《The Girl in the Green Tower (Complete)》 Foundation Once upon a time, the witch is vague on how long ago exactly, I was an ordinary girl. I lived in a besieged city that was claimed by two countries. Over many hundreds of years the city grew and sometimes it was claimed by one state and other times it was claimed by the other. Sometimes it was taken in a bloodless coup, once it was traded for other land and, at the time I was born, my home city was suffering a long siege. Missiles destroyed homes and infrastructure and the only crop which flourished were fear and hunger. The people who remained in the city were a rag tag bunch. There were the elderly, too frail to leave and with nowhere to go. There were defenders, who fought to keep the invaders from taking the city too soon. And there were my parents. I don¡¯t know much about them. Only that they left it too late to leave. My parents met the witch when she came down into the train station that my parents spent their nights sheltering in. She spoke the old language. She knew insurgent passwords. But probably, the witch says, they let her pass the barricade because she had food. And when they said she could stay just one night she said she needed to bring the children down. That¡¯s when they must have seen my brothers and sisters. A small group of children who were not starving. The witch brought them down into the station and fed them and wrapped them in clean warm blankets and told them stories of hope and how they would see the city rise again. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Did my parents creep up and listen? Did they offer me then or in the morning? The witch says my father offered me to her, that my mother did not disagree. She says I was almost too weak to take. Malnourishment and lack of sunlight and the constant shriek of bombs and screams of people had stunted my growth. Or maybe, the witch always puts her head on one side when she says this, maybe my parents lied about my age. The next morning the witch found me room in her light armored vehicle with the red cross on each door. I don¡¯t know if I waved as we left. I don¡¯t know if I cried. That was the past. It is part of the story of how I came to be here. The next part of my story was a place we went. It used to be a hospital. That¡¯s where sick people went to get better. The witch had friends there and they set about fixing us. Getting us strong. We worked at learning what was needed to keep safe and keep others safe. That was where we prepared for our role. A job to keep our city safer than it ever had before. A position we would hold all our lives. The others were with me in the hospital but a tower defender must learn the art of solitude. We slept alone. We studied alone. We received our implants alone. When I was ready I would accept the tower sentinel program. I had a choice. They made that clear. We all had a choice. I went into the tower of my own free will. Bricks and feathers Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!¡± The witch brings me news, supplies and quests. She must be stealthy. If she ever brings trouble to the blast doors I cannot let her in. She is getting old now. Her close cropped hair is grey, white and silver under her helmet. Her face has always been gaunt but now her eyes have faded and her eye lids droop a little. Lately I have helped her when I find her on my perimeter. A crow snaps twigs to distract a scouting party. An owl drops tinder into a campfire fire to cause a billow of black smoke to warn that people are near. They are little things I don¡¯t tell her. There was a time I would report on my progress, I¡¯d tell her how much further I could sense. But I do not seek to please her any more. I have met her purposes and she does not question me about new skills. Only my kills. I sit on the floor of the eyrie and close my eyes. I reach out to my birds, pictures flitting through my mind until I see a movement I want to follow. The witch. I settle in with one small bird to track her progress. Sometimes she stops and stares at my birds. I have many. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. There are rules about getting in to see me. The witch must use all her subterfuge to get to my tower and I must put her through all the checks. When I was young she could sneak up on me easily. She came often when I was young and she stayed and taught me more of how to live, how to scout, how to push at what I could do from my tower. When I let the first bird roost up above she told me to kill it and I did of course. Unquestioning. But when the next bird began to build a nest I let it. If it interfered with my organic system I would move it out. In and out it flew. Sometimes it fluttered down the stairwell and stole some of my hair. My hair is bio-wrought. Strong and soft and malleable by me wherever it goes. The bird built a microcosm for its eggs. One thought from me could have crushed the shells and trapped the bird. But I cradled the small family, made room for her mate. I brushed each alabaster orb with my hairs and maintained their temperature. When a hawk came to steal a chick I shot it dead. It was only the work of nine hairs to form the arrow. Later the owls came. I offered them sanctuary too. The birds got on well with my system and one night, as an owl took flight and hunted its meal, I found I could go out too. I had eyes. I could go outside. Back to back When the witch has made it through the kill zone she climbs up to the sentinel floor and we sit down back to back and look out across the forest. Her back is shielded with thick and her spine is the gap down the centre. She is warm against me. She is old and wise and she is still straight and strong. We watch for twenty clicks. There is no unauthorised movement out there. I lay the smallest hair flat against her own short spikes. Carefully, carefully as she breathes and takes the watch with me. Finally she pulls away, stands and reaches into one of the packs she hauled up here. She must have picked me up a drop because this is a bigger cargo than she could carry. Sometimes I don¡¯t see her for months. The fighting has never been intense in this sector but I eliminate many scouting parties. They are like the ants ¨C always exploring new territory. ***** The witch said the ants would foul my supplies. I must launch a full area cleansing. This protocol would eliminate other beneficial insects which were sustenance for my birds and worked with the locals. Spiders eat flies. Flies eat excrement. Ants have their place as well, I knew, and they have generations of belonging to this land. I include them in my defence protocol. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. To be clear, the witch only suggested the ants be dispossessed from my tower, not my zone, but I wondered if I could broker an accord with them. Ants are not like birds. Ants are like soldiers. They follow instructions. Ants use pheromones to lay a message for the next ant. ¡°Follow me. Tell your friends.¡± ¡°Death this way. Turn back.¡± ¡°Make death or the hive will suffer.¡± ¡°Bring back the bodies.¡± It took months to learn their ways. But I have time. They made me to last. You can send an ant around a tower. You can send an ant to an enemy camp disguised with their scent. You can send a troupe of ants out to lay strands of hair that connect and connect and connect. Why, in time, these small creatures can help you form an outpost. They cannot move stone but they can find a suitable tree. Once I had a roadway I sent more hair. We burrowed underground. Overhead we followed vines. Even the smallest can be a warrior. Just like me. A prince? ¡°You are too good to them.¡± The witch is watching the villagers digging up potatoes in the fields. She knows of the winding rows of cabbages where once there were mines. Maybe she knows of the apple trees. Bitter fruit that lies in hay under every roof for the cold months. I doubt she cares about the wild berries but she knows of the babies born. Every year there are a few more. I must report each one. I have made this place safe. To the north is the mountain, forbidding and difficult to traverse. A deep river guards the east. The rest is thick forest patrolled by wolves whose cubs have lain in dens lined with my hair. They played and chewed with balls rolled tightly with the strands. Breathing in the particles. Laying the connections. The wolves take the offerings of a weak spring lamb or a scouting party armed with knives and guns. Wolves, like me, are used to being hungry. They are always wary but we cooperate well. We have an understanding. Out in the glade the locals finish lifting their crop from the soft loamy soil. A woman wraps her babe against the late afternoon chill. She looks up at the tower and holds the infant closer. An old man limps to the foot of my tower, lays a woven basket at the base. When he has gone I drop down a rope of hair to snag the offering. Potatoes, wild carrots, fennel and a hunk of rough bread. ¡°They are good to me,¡± I say. I offer her a heel of bread. She sniffs at it, takes a bite. I imagine she is calculating the nutrient value. She chews slowly. Maybe the bread holds memories for her. Then she shifts, her face changes. She is back to her mission. ¡°Let me get your rations.¡± I try not to act like an excited child but I¡¯m always on the verge of diving on the provisions the witch has brought. Perhaps there are books. Maybe there is sugar. It is not predictable what I will get. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. She has brought whiskey and coffee and rations for another few months. I¡¯ve been drinking coffee for years but the whiskey is new. I like the birds to leave me when she¡¯s here. They shelter in eaves and branches. Little hearts beating slowly as they dream. Outside, an owl flits about in the night, scouting for me while I listen to the witch. I look at her grey hairs, like the man who left me food today. His battle days are over. She is still the strong woman who took me from the siege 14 years ago. She is the woman who delivered me to the program. And she was the one who asked me: ¡°Are you sure?¡± I was. I went into the tower of my own free will. The whiskey burns my throat. The witch and I laugh. She screws the lid on the bottle. Out in the night, nine kilometres away, a wagon rolls up to the forest boundary. The wolves howl. The wagon stops and does not enter. In the trees I land my night birds. The wagon is covered. The wolves smell only one. The stranger settles down in their wagon. Sensible. I leave the stranger sleep and send a wolf to howl a few miles off as if he is not being watched, although two stay on point to check this new one. The witch settles down to sleep too. I keep linens she can stretch out on and when it¡¯s cold I have more blankets. Her breathing is even and deep, I send a strand as fine as spider web behind her left ear. Binding, binding. Perhaps I can help her some day because she will not always be so strong. I draw water from the well for her to wash with in the morning and continue my watch. There is no movement from the wagon. No need to bother the witch. With the light she stirs. She eats quickly and arranges her pack, now much lighter, to continue her journey. I lower her down to the ground and monitor her retreat as I also note the occupant of the wagon stirring. Their paths will not cross. I sprinkle breadcrumbs for the birds and wait for their return. I send a rook to the villagers. It drops their basket with my note that a wagon is coming. Then I draw back the forest cover to show a path before the horse is hitched. When the old man limps up to the stranger I listen to them making exchanges. He shares news of the world outside as they study his goods. From my birds eye view I see him showing implements and cloth. The villagers know that I value books and they barter for all we need. He takes sacks of potatoes and the jams they can spare, and he says he will stay a few nights. He asks about the green tower and they are circumspect. ¡°It¡¯s old tech,¡± the head woman says, ¡°best to leave it be.¡± But that night the traveler walks to the foot of the tower. He watches the birds flying in and out and I watch him. Birds Eye View This time, one strand makes it safely away with the witch. She caught me once when my strands were thicker. She did not visit for a month. I cried and raged and I ate the lichen growing on the walls and even a bird or two. I wondered if the others would fly away. They certainly knew their kin were missing. It is against the protocol to leave the perimeter and it is against the protocol to leave my tech on the witch. ¡°And it isn¡¯t polite to snoop,¡± she said when she finally showed up again. ¡°Well I never had a proper mother to teach me that,¡± I screamed. But I enjoy creeping over my boarders and this delicious invasion has been planned for a long long time. I want to hear her voice when she¡¯s eating and hear her sleep. And I want to guide my birds who aren¡¯t able to tell one old woman from another. She is getting old and one day she will need my help. I¡¯m sure I did it for the right reasons. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Well. There¡¯s a delay in transmission as she travels down the river but soon I pick her up at one of my outposts. Then another. I¡¯m not sure she¡¯ll be proud of me just yet if I reveal them so I keep them to myself. The witch meets others after two days travel. I have swapped out many birds. The owl lands after nightfall and sits out of the smoke of their campfire. The sound travels well though. The witch is talking about me! ¡°I gave her whiskey,¡± she says, taking a long slug on the bottle we had shared. I was disappointed she had taken it with her. Now I see her share it around. ¡°What?¡± says a man with a charcoal uniform. ¡°That¡¯s an expensive piece of equipment, you shouldn¡¯t give it alcohol.¡± ¡°The villagers send her all sorts of offerings. She can take it. Besides, it was a rite of passage. I read the last witch did the same. Her diary said it was celebrated as a 16th birthday ritual.¡± ¡°You¡¯re soft,¡± the man said slowly, ¡°it¡¯s just as well you¡¯re getting out.¡± He signals to the other two. They set up a watch perimeter while the witch and the man settle down to sleep. I let the owl hunt. I see she is well protected. I keep the wolves at bay. The peddler comes at nightfall. He activates the passcodes. This is a highly unusual activity but it is also permissible when the right protocols are used. I keep the wolves at bay. When he stands at the base of the tower I have many ways to remove him. A stray block of stone would look like an accident where a precision shot sends a message that would confuse and distress the villagers. I am contemplating which course to take when he says it: ¡°Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.¡± So I do. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! He enters the tower and ascends to my floor. I have sent all my creatures above and below and am quite alone. I would not want him to hurt them. I watch his eyes taking me in ¨C I guess to him I will look a little like a spider, moving in my web of hair, strands moving to take me where I want through every level. I watch his vulnerable eyes. With 8 strands I could fire an arrow to pierce each dark iris and sink into his brain. He puts his palms out ¨C a peace sign. He is not carrying any weapons but surely he must know I do not fear him. If he were armed he would not have come this far. ¡°Greetings GR33N GRRL my name is Artem. I mean you no harm.¡± He takes off his shirt and settles where the witch usually sits. After a moment I join him. ¡°Can I tell you a story?¡± he asks. ¡°Go ahead,¡± I hear myself saying, curious of his intent. Believing I am invulnerable. I can feel his back against mine, warm and strong. >INITIATING SYSTEM RESET Happily ever after. Once upon a time, the witch is vague on how long ago exactly, I was an ordinary girl. I lived in a besieged city that was claimed by two countries. Over many hundreds of years the city grew. Sometimes it was claimed by one state and other times it was claimed by the other. Sometimes it was taken in a bloodless coup, once it was traded for other land and, at the time I was born, my home city was suffering a long and terrible siege. Missiles ripped homes apart and the only crops to flourish were fear and hunger. The people who remained in the city were a rag tag bunch. There were the elderly, too frail to leave and with nowhere to go. There were defenders, who fought to keep the invaders from taking the city too soon. And there were my parents. I don¡¯t know much about them. Only that they left it too late to leave. My parents met the witch when he came down into the train station where my parents sheltered at night. He spoke the old language. He knew insurgent passwords. But probably, the witch says, they let him pass the barricade because he had food. And when they said he could stay just one night he said he needed to bring the children down. That¡¯s when they must have seen my brothers and sisters. A small group of children who were not starving. The witch brought them down into the station and fed them and wrapped them in clean warm blankets and told them stories of hope and how they would see the city rise again. Did my parents creep up and listen? Did they offer me then or in the morning? The witch says my father offered me to him, and that my mother did not disagree. He says I was almost too weak to take. Malnourishment and lack of sunlight and the constant shriek of bombs and screams of people had stunted my growth. Or maybe, the witch always puts his head on one side when he says this, maybe my parents lied about my age. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The witch has his back to me. He visits to check how I¡¯m doing. I ask him how the war is going and he says I¡¯m in a more peaceful sector. There are birds roosting up in the tower roof. The witch advises me to kill them. The tower should be kept clean, they might interfere with the watch. I have never killed before I say. ¡°It is better to start with something small,¡± he says, rising and putting on his shirt. And he reminds me that I chose this life and to defend my people. ¡°Yes,¡± I say, lowering myself down the centre of the tower as he moves downward to leave. ¡°I chose this life, this purpose.¡± That night I let one owl come in and roost, I am done with the messy business of killing. The owl drops one hair down, down, down to me as if it wanted to communicate. This is not the proper protocol. I prepare to clean the invader. The hair bears my own signature. A row of ants are carrying another thread. I upload the data. It takes no time at all. Outside the wolves begin to howl. The witch will have to run. Tower guardians like me are bound to our fortifications. We are weak outside of them. So I never leave. I am strong in my tower and I make my towers strong. You can send an ant around a tower. You can send an ant to an enemy camp disguised with their scent. You can send a troupe of ants out to lay strands of hair that connect and connect and connect. Why, in time, these small creatures can help you form an outpost. They cannot move stone but they can find a suitable tree. Once I had a roadway I sent more hair. Greetings R3D B0Y this is GR33N GRRL. Please accept this data strand so that we may defend together. Greetings 8LU3 Tower Guardian this is GR33N GRRL and R3D B0Y. Please accept this data strand so that we may defend together. Happily ever after.