A dark aura surrounded the old man as he calmed himself. Shadows danced across his face, cast by the flickering of the candles on the wall. Beam wasn't sure what it was, but as he looked at the old man then, he felt a terrible feeling of wrongness. He felt a coldness in the air that had no explanation, as though his life was being drained from him. And by that same illusion, it seemed as though the old man was regaining vitality. The wrinkles disappeared from his face and even his hair seemed to be regaining colour.
Beam stood up in alarm, and as soon as the illusion had come, it was gone. It was merely an old man and his two pale servants that he was facing off against. "It seems we are unable to help each other," Beam said, before turning on his heel and heading towards the door.
He left the house without anyone making a move to stop him. He had to fight with the lock on the door to get it open, but finally it gave and the light of day came and greeted him. He left the house behind without saying another word. He fought to keep his walking normal as he went down the path, despite the slick sweat that had begun to run down his back.
Only when he was quite sure that they could no longer see him from their position in the house did he slow.
"What—What the fuck was that!?" He almost shouted it, as he leaned his hand against a building to steady himself, feeling sick to the stomach.
He didn't understand what he'd seen or felt. He knew there was something about the old man that was off. But it was his own reaction that troubled him just as deeply. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a dizziness assailed him. That feeling that he was losing himself to something stronger than he was – it came back tenfold. He had to fight the urge to vomit.
It was a thoroughly different kind of oppressive atmosphere than the one Greeves gave off. Greeves seemed a dark merchant and a thoroughly terrible person and he always left Beam on guard, but at least he didn't make his skin crawl as though thousands of maggots were walking over his body.
"What the hell is going on here?" Beam muttered, spitting on the ground, trying to rid himself of the sickness. "How is that old man the village Elder? There's something wrong with him… I don't know what it is… But there's something up."
He collected his thoughts as he stood there leaning against the side of a house that he didn't know. He sucked in deep breaths of air trying to steady himself and get rid of the dizziness that had begun to build up.
"Hah… fuck. How can something as simple as gathering firewood leave me worse off than hunting Goblins?" He muttered to himself, deciding to finally make a move somewhere. He felt like going straight back into the forest to speak to his master about what had happened, but his feet directed him back towards Greeves' place, knowing that he had to at least attempt to resolve the firewood issue before he left for the day.
As he made it back through the market square and hammered on Greeves' door, it took a little while for anyone to answer, as though they were out.
Beam hammered on the door again, before waiting, about to leave, assuming that no one was in.
But it was then that Judas chose to open the door. The big man didn't seem surprised to see him. He must have been able to guess somewhat what had happened from the look on Beam's face, for he nodded with something that approached sympathy. "Gave you a rough time of it, did he?"
"You could say that," Beam shrugged.
"You want to come in? The boss is asking after you," Judas said, motioning with his head for him to come inside.
Beam sighed, looking into the house. It definitely looked quite uninviting, but after being inside the Elder's house, nothing could compare. He nodded with less reluctance than he otherwise might and strode up the steps as Judas held the door open for him.
The big man laughed as he closed the door behind him. "He really did get to ya, huh? You're normally a suspicious little fuck, but now you've come in without complaining."
Beam just shrugged and gave a tired smile. "I think if I was gonna die today, I'd probably have died back there. I'll take my chances."
"That's the right attitude. Come on then," Judas said, leading him deeper into the house. Past the front door, there was immediately a long corridor of wood-varnished floorboards that led straight on to a winding wooden staircase that led up to the second floor. But Judas took him to the right, through one of the open doorways.
They marched through a room with shining leather chairs, a roaring fire, and a massive table in the middle of it all. It stank of purple mountain grass, but with the light of the day streaming in through the open shutters, it was so much more inviting than the Elder's place had been.
Beyond that, they turned left again and Judas opened a door to take him into where Greeves was waiting.
It was a smaller room, with a desk piled high with various scrolls and an abacus beside it and another small fire warming the hearth.
Greeves stood up as he came in, a smile on his face. "There he is – our little protégé. Go on then lad, get yourself a nice seat by the fire, see if you can warm those demons out of you, eh?"
Beam did as he was told. Even if it was forced and calculated, after the unsettling situation with the Elder, a bit of hospitality went a long way.
Greeves sat down back at his desk and began packing his pipe with more purple mountain grass as he talked. "So, I can assume it went poorly?"
"You expected it to?" Beam asked.
Greeves shrugged. "More or less. He's irritating to deal with at the best of times, but when it comes to village charity, he gets especially fuckin' weird. Dunno what it is, 'cos I couldn't give a fuck about doing charity work normally, but I do recall several incidents where he's got pissy at people for acting outside of his Favour system and giving charity to those he said can't get it."