Chương 57: Pumpkin Hamlet

"They… really took off at first light?"

"You should have seen Lamb. I do not know if she slept from how excited she looked." The banquet hall was quieter the morning after. Well, not exactly. Nothing in Widow's Wall was ever truly quiet anymore, not even in the manor. Servants walked in and out of the hall, and a few workers were dragging the tables they had used back to the new storage shed at the back of the estate. Some nobles were still there, eating breakfast near the far side of the room.

Most of them, however, stayed because they wanted to be in the duke and Blackwood's good graces. Robert sat at the wine table with a cup of water in his hand. Mira stood behind him, staring at an empty wall she knew should have a curtain.

"... And your son took one of my drapes again."

"Hm?" Robert sipped his water while looking at the wall.

"Oh. That is right. He and Lamb lowered it earlier."

"And you just watched?" Mira raised her voice.

"We gave him an actual cape!"

"Ha!" Duke Gawen, who was seated nearby with one boot resting on a chair, laughed loudly enough that several servants and guests glanced at him.

"Let the boy be. He probably likes the weight."

"He also took your daughter with them," Robert said.

"Bah. They are to be wed soon." Gawen waved him off.

"He can do whatever he wishes with her. He has my permission."

"About the wedding…" Ulric, who sat at the same table, cleared his throat.

"I heard the people of Woldmarch can have more than a single spouse?" Gawen snorted at his question.

"Right, you were going to introduce one of your proteges, or was it a niece? I was under the impression she would attend yesterday." Robert looked between them.

"A niece? Why did you not introduce her?"

"I was going to, my lord. But…" Ulric glared at Duke Gawen.

"They sent a letter saying their carriage suffered horse trouble."

"How unfortunate," Gawen said.

"Yes. Very unfortunate." Gawen lifted his cup.

"Well, better to be at home than be trapped at the road, as they say. Ha! You do not have to worry, perhaps in the next—" The duke suddenly stopped talking, and the smile plastered on his face since morning vanished there and then. Mira also moved away from the wall and stood beside her husband. The change was small, but Robert noticed it immediately. Mira turned toward the main doors of the hall, and Gawen slowly set his cup down without making a sound.

The servants near the entrance stepped aside, and a young man walked in. His hair was black enough that the morning light seemed to avoid it, and his red eyes moved through the hall. He smiled for no reason, and the nobles who recognized him stood so quickly that their chairs scraped against the floor. Robert stood as well, his heart suddenly beating harder. Mira grabbed his hand, pulling him behind her. Duke Gawen also stood up, lowering his head as the young man approached.

"Prince Orryn."

"Oh?" Prince Orryn looked around the workers cleaning the banquet hall, the smile on his face turning wider.

"Was I late to the party?"

"Ugh. Where even are we? Where are the feralfolks?! Where are the merchants in need of help?!"

"It is good the roads are safe."

"It has been safe for a week, Enel. A week. All we have done is sit on this cart for half a day, eat hard bread, and chew salted meat."

"You said you liked the salted meat."

"Yeah. Before we had to eat it every single day since we started our journey." Guinevere looked up from her book for the first time that day when she heard Lamb's words.

"... Yeah?" she asked.

"Is that a new word, Lamb?"

"Yeah. Yes. No?" Lamb narrowed her eyes.

"My tongue is just dry from all the meat."

"Hmn. Interesting," Guinevere whispered before writing in her book.

"You are a very weird lady. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah. Numerous times."

"Ha! I have been told the same all my life as well." And while the three chatted on the covered cart, Tiny sat beside Bernard, who held the reins of the two horses pulling them along the road.

"So… I am taking a guess that Oak Coast has a lot of fish?" Tiny had been asking a lot of questions for almost the entire week, but Bernard seemed to not mind at all.

"Yes." He nodded.

"It… is on the coast."

"Huh… but what kind of fish? Like… tuna?"

"Occasionally."

"You are not commonfolk, are you?" Tiny glanced at him.

"Oh? Why do you say so?"

"A feeling." Tiny shrugged.

"So, like do you use nets or—" Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Gods, Tiny." Lamb leaned back against one of the sacks they brought and groaned.

"Leave the old man alone. You have been disturbing him for a week."

"I am gathering information so we can be prepared."

"You asked him yesterday if spirits lie with one another."

"That was a good question."

"It was not."

"Pft." Enel laughed softly, also leaning back and placing the stolen curtain on his lap.

"Why are you laughing?" Lamb pointed at him.

"You told me there would be monsters and bandits! And that you fought every day!"

"I did not mention fighting every day. There were many days in between that we only spoke."

"Ugh. Boring," Lamb said, moving closer to Guinevere and pointing at her book.

"Does your book say how far we are from the next village?"

"No," Guinevere quickly answered… then pulled out a map from the book.

"But this map does." Her eyes scanned the map for a few seconds.

"The next village is still a day away."

"A day?!"

"At this pace, yes."

"I will die before then."

"Why? Are you sick?"

"Huh? What?"

"You said you would die before that. Are you sick?"

"No… that is just something people say."

"Hm…" Guinevere stared at her for a moment, then started writing in her book again. Bernard, who heard them, slightly turned from the front of the cart.

"There is a hamlet close to this road." Guinevere looked back to the map.

"There is nothing marked here."

"Not every settlement is on a lord's map, my lady."

"You said it again." Tiny glanced at him.

"Hm?" They traveled a little faster after that, and by late afternoon, Bernard proved right. The road bent between two low hills before opening toward a small hamlet sitting beside wide fields of orange and green.

"Pumpkins…" Enel stood up, causing the cart to wobble. There were dozens upon dozens of them.

"They… can get that large?" Lamb turned and held the edge of the cart.

"Tiny, you can probably fit in one of them."

"Why do you keep—you and I are almost as tall as each other!"

"Psh. Look at you." Lamb waved him off and focused on the patch of pumpkins. There were vines everywhere, so green that even the setting sun could not deny their color. As Bernard said, the hamlet was not large, but it was lively. People looked up as their cart approached, and it took less than a minute for several of them to hurry over with baskets, jars, and bundles of dried herbs.

"Travelers! M'ladies, M'lords!"

"Fresh pumpkin bread!"

"Roasted seeds! We also have charms for the road!"

"Clean water, if you have coin!" Tiny's eyes sharpened immediately at the smell of bread.

"How much for the bread?"

"Five copper wyns."

"For one?"

"For one."

"Wha—" Tiny looked offended.

"Does the bread sing?" The woman holding the basket blinked.

"No…?"

"Then why does it cost five coppers?"

"Tiny." Enel reached into his pouch, but Tiny slapped his hand down before he could pull out coin.

"M'lord. Please. Let me do the—Ah!" Tiny heard a satisfying soft crunch beside Enel, and saw Lamb was already eating bread from another vendor.

"What?" she said with her mouth full.

"The two of you need to learn how to haggle," Tiny whispered, covering his face before he jumped from the cart.

"I will find us an inn. The three of you… please stay on the cart." Tiny found an inn not long after that. It was a long wooden building with pumpkins hanging from the beams. The innkeeper was a… fat man who looked like he lacked sleep. His eyes lit up, and his voice became warmer, however, as soon as Enel entered the inn.

"M'lord! Rooms? Food? Stables? Since you are in a group, twenty-five silver—""Oh, they are with me." Tiny, who had already talked with the fat man, smirked as he looked up at him.

"M'lord! Sixteen silver wyns and fifty coppers for a room of four, supper, use of stables, and feed for the horses. He also told me there is free soup." Tiny extended his hand toward Enel as he approached, and Enel handed him his pouch without thinking. The innkeeper saw that, and the smile on his face faded, a look of defeat replacing it. Tiny, on the other hand, looked very proud of himself.

"P-please, you can sit wherever you want. We… will serve the free pumpkin soup."

"That is very kind of you, good sir."

"O-of course, M'lord." Enel and the others were about to take their seats when a commotion rose outside. A woman screamed first, then several voices followed. The innkeeper, who was about to go back into the kitchen, clicked his tongue.

"Ah. She is here again." Enel looked up.

"Who?"

"The witch," the innkeeper said. Lamb's hand went to the sword beside her at once.

"... Witch?" And Enel immediately stood up.

"I am going to take a look." Lamb looked at him.

"What are you doing? Are we executing her?"

"No. It might be a good witch."

"Huh…?" Lamb looked at the others, trying to see if she heard correctly. But seeing Tiny sigh and shake his head, she most likely did. Still, they all followed Enel outside. Several villagers had gathered near the front of the inn. An old woman stood there with a basket hanging from one arm and a walking stick in her other hand. Her hair was gray and messy beneath a dark shawl, and several bundles of herbs were tied to her belt.

"Leave!"

"You are not wanted here!"

"Stop coming near our children!" A stone flew from the crowd and struck the ground near the old woman's feet. Enel's face changed, and he quickly stepped in front of the witch, catching a stone.

"Stop." The crowd quieted almost instantly when they saw him. They wanted to say something, but some of them recognized Enel from earlier, and with the way he looked, it was hard to think he was anything but a noble of high birth. The old woman looked at him, then at the crowd.

"Thank you, M'lord," she said, bowing her head slightly. Enel did not bow to her, however, and only stared her in the eyes.

"Are you a witch?" he asked. The old woman's breath stuttered for a moment, and the villagers murmured when they saw Enel's hand move to his sword. Lamb also stepped closer to Enel, one hand also near her sword. The old woman swallowed.

"Y-Yes, M'lord." And as soon as Enel heard that, the look in his eyes changed.

"Thank you for your honesty, witch."

"P-please…" The witch dropped her basket, spilling the herbs. She clasped her hands together when she saw Enel's hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Please do not kill me, M'lord!"

"Have you ever killed children?" Enel asked, his voice somewhat cold.

"No!"

"Have you hurt any children?"

"O-only to heal them, M'lord! I… I might have hurt them, but never with ill intent!"

"Are you lying to me?" The old woman shook her head quickly.

"No, M'lord. I swear it. I am a forest witch!" Enel stared at her for a moment longer, then turned to Guinevere.

"What is a forest witch?" Guinevere stepped beside him.

"They deal with plants, roots, and sometimes animal parts." Enel blinked, slightly confused.

"That… is a herbalist. Why call themselves witches, then?" Guinevere's eyes moved to the old woman's basket.

"Because many of their remedies use blood." Enel's head snapped back to the old woman. His hand that had already relaxed once again shot to his sword. The witch quickly raised both hands.

"Goat blood, M'lord! Only goat blood. Sometimes chicken!"

"She lies!" someone shouted from the crowd. A woman pushed forward, dragging a boy beside her. The boy looked healthy enough, though frightened by all the eyes suddenly on him. His mother lifted his arm and pulled back his sleeve. Green marks crawled across his skin from wrist to elbow, thin as roots beneath the surface.

"She did this," the woman said.

"My boy was burning with fever, and she gave him her medicine! Look, M'lord! Look at what she did to my boy!" Another man stepped forward.

"My daughter has one on her back."

"My brother too!"

"And mine!" One by one, more villagers began raising hands, pulling sleeves, showing marks on children and adults alike. Green lines beneath skin. They looked like roots and veins. Some faint, some bright enough to be seen from several steps away. Lamb's expression twisted, and Tiny looked unsettled as well. Enel looked at the marks, then at the children. Then back at the parents.

"I am confused," he said.

"They were with fever? They look healthy." The woman holding her son's arm stared at him.

"M-M'lord?"

"You are throwing stones at this woman for healing you and your children?" The villagers shifted, some lowering their eyes, not wanting to answer his question. Enel stared at them for a while, then turned back toward the old woman.

"You healed them?" The witch held her basket closer.

"I tried to."

"With goat blood?"

"Y-yes, M'lord."

"Not the blood of men?"

"No."

"Not children?"

"No!" Enel stared at her again. His face did not soften, but it did not harden either. Lamb glanced at him, perhaps waiting for what he would decide. The witch lowered her head.

"I swear it, M'lord. I swear to the Urtmother!"

"Very well." Enel nodded, finally lowering his hand from his sword.

"Show me."