Famine is something that historians have dedicated entire lives into researching, their effects on the people around it devastating and lasting decades. And perhaps the most famous famine of them all is the Irish Famine of 1844. This famine devastated the country of Ireland, with government officials doing little to nothing in response. Millions dead, millions emigrating. And the fungus, the Potato Blight or Phytophthora infestans, remains a threat.
This is the unfortunate reality that faced young Bria, a girl born in this devastating time. Bria had watched police arrest her father for petty thievery, her mother die of food poisoning, and her brother fleeing to America without her. Close family friends had already left as well, and her last living relative was all the way in Germany for vacation. She had no one. No human soul to count on. So she resorted to the same crime that took her father away.
Sneaking through the small alleys riddled with the dying and dead, she found her target: a small bread shop, still working with the great excess of grains the store owners had bought from the Peel administration. Many came to them for food, but the greedy bakers had pushed prices so high that only those who were already well off before the famine could afford their product.
But that didn’t mean that those in need never got their hands on the stuff.
As Bria snuck her way through the small crowd of people that stood outside, she saw her prize: a lone loaf of bread, lazily placed into the pocket of some rich boggart. Looking around to see if there was anyone that was paying attention, she slowly pulled the bread away from the man.
“HEY! THIEF!”
Bria whirled around, seeing a well-dressed woman pointing at her, greedy sneer on her face. Bria grabbed her prize and ran. The sound of whistles sounded behind her, their piercing cries stinging more than the cold stone beneath her feet. Tears ran down her face, the fear of being caught and the despair of her situation giving birth to rivers that flowed.
A sudden pull on her shoulder dragged her into an alleyway, one that she didn’t recognize. Collapsing on the ground, a hand pulled her up and pulled her aside, a hand to her mouth. She struggled against her captor, only to watch the police run past the alley, not even noticing her muffles.
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“There we go, they’re gone now.” A kind elderly voice spoke as the grip around her let go. Bria tumbled to the ground, scurrying against the opposite wall, where she could see her… savior?
The man was dressed like a pilgrim of old, with buckle shoes, puffy white trousers, a black suit, and the signature hat. A stringy gray beard and mustache covered his lower face, while aged wrinkles covered the rest. His left eye was an amber-orange, while his right was a brilliant crystal blue. In his hand, a cane, adorned with a golden skull on the top, and a singular golden tentacle twisting around the mahogany wood. He looked down on the girl with a kind smile.
“I apologize, dear Bria, but there was simply no time to introduce myself before they caught up with you.” The old man said, his smile revealing a perfect white smile, all for one silver tooth with strange engravings.
Before Bria could respond, a large shadow formed from the bleak sunlight.
“There you are, filth.” The woman from before stated, the group of officers behind her. Bria, shaking in fear, began to get up to run, when the old man waved at her to stop,
“Worry not, dear child. They will not hurt you.” He said, his cane beginning to glow a violent shade of red.
“Oh, and how will you accomplish that, old timer? You barely fit this century, let alone this decade!” The woman sneered. The man sneered right back.
“Then I suggest you respect your elders, girlie.” The man cackled, and with a flick of his cane, the woman was flung into the officers, sending them crashing, a sickening crack resonating from the woman. One officer hurried over to help the woman, only to find her neck snapped. The old man flicked his cane yet again, and the group of officers were flung in all sorts of directions, separating them. It was almost like a dance, as his cane moved, so did everyone around the elder. Eventually, only one officer remained without too much injury.
“Who… who the hell are you?” The officer snarled, barely able to get up due to some unseen force. The elder laughed, a short and curt laugh of disdain.
“I am Leah Fairfox, Arson of Salem, General of the United States, Duelist of Old Hickory. And I would suggest you leave the young girl alone.” The elder said, as he tapped his cane and the officer began to seize, blood erupting from his mouth. Turning to Bria, he smiled as if nothing happened.
“Apologies. They wouldn’t have backed down otherwise.”
