A new morning greeted us, the mist was just now flooding into the cavern from below. I felt as rested as I had ever been and so did my companions, even Anne, who had stayed up much longer to create the powerful sleeping agent we needed for our plot to 'abduct' the princess.

Our steward Mohatul soon visited to invite us to breakfast with the Chief and his family, which we gladly obliged. Over ramps, stairs and ladders, Mohatul guided us to a sort of small plaza or terrace directly below the topmost building in town: the chief’s residence. From up here we could oversee the entire chamber and watch the floating mist as it slowly pooled in swaths and threads on the ceiling above us. The chief’s residence itself was much more skilfully decorated, with carvings on every door- and window-frame that trailed and meandered across the surface. Blinds covered every window, allowing the residents to look down upon the rest of the chamber with no worries of being watched themselves.

On the plaza, the chief and his family were already waiting at a table for us. They wore fine clothing, but not as festive as the evening before. Sarita no longer wore her wig of cloth and her natural hair was cut short and even, so her haircut was no longer a hodgepodge of different lengths.

There were many things on the table that reminded me of breakfast as I knew it: a sort of pale, starchy bread, eggs of birds I most likely did not know, preserves made obviously from sour berries and prickly nectar, blocks that seemed very much like cheese, and even a hot, bitter drink that livened up my spirits as I drank it.

During the breakfast, the chief offered us varied entertainment in and around the town, but we simply brought forth our own wishes that we had agreed upon the night before. The chief was happy to allow us. He also told of a ‘celebration of gifts’ this very same evening, to which we would again be invited as honoured guests. We accepted this too, and I asked for us to be again bathed and clothed for the occasion, secretly hoping we could meet our secretive contact again for final preparations.

While I was sitting up there, I saw that two of the windows were boarded up, rather than having blinds. For then, I assumed these to possibly lead to Sarita’s chamber and be her way of escape on her first try. I made sure to remember this for later planning.

We were soon back in our room, discussing the last important things of note when we were on our information gathering trips. In no time at all, we were visited by our guides, who would take us to see the sights we desired. I was the last to leave, my guide being a short while late. It was a crolachan man, roughly younger than Brad but older than me. He said he was to escort me through the fields and chambers where the town grew its food. I did not take my rucksack, but did stuff my notebook and a pencil into my coat’s pocket, as well as taking my staff with me.

My guide lead me through several chambers not unlike those we had seen when being escorted to the town for the first time: fifteen to twenty feet high, filled with rows upon rows of either soft or woody Vrata vines. These chambers were arranged in a stack upwards, forcing the mist to make its way through each and every one as it rose and fell. He showed me the processes and places I had inquired about rather than trying to use the limited language we both understood, only relying on it for specific cases.

I will write down all I understood here.

The Vrata vine is a plant that prefers rocky ground over soft soil. After sprouting from a sticky seed, it seeks a wall to send its creeper up, from where it will then send more creepers across the ceiling, hang down and eventually turn to solid wood. It then starts to send out more creepers from this stem. In cultivating the plant, the Crolachans grow single stems from which they then use the soft ceiling creepers to cultivate an entire garden of soft hanging vines.

These hanging vines gather inside them a thick repository of starch, not dissimilar to tubers and turnips I knew. When the vine touches the ground and starts its process of turning into a solid stem, this repository would vanish, in favour of sending out even more vines. Because of this, the Crolachans cut the soft vines they wanted to process further just before that would happen. They cut into the vine lengthwise and let it dry for a day or two, after which the starchy interior could be broken out while the fibrous husk remains. The husk is further dried and then thrashed to gain a long, sturdy fibre that is ill suited for clothes on the skin but is used for durable ropes and sacks.

The starchy interior needs further processing. In its raw form it contains a disgusting bitter taste that, if ingested, causes stomach cramps, headaches, indigestion and even death in high enough doses. To remove this bitterness, the starchy interior is stomped, then boiled for long hours, after which the water is completely drained. The boiling and draining process is repeated a few more times, after which a tasteless, pale dough remains.

This dough is for the Crolachans and important staple of their diet. They turn it to many different things, some of it is let go as dough for bread and cakes, while other was heavily salted and baked directly into thin and dry biscuits that keep for supposedly twelve duochs, my guide assured me. It is a common export to wandering tribes and merchants and is used to feed entire contingents of workers and soldiers alike. The Crolachans of this area pride themselves on their skilful working of the Vrata vine and are often referred to as “the people of the Vrata” for it.

Lunch time came and we stopped at a house that was the home of a family or commune of farmers. The people there had already prepared a variety of dishes, all made from the Vrata vine. I was surprised by the range of possible uses the vine found. Bread, porridge, fried sticks, dumplings, mash, grilled cookies, and quite a few more. The people certainly knew their spices and I never came to taste the same seasoning twice. When all was done, I thanked the family that had hosted me and my guide continued his guided tour.

When I asked about the soft scarfs we had received as a gift and my guide told me that the material of those scarfs was called flouwsh and was highly sought after. It came from small animals that were hard to breed and tend to and so, only a few towns were able to produce and work the material and they guarded their secrets well. The chief of one of these towns recently asked for the hand of Chief Avantyet's daughter Sarita and as a sign of this new alliance, gifted a small supply of the cloth to Uvraitam.

It then occurred to me that Sarita’s rich future husband had bought her with the very scarfs we had been given as a reward for returning the fleeing girl, which we were now planning to free again. The path of fate had led us into ironic twists.

My guide also showed me many other plants grown by the crolachans down here, among them the prickly bulb, but also bushes of berries and root vegetables. Since there seemed to be no seasons down here in this world, growing season was always and many fruits ripened all year round, making harvest a daily task rather than a grand event.

During the entire time that I was guided by the dutiful guide, I made sure to take mental note of all the palisades and gates I saw. I also repeatedly stomped my staff on the ground, sending a shock wave through the rock and receiving its resonance, just like I did with the boulders at the sunless shore. I did this to be able to gauge the density of the rock and the position of crevices or hollow spaces useful for our escape. I found a spot of potential, where the wall of a Vrata plantation was very thin and on the other side, a large hollow. I remembered coming by the other side, where an exit was blocked by a gate. The long way around would take quite some time, but the direct way was a shortcut past the gate.

When all was done, I thanked my guide for his tour and ensured him that I would mention him to Chief Avantyet, to which he reacted with visible joy.

Our group came back to our room one by one and when finally, all were gathered, we pooled the knowledge we could find.

I told them of the solid defences the town had to the outside. I also told them of the weak link. If we were to use our flux, we could shape a tunnel through and close it back up behind us in no time.

The Professor told of a quarry of red granite that we could use as a spot to hide our supplies. Under the guise of wanting to repair Chrysita directly at that site the next morning, he had already told the guards that she will wander there during the celebration of gifting. That way, Chrysita would not slow us down by limping behind when we needed to run the fastest. He also knew of a mine behind a collapsed entrance that we could use as a hiding spot for resting. As Anne understood the Professor’s description, it was luckily far off any route to the other villages.

Anne had found out enough about medicinal plants that grew in the wild. She also reported how exactly the town was situated towards other towns. She said that many crolachans villages, towns and even cities in the area had a sort of pact of communal trade and laws. These towns could well identify Sarita and send word about it to Chief Avantyet or even apprehend her directly. She also told us of a wide area of caves and tunnels that were wild with no claim, like the ones we crossed on our way to Uvraitam. If we travelled through these, we could forage supplies on our way.

Brad had successfully bartered with a few objects of value for a small supply of the very Vrata biscuits that I had eaten of that day, as well as moonlight crystals. With these alone, five people could last three to four days in the wilderness, more if we scavenged. He had managed to memorize a fast path through the town itself.

We finally forged our plan.

Before the women to bathe us would arrive, Brad put together our rations and supply and hoist them onto Chrysita, who would then walk ahead to the quarry. During our bath, I would slip the nanny Anne’s sleeping potion. We would then attend the celebration of gifts as was expected of us. When Sarita was finally off to bed, the nanny would start the plan by offering the guards drinks with sleeping potion. After we had returned to our sleep steads, we would change out of the ceremonial clothes. Brad and I would hurry to Sarita’s room, extract her and meet up with the others, who by then had already moved to the conveniently situated stack of Vrata gardens. By shaping a tunnel through the rock, we would disappear into a different cave and throw off our pursuers, if we had any. We would then meet up with Chrysita, who would be laden with all supplies we needed for a four-day chase through the wilderness. With a little bit of luck, we would be ahead several hours of anyone trying to catch us. Even if all went off the plan, as long as we made it to the Vrata gardens, we would get half an hour head start.

We packed our things ahead of time, then rested in our beds to make up for sleep we might lose this night. I admit, I was nervous then. I had been trained to expect the worst during war, to fling myself at danger, to ensure the survival of the group. But here, the Professor and I were the only people with military training, but also the most valuable ones. If push came to shove, I would not be the one to sacrifice himself, but the one to replace him instead. The burden of survival weighed heavier than the chance of death.