Chapter 211: (4/14): Changes in the Wind

Not every household could afford to light up their homes in the middle of the night, but those that did were more well off and could afford to spare more. Pulling down their hoods against the rain, Fleur and Anne followed Justin up to a house where he rapped on the door a few times and waited.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice called from within. A few seconds later, the door was opened big enough for a head to fit through and a woman with light wrinkles around her mouth, presumably the owner of the voice from before, looked through the gap. When she did not recognize Justin, she recoiled and shrank the gap. “What do you want?”

Justin stepped aside, revealing Fleur and Anne who had been hidden behind him. 

The woman studied her and Fleur returned her appraising gaze with a smile. “Hello.”

“Hello. So you are?”

“We’re travelers,” Fleur said, still smiling. She spoke in her sweetest, most innocent voice that was so sugary she felt like shivering. “We were heading south to visit faraway relatives, but the rain caught us off guard. I was wondering if we could take shelter in your home?”

Next to her, Anne nodded with a serious face. That wasn’t an act, since Anne was almost always serious when things weren’t going on. She added on to Fleur’s story. “I’m Anniette and this is Flora. Finally, our older brother Leston, who’s currently acting as our guardian. Pleased to meet you.”

Coming from their experience, people were more receptive toward nice and polite girls, and that went especially so for middle-aged women like the ones they were talking to. For men, things were a bit different. If the person who had opened the door had been a man, Justin would’ve been the one to talk. If they spoke, the man rarely took them seriously.

When the time was right, Fleur used her secret weapon. She rolled her shoulders as if she was stiff, and as she stretched, she raised the empty sleeves of her right arm. When the woman saw her missing arm, her eyes widened.

She seemed to be the sympathetic type because her eyes softened. “I see. It must’ve been hard on you,” she said. Fleur didn’t know if she was talking about them being caught out in the rain or Fleur’s missing arm. “Unfortunately, I can’t make the decision by myself. I’ll have to ask my husband too…”

“Thank you! You’re so kind!” Fleur said—she meant her words too, despite playing the part of the innocent girl. She lowered her head gratefully at the woman, whose crow’s foot wrinkles creased.

“Please wait here.” The woman pulled her head back and yelled into the house. “Hey, old man, we have visitors!”

A reply came a moment later. It was an older voice that Fleur expected. “Who could it possibly be at this hour?”

Thunk thunk. The sound of a narrow wooden stick hitting the stone floor. An old man came hobbling into view, bent back, leaning against a cane that led his every step. Fleur blinked at the sight of him. She hadn’t expected to see someone quite so old when the woman called an “old man.”

The woman looked about forty, but the man looked more like sixty. 

Despite her surprise, however, Fleur did not forget her manners. An older person usually deserved more respect so she bent at the waist a little this time as she greeted him. The man raised an eyebrow at her.

“So, a little lass… two little lasses, and a young lad, huh? What’d they want, Litz?” he asked the woman.

The woman, Litz, quickly explained while Fleur nodded at the side, sometimes adding onto Litz’s explanation or made corrections. It didn’t take long for the old man to get the whole story that they prepared together, and his eyes softened in sympathy, just like Litz had.

“Ah… ah, refugees from the north, huh? I’ve heard stories, but it’s my first time seeing one of you.”

Refugees. The mention of the word caught Fleur off guard and for a moment, she tensed and got ready to run at the first sign of trouble. Anne went on guard as well. However, by now, they’ve both gotten good at hiding their emotions so neither of their potential hosts suspected anything. Refugees? Does he mean we’re criminals on the run? Technically...we can be called refugees, although the more accurate term is fugitive, is it not?

Fleur studied the old man’s face but found it clear of any machinations or hostile plots. There was nothing but kindness in the old man’s squinted eyes and the gaze of the elderly looking upon a younger generation. Perhaps she was mistaken.

But just in case she wasn’t, she had to be careful to not give herself away.

A few ideas jumped around in her head and she picked the one she found best. Feigning surprise, she tilted her head. “Has the news traveled here already? We’ve been on the road for so long, and we’ve come across so few people that it’s rare that we receive news of anything…”

“Is that so?” the old man said. “Well…”

Before he could continue his sentence, the woman touched his shoulder, cutting him off. She took over and pulled the door open further. “Whatever it is that you want to say, old man, it can wait until these poor children are out of the rain. It must’ve been hard for you three. Especially you...” The woman nodded at the silent Justin “...taking care of your sisters like that. Your parents raised you well.”

Parents. The woman certainly seemed to believe in what she was saying, and some of Fleur’s suspicions faded. The Church would’ve been looking for two acolytes and a priest, not three siblings. If the woman could repeat their lie and even add a little on without even blinking or showing any signs of “going on with their lie with ulterior motives,” then it was almost enough for Fleur to clear them as someone dangerous.

Letting out a little sigh of relief that they’d have shelter for the night, Fleur nodded to the woman, blushing a little in embarrassment for her misplaced suspicions. She tugged Anne in with her, and Justin brought up the rear with a grateful smile. 

“Thank you for having us.”

“No, no. It’s all good. It’s nice to have visitors to liven up the place”

Fleur looked around. The house looked homely and neat, telling Fleur that it was well taken care of. However, it was also a little empty, as dark houses tended to look, with the only bright area coming from a fireplace inside, built near the center of the house. No wonder the old man didn’t mind having someone over.

The old man hobbled back near the fireplace and settled himself down with a groan onto a rocking chair while the woman went to move some chairs closer to the fire. Justin and Anne helped while Fleur offered her support from afar, doing her best to get out of their way.

“How polite of you,” the old woman said.

“It’s only natural,” Justin said. He collected all the cloaks and hung them near the fireplace to dry.

After settling in a chair facing the fireplace, Fleur kicked off her shoes and peeled off her wet socks, trying to hold back a shiver as her bare feet were bathed in the warmth of the fire after being wrapped in frigid cloth for so long. She blushed when the old woman laughed and she tried to restart the conversation from before to shift the attention away from herself.

“So, grandpa…” she said with hesitation, unsure what to call the old man, “what were you saying before?”

She needn’t worry, for the old man’s smile grew at the way she called him. It confirmed her suspicions, that the old man and middle-aged woman were the only people still living in this little house. They looked lonely. The old man was probably the woman’s father or father-in-law. She didn’t want to imagine where their children and grandchildren had gone to leave their elders behind.

“Where was I indeed? My memory isn’t what it’s been. Let’s see…” The old man took out a pipe and lit it. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the pipe, but the man didn’t put it to his mouth. Instead, he just held in his hands.

At this point, holding a pipe while talking was probably just a habit.

“Things…aren’t going well in the north. A year ago…”

“Week, old man, week,” Litz said, cutting in. She had picked up a knitting project and had resumed her work. 

“Oh yes, week. It was a week ago, or should be… You can never trust the times you hear. You never know when someone might exaggerate, so you have to get your information from a lot of people, or you’ll—”

The old man was beginning to go off track. Litz waited a while to see if he was going to get back on his own before she coughed. “Old man, the story?” She offered Fleur an apologetic smile who returned it.

“The story, yes, the story. A week ago…they say that those old bones and rotbags have begun acting up again. Said that the churchmen and templars in the cities have all gone out for some kind of mission.”

Fleur and Anne looked at each other and at Justin. Not that any information was exchanged through their glances. 

“Rotbags? Bones? You mean undead?”

“Whatever you call them! The north seems to be a mess right now with those churchmen and templars fighting rotbags and bones left and right. A lot of merchants have moved down here, telling these stories.”

“It’s gotten that bad?” Fleur asked, going along with the flow. “When we left, things were still under control!”

Litz stood up when the old man got excited and began coughing. After bringing the man some warm water, she sat down and took over the talk. “Things are getting pretty bad. You were right to leave when you did.”

“They’re...fighting?”

“From what we’ve heard, yes. Undead are appearing all over the place and the Church is doing their best to keep the worst of the undead contained in their little areas, but the situation seems dire.”

Although Litz didn’t use the right terms, it was clear enough what she was talking about. The undead in the desecrated zones were acting up. It was multiple zones too, which never happened. Any strange activities tended to be isolated before this, and the reality was that it was the first time in the generation that the undead had any major activities. They learned this in their history lessons.

The undead were finally making a move.

No wonder the Church was no longer hunting Fleur, Anne, and Justin. They had other things on their plate more important than a few fugitives. This time, the undead was a huge threat, and they had people in the Church’s leadership.

Unlike the previous undead risings, this one would not end as easily or bloodlessly, especially with the templar orders cripples from the war. That much Fleur was sure about.

Her face must’ve looked pale because the woman took one look at Fleur and shook her head. “It’s hard to take in so much at once, I know. But if you’re heading further south, I think there’s something else you have to know.”

There’s more? Fleur shivered. “What?”

“Strange things happening. A tower suddenly appeared in that big forest that marks our border with the demons. Doesn’t seem to do anything, but those demons are up to no good too.”

“Tower?” Was it Camilla’s doing? The thought of Camilla calmed her a little, but not by much.

“That’s all I know. All I can say is to be careful when you head south, if you’re going that far. It’s not necessarily safer there.” 

The woman was implying that a happy medium between two dangers was the safest spot. However, Fleur did not have the heart to tell her that she was wrong. The undead problem wasn’t just isolated in the north and the demons were probably a smaller threat than she thought.

The further south, the safer. South, beyond the forest, where Camilla stayed was the only refuge.

“Good girl. Maybe you should go to bed and sleep on it a bit?” Litz suggested.

“What?” Fleur asked. “I’m fine…?” Her hand was enclosed by warm fingers and she looked up to find Anne holding her hand that shook so much. Her arm was so tense that she had to make a conscious effort to loosen her muscles. She was not fine.

Anne was not fine either, and even Justin could not hide his grim expression with lips pressed tight and brows furrowed. Their faces gaunt from traveling on empty bellies did not help with how ghastly they looked.

“Y-you’re right… perhaps we should rest.”

The woman nodded with understanding and stood up. She first draped a blanket over the old man that had fallen asleep halfway through their conversation and then led the three of them up the stairs and showed them two empty bedrooms.

Justin went into one while Fleur and Anne shared another.

Although clean, the bedrooms lacked life. They were clean, unnaturally so. However, Fleur did not care. After she said a polite “good night” to Litz who closed the door for them, she crawled into bed with Anne, unable to sleep.