Sep 24, 2029
Sophice chose her attire with deliberate care, eschewing her usual finery for practical garb—jeans and a denim shirt—mirroring the understated style Brenda often sported.
This was, after all, all about Brenda. It had started when Seraphina mentioned the common refrain 'What would Brenda do?' Though initially irked by the mention in her presence, Sophice found herself pondering, "What would Brenda do?"
From there, the winter months became a crucible of planning and strategizing, a period of intellectual ferment that laid the groundwork for what was to come. With the advent of spring, she marshaled a team of four robust young men, the vigor of their youth on their side, and come summer, when the ground had properly thawed, set them to the task that had germinated in the cold contemplation of winter.
Her plan was multifaceted: to augment the community’s dwindling food supply, carve out a niche of reverence for herself akin to sainthood within the collective memory, and most critically, to inch her way past Brenda’s well-guarded skepticism. Sophice harbored no illusions about the monumental task of earning Brenda's trust. Her strategy was one of patience and impeccable conduct, aiming to weave herself into the fabric of Brenda’s world so seamlessly that her presence would become an unremarked constant, long before she rid her world of the woman who had stolen her place and her lover's heart. Sophice had once learned to tolerate his yearning for Brenda when she was a ghost; now, Sophice intended to make her a ghost again.
Since the collapse, Mittenwald had undergone a stark transformation. The serene beauty of its landscape had become the backdrop for a grim new reality, one where the resurgence of wolves marked a stark reversal of their once dwindling numbers. No longer mere phantoms at the periphery of human existence, these predators, bolstered by an absence of their traditional competition—humankind—had grown audacious. The wolves ventured forth from the concealment of the forest, encroaching upon the settlements with a boldness born of desperation and hunger, challenging the precarious balance the community had fought so hard to establish in the sanctuary they had carved out for themselves in the aftermath of civilization’s fall.
In this altered world, Sophice saw not only the challenge but the opportunity. Her plans, ambitious as they were, promised a dual boon: a safeguard against the encroaching threat of the wolves and a chance to solidify her place within the community—a community standing on the precipice of change, navigating the treacherous waters of survival in a world reclaimed by nature.
In response, Sophice Albie Hohenstein, leveraging her cunning and the collective desperation for safety and sustenance, orchestrated a plan as ruthless as it was ingenious. Far from the manor, where the lush valley embraced the rugged Alps, a traditional meat kiln—a relic of survival from centuries past—lay hidden. This kiln, a cave-like crevasse adapted by ancestral hands, now became the cornerstone of her strategy.
The kiln, with its deep fire pit and tiered iron shelves, sat ensconced in the west woods, a sentinel amidst the trees. By day, it transformed slabs of meat into jerky, the smoke rising freely through the crevasse’s open top, a beacon of sustenance amidst desolation. The addition of a metal mesh door and adjacent tables for meat preparation, innovations from a bygone era, fortified this haven against the encroaching wilderness.
Sophice's trap, a narrow wooden corridor leading unsuspecting wolves from the smokehouse entrance to a concealed pit, was a masterstroke of survivalist architecture. Two rope ladders allowed for human navigation, while a sophisticated mechanism ensured the pit’s plywood cover would collapse under the weight of its prey, sealing the wolf’s fate.
The lure was the kiln's rich aroma, promising a feast but delivering a trap. Here, in the depth of the pit, nature’s hierarchy was subverted: the predator became prey, destined to join the cycle of sustenance as jerky.
Finally, the carcass was positioned strategically—close enough to pique the wolves' interest, yet not so near as to directly associate the danger with the vicinity. This served a dual purpose: enticing the wolves to view the area as a promising source of sustenance while also relying on them to naturally dispose of the remains.
The engineering of the trap mechanism showcases Sophice's cleverness and the blacksmith's skill, a significant aspect that could be highlighted further for dramatic impact. Here’s a deepened version of the passage:
The creation of the trap's intricate mechanism—a marvel of metal springs, levers, and a crossbar hinged at its center—demanded not only the blacksmith's unparalleled craftsmanship but also a substantial measure of ingenuity from both Sophice and him. The design was a product of intense collaboration, a bridge between Sophice's visionary concept and the blacksmith's understanding of what was feasible with iron and fire.
This contraption was not merely a trap but a testament to human resourcefulness in the face of adversity. It needed to perform a delicate ballet of mechanics: holding the wolf securely until it reached the midpoint, then hinging open to deposit the creature into the pit below, and crucially, it must reset itself for the next unwary predator. Beyond these requirements, the design included safety features—it could be locked in a non-functional state to prevent accidental injury and manually opened from the outside, ensuring the safety of those who operated it.
Sophice spent the winter months poring over designs, grappling with the complexities of physics and animal behavior, refining and reworking her plans. When spring thawed the ground, she and the blacksmith began the arduous process of bringing her vision to life.
Under Sophice's directive, the community youth, with the blacksmith's aid, constructed this corridor of doom. It was a labor of secrecy and hope, culminating in a trap that, once sprung, revealed the grim reality of their world: adaptability was survival.
They had had to wait for the ground to thaw before they could start digging, but by late August, the trap was finally ready. The finishing touch was a colorful warning sign near the pit, cautioning anyone nearby and guiding them to the safety door.
The very first day, they caught their first wolf. The process of killing it was messy and grim, a learning curve for refining their technique. Pulling it out of the pit proved much harder than anticipated. However, they were skilled at skinning, quickly preparing the hide to hand over to the tanner. Despite the wolf's size, it had surprisingly little meat, yet it was still considered worth the effort. Once processed, an adult wolf provided between 8 and 15 kilos of jerky.
Sophice watched, a mixture of pride and sorrow in her gaze, as their first wolf was ensnared. The process of transforming these wolves into jerky was meticulous, dictated by necessity to avoid disease.
The late August brought with it the Dunkelflaute—a stifling, breezeless fortnight that intensified the hardship of their labor. The air, thick and motionless, clung to the skin, making every task feel like a battle against the elements themselves. Sweat was a constant, drenching the men as they toiled, but it was the pervasive stench of decaying flesh that tested their resolve the most acutely. The lack of wind meant that the usual escape of smoke from the kiln was hindered, leaving them to work in a choking haze that made every breath a struggle.
Yet, despite the oppressive heat and daunting conditions, the team pressed on. Their determination was fueled not just by the necessity of their task but by a shared sense of purpose.
"Remember bitching about this heat when we're standing in a foot of snow," said Dimitri, the eldest boy who had naturally assumed leadership early on. His words, half-jest, half-challenge, cut through the haze of discomfort, reminding them all of the transient nature of their current ordeal and the harsh contrast of seasons they had all endured together.
The difficulties imposed by the Dunkelflaute did not diminish their spirit; rather, it forged them closer. And they were rewarded when the cleansing winds returned, sweeping away the foul odors and smoke-filled air and bringing with it a renewed vigor. The relief was palpable, as if nature itself acknowledged their steadfastness with a breath of fresh, invigorating air, reminding them that after hardship often comes ease, a cycle as old as time itself.
After a month of operating in secret, Sophice's plan had converted 28 predators into 420kg of jerky, all stored in a root cellar turned into a larder. This stash was a clear sign of Sophice's smart thinking and the community's hard work, offering food and a bit of safety against the constant threat of hunger that was as relentless as the wolves outside. With the community count at 138 people, this worked out to a bit more than 3kg of protein for each person per month.
Now, Sophice was getting ready to take this bounty to Brenda. It wasn't just any gift. It was a sign of togetherness, cleverness, and the tough spirit of Tal der Ruhe. In her hands, this jerky meant more than just food. It was a statement, showing they wouldn't give up easily, and an invite to stand united, stronger than they were before.
Walking towards Brenda's room, Sophice felt a mix of hope and worry. This jerky, made from the harsh realities of their land and their combined determination to keep going, was her way forward—a future she imagined next to Otto, stepping out of Brenda's long shadow. This was about her place, her community, her new world.
Pike observed as a smaller version of Brenda approached. He'd heard jokes referring to her as Brenda's "mini-me," but it wasn't until he saw her in jeans, rather than her usual fancy attire, that the resemblance truly struck him.
"Pleasant mornings, Pike," Sophice greeted, her voice carrying a light, cheerful note as she approached. The long hallway, with its high parabolic ceiling, was illuminated by five chandeliers, one of which hung directly above them, casting a soft glow that seemed to accentuate her resemblance to Brenda. Today, dressed down in simple jeans, she was a far cry from her usual refined wardrobe, making her seem more approachable, yet somehow more calculated.
"Morning, miss," Pike responded, maintaining a tone that was respectful yet unmistakably guarded. Despite the warmth of her greeting, he couldn't fully dismiss the undercurrent of suspicion that lingered within him. The intricate dynamics of the manor had taught him that appearances often masked deeper, unspoken tensions.
"Is Brenda in?" Sophice asked, tilting her head slightly. Her question was casual, yet it carried an underlying purpose. The simplicity of her attire today, echoing Brenda's preference for practicality over extravagance, appeared to be a deliberate choice to bridge the gap between them, or perhaps even to assert a claim to a role she perceived as rightfully hers. Pike observed the effort, the strategic shift in her presentation, and pondered the motivations behind it and the implications for the dynamics within the manor.
In response, Pike executed an additional rap on Brenda's door—three quick beats instead of the usual two. This subtle change in the knock was a code he and Veronika had agreed upon, a signal that Sophice was at the door. It was a small but significant adaptation, reflecting the layered complexities of communication and alliance within the manor, as each resident navigated their place in the shifting landscape of power and personal relationships.
In response to the distinctive knock, Veronika, inside the bed chamber, stood up, alert and poised. "The doppelganger is at the door, alone," she announced, using the term they'd half-jokingly ascribed to Sophice due to her uncanny resemblance to Brenda.
"I swear I'm going to learn these codes one of these days," Brenda replied, her voice light, deliberately refusing to lend the situation any undue gravity.
"We switch them up, milady," Veronika explained with a hint of amusement. "They aren't much good if everybody knows them."
"Are we going to let her in?" Wilhelm interjected, his question hanging in the air, laden with the weight of decision.
The hours following were a surreal blend of tension and revelation. Sophice, with Veronika, who insisted on going instead of Brenda, descended into the root cellar to unveil her project. There, she presented the amassed jerky, a tangible result of her meticulous planning and the community's labor. Veronika, ever cautious, selected a random package of the jerky to take back to Brenda's room. Once there, Sophice embarked on a detailed explanation of the entire operation: the conception of the jerky kiln, the intricacies of the wolf trap, and the strategic elimination of 28 wolves that had threatened their community's fragile peace.
Finishing her exposition, Sophice leaned into a moment of self-reflection aloud, sharing her guiding question: "I ask myself 'what would Brenda do?' and came up with a win-win situation." With that, she concluded, settling into a silence that was heavy with anticipation. She waited, her statement hanging in the air, a challenge and an offering wrapped into one, keenly aware of the impact her words might have on Brenda's perception of her actions and intentions.
"You've done well, Sophice," Brenda acknowledged, the vowel in her name subtly altered so it sounded more like 'Suffice'. The slight change was a delicate interplay of acknowledgment and distance. "With our dwindling sheep supply, this will help greatly on many levels."
"This is my gift to you, in hopes of mending what's between us. Feel free to take all the credit if you wish," Sophice offered, her words laced with an underlying strategy. By positioning Brenda to accept credit for the jerky, Sophice cleverly played into the dynamics of their strained relationship, fully aware of Brenda's integrity and her likely refusal to claim unearned accolades.
Sophice's proposal was a tactical gambit, predicting Brenda's reaction—assuming a ruse, she'd overtly attribute all credit to Sophice, thus overturning any intention Brenda might have to downplay the situation. This strategic ploy was aimed at securing public recognition for Sophice's contributions, ensuring that any action Brenda took would inevitably lead to acknowledging Sophice's significant efforts.
Sophice thanked them for their time and left, her departure leaving a lingering tension in the air.
"You are not to touch this or any other jerky package. I might have felt free in choosing, but magicians have their ways of directing choices," Veronika asserted, leveraging her role as protector to enforce a strict boundary. The quick dash around the yard to the wings, then darting into the root cellar and back, had her blood pumping, raising her body temperature beyond the comfort of the sheepskin shirt she was wearing. Without a second thought for the company present, she changed right there, swapping the warm shirt for a heavy khaki-colored twill pullover. The new garment, equipped with leather elbow pads, not only better suited the room's fluctuating temperatures but also hinted at readiness for any physical challenge that might come her way.
Wilhelm considered making a remark but decided against it. Before he could second guess that decision, Brenda interrupted.
"But you're willing to risk your life and Wilhelm's?" Brenda asked, her tone playful yet underscored with genuine concern.
"Neither my false teeth nor my digestive system could handle it, milady," Wilhelm quipped, his chuckle lightening the mood. "The dubious honor of testing the rat leather falls entirely to Veronika." His laughter was infectious, a reminder of the deep-seated trust and camaraderie that had developed among them, a bond that humor and mutual respect only strengthened, even when navigating the murky waters of suspicion and potential danger.
"I doubt there's anything wrong with the meat. If it were a direct attack, she'd have used a go-between. This is a step to a greater play," Veronika speculated, her analytical mind always searching for the underlying strategy in Sophice's actions.
"You give no credence to this being an honest attempt to mend fences?" Brenda probed, seeking Veronika's genuine assessment of Sophice's intentions.
"That woman is going to try to kill you," Veronika responded bluntly, her statement cutting through the previous light-heartedness with a sharp clarity. Her words were a stark reminder of the complex web of motivations and suspicions that enmeshed their lives, a prophecy of conflict and a call to vigilance in the face of Sophice's unpredictable maneuvers.
Before Brenda could form a response, Veronika sharply interjected, "Ask yourself, 'what would Brenda do?'"
This prompted Brenda to reflect on her past, particularly her dealings with Hardy and his group. She remembered her own patience, how she had harbored a daily desire to end Hardy yet chose to bide her time. It took her five long months to weave herself into their trust, only to possibly eliminate them through poison before undertaking the arduous journey across the Alps on foot. This memory served as a stark reminder: Otto had chosen Sophice because she bore a resemblance not just in appearance but perhaps in cunning and resilience too. Brenda acknowledged silently, Sophice was not to be underestimated, a mirror to her own strategic depth.