Broken glass filled Lilia's gut. She hadn't moved since Serabelle brought her back. Lilia flinched when her new mother kissed her on the cheek before leaving and felt the hurt that must have showed on her mother's face. Her eldest brother napped on the other bed in the room, "watching" Lilia.

She barely even registered his presence through the fog filling her mind. Her crib was a jail cell reminiscent of the darkness she still dreamt of—the wooden bars, hands holding her down. Even the bird monitor's tweets were sounding more and more like Antel's blade swinging through the air. Her traitorous brain filled in the wet thump after.

Lilia was just about to stand up and break the bird when Jackson sat up suddenly. His shoulders relaxed, and he began putting his boots on. Even as the door opened, he asked, "Guards fine us much?"

Her mother's perfume filled the room, "The Captain Gurido himself came through. He also knew Erikson-Arron's father. The city will host his funeral pyre tonight but assigned Daryl to tell Arron's brother. Jack, can you buy some bread from Madam Eller? We have some jams, and I doubt your father and brother will have much of an appetite." The room filled with the sound of a stomach growling. "And buy yourself a couple of skewers if you wish. How is the Guild treating you?"

Jackson must have finished tying his boots because he did his telltale stomps to set his feet. "I am tired. They have us do a lot of running, and we lost the two Fisher boys yesterday. I think Jim Fisher would have been fine, but his cousin is a puss-sorry, Mom. It's just the five of us left now. With the training you put me through, this is nothing."

The bundle of blankets Lilia hid under shifted, and an eye peeked through. "Do not become overconfident. The selection is but the first step of becoming an adventurer. Especially as a warrior. Who is leading your runs?" Her mother held a stern expression on her face but was obviously proud.

Jackson shifted his weight and looked away, "Amir, son of-"

"Amir, yes. A good man, if a bit standoffish. And the bouts?"

"Trainer Kellog has us fighting Junior Guild members now, and I win most. Among us, I am the best," this time, Jackson stood up straighter.

"Pride is good. You remember your fight with Kellog? He is delightfully sneaky. That is the baseline for the man I want to see you become. He is the baseline for becoming a normal member of the Guild. I would not even sponsor you, Son, if you could not defeat him before joining."

"Yes, Trainer Serabelle," Jackson barked out. Mother's cuff knocked his long hair in front of his eyes but didn't hide his grin. She smacked him again with a "Hmph."

"Get the bread from Madam Eller. I imagine I will have to see you early tomorrow for the training of my own. If you manage to make it to your sunrise run after without a limp, I forgive you for your insolence, fool boy," her mother mock-shouted at him. Lilia wasn't sure if he stood stock still out of excitement or fear with his back to her. "Go now! Do hurry back and set out the table. I need to rest my old bones."

“Yes Trainer Serabelle!” Jackson said and ducked through the door, trying to avoid his reckoning. Lilia didn't miss the sound of her mother smacking him one last time and Jackson's chuckle. The room listened to the heavy footsteps and the slam of the front door. Lilia's swirling thoughts filled the vacuum Jackson left in the house.

Lilia had seen her mother leave the house even before the sunrise. When she returned with wet hair, Lilia assumed she was going to the baths before everyone else. Her brother was trying to become an Adventurer.

A world of magic meant different beings inhabited it. Lilia had yet to meet any, but the dinner table was often regaled by stories of her parent's time in the Merchant's Capital. Elves, dwarfs, and other humanoids a few of the less violent beings in this world. Adventurers could come from any race, but their purpose was to fight the monsters that existed.

Goblins are the main problem in most stories. They are similar to overgrown children, with their proportions all eschew. Some look like misshapen apes with arms that dragged on the ground, and others had rail-thin spider limbs that crawled through tunnels and trees. Able to create and use crude weapons, they bred like rats and live in similar warrens. A nest would proliferate, assuming a stable food source was found nearby. Troublesome as apparently, they ate just about everything. Their only strength appeared to be their numbers and that they adapt to their surroundings with a surprising knack.

Jackson wanted to be one of the forces keeping them from overrunning villages and smaller cities with their numbers. So what did Serabelle have to do with the Guild? As far as Lilia could tell, her mother was a stay-at-home mom. Women were relegated to lesser positions in society, at least here in Hamblin. But Serabelle told stories about the Merchant's Capital and their "Council of Queens." Lilia wasn't worried about living in a misogynistic society her whole life. Perhaps her mother was once an adventurer.

She watched Serabelle sit on the edge of the bed and stare at her hands for a time. Lilia knew there were callouses there, but what working woman wouldn't have them? How much blood was on those hands?

She was reminded of the image of Serabelle's cold expression while holding that spear to that boy's neck. She was ready to kill him for selling Antel's techniques. Who is she, really? In the year she spent among them, maybe she wasn't the only actor. The bloodshed didn't seem to phase them when it happened, and everyone watched as if it was an expected outcome. It was a medieval world, but before now, she didn't see anything nearly as vicious.

"Syndra," her mother interrupted her thoughts, "I do not…" she trailed off. Lilia waited, worried by the serious tone. After a long time, she continued, "I do not know how much of this you will remember. Know this: I love you.

"I hope for your sake that you do not hold onto this. I was only a year older than you when my sister was killed in a goblin raid. I was hiding in a trunk but saw her pulled from under the bed. She… I still see her face.

"But you are young. I am extremely frustrated with your father for letting you see Arron's... trial. This world holds nothing sacred and never a life. You have lost some of your innocence today, but I will do my best to protect you from now until you are strong enough to protect yourself." Her mother's eyes were wet. Lilia sat up in her blankets; an ache in her heart smothered the fire she subconsciously was fueling with Arron's fate.

This wasn't a woman who was ready to kill but a mother and wife protecting her family—a mother trying to protect me. Maybe I judged them too quickly.

Rationally, Lilia knew she was from a different culture. Yet still, that logic felt pale and white in the bloody red world. Serabelle walked over to the crib but paused with a hand outstretched to Lilia's similarly wet cheeks.

Lilia forgave her and leaned into her mother's palm. She couldn't get rid of all of her frustration, but she knew her mother was doing her best.

"Mommy, I love you."

Being a baby sucked. You cry so much.

Lilia did not flinch when her father came in to apologize. Well, he apologized after Serabelle dressed him down and smacked his arm. Mostly, Father was asking after dinner. Men. Lilia thought she would feel legs run up and down her when he picked her up, but the giant's arms were the same as ever.

She did check to see if he washed his hands first, though. Should it feel different now that I know they've killed before? Lilia wondered. Was the legal right equal to the moral right? Dinner was a sordid affair. The bread that Jackson brought back wasn't Madam Ellers and was a bit stale.

With a sly look, he whispered loudly, "Apparently, Madam Eller just gave birth, and I had to run to Cakes and Drakes on the river." A scandalous affair as she hadn't married or even had a courtship in years. Her smaller shop was unable to remain open without her personally helping to bake. The conversation somehow managed to give the family something to discuss aside from the grim morning and upcoming funeral.

Daryl's black eye wasn't addressed, and he spent most of the meal picking at a biscuit. Lilia wiggled off her chair and stretched her arms out to him. Hugs always worked. His smile shifted away most of the tension to a low hum.

And for a time, everything went back to normal. After cleaning up, the men dressed in dark clothes to symbolize mourning readied to leave. Serabelle wasn't going to attend. While she knew Arron's father, she said she needed to rest after the long day, glancing meaningfully at Lilia. Antel might have argued, but a brilliant smile followed up with a: "This is my domain, love," shut him up quickly.

Ruefully he asked, "I am not going to have to sleep in the smithy, am I?"

Mother only smiled wider. As the big man left the porch, Mother called after them, "Drink one for me, husband. And another for your daughter."

Antel looked over his shoulder, "You know I will."

Lilia stood with one hand tied to her mother's shirt as the two of them watched their family walk down the street toward the fading sunset. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is there coffee?"

"Coffee? You're not old enough for coffee, missy. Where did you hear about coffee?"

"I need coffee. And clay. We didn't get clay." Lilia really leaned into the baby act.