The Chronicles of Lianne the Bright: Episode 1
⸱ Part One ⸱
An Introduction of the Simplest Kind: An Overly Descriptive Snapshot of the Sunrise
The sun was rising. A lone figure stood on a hilltop, shadowed by the rising sun behind her. Long locks stirred in the breeze as she looked outwards. The hem of her alabaster dress whispered against the verdant blades under her feet as her gaze scanned the brightening landscape, which was quickly becoming effulgent as the dawn progressed. The figure remained still. A cool zephyr caressed her skin in a tranquil manner, slipping through the loosely-woven linen and between gaps in the gown’s delicate lace to brush against her before carrying on its way. Stoic and serene against the glare of the sun, she watched as the rays of dawn struck the terrain. Beams of unforgiving light made all they touched scintillant. Nothing escaped the vivid radiance of daybreak.
The darkened silhouette belonging to the sole being upon the hill broke the disc of the rising sun. She was unmoving and poised as she faced the relentless light, casting her focus downwards on the newly-lighted lands before her. Suddenly, the wind picked up. The skirt of her dress whipped about over the grass-covered knoll as the snowy garment clung to the left side of her form, whereas before it had draped lightly from the silken tie about her waist, kissing the tips of the grass under her whilst it was daintily swung by the breath of morning. The sunlight shone as if it were attempting to press its rays through the body that defied it. Despite the blinding luster and insistent gusts, she was statuesque. She watched in silence.
Her stare was piercing, yet placid as she surveyed the ground. It was vibrant, the harsh light bringing scarlets, cobalts, chartreuses, and viridians into sharp relief. Magenta hues blended into periwinkle and titian. Shocks of heliotrope and aquamarine blooms contrasted lush, jade-toned ferns and proud evergreens. Woven vagariously between them were cyanic tributaries. Their azure waters were punctuated by the occasional glint of an argent shimmer. Defined shadows extended from the bases of the conifers, creating dimension in the striking scene that seemed dyadic, like the shadows were a layer etched into a carving, with the rest of the vivid scene painted over them. She was impassive, completely ataraxic as she took in the chatoyant view. Her expression seemed austere, yet simultaneously halcyon.
The susurration of the wind passing amongst the trees below was hushed. The indistinct murmur was alive and thus seemed detached from the sight around her, which was discernibly liminal, as though it were temporally self-contained. The ruthless sunshine and inexorable gale combined with the dynamic colors below her created an orphic balance. It was a moment that hung on a precipice, somehow both ephemeral and eternal. Though the sun was moving steadily towards its zenith, finally breaking away from the horizon, the surreal space lingered as it reached out and stretched into apparent perpetuity.
She observed all this passively, the lace on the hem of her dress fluttering in the dawn-lit draft. Despite the ferventness of the gleaming landscape in all its glory, she was unfazed. An indeterminable amount of time passed by the unmoving body that stood watching the dazzling scenery below her, and by the time she finally moved, the sun was well on its way to the apex of its arc.
With a final sweep of the landscape, she nodded to herself, seemingly in satisfaction, before turning on her bare heel to make her way down the still-shaded side of the knoll, dampening the lace hem of her dress with dew. She did not look back, and her face remained as stony as ever. No detectable emotion broke through the apparent apathy in her demeanor as she strode steadily downwards at a pace that fell somewhere between purposeful and leisurely.
Once the earth beneath her feet leveled, she met a path of well-traversed dirt leading westward through the nodding grass. She continued onwards, following the timeworn trail as it wove capriciously through the tall, moistened blades that were still untouched by the golden beams of heat that had already struck the valley behind her. Her eyes remained ahead, hardly sparing a glance to the thousands of blades around her that danced in the chilled southern breeze. The sun had risen.
⸱ Part Two ⸱
A Child, a Question, and a Vigil
Lianne made her way down the path back to her village, every part of her mind focused on one thing and one thing only: breakfast. The sun was up, her Watch was over, and now she could get the breakfast she had missed thanks to one particularly lazy cat who had made the decision to not wake her up at the exact same time he had woken Lianne for the last three years. Thus, she awakened only to find that it was nearly time for her to take up her Watchpoint. As these sorts of things tend to go, she couldn’t find her Watch tunic, and had been forced to borrow the one that had belonged to her father before his retirement.
Borrowing another’s tunic would be a non-issue for almost any other member of the village’s Sunwatch. Unfortunately for Lianne, her father was an abnormally tall man, whereas Lianne was a young woman whose stature could be best described as diminutive. This meant that her Watcher’s tunic, which should end just below her knee, nearly dragged along the ground behind her, along with the fact that she had to tie a ribbon around the waist of the garment in order to keep it from catching on door-handles and the corners of tables as she quietly slipped from her home under the cover of inky shadows. She may be required to awaken early, but her parents and siblings were not, and it was best not to rouse them.
All of this led to her Watcher’s tunic, at least for the time being, bearing more similarities to a gown than what it truly was. On top of that, she was certain to hear disapproval from several members of the Watch due to the fact that combat in her current attire would be a far more difficult feat than what it would be on a usual morning. In order to handle such disapproval so early in the morning, Lianne required breakfast. Without proper sustenance she would, with near certainty, say things in response that she would later regret.
Lianne was nearing the end of the contorting path now, and her stomach began to make noises that would have embarrassed her had she been in the presence of others and not alone. She picked up her pace slightly, but she kept her face carefully neutral and focused in the hopes that none would bother her on her way to the bakery. She could see wafting smoke just over the next rise and resisted the urge to pick her dirtied hem up from the earth and sprint. Instead, she kept her purposeful pace.
She made it over the next rise and the familiar back of a hut greeted her, smoke spewing merrily from the chimney of the simply-built home. She passed it by, walking directly towards the baker’s stall, across the village square of packed earth which bore a trickling stone fountain in its center. She kept her stare focused on her destination as she walked by the fountain, which marked the halfway point between the home she had passed and the baker’s stall.
In what seemed like forever but was likely no more than a moment or two, she stood in front of the stall. Smiling at the slightly-groggy man across the countertop, she asked for her favorite pastry and slid two golden coins across the countertop that had been resting in her closed palm since she had left her house several hours before. With an amicable smile, she accepted her long-awaited prize and walked back to the fountain, sitting on the wide stone edge to enjoy her meal.
She tucked long strands of straight hair hurriedly behind her ears as she took her first bite (don’t ask her whether it’s brown or blonde, she doesn’t know and it’s been heatedly debated at every family dinner since she was two). The heavenly mixture of butter, perfectly done pastry, sweet berries, and a touch of honey exploded on her tongue and she wiggled her feet in glee. She began eating with less restraint, although she was still careful to not make a mess, for it would be a dreadful shame to miss even a crumb of such an incredible creation. She hummed as she chewed, silently sending praises to Áine that the harvest this year had been so bountiful and ripe.
She was perhaps halfway through her treat when she became aware of something other than her food. No more than twenty feet away, a mother sat next to her little boy, seemingly encouraging him. The boy, who was so chubby-cheeked and small that he couldn’t have been older than three or four, seemed anxious about something. Lianne began to turn her attention back to her pastry, but caught sight of a moving figure out of the corner of her left eye. The little boy was toddling his way towards her, still appearing a little nervous. He reached Lianne and stood in front of her, interlacing his tiny fingers behind his back and licking his lips before speaking in a high, faltering voice.
“Excuse me please, but why don’t the Watchers wear armor? Won’t they get hurt?” the boy stuttered out. His chin was pointed downwards, but his eyes were on Lianne’s face, waiting for her reply.
“Well, the Watchers haven’t fought bad guys that can be stopped with armor for a very long time,” Lianne said, smiling as she knelt down beside the child. “The last Watchers who fought those types of monsters lived here hundreds of years ago.”
“Oh,” the boy murmured, one of his hands moving upwards to comb through his dark, curly locks, which did very little but create a fair amount of frizz. “So why do you go out there?”
Lianne glanced at the mother, who was seated on a bench nearby where Lianne had first spotted her with her boy. She had an approving smile on her face, so Lianne turned back to the expectant toddler before her, who was looking at her with an expression of innocent confusion, eyes wide. Lianne noted absently that his eyes were a warm shade of brown, like honey mixed with molasses in the sunshine.
“You see, there’s a different kind of monster we’re Watching for. The first Watchers fought them too, only these monsters didn’t go away when the kind that you wear armor for did. These monsters can’t be hurt by swords or arrows,” Lianne told him.
The child’s eyes widened even further, “Even my mommy’s great big one?”
“Even that one,” Lianne confirmed. She saw fear begin to gather in those sweet brown eyes and she rushed to dispel it, saying, “But do you know what can hurt them?”
“What?” The curiosity returned, now with an adorable little head-tilt to match his expression.
“This,” Lianne smiled, holding out her hand between the two and closing her eyes in concentration. Almost immediately, a soft ball of light came into existence, hovering over Lianne’s palm. The little boy’s jaw dropped, awe lighting up his features almost as much as the actual light in front of him.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed, an expression of rapt attention on his face. “Can that really hurt them?”
“You bet, it can. You see, these monsters wait until the veil between nighttime and daytime is very thin, because when that veil is thin, all of the veils are. It’s easier for them to get into the same world as you and I if they don’t have to work so hard to get through the veils between their world and ours. The thing about these monsters is that they hate light, so when they break through, they move around a lot while they look for a shady or dark place to hide. That’s how we find them,” Lianne explained, twirling the ball of light lazily between her fingertips.
“And then what?”
“And then, we have to move really fast so that we can get close enough to them to blast them with light and kill them. That’s another reason why we don’t wear big, clunky armor. It’s hard to move fast when you’re wearing heavy things, right?” Lianne raised her eyebrows.
“Uh huh,” the child nodded his head up and down so rapidly it was almost comical.
“Well, we have to move quickly, so no armor for us Watchers. Besides, these monsters don’t hurt your body. Instead they make you think scary things and have bad dreams,” Lianne threw her hand across her forehead dramatically for effect, getting a giggle from the boy in front of her.
She had watered down the real effect of the monsters in question, which was far more powerful than a nightmare. Apparently, people often went mad in the days before the Sunwatch was started. However, she would never say that to a little boy.
“What about the colors?”
Lianne was jolted from her train of thought by another question. “Colors? Oh, colors! You mean the colors of the lace on the bottom hem of the tunics, right?”
The boy nodded his head up and down again in the same jerky fashion as before.
“Gold lace means that you’ve been a part of a fight with one of the monsters,” Lianne began to spin her ball of light in little circles above her palm.
“What about blue?” The curious look was back again, complete with big, wide brown eyes.
Lianne smiled and said, “Sky blue means you’ve been in a fight with a monster that you actually can hurt with a sword. The only tunics with blue lace on the bottom are very, very old. Nobody wears them anymore, so the only place you’ll find those is hanging on the walls of the village museum.”
“Wow,” the child tilted his head in the opposite direction before continuing on, “Are there any other colors?”
Lianne hesitated before answering, mulling over her words. “Well, yes, but only three Watchers in all of history have ever had it.”
“What’s it for?” he asked.
“If a Watcher has lilac-colored lace around the bottom of their tunic, it means that they went out into this world and even other worlds to kill monsters as a champion for Áine,” Lianne murmured, voice quiet as if she was speaking some forbidden secret.
The little boy gasped quietly, “And they can hear her speak and everything?”
“That’s right. But it hasn’t happened in over a thousand years.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, you’d have to ask Áine,” Lianne laughed quietly, bringing the little ball of light directly in front of his face. “She’s the one who gave our village the Power of Light, all us Watchers do is keep our vigil when the sun rises and sets, and we train, so that our Light can be strong enough to keep everyone safe at dawn and safe at dusk.”
⸱ Part Three ⸱
A Torn Seam and a Call
The boy’s mother came over to pick him up and take him home for breakfast, thanking Lianne for tolerating his questions. Lianne shook her head and told his mother that he was a delight before the two parties went on their way. Lianne began to meander languidly back to her house, taking her time to enjoy the blue sky and the warm weather. In fact, she was enjoying herself so much that she didn’t notice another member of the Sunwatch approaching her until he called out.
“Lianne!”
“Wh-” Lianne whipped around to look behind her, startled. “Oh, Anson, it’s just you.”
“Just me? Excuse you, I should never be referred to-”
“Oh, please. You can stop being just Anson the day you actually beat me when we spar,” Lianne said as she rolled her eyes at the man whose eyes twinkled with poorly hidden mischief, mouth quirking up beneath a dark, silver-struck, bushy beard.
Anson chuckled, “One of these days I’m going to teach you how to speak to your elders.”
“Oh, really? You can try, but I doubt you can keep up with me, what with those creaking bones of yours,” Lianne snickered.
“Creaking bones? Oh, I’ll show you creaking bones!” Anson broke into a run at the same time Lianne did, beginning a chase through the hills beyond the village.
Lianne’s bare feet pounded against the firm, grass-covered earth as she sprinted towards the woods, knowing that her small frame could maneuver far better than Anson’s. Her breath began to burn in her lungs as she laughed just before reaching the treeline. She stepped into the shade given to her by towering trees at a brisk pace, some of the pines so huge that Lianne wondered if they were as old as Áine herself. She wove deftly through the woods, her tiny limbs sliding between the trees as she ran. Just as she expected, Anson was falling behind, struggling loudly through the forest after Lianne.
Lianne turned her head to laugh mockingly, which was her fatal mistake. The right side of her oversized tunic caught upon some brambles as she passed them, yanking her to a stop and nearly knocking her to the mossy forest floor. Lianne cursed under her breath as she attempted to yank the tunic free. Alas, her attempts were to no avail; the tunic was wound tightly around several thick, thorny twigs. She tugged uselessly as Anson began to catch up to her.
Not a moment later, he reached her, walking up with his arms crossed and a triumphant smirk on his face. There were several leaves intertwined with his salt-and-pepper hair, and his feet were stained green and brown, but he was still more put-together than poor Lianne. Her hair was wind-mussed and frizzy, she had several small scratches on her palms and forearms, and sweat had begun to gather on her temples.
“So, have we learned why wearing a properly-sized tunic isn’t an option?” Anson quirked an eyebrow amusedly.
Lianne stared at him, dumbstruck. “That’s what this whole thing was about? You teased me into a chase just so that my tunic would mess me up?”
Anson snorted, shaking his head. “Connell noticed your interesting choice of attire during breakfast this morning and asked me to teach you a lesson.”
At his words, Lianne lost all composure and proceeded to curse him out with such vehemence that her palms began to glow, and so did all the plants in her immediate vicinity. Anson waited until she stopped to gulp in several breaths, expression unchanged, before saying, “Are you finished?”
She stared at him for another long moment, panting and flushed with rage. “I need a drink,” she said.
An unimpressed look crossed Anson’s features. “It’s eight in the morning.”
“Don’t care. Can you get me free? I need to change so I can go to the tavern.”
“I’m not sure I’m willing to be responsible for whatever damage you cause to your liver, Lianne.”
“Anson! I can’t just stay here all day. Will you help me with these brambles or not?”
He seemed to consider it for a long moment before saying, “Nah, I’m good,” and turning on his heel to trundle back the way he had come, still chuckling.
Lianne felt her face heat with anger once more. “Anson! You get back here and help me get unstuck!” When she got no response, she screamed his name at increasing volume until her screaming was approaching a pitch that was closer to a screech. Still, Anson continued on his way until he was out of sight.
Undeterred, Lianne continued to shriek Anson’s name, combined with a healthy stream of curses, until he was likely well on his way back to the village. At this point, her throat was starting to burn and she finally lapsed into silence.
Lianne looked at the woods around her as she caught her breath. Morning sun filtered through the merrily rustling trees, but no animal sounds fell upon her ears. This was, no doubt, due to the ruckus she had just been causing; she’d probably scared the poor creatures right back into their nests and their dens. Another moment passed, and she began her assault on the hem of her tunic anew.
With a huff of indignation, she quickly abandoned her attempt to free her tunic in favor of attempting to free the ensnared limbs of the bramble from the rest of their bush. In no time at all, Lianne’s hands were bleeding profusely and she had several thorns attached to her skin which had not been there previously. With a huff, she turned and simply began walking in the opposite direction, hoping that the pressure would either free her tunic or detach the firmly intertwined brambles from their home.
As Lianne dug her feet into the mossy earth, resolutely pushing forward, something happened. It just wasn’t the something she expected. With the sound of crumbling earth, the entire bush came up from the forest floor, roots and all. Lianne turned to look behind her and threw her hands up in frustration. “Are you kidding me?”
She balled up her hands in anger, but quickly uncurled them as the motion put pressure on the barbs that were digging into the meat of her palms, pushing them deeper and undoubtedly making it that much harder when Lianne finally got around to pulling them out. She shook her hands by the wrist, hissing in pain. Her hiss transformed into a growl as she began to traipse through the woods, searching for a sharp rock that she could use to free herself from the spike-encrusted tagalong that was currently attached to her.
She stomped through the woods, which were getting darker as the trees grew closer together. Lianne tried to summon a ball of light, which manifested far brighter than she had intended and momentarily blinded her. Grumbling, she tried to calm herself, and the light dimmed to a more manageable brightness. Unfortunately, her momentary blindness caused her to trip over a stone in her path and she went tumbling to the ground, the bramble-bush landing on top of her.
Lianne howled in pain, scrambling out from underneath the bush and getting to her feet. Her tunic was now covered in brown, green, and red, its original white no longer the dominant hue. Wincing, Lianne re-summoned her ball of light and continued her trek, scanning the ground for a stone that would be sharp enough to rend the fabric and free Lianne from her painful sidekick.
Eventually, Lianne came upon a still pool of water, crystal clear and shallow enough that it should only reach to her shoulders. It wasn’t what she was looking for, but Lianne was sweaty and coated in a layer of grime. With hardly a moment’s thought, she carefully untied the ribbon at her waist and wiggled free from the thistle-ridden linen to sink into the pool.
Lianne sighed gratefully as the cool water soothed her stinging skin and aching muscles. She brought her orb of light forward so that it hovered a foot above her head in the center of the pool and she began to pick the thorns free from her palms. Once she had finished, she moved on to the rest of her body, meticulously removing each nettle from wherever it had decided to lodge itself and flicking it onto the moss several feet away from where her dress and its uprooted companion were laying. Once every stinger had been pulled away, she sunk into the water up to her neck with a deep, contented groan and contemplated the rewards of never leaving.
Eventually she noticed the mats of tangles at the back of her neck, and with a roll of her eyes, began to finger-comb her hair, working her way from the bottom up. She winced occasionally as the sores and scratches on her palms caught on her hair, and she had to dip her hair in the water frequently to avoid staining it an unsightly rouge. She yelped as her fingers tugged at the wrong angle, putting pressure on a tender spot on the pad of one of her fingers. Not a second afterwards, she heard a smooth and mellifluous voice in her head that said, Lower the light into the water.
Lianne paused in her movements for a moment, pondering on the oddity of the statement, before continuing with her painful finger-combing session. Several moments passed with only quiet grunts of pain before another tender spot was struck and she exclaimed, “Ow!” along with several choice expletives. She heard the same voice once again, but it was more firm this time: Lianne, put the light in the water.
Lianne wondered where the voice had come from, but continued in her ministrations. When she cried out in pain yet again, the voice immediately returned, insistently saying, Lianne, for the love of Me! Put the light in the pool, now!
Lianne jumped, startled. She considered ignoring it once more, but she figured that the voice, whatever it was, likely wouldn’t leave her alone until she did what it was telling her. With a long-suffering sigh, she did as the strange voice had requested and lowered the light into the pool.
The light began to pulse, giving off waves of glowing light into the surrounding waters. Lianne soon realized that her makeshift lantern was growing smaller with each wave. For a moment, she panicked and tried to restore the light, but the soft voice spoke up in her mind. Leave it be, Lianne. She rolled her eyes, but she lowered her hands and let the light continue to shrink. Another moment passed by and Lianne discovered that while the light was growing smaller, the area had not grown any darker, because the water itself had taken on a soft, pale yellow radiance. She stared at the glowing pool around her for a moment before shrugging and rinsing her hair again. Lianne began to tug at her tangles once more, progressing much quicker than before.
Lianne finished detangling her hair and began rinsing her face and upper body, feeling refreshed. Then, a thought crossed her mind that made her freeze mid-rinse. Her palms hadn’t hurt once since the waters had begun to glow. She looked down at her hands and found them free of scratches and thistle-marks. In fact, her entire body was healed. Lianne gasped and rubbed her eyes, but when she opened them she was still injury-free. Just to make sure she was still awake, she pinched her upper arm. “Ouch!”
You’re not dreaming, Lianne, the voice made itself known once more, this time less demanding and more amused. In fact, Lianne detected a hint of smugness in the disembodied voice’s tone.
“Either I’m dreaming or I’m crazy, because sane people don’t have voices in their head telling them what to do,” Lianne snarked, irked by the obvious satisfaction she heard in the musical lilt of the voice.
You aren’t crazy, either, the voice chuckled.
“Oh, really? Then, do tell, what exactly is going on here?” Lianne splashed the water, agitated.
With your high view of your own intelligence, one would think you’d have figured it out by now, the incorporeal voice retorted smoothly, unperturbed by Lianne’s display.
“Why you-” Lianne balled her hands up into fists. She quickly realized, however, that she had no witty reply and instead dragged a hand down her face before saying, “I really need a drink right now.”
You most certainly do not. We’ve just healed your liver, and I’m not keen on wasting My power to heal it again.
“Well, tough luck,” Lianne snapped.
What a clever reply, the voice deadpanned. Tell me, in between coming up with your stunning displays of verbosity, have you put any thought towards figuring out who I am? I don’t have all day, you know.
Lianne growled in fury, but said nothing. She turned her attention towards the very thing the voice had suggested. Several moments passed in silence before she shrugged. “Yeah, I got nothing.”
Nothing at all? You don’t have the first clue who could heal you with light, speak in your mind, and also have the patience to put up with your bad attitude?
“Listen here, when someone shows up and just starts giving me orders before I even know them, I think I have the right to get snippy,” Lianne pointed angrily at a random direction, still unsure where the voice was coming from.
Lianne, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve known me your entire life.
Her entire life? Lianne’s anger was abruptly halted in favor of bewilderment. She became lost in thought, rifling through her brain in search of answers. She sank down under the water for a second, trying to clear her mind. She wiped her soaked hair back from her forehead as she broke the surface of the water, which still maintained its soft and ethereal glow. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she startled when the voice spoke again.
Although, I have to say, this is the first time you’ve been quite this rude. In fact, you were singing my praises this very morning.
Lianne thought back to her morning, retracing her steps in her memories. She’d gotten up, done her Watch, went down to the village and got her breakfast from the baker, sat down on the edge of the fountain, taken her first bite, and…oh.
Lianne gulped, before hesitantly saying, “…My Lady?”
There you go. It seems you’ve figured it out.
She sucked in a breath through her teeth. Could it really be Áine? Could it really be her Goddess of Light, the one she’d prayed to every night all her life? Could it really be the One who gave Lianne the power to defend her home? She had to know. “Is it really you?”
Yes, Lianne. It’s me.
Lianne cleared her throat nervously and said, “My Lady, I don’t suppose you could magic me up something to get my tunic free from that bush over there?”
There was a long pause. Lianne, are you asking Me to use My divine power to do something that you could do with a pointy rock?
“…Yes?”
There was a flash of light, and a soft thump. Lianne looked in the direction of the noise and found a rock with a sharpened edge laying on top of the soiled linen of her borrowed cloak. She barely resisted the urge to spout a snarky reply about “doing the bare minimum” as she heaved herself out of the water and grabbed the stone.
She laid the sharpened edge beneath the right-side seam of the garment and pulled upwards, rending the fabric in two with a sharp ripping sound. She then altered her angle, cutting in a line directly above the topmost part of the fabric that had twined itself among the bristly branches. She slowly and firmly tore the fabric straight over, and then down, cutting the garment free. As she sliced through the lace on the opposite side of the bush, she examined the rectangular gap she had created, beginning with the right-side torn seam and travelling up to what would likely be mid-thigh before cutting forwards to the center-front of the garment and slicing straight downwards again.
She stood, shaking the mutilated tunic-dress before yanking it over her head and quickly tying the grass-stained ribbon about her waist once more. She was right in her assumption that the new gap would fall around mid-thigh, and she knew she looked ridiculous with the large gap in her gown. “Kill me now,” she groaned.
I will do nothing of the sort. I have plans for you, you know. Áine piped up again, breaking her momentary silence.
Lianne paused. “Plans?”
Áine laughed warmly, Indeed. It’s high time I sent a champion out in My name once more.
Lianne was dumbstruck. “Me?”
That’s right. Tell me, Lianne, will you answer My call?
Feeling rooted to the spot, it was a long moment before Lianne felt her brain begin to function again. Once it had, there was only one thing she could think of to say.
“Yes.”
To be continued…
Last update: 6/11/2020