<span style="font-family:Calibri">The air was thick with spores, the smell almost toxic to the lungs. It was heavy and drenched, akin to a wet dog in the true heat of summer; the mold it bore from was chartreuse in hue, spotting corners and creeping upwards, slowly conquering the rich, moist walls made of solid concrete bricks and mortar. It kissed the floor, going so far as to boldly reach towards the wooden floorboards, polished and yet worn. Women were hunched along the walls, their long dresses dragging and catching dirt from the floor. They were in pure silence, fear swimming between them and tension nearly palpable to their clammy, spidery fingers. There was not a sound to be heard other than their breathing, but they knew all too well that they mustn't move. One woman held an infant up to her chest, bouncing it lightly to try and soothe. She brought the child to her breast to feed, her eyes darting wildly around the room. The other women were silent, either staring at the wide, bolted doors, or trying to comfort their own children of various ages. <br/>
<br/>
A cellar was safe. It was the first thought into the Mistress' head as the guard spoke to her, his expression slack. It was an obvious fear that he held, even at that point, for everyone knew that their army was weak and their people discouraged. Perhaps it was a battle that was needed to bring back the life into the people beneath, but it certainly was not one of this scale. "Ma'lady, they won't be long. Find yerself a safe place--and take the children with you. The seamstress and the maids are all gathering the women here, and they will meet by your chambers." His voice was harsh and low, like the sound of boots grinding against gravel. Agitation spread across the woman's pale face, her azure gaze squinting slightly. "And what has my husband said about this?" She retorted, her tone as sharp as her eyes. The man hesitated, wiping the sweat of his brow with his heavy hand. He bellowed a sigh, then shook his head in defeat. "He is nowhere to be found. Either with the men already, or..." The large man didn't need to even finish her sentence. Her husband was a coward, heavy set and hairy. He seemed to sweat when there wasn't quite a reason to, and his anger often went unchecked. No one dared to speak out against him, especially his wife. </span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">Without another word, she dismissed the guard to return to his duties. With her mind reeling, she set out to find the rumored women to hide with. Her heart thundered against her chest, and an uneasiness began to settle deep within her, a seed planted that would not budge. If they were to fail, it wasn't certain whether or not she would make it out alive. Certainly all of the women, along with herself, would be used. However, it was not known whether they would be kept or discarded like the traitors they were seen as. The thought hung around in her mind even as she gathered the innocents, guiding them down the steep stairs that led to the cellar. </span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">Alongside the musty smell, there was a thick sweetness of wine. It was kept by the barrel, lined along another wall. They tried to haul them towards the door to add another layer of protection, yet they were as heavy as boulders and impossible for the feeble women to budge. It was then that they crouched, lining the wall where the shadow fell. They were lit by only a single burning torch, while a gas lamp sat idle in the event that they were undiscovered and had to survive for a while longer until safe. </span>