Kabanata 7: Whimsical

The streets outside Zamir's shop were alive with energy, a vibrant hum that Katherine hadn't anticipated. People bustled past, some carrying baskets, others deep in conversation, all with a clear sense of purpose. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets, while the marketplace buzzed with life. Yet, as Katherine walked through the lively scene, she couldn't shake the underlying sense of displacement. The world around her seemed so familiar, yet entirely foreign.

"It feels like a medieval marketplace, kind of like in Beauty and the Beast. I feel like I'm Belle."

She marveled at the colorful stalls lining the streets—piles of fresh produce, fabrics hanging from wooden beams, hand-carved trinkets displayed for sale. It was as though the place had sprung to life right out of a storybook. The smells of spices and baked goods filled the air, but despite the outward warmth of the scene, Katherine felt a sense of hollowness in her chest. How was she supposed to live in a world that wasn't hers?

"There goes the baker with his tray, just like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell... charot!" she thought. She wanted to dance, but she'd look just as strange as Belle did in the movie.

"Feeling like a Disney Princess," she shrugged her shoulders.

Her stomach growled, the reminder of her hunger pulling her back from her spiraling thoughts. She hadn't eaten since she arrived, and the ache in her belly was sharp. Spotting a small market further down the street, she followed the scent of fresh bread and herbs. A wooden sign swung in the breeze above the door, the words faded but legible enough to make her way inside.

The market was warm, filled with the chatter of customers and the soft clinking of coins. The air smelled of fresh bread and sweet spices. Behind the counter, a silver-haired woman smiled as Katherine approached.

"Looking for something to eat?" the woman asked, her voice soft and inviting.

Katherine hesitated for a moment. The weight of being in an unfamiliar world, unsure of how to act or what was expected of her, pressed down on her shoulders. But the hunger gnawing at her stomach pushed her to respond. "Yes, something simple, please."

The woman's sharp yet kind gaze appraised Katherine for a moment before she nodded. "Bread and cheese, then. Will that suit you?"

Katherine smiled faintly and nodded, grateful for the simplicity of the offer. The woman swiftly wrapped the food in linen cloth, her movements practiced and efficient.

"I was just singing about bread, and now someone hands me bread."

Katherine reached for her pouch of coins, but as her fingers fumbled, she realized she didn't know what the currency was. The unfamiliar weight of the coins in her hand felt wrong, and for a moment, she panicked.

"I—I don't know how much this costs," Katherine admitted, her voice filled with quiet embarrassment. "I'm new here, and... I don't know the exchange rates."

The woman's gaze softened, and she shook her head with a gentle smile. "That's alright, dear. You're not the first to find yourself lost. I'll take whatever you have."

Katherine dug into her pouch, pulling out a handful of the strange coins, though she couldn't recognize them. The older woman smiled kindly, dismissing the matter.

"Consider it a gift," she said with a wink. "Everyone needs help sometimes."

Katherine hesitated, touched by the woman's kindness. She tucked the coins back into her pouch, holding the wrapped food close to her chest. It was simple, but the act felt like a lifeline, something familiar in a world that felt increasingly alien.

"Thank you," Katherine said softly, the gratitude in her voice evident.

The woman waved her off with a chuckle. "No need for thanks, dear. Just make sure you share your kindness when you can. It always comes back around."

With a final smile, Katherine stepped out of the market and into the sunlight. The bread and cheese, while nothing extraordinary, felt like a small comfort in her hands. She found a quiet bench beneath a tree and sat down to eat, the simplicity of the meal grounding her as she took the first bite. The bread was soft, the cheese rich—nothing spectacular, but nourishing nonetheless.

"That tastes good, makes me miss Ensaymada."

As she chewed, her mind drifted back to the memories of her final moments. The chaos, the sound of gunfire, the searing pain of the bullet. The child she had tried to protect. Had she survived? Did anyone know what happened to her? She tried to push away the sadness, but it lingered like a shadow in the back of her mind.

She thought, Did I regret it?... Nope, I did not.

Had I really died? she wondered. Was this what comes after?

Suddenly, the sound of heated voices broke her from her thoughts. She turned and saw a group of mercenaries, soldiers, and common folk gathered near a square, speaking animatedly. The mercenaries, dressed in worn but well-equipped armor, were talking with a few soldiers in uniform and several civilians, their faces tense with worry.

"War's coming, no doubt about it," one of the mercenaries said, his voice rough and gravelly. "The front lines are moving, and we can only hope we're not next. If we're not prepared, it's going to be chaos here."

A soldier with a tired look on his face nodded in agreement. "Our resources are already stretched thin. I've seen the reports—there's no guarantee we'll hold if the enemy pushes further south. Our kingdom might fall before reinforcements can arrive."

A woman from the crowd, her eyes wide with fear, spoke up. "What can we do? We're just ordinary people, we don't have weapons or training. What happens to us when the soldiers march off?"

Katherine watched the exchange from a distance, her mind racing. The concerns being voiced were all too familiar—too much like the stories she had read in the world she had left behind. War had always been a powerful force, but it was the consequences on the people left behind that often went unspoken.

Stepping closer, Katherine found herself caught in the conversation.

She thought about not joining the conversation since she was a tourist in this world anyway. But then, her curiosity kicked in, and she couldn't help but jump in.

She raised her voice, confident but calm.

"Fighting in war is not the only way to help the kingdom," she said, catching the attention of everyone around her. "Even common folk have something to contribute. It's not just about the soldiers marching off to battle. We must also think of those who remain—those who keep the kingdom running in the absence of the army."

The group paused, staring at her in surprise. One of the mercenaries raised an eyebrow, his voice skeptical. "And what do you propose we do, then? We don't have the luxury of waiting around while the kingdom crumbles."

Katherine stood her ground, her expression steady. "It's not just about weapons and fighting. Provisions are as important as soldiers, maybe more so. If the war takes everything, what will the people do? A kingdom needs its farmers, its bakers, its builders, just as much as it needs soldiers. If we forget them, if we don't think about what keeps the kingdom alive from within, then we're doomed from the start."

The mercenary snorted, clearly unconvinced, but the soldier who had spoken earlier seemed thoughtful. He looked over to Katherine, his brow furrowed.

"You're right," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "We focus so much on the front lines that we forget the kingdom as a whole. It's not just about winning the war—it's about keeping things running when the war ends."

Katherine nodded, feeling a sense of validation. She added, "I once read of a kingdom that sent all its resources to the war, forgetting about the people left behind. The king sent provisions for the soldiers, but none for the city. They won the war, but by the time they returned, the people in the city were starving, and the city had already been invaded. The cost of war is always more than just soldiers—it's the lives of everyone."

The crowd fell silent, reflecting on her words. The mercenaries and soldiers exchanged glances, and even the common folk seemed to take her message to heart.

As Katherine turned to leave, she noticed a figure standing at the edge of the crowd, watching her. A young man, tall with dark hair and striking red eyes, his calm, observant gaze locked on her. He seemed to be looking right at her, and a chill ran down her spine as their eyes met. 

Though she didn't know who he was, Katherine felt an unsettling sense of danger. She couldn't quite explain it, but something about him made her feel as though his presence was a warning. As she walked away, a chill lingered in her thoughts—who was he, and what role would he play in the uncertain future she was only beginning to understand?