protested.

A shiver ran up Frances’s spine and she felt her fists clench, but she bit her tongue. Anger, pain, old hurt, all wrestled for dominance in the maelstrom of her thoughts.

Elizabeth shook her head, stunned at Frances’s silence. Because for some reason, her friend didn’t seem to care that she was leaving her mother and father.

“Why would you abandon your family?” Elizabeth wondered, half to herself, half to the silent girl in front of her.

Frances’s eyes snapped wide open and she whirled on Elizabeth, rage and anguish reflected in the tears in her eyes.

“You know nothing about my family! You have one that feeds you, clothes you, cares for you, and treats you like you matter! My family used me as their punching bag!”

Elizabeth stared up at the now standing Frances, cold shock pinning her to the bench. She watched, frozen, as her friend’s furious glare slowly faded, her hands covered her mouth, and her expression filled with horror and shame.

“I’m sorry, I need to leave—” Frances turned to run, but Martin’s callused hand caught her wrist. She tried to pry herself out from his grip, but while his hand was trembling slightly, his grip was firm.

“Frances, can we talk about this, please?” Martin begged.

Frances wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and forced herself to breathe. She didn’t sit down, though. Martin didn’t let go, but he felt his racing heart start to beat slower.

“Why—why would talking about this do? It’s done. They did their damage. I know I have to live with it,” she muttered.

Elizabeth, still gawking from the revelation, felt those words gut her like a spear. Martin grimaced as if stung by the words because he knew Frances was right, still...

“For us then. I know it is selfish for us to ask, but we want to try to help, or at the very least—” he shared a long glance with Elizabeth “—clear up any misconceptions we have about you.”

“And if I don’t want to tell you? What would you do? Stop being my friends?” Frances twisted the last word with an ugly sarcastic slant.

“Never. We would still want to be your friends!” Martin said. He glanced at Elizabeth who nodded fervently. “We’ve fought, and saved each other’s lives. We are entitled to keep our secrets. But… at least for me, I want to know so I might be able to help you as best as I can.”

Frances saw no lie in Martin’s sincere expression. He wasn’t smiling, rather, he looked desperate, but there was a deep concern in his posture and by the way he still held her wrist, firmly, but not too hard.

Her eyes wandered to Elizabeth. Her classmate was looking at her with a pleading, deeply sorrowful expression.

“Frances, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I didn’t know about your family, but know I hurt you deeply.”

Frances sighed, “It’s my parents’ fault, not yours.”

“No, but I didn’t think, well, I did, but I assumed you were like me when you had your own reasons.” Elizabeth swallowed. “If you would give me a chance, I will make it up to you, I promise.”

Frances tried to think about the possibility that Elizabeth was lying, and immediately found the proposition ridiculous. Her friends wanted to help, truly. They wanted to listen to her story, her… embarrassing, disgusting life before Durannon.

It was such a strange realization that Frances found herself sitting down on the bench, her elbows resting on the table before she knew it.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Martin said, taking his seat again.

“Are you… alright talking here?” Elizabeth asked, glancing around. The party was winding down, but there were still people around.

Frances nodded. She just felt so tired all of a sudden, like her head was being bound to one of the iron plates she used to lift for magic practice. Maybe she did just want to tell her friends all this time but had never known how to do so. She still didn’t know how, but at this point, she was too dejected and frustrated to care.

“What do you want to know?”

Hesitantly, Martin cleared his throat and said, “When did it start?”

“I don’t remember.” Frances sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I remember mom hitting me with a cane or belt, for as long as I can remember. There… there was a time that she cared, I think? As for Dan, my step-father, he got on board with it when I was around nine, shortly after he married mom. He liked using his fists, or boots.”

“They didn’t feed you too, right? Um,” Elizabeth averted her gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Frances, but back when we were on Earth, I saw you rummaging through the school garbage bins.”

Shame stabbed through Frances’s chest and she buried her head in her hands, trying to hide her face. She remembered those days when she was so hungry, she’d grabbed and eaten almost anything she could find. It didn’t matter if it was a mushy, half-bitten fry, she’d stuffed it into her mouth.

“No, they didn’t feed me, and I… I did do that,” she whimpered. “I was just so… disgusting, pathetic and useless—”

“You weren’t and you aren’t,” Elizabeth cut in. She reached for Frances, touching her shoulder, but her friend stiffened at her touch. Noticing this, Elizabeth raised her hands. “Your parents were starving you. What else could you do to survive?”

“Tell someone! I don’t know. Anybody! A teacher maybe.”

“That’s not your fault, Frances. You had to be scared of what your parents might do!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Frances bit her lip. She knew that she had been scared. She still remembered the time she blabbed, and how she’d been punished for it. Her arms hadn’t stopped aching for weeks, and for a long time, she felt half-dead, half-alive, barely human.

“I could have done something different.”

“Maybe, but what could you have done at that time?” Elizabeth pressed on.

Frances opened her mouth, tried to answer, and found herself speechless… because her friend was right. She wouldn’t have known what to do at that time. At the time, she existed in a strange fugue state, acting almost on autopilot.

“I don’t know, I just felt like I could have done better,” she muttered.

Elizabeth, aghast, tried to formulate some kind of response but was just left staring at her despondent friend.

Martin asked, “Frances, have you told anybody else in Durannon about this?”

Frances blinked, not at the question, but because the knight’s voice was tremulous, his eyes were bright with emotion. He was holding onto his mug with a white-knuckle grip and his shoulders were stiff as if it took all his strength to hold himself still.

“Just Edana. I… I try not to talk about what happened unless I have a nightmare.” Frances grimaced and grabbing her mug, took another gulp of ale, hoping it would dull the sorrow. “Yeah, I have those too. Most of them are my parents beating me.”

“But… what were they beating you for? How could they, how could anybody—” a frustrated cry escaped from Elizabeth’s lips “—how did you even survive for that long?”

“Uh…” Frances frowned. “It depended if it was mom or Dan. Mom beat me for basically doing anything wrong. Could be as simple as not getting A’s on my tests or homework, or not being at my little sister Denise’s disposal. Dan… didn’t need a reason. He just did it whenever he got angry.”

“As for your question on how could they? They were bad people. As for your last question…”

Frances fell silent and Martin and Elizabeth could only watch with growing dread as her eyes grew distant and unfocused. The seconds ticked by to a minute. The dying party continuing in the background.

“I don’t know how I survived. Sometimes, I wonder if I ever did.”

Elizabeth flinched. “But… you’re here aren’t you?”

“Kind of?” Frances croaked out, keenly knowing how unsure that sounded. But it was the truth. At least, it was what she felt when she thought about how she felt about herself. It wasn’t always. She never felt that around Edana, but sometimes, when she couldn’t busy herself, those thoughts would return.

A choking silence stretched between the three, even as Elizabeth and Martin seemed to try to say something, only to swallow or avert their gaze.

Frances glanced at her friends, before averting her gaze. “No more questions?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, but… is there anything we can do to help you, Frances?”

Instantly, Frances looked up, her eyes wide. “You want to help me?” she blurted out, staring at her friends. Friends who weren’t running away, but were looking at her with concern and worry. She thought they would run away, or just leave her, but they hadn’t. At least not yet.

Martin swallowed. “I mean, we don’t know how, but yes.”

“We’re your friends,” Elizabeth insisted.

“I know you are… it’s just… hard to believe.” Frances clasped her hands. “This… all of this makes it hard for me to think I will get help. I mean I know I deserve help, but even with Edana it took some time to accept that people want to help me, as weird as I am.”

Looking up, Frances smiled weakly at her friends. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” Martin said.

Elizabeth nodded, gently, putting her hand on Frances’s shoulder. “Do you want a hug now?”

Still filled with the reverie of relief, Frances sniffled a gurgled, “Yes please,” and while she felt her skin tingle, she found it easy to nod. She was promptly wrapped in Elizabeth’s tight hug, which was shortly followed by Martin reaching across to clasp her hand.

The touch of her friends didn’t dull the remnant sadness in her heart. It did, however, bring tears of joy to her eyes and she had to close them to staunch the torrent that flowed.

After talking a little more about lighter topics, Frances and her friends returned to their assigned quarters. They had been placed in an empty house vacated by its residence at the war’s start.

Frances and Elizabeth had just finished cleaning up for the night in the house washroom when her hand mirror began to chime.

Spitting out the water she’d been using to rinse her mouth, Frances quickly opened the hand mirror to find her mentor smiling back at her.

“Master Edana!”

“Good evening Frances, and this must be Elizabeth,” Edana said in a warm tone, but Frances could see that her mentor’s brow was furrowed and her smile strained.

“Yes, Master Edana,” said Elizabeth, bowing slightly.

“Master, something happened right?” Frances asked.

“Yes. I would love to chat and congratulate you on how you forced Kwent to surrender, but this can’t wait.” Edana took a deep breath, her fists balled tightly. “Freeburg Castle fell to treachery two nights ago. The Alavari are garrisoning it as we speak.”

Frances gasped, her free hand covering her mouth, as Elizabeth looked somewhat lost.

“Freeburg is our key fortress covering one of the two passages from Alavaria into the northern part of Erisdale, Conthwaite. More importantly, we have no army ready to counterattack and retake the castle and we know the Alavari are going to take full advantage of this unless we recapture Freeburg.”

“How do we have no armies left?”

“The Erisdalian armies are here at Kwent, countering the Alavari army at Meleuthen near Vertingen, and guarding the capital. What do you need us to do, Master?” Frances asked.

“Wake your knight friend and pack everything. You’re to leave Kwent at first light and join the force being assembled to recapture Freeburg. I’ve already gotten Earl Darius’s approval.”

“What force? Are they deploying the Royal Guard?” Frances asked.

Edana shook her head. “No. All one hundred and forty-two Otherworlder heroes and what forces we can spare are being gathered to retake Freeburg.”