The sound of my boots and Pip’s much softer paw-steps echoed down the corridor. After supper had found a quick end for me, I’d waited until the others were finished. Elodie had then referred me to Mara and Arthur, and so it happened that we walked together towards our rooms after the meal. Pip seemed to have memorized which room was ours, because she ran ahead, and by the time we reached the section of the hallway where our rooms were located, she was already sitting patiently in front of our door. But much more than by her, I was surprised by Arthur.

  The natural ease with which Arthur moved through the house astonished me. He walked slowly and cautiously, yes, but with a sure-footedness that guided him directly to his room. I paused briefly at my own door to watch him, even though Pip was already scratching impatiently to be let in. When the blind boy reached his door, he pressed the latch but didn’t go inside immediately. He turned his head in my general direction, a gentle smile on his face. “Grim, Pip, it was a great pleasure meeting you both. If you need anything, or just want to talk, feel free to come over. I wish you a good night.”

  Before I could manage any reply, he had slipped into his room and closed the door. I blinked in his direction, a little taken aback, and was about to open our own door when something stopped me.

  Mara. She stood before her door, Room 8, her hand on the latch, watching me with that unreadable, intense expression of hers. I looked at her, confused for a second, then understanding dawned and I mentally slapped my forehead. Ahh. Right. “Sorry,” I said, feeling a bit sheepish. “I’m so used to it just being Pip and me, I almost forgot you were there. Ehm.” I offered an awkward smile. “Pip and I wish you a good night too.” Pip, naturally, confirmed this with a soft meow.

  The corners of Mara’s mouth twitched upwards, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from her yet. And then, a minor miracle, her mouth actually opened to form more than a few words. “Water the plant only in the evening, before the sun sets. Good night.” And with that, she opened her door and vanished inside.

  I stared at her closed door for another moment, still puzzled by her and her cryptic gardening advice. Then I looked down at Pip with a shrug. Pip just meowed and scratched more insistently at our door. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going in now…” I said to her, and pushed our door open.

  A warm, golden light streamed out into the hallway as I opened the door. Stepping inside, I saw that the sun was indeed beginning its slow descent, painting the sky outside our window in fiery hues. So here we were, our new home. Pip seemed to approve; she immediately started rolling around on the wooden floor, basking in the last rays of sunlight that slanted through the window, batting playfully at dust motes dancing in the light. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she leaped onto the small wooden desk that stood by the window.

  After a moment spent gazing out at the darkening forest, she turned her attention to the flower in the clay pot. She sat before it, tail twitching, then looked pointedly at me and let out a demanding meow.

  “Oh, right,” I muttered, remembering Mara's strange advice. “Water before sunset. But how much? A drop? A bucket?” I sighed, rubbing my temples. One more thing to figure out in a world where I know nothing.

  I walked closer to the desk and examined the plant more carefully. It reminded me a little of a hybrid between a foxglove and a tulip, with a single, bell-shaped blossom that hung gracefully downwards. The petals displayed a beautiful gradient from lilac to orange and back to lilac. The leaves were a soft mint-blue, and the most peculiar thing about the plant was… it seemed to be covered all over in tiny water droplets, glistening like jewels even though I hadn't watered it yet.

  The more I looked at it, the more its strange, ethereal beauty captivated me. But, as the saying goes, beauty is fleeting, and Mara had specifically said it needed to be watered before sunset. The sun was already dipping below the horizon.

  Raising my hand, I summoned a small sphere of water to the tip of my index finger. I then tried to let a steady, small stream of water flow from it onto the soil in the pot. This, however, proved to be remarkably difficult. Sometimes more water gushed out than I intended, splashing onto the leaves; sometimes only a frustrating trickle emerged. And Pip, of course, found the whole process endlessly fascinating, constantly trying to bat at the falling droplets with a playful paw, nearly knocking the sphere out of alignment.

  Eventually, I figured the soil looked damp enough, and before I completely drowned the poor plant or Pip soaked herself, I decided to stop. Pip meowed at me insistently, bumping her head against my hand, demanding cuddles. A request I was only too happy to oblige.

  After a sufficient amount of petting and purring, Pip hopped down from the desk and settled onto a patch of floor still warmed by the last lingering rays of the setting sun. I looked at her, a thought suddenly striking me with the force of a revelation. The million-gold-coin question that had been nagging at me since supper.

  “Pip,” I said slowly, my heart starting to pound a little. “Do you… understand me?”

  Pip looked up at me, tilted her head to one side in that adorable way she had, and then let out a soft, questioning meow. Hm. Okay, we need to do this differently.

  “Pip,” I tried again, holding up two fingers, “if you understand me, meow twice.”

  And, to my utter astonishment, she actually meowed. Twice. Clear as day. Meow. Meow.

  Okay, maybe it was just a coincidence. Or the two fingers cued her. Maybe she’s just a very intelligent, observant cat… My mind raced, a little paranoid. I had to try something else, something undeniable. Something she would never do naturally.

  “Pip, if you understand me, then… hiss now! Hiss at me!”

  Pip stared at me with an expression that could only be described as a feline version of “Are you serious right now?” She let out an exasperated little sigh, a puff of air from her nose, and then… she actually hissed at me. A short, sharp, undeniably annoyed hiss.

  That couldn't be a coincidence. No way. Never in her life had Pip ever hissed at me before.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Okay… Okay?!” I stammered, scrambling to my feet and starting to pace the small room. My mind was reeling. I snapped my fingers. “Right! Meow three times for yes, and twice for no. Do you… do you like catnip?”

  Pip just looked at me with what I could only interpret as profound feline disdain for the insanity of the question, then let out an almost bored-sounding series of three meows. Meow. Meow. Meow.

  Woooooooooooow… okay?! Pip can actually understand me! She’s sentient! Or at least, far more intelligent than any cat I’ve ever known!

  Pip and I just stared at each other in silence for a long moment, the implications of this discovery slowly sinking in for me. Then, I slapped my forehead. Of course! “It’s because of Ithrak’s Blessing, isn’t it? That’s how you can understand me, right?”

  Confirming my suspicion, Pip meowed three times. Meow. Meow. Meow.

  “Oh, that is so cool! Hahaha!” A giddy laugh escaped me. “Okay… uhm. For the future, let’s just do one meow for yes, and two meows for no. Simpler. I just wanted to be absolutely sure that you really understood me, okay?” I said, feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. Pip, however, seemed completely unfazed by this momentous revelation. She briefly looked up from her grooming, let out a single, short meow, and then calmly went back to licking her paw, as if to say, ‘Obviously, human. Took you long enough to figure it out.’

  Carefully, I sat down in front of her on the floor, cross-legged, just watching her meticulous grooming ritual. After a while, she finished and looked up at me, directly into my eyes. Those infinitely kind, loving, yet always playful green eyes… how much comfort had those eyes given me over the years…

  A tear, hot and unexpected, trickled down my cheek. I stammered, my voice thick with emotion, “Pi-Pip, I… I just wanted to tell you… I’m so incredibly sorry that we had such a shitty life before. And I swear, I’ll do everything I can to make sure we have a good life from now on, okay? You… you’ve always protected me, made my life so much more worth living, and given me so much love…” I had to swallow hard, trying not to break down completely, but it was no use. “I love you so much, Pip…” I finally managed to choke out, tears now flowing freely.

  Pip didn't hesitate. She climbed into my lap, her small paws kneading the fabric of my shirt as she pressed her warm, furry little head firmly against my cheek. She nuzzled into the crook of my neck, her purr revving up to a deafening rumble that vibrated against my chest. I hugged her close, burying my face in her fur, and just let myself cry, soaking her soft coat. “Sorry for getting your fur all wet…” I whispered, but Pip just purred louder, an unwavering beacon of comfort.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, huddled together on the floor, but eventually, my sobs subsided. The sun had completely set by then, and yet, the room was still bathed in a soft, gentle orange light. Confused, I looked towards the window, but it was pitch black outside. Then I realized the light was coming from the desk… from the flower?

  Carefully lifting Pip onto my arm, I stood up and walked cautiously towards the desk. Pip looked at me questioningly as I peered at the plant. “Look, Pip… the flower is glowing!” I said, astonished.

  The flower was indeed emitting a soft, warm orange glow from its bell-shaped bloom, like a tiny, magical nightlight, casting gentle shadows across the room. I lowered Pip onto the desk, and she too looked at the glowing flower with wide, curious eyes.

  I should definitely ask Mara about this flower tomorrow. Maybe it really was the medieval fantasy equivalent of a desk lamp. It just showed me, once again, how little I truly knew about this new world. Sighing, I sat down on the edge of the bed. To my surprise, it was incredibly soft, the mattress yielding gently under my weight.

  I let my mind drift, reflecting on the whirlwind of the past few days. First, I had to fight for our survival in the sewers, then I was nearly killed by the City Watch, then I almost killed Lord Ainsworth myself, then the strange calm of the Arcane Sanctum, followed by the intense drama of the trial in the Chamber of Final Light – with the King and Queen themselves presiding. Then Lord Ainsworth was executed right before my eyes, and finally, we were brought here, to this… home?

  It had been incredibly chaotic since we’d arrived in this world… but maybe, just maybe, we now truly had a chance at a reasonably quiet life. But for that to happen, I needed to think carefully about what came next. An apprenticeship? Or formal magic study? Could I do an apprenticeship and then study magic? And what about Pip during all of that?

  I took a deep breath. Perhaps I should just focus on properly arriving here first, on settling in, before making any grand plans. I could start by exploring my new ‘strengths’. Maybe I could find a way to use my magic for something that would allow us a relaxed, peaceful life.

  I let my head fall back, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Is anyone ever truly free? You’re always dependent on something. Even if I had my own house now, I’d need money. And money only came through work. And work only came if someone gave you a job. So, in that sense, I wouldn’t be free. But even if I had a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods, I wouldn’t be truly free either. I’d be independent, perhaps, but not free from the need to survive, to find food, to protect myself.

  Pushing the philosophical thoughts aside, I stood up from the bed. Walking to the door, I took off my shoes, placing them neatly beside the entrance. Pip hopped down from the desk and came over to me, rubbing against my legs. “Don’t worry,” I said, scratching her head. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  I stretched, a loud yawn escaping me. “What do you say, Pip? Shall we go to bed?”

  Pip didn’t need to be told twice. She leaped onto the bed and immediately started scratching at the woven basket that sat at its foot.

  Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that; I still wanted to see what was inside. Probably just spare clothes and such. Curious, I walked over to the bed and peered into the basket. I frowned in surprise and lifted something out.

  “Chocolate?” I murmured, astonished. And not just one bar, but five of them? They were wrapped in thick, textured paper, bound with a thin gold ribbon. The packaging screamed luxury. I carefully placed the chocolate bars on the bed and reached into the basket again.

  Next was a neatly folded stack of clothing. I pulled them out one by one. There were three high-quality linen shirts in white, cream, and a soft grey. Beneath them were two pairs of trousers made of a durable but soft fabric, dyed in dark earth tones. And at the bottom, a small collection of undergarments that looked infinitely more comfortable than anything I'd worn in years.

  I decided to put them away in the wardrobe immediately. But when I opened the wardrobe door, to my further surprise, there was already clothing hanging inside. A few simple white shirts, a couple of pairs of sturdy brown trousers, and even some new-looking underpants. Shrugging, I added the new, finer clothes to the collection and closed the wardrobe door.

  Now there were only two items left in the basket: a small, heavy leather drawstring pouch, and a sealed envelope. For some reason, I looked at Pip first, as if for permission, then picked up the envelope. It was made of fine, creamy white paper and sealed with a circle of dark red wax, impressed with a sigil I didn’t recognize.

  A wave of nervousness washed over me. I swallowed hard, then carefully broke the wax seal and took out the folded letter inside.

  “Dear Grim and Pip,” it began.

  “I hope you were well received in your new home and that you are feeling reasonably comfortable. I can only imagine that after all you have experienced, this is but a small comfort, but you need not worry about finding an apprenticeship immediately. I have made a generous donation to the orphanage, such that your keep is covered for the foreseeable future. You are, of course, still free to seek an apprenticeship if that is in your interest.

  Enclosed you will find a few sweets, some new clothing, and a little money so that you and Pip may buy yourselves something nice.

  Yours sincerely, Marchioness Genevieve Ainsworth.”