Teach Me

1

I locked myself in my chamber after helping my mother clear the table and wash the dishes from dinner. The constant booming of my father's voice as he chastised my mother and younger brother for their every action was exhausting. If I lingered much longer, I would also be on the receiving end of his wrath.

I pitied my mother. She couldn't escape him as I could. My poor brother couldn't either. As the only son in the family, he was expected to withstand my father's anger to prove his masculinity, to prove that he was suitable to carry the family name, and eventually to assume his role as the patriarch of the family.

I was almost exempt from his wrath. There was only one area in which I failed as the only daughter of the family- I had yet to be married. I had no suitors. Since I became available for an offer of courting and subsequent marriage at the age of 16, there was not even one man who had approached my father to ask for my hand.

That was an area of deep pain and resentment for both my mother and father and even myself. It was embarrassing at times to be my age and without even a single suitor. Though, I'd mostly resigned myself to indifference.

My only redeemable quality was that I did earn some money to support the family as a seamstress. I might not have been marriage-worthy, but I would not waste away in uselessness; I did have some purpose.

I sat at my sewing desk and lit the few candles there to illuminate the room. Since the war, electricity has been a rarity. It had been a decade since I'd last seen a light switch flipped that resulted in the bulb sparking on.

Grabbing the beige-colored rectangle of cotton, I slid the needle through to make a few stitches. Sewing gave me peace of mind. The booming voice of my father reverberated through the room though, ruining my attempts at peace. Then my mother's voice rang out as well. How odd, she never defended herself against him.

Footsteps approached my door and my heart began to pound. Arguments that led to my room were never good. It would probably be a battle over my suitor status, which was that none existed.

I was exhausted after the day I had. I had more dress orders than normal the last week and I had been working since four in the morning to complete an order. After helping my mother prepare dinner and wash up afterward, I simply did not have the capacity to bear any more nagging from my parents.

"Willow," my father said, pounding on my door.

"Come in," I called.

My father barrelled into the room with my mouse-like mother following behind. She looked sorrowful, a bit sad, or pained maybe.

"There is news, Willow."

I looked between my parents and my pulse quickened. "What is it?"

"The Ostara militia will be arriving here in Flawmore within the next few days."

My eyes widened at his words. The military arriving here for an inspection of the town was never good. Someone was always hurt, or taken and never seen again. But the town's fear of their arrival could never be voiced and it wasn't even recognized among ourselves either. Negative talk against the Ostara nation and military was strictly forbidden.

As the village council had declared Flawmore supporters of the Ostara cause, our own townspeople would often report other townspeople suspected of speaking badly of Ostara to the military. In return for proving their allegiance to the cause, they would receive some sort of compensation, whether it be extra grain and oil, coins and digits, or something else of value.

The person suspected of some form of treason would be publically punished if convicted- which they usually were even without proper evidence- or executed.