The 4th and 5th Trials of Cylus, Arc 723
The snowstorm that had begun to blow in just a few trials ago, on the fourth trial showed no real signs of letting up. Effectively snowed in as she was, news of what was happening elsewhere was precious little and exceedingly hard to come by. But simply by looking out her third story window at the world below, and beyond, her own little piece of Idalos, the daughter of Ymiden could only guess that the island of Scalvoris, and perhaps more than that, had been effectively cut off from the outside world; and from outside help as well.
Her home was large and secure. She had firewood to spare and then some, and plenty of food. She could easily have waited out the storm with relative ease surrounded in luxury, with just her dog Darwin, her cat Smudge and Eberhardt for company. She'd done well more than two hundred arcs of living by now, so had witnessed a great deal of sadness, tragedy and loss. Too many of those losses had been deeply personal ones; therefore she could all too easily have become numb to it all. Even detached by design, as a way of protecting herself. And yet she never had.
She couldn't have brought herself to ignore the probable suffering of the many others just a stone's throw from her upstairs window. It was an unchangeable part of her nature, to extend a helping hand. So she'd sent Eberthardt off with an invitation and a request for additional supplies, and opened her doors to those who might come her way. She shouldn't have doubted they'd come.
Eliza had plenty of room to accommodate the two dozen souls she'd asked for, and enough to take care of a handful more than that. But while the supplies, plentiful enough at first, had stopped coming, the suffering continued to trickle in, one by one or in pairs. It required more of her than she'd anticipated it would, receiving, organizing and caring for so many others at once.Logistics had never been her strong suit. But in this case, she learned quick because she had no other choice. Lives depended on it, so she learned under pressure. And one of the ways that she did it, was to identify others with the skills and willingness to lend a hand in the process, help where she could, but stay out of their way if her help became a hindrance.
She'd spoken with each new arrival, welcoming them in and making sure they were comfortable and had what they needed. Eliza's hope was to create a sense of community amongst them all, making it easier to secure volunteers to help get them all through it. In the end, some were given command of the kitchens, others tasked with clearing away the large drifts of snow outside the doors and windows and cutting a path from the front steps to the woodshed and back. And still more, made responsible for hauling in wood and keeping the fires going.
With no obvious signs that the storm would be letting up soon, as early as the fourth trial, Eliza realized that unless the supplies she'd been given continued to trickle in at the same rate as the refugees from the storm did, eventually they'd run short of food at the very least. She'd made the decision early on to conserve what they had, and do whatever they could to make it last. Which unfortunately meant rationing. Under ordinary circumstances, she knew, this would not be a popular decision. But from Eliza's perspective, rationing was the only way to increase their chances of coming through the storm without losses. Or at least, as few as possible.
She'd advised those manning the kitchens that they should conserve what was available as best they could. Stretch it out, and let nothing go to waste. Bones from whatever meat they had, even fish bones, could be combined with vegetable skins and cuttings to make a nutritious broth for instance, to which they could add beans or rice for a large pot of soup. And servings should be kept as small as was reasonable.
While rationing was bound to bring on more than a handful of complaints, Eliza was compelled to give thanks for the little whirligig planted deep in the ground outside in the garden. Even beneath heavy drifts of snow, the effects of the mysterious little device would ensure that all within Story Book Manor would continue to feel a sense of peace and well being so long as they remained there. And none would feel compelled towards acts of violence or any other malicious actions born of frustration or even desperation.
