Sophie's heart soared as she spotted the thin trails of smoke rising from a small village ahead. Finally, a sign of civilization! The frustration she'd felt toward Charles and Little Bai—now annoyingly proficient in advanced magic—faded away.
She had originally considered disguising herself in tattered clothes and smearing mud on her face, fearing that beauty would attract trouble, as it often did in stories. But with Charles and Little Bai as her secret weapons, she discarded the idea. Besides, Carina's wardrobe had no rags—except for the torn dress she'd used to bandage her arm. And really, what girl didn't want to look pretty and clean?
Farmers working outside the village froze, their tools forgotten. A vision in a pink dress and a delicate white cap—Sophie looked every bit the celestial maiden. Beside her walked a handsome boy with slightly pointed ears.
Welcomed with open arms, Sophie was overwhelmed by the villagers' enthusiasm. Unsure how to respond, she simply shared fruits from her Phoenix Bag.
The villagers gasped. *She's conjuring divine fruits! She must be an immortal!* Even the village chief, who had visited the city of Cassina, had never tasted anything so exquisite.
After a heated debate, the honor of hosting the "immortal maiden" went to Aunt Bashala—thanks to her son, a squad leader in Cassina, who had built the finest house in the village.
Parents now scolded their children with a new lesson: *"See how successful Aunt Bashala's son is? He built a grand house, and now an immortal maiden stays there! That's how you should be!"*
The children would chant back: *"We know! We'll become squad leaders, build houses, and host immortals too!"*
Pamir was a simple village, its people rising and resting with the sun. The most accomplished among them was Aunt Bashala's son.
Aunt Bashala lived alone now; her husband had fallen in battle. But her dutiful son visited every weekend, ensuring she lived comfortably.
Through her, Sophie learned much about this world—though not in great detail, as Aunt Bashala had never ventured far. Still, her son's stories provided the basics:
- The week was seven days long.
- Pamir was under the jurisdiction of Cassina.
- The kingdom was called Chiresia.
- The capital, Lamipol, housed the monarch.
- Besides Cassina and Lamipol, there were three other major cities: Chichipan, Laberton, and Pechipin—each governed by a count.
Aunt Bashala urged Sophie to stay until her son returned in four days. *"Traveling alone with a child is dangerous,"* she insisted. *"He can escort you safely."*
---
In the village hall, Sophie deftly threaded colorful *pi-pi* fur through linen, crafting a delicate ornament. The women around her gasped—she had only learned the technique that morning.
Pamir's proximity to Cassina made *pi-pi* fur crafts their primary trade. The soft, dyeable fur was woven into luxurious trinkets, rugs, and curtains.
Not wanting to freeload, Sophie repaid Aunt Bashala's hospitality with her handiwork.
Her experience with cross-stitching made the work easy—even simpler, really. The *pi-pi* fur was thicker than embroidery thread, and the patterns were bold and uncomplicated.
Drawing from memory, Sophie introduced new designs, sparking a frenzy of imitation. She even taught the women how to make bracelets, anklets, and simple sewing kits—small luxuries even commoners could afford.
*"Perfect for gifts,"* she whispered to the unmarried girls. *"Give a bracelet to the boy you fancy."*
She lamented that no one here wore knitted garments—understandable in this heat. She had hoped to teach scarf-making, the ultimate romantic gesture. In college, she'd once knitted a scarf for *him*. Now, it was probably gathering dust somewhere, forgotten.
The village women were in awe, further convinced Sophie was divine. Soon, the entire village believed they harbored a celestial being.
By evening, Sophie and Aunt Bashala barely had time to sit before neighbors swarmed in with requests:
*"My child won't eat!"*
*"My stomach aches constantly!"*
*"Something's missing!"*
*"My husband and I fought!"*
From petty quarrels to household woes, Sophie was bombarded with pleas for help. By the time the last villager left, her head was spinning.
Exhausted, she bid Aunt Bashala goodnight and collapsed into bed.
Charles and Little Bai fumed—they'd stayed indoors all day, dutifully practicing magic, only for Sophie to fall asleep before checking their progress.
Then—
**Knock! Knock! Knock!**
A frantic pounding shattered the silence.
**Who could be at the door at this hour?**