Chương 5: Chapter 4 - The Village

Ren quickly followed Varrin down the small hill, less gracefully, and nearly falling more than once before reaching the bottom. The silver-haired boy had already started toward the village when he caught up.

"Hey," Ren called out, "wait a moment." Varrin slowed but didn't stop.

"We don't have to do this separately," Ren offered, matching his speed with the silver-haired boy, "working together would be better. For everyone."

"You mean letting the princess call all the shots?" Varrin said sarcastically, glancing at him sidelong.

"No," he answered simply.

"I mean watching each other's backs." The next couple steps were walked in silence.

"This isn't a normal situation," Ren continued, "we were pulled here and whatever did it probably didn't do it for fun." Varrin's gaze hardened a little and his jaw tightened.

"And if something happens down there," Ren added, gesturing toward their destination, "I'd rather face it with allies than alone." The silver-haired boy finally stopped and turned to face him. His silver eyes studied Ren with a new measured intensity.

"…You're naïve," he said, frowning.

"I will take that as a compliment." Ren replied with a smile. Varrin scoffed and turned back toward the village, his hair tossing out in the cold breeze.

"Don't slow me down."

"I don't intend to." As the two of them headed down the dirt path, Ren found his thoughts drifting into something resembling a plan now that he had gained Varrin as an ally somewhat.' Alright, first things first.' Excluding the church on the outskirts, a tavern would be the next best thing. An Adventurers Guild branch would be better, but he didn't see one up on the ridge and this village was more than likely far too small to have one anyway.

But by far the most obvious way to find out where they were currently was to just ask the villagers He glanced sideways at Varrin, who walked with easy confidence, one hand playing with a pebble he had picked up just before.' This guy's pretty face should get all the answers out of anyone,' Ren chuckled to himself.

"I'm going to find the biggest tavern and start there," Varrin said suddenly, seemingly reaching the same conclusions as he just did.

"You're welcome to follow me."

"Sure," Ren responded with a nod, "though would it not be easier to just ask the people where we are?"

"And advertise we're lost without any sense of where we are?" the silver-haired boy scoffed.

"That's a nice way to get cornered and robbed by the local gang. And I don't really want to become and infamous outlaw, hunted by the Inquisition, after I kill them all." Varrin threw the stone he was playing with into the treeline.

"I seriously doubt that's going to happen," Ren responded incredulously, "my village was small and it didn't have a gang." Varrin sighed.

"And that's why you're naïve and I'm the leader. Your village would've had a Guild branch, having Inquisition close by extension."

"Just do as I say and don't mess things up," he continued as the trees either side of them grew sparser and the wheat fields with the village behind it came into view once more.

"Don't forget clothes for the princess either. Cause I'm not paying for them."

"I won't forget," Ren sighed.

"I also think we should check out the church on the outskirts."

"To see what region were in based on the god worshipped?" Varrin correctly deduced, raising his eyebrow.

"I was already planning on that. I'm not stupid." The two of them left the forest entirely and passed through the wheat fields where farmers worked with slow, precise movements. A few of them paused to look at Ren and Varrin, their eyes lingering just a little too long. Not hostile, but clearly wary. Or maybe they were just looking at Varrin. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

The silver-haired boy paid no attention to the stares at all, so Ren did his best to do the same as they entered the village without ceremony. Smoke curled up into the sky from the chimneys as the main dirt road carried the duo deeper toward the centre. Ren noticed that the people here looked nervous. Aside from the farmers, next to no one was outside, and when he did spot someone, they were always in pairs, speaking in lowered voices with guarded expressions.' Did something happen here?'

Ren thought just as they passed a woman ushering a small child indoors the moment they drew near, one hand pressed to the back of his head. Eventually, Varrin stopped in front of a squat, broad-shouldered building with a weathered sign that depicted the image of two mugs clashing together, sloshing ale over their rims, marking it, presumably, as a tavern. Beneath the picture was painted the establishment's name: the Drowning Horse.'

What a strange name,'Ren thought as he stared up at it,' it has nothing whatsoever to do with the two mugs above it.'

"This place looks perfect," the silver-haired boy said, sparing the sign a single glance before pushing the door open and heading inside, Ren following closely behind. Warmth instantly enveloped him as soon as he stepped inside the quiet tavern, thanks to the large hearth on the far left wall. Above the fireplace was a magnificent tapestry depicting a sun nestled in flame.

Many of the tables in the lobby sat empty, save for a couple of patrons at the bar itself and a cloaked pair tucked into a far corner, faces hidden as they spoke in low murmurs. Though, Ren found his attention lingering on the figures at the bar because they looked familiar for some reason, but after a moment he realised why. They were a pair of armoured guards, clad in greyish plate that reminded him a great deal of the Inquisition.

Yet these two couldn't have been Inquisition, because their surcoats were a dull orange instead of the white Ren knew, and each one depicted the very same sun as the tapestry above the hearth. Varrin caught notice of them as well, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly. But the two guards were slumped forward over the bar, unmoving and seemingly unconscious, their heads resting against the worn wood.

A moment after noticing this, the silver-haired boy let the tension ease from his slender frame and continued scanning the tavern's lobby, his gaze sweeping across the wooden walls and floors until it finally settled on a man wiping down a nearby table. The man was somewhat tubby, wearing a grease stained apron that was stretched tightly as he looked up at them and broke into a grin.

"By the Flame boys, close the door!" he called out cheerfully, pausing his cleaning to talk.

"Letting all that winter air in will make my tavern freeze!." The tavernkeeper turned and started towards the bar.

"It's a bit early for a drink, eh? Though I won't judge." Varrin let the door shut behind him but didn't move from the entrance.

"Is there an Adventurers Guild in this town?" he asked bluntly and confidently. The tavernkeeper paused before turning back around to face him, his expression slightly surprised.

"…You two just come into town?"

"Just answer the question."

"Adventurers Guild?" The man scratched his head, "no, nothing like that around here." He pointed vaguely to one wall.

"I do have a little board I made for commissions, though, if what you're looking for is a little adventure around the village!" Ren followed his finger to a wall where a single piece of paper hung on the said commission board, curling slightly at the edges. Varrin's silver eyes stared at it for a single, unimpressed second, before turning back.

"How far is the capital from here?" The tavernkeeper's confusion deepened.

"Uh, walking?" he asked with a frown as he leant against the side of the bar, "a month, maybe. I'd stick to the main roads though, between bandits and demons, it gets pretty dangerous out there... On horseback at full pace? Week and a half I'd say."

"…And where exactly are we on the continent?" Varrin said carefully, measuring each and every word. Ren saw the boy's grey eyes sharpen a small amount.

"Pyreridge Valley," the tavernkeeper answered confidently. Ren frowned.' I haven't heard of that place before.'' Then again, I've never studied that many maps,'he admitted inwardly immediately after.' And, what was that about demons?' Varrin went quiet and didn't ask any more questions, his eyes unfocusing as he fell into thought.

"Thanks," the silver-haired boy said after a moment before turning away. He pulled open the door, a gust of cold wind blowing into the warm tavern, and was just about to step back outside when the tavernkeeper suddenly called out, voice sharp with urgency.

"Just a moment, boys!" Varrin froze mid-step and glanced over his shoulder.

"If you're heading for Solaris you should head off as soon as you can or wait a couple days," the tubby man continued, "our Firekeeper, Lady Agatha, says trouble's brewing around here." Ren froze upon hearing the first half of those words.' Solaris? But the capital's called Losso? And what's a Firekeeper?' The questions in his head began to stack up faster than he could reasonably sort them, and beneath them all sat something colder, something that had nothing to do with the winter chill outside.

Varrin slowly turned back to face the tavernkeeper properly, eyeing the tubby man for a careful moment.

"What kind of trouble?" the silver-haired boy asked eventually.

"Best ask Lady Agatha yourself," the man responded, "she's at the church on the edge of town."

"Thanks." Varrin said again, nodding once before stepping out into the cold air. Ren turned to follow, but stopped short, allowing the wooden door to close with a slam.

"Oh—uh—one more thing," he said, turning back to the tavernkeeper.

"Where can I buy a dress?" The man stared at him and the silence stretched, even the cloaked pair in the corner paused their whispering.

"…A dress?" he repeated faintly, to which Ren nodded earnestly. The tavernkeeper looked past him, at the closed door, then back again, his confusion reaching something close to awe.