Flower's delicate knees always suffered the most, because she always managed to stumble on the flattest ground, as soon as she looked up from under her feet and gazed at the sky, the tree branches or the path strewn with fallen leaves. Every time her small body clumsily fell to one side, the maids accompanying her almost cried out, clutching their hearts, as if their own lives and reputations depended on her fall.
Today, it happened again.
This time, the cause of tears and fresh abrasions was a tiny pebble, barely visible among the grey earth on the path leading through the garden of the old estate that once belonged to her late uncle. Every early autumn, they came here as a family, as if observing an old tradition, because it was at this time that the forest around the castle was transformed beyond recognition: mighty oaks, which had stood here for more than a century, held a huge canopy of still-green foliage over the ground, blocking almost every ray of sunlight, while the younger trees growing at the edges were already beginning to turn yellow and red, slowly preparing for the cold weather.
Small animals, for whom the autumn twilight brought restlessness and bustle, scurried among the roots, dragging pieces of fallen wool, dry branches, scraps of leaves and blades of grass into their burrows to insulate their homes for the approaching winter. Flower, enchanted by the beauty, could not take her eyes off this picture and, as always, did not notice the pebble under her feet, stumbled and fell, hitting her knees painfully on the hard ground.
"And now we have to find you a new dress, miss," muttered the senior maid discontentedly, whose wrinkled but still dexterous hands immediately found a neatly rolled handkerchief in the folds of her old apron. Her stern voice left no doubt that she was displeased, but the movements with which she pressed the handkerchief to the bleeding wound remained neat and caring. She had known this girl for a long time, raising not only her, but also her older brothers and sisters, and once even her mother, so she could afford to mutter discontentedly without fear of punishment.
"Bear with it," she said, and although her face still wore a stern expression, her hand was warm and reassuring.
Flower, sobbing, looked at the old woman with her big tearful eyes, and from the injustice, for how dare the earth strike her again when she was only admiring the golden leaves and frolicking animals, small salty tears rolled down her cheeks. The senior maid always had a second handkerchief in reserve for such occasions, and without a word, she wiped the girl's face with it.
"Come on, stop it," came the agitated voice of the young maid from behind, who had recently joined the service and was not yet accustomed to the young mistress's daily falls. Her hands nervously fiddled with the fabric of her skirt, her gaze darting between her bloodied knees and the senior maid's face, while a fear grew in her heart that Flower's tears could spell her death if her master found out about his poorly looked-after child.
The little mistress sobbed for a few more minutes, but soon, dressed in a new pink dress with sequins, treated and bandaged, she got back on her feet, blinking her big eyes red from crying. And, as if nothing had happened, she rushed forward along the path with renewed enthusiasm, leaving behind a sigh of relief from several pairs of lips.
When the girl was only a few steps away, the maids exchanged glances: their expressions were equally tired and slightly irritated. This happened almost every day, and each time they hoped that today there would be no new falls and no more piles of ruined dresses. But no sooner had they breathed a sigh of relief than Flower, barely bouncing in her jump, caught on the unevenness of the path again and almost stretched out to her full height, and with her, all their hopes.
_
The heat not only lingered over the land, but seemed to tighten its grip with each passing day, squeezing the last drops of moisture from the cracking soil and driving people and animals to exhaustion. The fields, which in better years at this time of year would have been a joy to behold with their green shoots and promise of a good harvest, now stood as scorched patches where rare, blackened stalks fell under their own weight, never having gained strength. The castle was permeated with a heavy, viscous tension that did not dissipate day or night, but only grew stronger with each hour of silent anticipation of rain.
The servants tried not to catch each other's eye, fearing that any casual word might turn into a quarrel born of fatigue and fear. The kitchen was almost silent, even the old cooks, who usually loved to gossip, were now silent, concentrating on sorting through the few remaining supplies in the pantries. No new dishes could change the feeling of hopelessness that hung over the castle like an ominous shadow.
No one dared to approach the lord who ruled these lands and his entourage.
Wizards, witches, magicians and sorcerers were all summoned to the castle in a desperate attempt to change their fate. They stood in the courtyard from dawn to dusk, sometimes even at night, lighting fires, singing ancient prayers, pouring herbal concoctions onto the ground in an attempt to appease the rain spirits. Some drew circles on the dusty ground, which was now completely dry, while others sprinkled ashes into the fire, whispering spells in the hope of piercing the heavens.
But everything remained as dry and cracked as ever, and only the dead birds that occasionally fell from the scorched branches of the trees in the courtyard reminded them that life here was gradually being eroded by the heat. Each new day without rain seemed more painful than the last, and more and more eyes in the castle were filled with fear that no one dared to voice aloud.
And the Lord sat behind closed doors, not allowing anyone to approach him, and rumours spread throughout the castle that if the rain did not come soon, no wall, no silence would save anyone from his wrath.
Serak, sitting in his rectangular office, was listening to another report when a small head with golden hair appeared in the doorway.
"Come in," he said imperiously, motioning to Omega to approach him. Sensing the atmosphere, everyone in the room quickly left through the second door, which led directly to the stairs to the first floor of the castle.
Shifting from foot to foot, Omega nevertheless entered the office with a confident stride.
The door slammed behind him.