A/N: I apologize in advance for all the drama that is going to happen from now on. I love all of you my dear readers 3

There was no real point in going outside with all that heavy rain falling, so we stayed indoors for most of the day and trying to pass the time as best as possible. Emil was absorbed into his book; he had managed to get hold of a pen and a sheet of paper and would occasionally scribble something down. He really was determined to learn reading, and I couldn't even begin to describe how proud I was. We hadn't been exactly poor, at least not when our father was still alive, but education was something we still couldn't afford. We had no school in our town, so the only way to get education was through home schooling by a private teacher. And only truly wealthy families could afford that.

Berwald, Mathias and Tino were playing a game of cards, they tried to get me to play with them, but I had difficulties with reading the numbers that were printed on the cards so I declined. I could have of course just counted the symbols, but that would have taken up too much time and I would probably confuse them anyway. So I stuck to my horse hair braiding. The pinky finger of my left hand was still without feeling and I couldn't properly bend it but the other fingers were slowly getting better. I was in the middle of braiding an amulet like pendant for Mathias. I thought of adding a strand of my own hair as a good luck charm. And the blond of my hair would go nicely with the dark red horsehair I had chosen for Mathias.

When I would be finished with Mathias' charm I would make a pair for Berwald and Tino and another one for Emil and if some hair was left after that I would ask Mathias for a strand of his hair and make one for myself. So I spent the day braiding while the rain was drumming a steady rhythm against the window pane. Mathias, as usual, did enough talking for all five of us, but he had a lively dialogue partner in Tino. I could see why Mathias and Berwald didn't really get along at first, one was an obnoxious loudmouth who couldn't read the atmosphere and the other was truly taciturn and burdened with a scary look. And Tino was exactly the mediator they needed.

To my relief Tino hadn't mention anything about what he had seen when he walked in on us, he didn't even hinted at it, and I slowly came to the realization that maybe I had misjudged him. As curious as he was about matters that weren't his business, he very well knew when not to pry.

I pulled the last strand through a small loop formed by two other strands and made sure that everything would hold properly. It was not my best piece, but it was genuine and the bright color of Mathias' hair was a nice eye catch in the middle of all that red. I laid it on the armrest of the chair I sat in and picked out a few other strands to braid Tino's charm. After I told them what it was for, both Berwald and Tino were eager to give me a strand of their hair and so I continued with braiding.

Mathias in the meantime had figured out that my first charm was made for him, and now bragged to the whole room how awesome he was to get one first. I would have liked to give it to him in private, but I guess this was okay too. I almost felt flattered at Mathias' obvious exhilaration of getting the charm.

We made a break for lunch, choosing to go down and join the crowd in the taproom for once. Today fish was served, with a weird vegetable as side dish I had never seen before. It was pale yellow and its consistence and taste was like nothing I had ever eaten before. But it didn't taste that bad, it even complemented the taste of the baked fish. I asked the innkeeper what it was, but I had never heard of a vegetable named 'potato'. I drank water, but Mathias ordered Ale for himself and after a few kegs he got into a heated discussion with a wild looking man with a black beard about what tasted better, cherry pie or apple tart.

Before they could decide to take their argument outside and settle it with their fists, Berwald dragged him upstairs to dump his head in a sink full of cold water. Not because Mathias was that drunk, he could hold his alcohol quite well, and would start such a pointless argument completely sober, but for the hell of it. And I couldn't really bring myself to disagree, Mathias was annoying sometimes and the look on his completely soaked face simply was priceless.

The rain had cleared up a bit over the course of the afternoon, and Mathias went out to check if a bird with news from his father had returned. Berwald and Tino went to look for winter clothes, since they hadn't really gotten the chance due to Tino's illness.

Mathias returned a little while later with a letter from his father. It apparently said that we should come to the capital as soon as possible. Our caravan was scheduled for the day after tomorrow, so there really was no point in unnecessary haste. We would leave as soon as possible after all. We couldn't know that either way, it was already too late.

It took me the rest of the day to make the three charms for Berwald, Emil and Tino, and in the end there was no horse hair left to make mine. But it was a good exercise for my hands, they still hurt, but at least now I could move them without much restriction. And that was good enough for me. Had I known what would happen that night, I wouldn't have dismissed it like that; hell I would have needed one. But since I didn't know, I just intended to buy some new strands tomorrow, along with the additional provisions we still needed, rain or not.

Evening came and we all changed into more suitable but still warm clothes. During our stay here we all had bought some new clothes to prepare for winter, so we now had a wider range to choose from. It wasn't exactly necessary to wear all formal, but I had gotten so many new and 'fabulous' clothes, that I wanted to use the chance and dress up a little.

We had used the opportunity when the rain had cleared up to buy a small gift as a thank you for the invitation. It was nothing much, only matching small pendants made of seashells, that Mathias had found somewhere on the market while he was out to look for the bird. It was raining again, and we had to duck into the collars of our coats to stay a little dry. Thankfully it didn't rain as strong as it had yesterday, so we weren't completely soaked by the time we reached their house. Our coats were of course quality material so that too helped a lot against the rain.

Francis and Arthur lived in the southern part of the city, so we had to pass over one of the many bridges that reached over the river. The river was the origin f the small stream we had followed here, at some point in time a landslide of some sorts had blocked the rivers usual path and forced the two arms to go separated ways. The small arm flowed to the Southeast, where we used to live and the big arm, the river flowed to the Northwest .We huddled under the overhanging roof of Francis and Arthur's house, waiting for them to open the door so we could finally step in into the warm again. There was not enough space for all five of us, but we all got at least one body part under the roof. Better than nothing, right?

But we didn't have to wait long before the door was opened by Arthur, who actually seemed genuinely pleased to see us. He hurried us inside and took our coats to hang them in the bathroom to dry. This seemed familiar somehow.

After we had all gotten rid of our shoes and deposited them in the bathtub, where the dirt could be at least easily rinsed away, we assembled all in the living room for introduction. It was a bit messy, there was not enough space for all of us standing, and Francis popped repeatedly out of the kitchen to flute a 'Bonsoir' or introduce himself as 'monsieur Francis, chef de cuisine'. But somehow we were able to get done with it and sit down around the large table in the dining room.

Arthur vanished into the kitchen and returned shortly after with a wine carrying Francis in tow. The table was marvelously decorated, silk table cloth, with candle holders and silverware. The wine was a deep red and the bottle looked really old. I remembered to have heard somewhere that old wine was the most expensive one, if that was true this wine must have truly been worth a fortune. It was overwhelming.

"You didn't have to go so overboard with this. And that wine looks far too expensive to waste on us." But my interjection was waved away by Arthur. "Don't worry, we have plenty of those. And besides, Francis just loves to show off his cooking and host skills." "He's right." Said Francis and poured the red liquid in my glass. I had never seen glasses like this before, but then again I had never once drunk wine. There was wine served at the brothel, but they had different glasses, thick ones with a green heel that withstood the sometimes ruff treatments by drunken customers. But these were fragile, the heel was long and looked as if it would break if I gripped it and the glass rim was so thin that I was sure that I would cut myself trying to drink from it.

But they seemed more robust than they looked, after filling them Francis distributed the glasses and immediately started to clink his glass against those of the others, creating a sweet sound almost like the song of a bird. I could feel the glass vibrating against my fingers, as Arthur repeated Francis' action with me. With a soft laugh Francis corrected the position of my hand and redirected my grip to the long heel and away from the curved glass body. I still had some minor difficulties with bending my fingers, but the continued use had returned most of their mobility.

I had only once before in my life drunken wine, and that was a cheap one, bought by my father for the special occasion of landing the job as carpenter for the construction of the Kohler mansion. But I was only allowed one small gulp, and I hadn't liked the sour taste at all. But the wine back then had been in a cheap looking bottle and was only light red and had not the deep satiated color of the ruby liquid Francis proffered us. There had been wine served in the brothel, but remembering the sour taste I had always refrained from drinking it.

Before he drank his wine, Francis swirled the liquid around, watching the burgundy red reflected by the light of the candles, dance through the room. I carefully mimicked his motions, feeling the strength of the crimson wave I created surge through the delicate glass confinement. Then I lifted the glass to my lips and let the rich flavor wash over my tongue, it tasted like nothing I had ever drunk before, it was not at all sour but sweet, almost fruity.

It was such an alluring flavor that I couldn't help but down he wine all in one go, I knew that there was supposed to be an alcoholic effect, but in that moment, I didn't feel anything. "Ah, but you're not supposed to drink wine like that, you have to savor it, chew it." Francis chided, and I looked at him in confusion. Chew wine? What was that supposed to mean.

"Arthur, would you mind explaining it to him?" Asked Francis and put down his glass, "I have to go and check on the Bœuf, before it gets burned." And so I got my first (and only) lesson in proper wine tasting. After I had emptied my second and most of the third glass, this time though all for the sake of practicing, Francis served the first course, small yellow pastries made out of cheese and filled with mushrooms.

Mathias, who had only sipped at his wine and then decided that he still didn't like it, took my wine glass away and replaced it with one filled with water, after I had finished the fourth glass before I had eaten my entire appetizer. I couldn't help that I just loved the taste. I tried to argue that I wasn't drunk at all, and that I could take care of myself, and after that failed, I tried to distract him with a kiss and grab my glass when he wasn't paying attention. But when my kiss turned out to be more sloppy than seducing and I had difficulties in actually landing on his lips, instead I just kept missing, I realized that maybe I wasn't as sober as I thought.

My more than amused boyfriend, who exactly knew what I tried to do, took one of my cheese goggles* (I really couldn't remember how Francis had called them), and pushed it passed my lips, smirking like the devil and saying with a teasing voice: "We need to fill your belly with something besides wine, and since we are not alone, you have to put up with these balls." Despite, or rather because of my inebriated state, I noticed the emphasis on the last word and broke out into a fit of mad giggling.

"Is he always this lively, when drunk?" Arthur asked as he shooed Francis back into the kitchen to fetch the next course. "I'm not drunk, silly." I said and tried to tsk my tongue at the man with the bushy eyebrows. I only had three glasses, I was merely tipsy, and I knew very well what I was doing.

And just why was Tino half-lying on the table and laughing? Maybe Berwald had told him a joke. I was sure that Berwald told the best jokes, and because he rarely said anything the jokes had to be really hilarious whenever he got to tell one.

"I want to hear the joke too." I demanded, waving my finger in Berwalds generally direction. How dare he leaving us out of the fun?

"What the hell was in that wine?" groaned Emil and covered his face in his hands, Mr. Puffin ruffled his feather in slight displeasure at the interruption of his afternoon nap and hopped down from Emils head onto the table. "Is something wrong with your face?" I asked with genuine concern, Emil was my little brother after all; I had to look out for him."You're face is beautiful as it is, don't let anyone tell you otherwise." I said and reached over to pat his head, but almost knocking over a candle bearer in the process. Who put candle stands on the table anyway? I was sure that was infringing on some kind of fire safety law.

I proceeded to extinguish the flame with the water from my glass, but I was distracted by laughter that was coming from the kitchen. Francis stood there, two plates of delicious looking food in his hand, as he tried to keep his balance, while shaking with mirth. "Not fair, why did you tell the joke to him but not me." By then half the table was laughing, only Emil kept his head hidden and Berwalds lips were only twitching ever so slightly.

"I'm afraid I forgot to tell you that that was pretty strong wine, its masqueraded by the sweet taste but there is quite a lot of alcohol in it." "Well that about explains his behavior after only four glasses." Muttered Arthur and took the plates out of Francis hands. Mathias pushed me down back on my chair, placed all the candle bearers out of my reach, all the while having a big grin plastered all over his face.

With Arthur's help Francis brought in the rest of the plates and soon the table was once again busy with eating. Well most of the table. Tino had to fight a laugh every now and then after he looked at me, and Mathias, who had also removed my silverware, alternated between feeding me from his plate and eating.

I had calmed down a little by then, I was still wondering what was up with everyone, but Mathias' loving attention was enough to pacify me. And the food that slowly entered my alcohol-filled system also helped. Francis' food was simply delicious, even with only water the taste was extraordinaire.

The conversation moved back to more serious things, Arthur asking what our plans were once we reached the capital. After that he told us how his audience with the Lord of the city went. "He said he will inform his guards to be extra careful about the bandits, but since he already told them that a couple of days ago when they first showed up, I doubt it will have much of an effect." He sighed in exasperation. "That bloody idiot should double the guards and send out troops to deal with the problem right at its root, but he doesn't care about the world outside of his walls, especially not after the harvest season, when his chests are filled with tax money. And since the flood of incoming refugees from the surrounding lands has ebbed down, he doesn't think it is necessary to do anything at all."

I chewed on a particularly delicious piece of meat as I thought through his words. It was still a little hard to follow with my mind all fuzzy from the alcohol, but I was sober enough to process the possible danger of the situation.

"There's no use in worrying." Francis shrugged and poured himself another glass of wine. How come that he wasn't affected at all from the alcohol? "I'm sure they will leave our city alone, we're too heavily guarded to be an easy prey." "But this nut would provide rich booty, once cracked." Emil said with concern in his voice. "True, but bandits, even if they are soldiers disguised as such, won't be able to lift the kind of nutcracker that would be needed to break through theses walls." Tino declared, sounding pleased with his ability to continue the metaphor.

"But what about-"

We would never know what Emil was about to say, because right at that moment a horrible sound resonated through the air. The sound of screams and panic in the distance.

And then a yellow light sprouted from some outside in the city, filling the rectangular of night sky and buildings that was visible through the window with an eerie orange glow.

And suddenly our peaceful evening with food and joy wasn't so peaceful anymore, as the silence of dread and déjà-vu for some of us built in the room.

The city was on fire.

...

*The dish is called Gougère in French.

A/N: So which one is better, cherry pie or Apple tart?