Chapter 12
Gunnar's Farm
"Ah, there you are," Gunnar called out as Alron approached. "Is everything alright in there?" He nodded towards the barn, a concerned question in his voice. Alron let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's been hard," he repeated, his voice low. "I'm doing my best to keep things together, but..." he trailed off, unable to put his feelings into words. Gunnar nodded knowingly, a look of understanding on his face. Gunnar reached out and clapped Alron on the shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. "I know how it goes, lad," Gunnar said, his tone reassuring. "Don't worry." Alron couldn't help but appreciate the old farmer's presence. Gunnar had been a kind and trusted friend to both Alron and Freya, and his words of reassurance cut through the thick fog of worry and doubt that had settled over Alron. "Thank you, Gunnar," he said gratefully. Gunnar gave Alron a small smile. "Aye, don't mention it," the farmer replied, his voice gruff but his eyes kind. "It's all I can do." Alron didn't try to argue, knowing that Gunnar was right. In these troubled times, they all had limited options and resources.
After a moment of silence, Alron spoke again, this time in a soft, hushed tone, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "You remind me of my brother," he said, his words carrying a note of sentimentality. Gunnar hummed in thought as he pondered Alron's question. "Hmm," he mused, rubbing his chin. "Your brother, was he older or younger than you?" Alron furrowed his brow, trying to recall the exact age difference between him and his brother. "He was older," he repeated, his voice tinged with a hint of confusion. "I don't know by how much though." Gunnar continued his line of questioning, his voice still cheerful but with a note of curiosity. "Ah, and what was his name, your brother?" Gunnar's eyes widened in surprise as he heard the name 'Beor.' "Beor? I've heard that name I suppose..." he repeated, his voice trailing off as he tried to recall where he had heard the name before. Alron gestured towards a hill in the distance, nostalgia tinged in his voice. "We lived in a house behind that hill," he said, his finger pointing out the exact location. Gunnar looked in the direction Alron pointed, a contemplative expression on his face. He knew the area well, and the hill Alron was referring to was not too far from the farm. Gunnar's tone became more serious as he pondered the implications of Alron's revelation. "Well, it's in the outzoned area..." he mused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "It's probably occupied by Lulls now..." "When I first saw your hand," he continued, "I thought you were one too... I guess the priest healed whatever was wrong with it." Gunnar's voice held a note of suspicion, as if he was trying to connect the dots between Alron's healed hand and the Lulls occupation of his former home.
Alron had been silently listening to Gunnar's musings, but now he spoke up, his curiosity piqued. "What are Lulls actually?" he echoed, seeking further information. Gunnar explained the nature of the Lulls to Alron, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and wonder. "They are people, but they slipped out of time..." he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "They age and deage at random and can even live forever if they don't age too much." Gunnar's expression darkened as he spoke, his eyes taking on a haunted look. "You see a lull, it's an infant one day, an old man the next then a young adult..." he said, his voice becoming more solemn. "It's all just random..." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "The Imperium tried to kill them all, but they rebelled, so now we are stuck like this." It was clear that Gunnar held a deep disdain for the Lulls. And yet, there was also a hint of resignation in his tone, as if he had accepted that the situation was likely to remain unchanged for the foreseeable future. Alron posed a simple yet crucial question, seeking to understand the motivations behind the Imperium's actions. "Why did the Imperium try to kill them?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. Gunnar's voice was tinged with disgust as he explained the consequences of coming into physical contact with a lull. "If they somehow touch you..." he said, his words trailing off briefly before continuing. "You become one of them.... You slip out of time, just like them." "It was like a plague," he said, his voice tinged with recollection. "My grandfather told me, who heard it from his, that so the Imperium decided enough is enough, and tried to kill every last one of them."
The thought of a mysterious plague spreading through the populace was no doubt terrifying, and the Imperium's decision to eradicate the Lulls seemed to be a drastic but necessary measure. But it was also clear that the situation had created a tense and volatile atmosphere within the community. Alron's mind was churning with questions and speculation, and he eagerly asked Gunnar for more information. "So what happened next?" he inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him. Gunnar recounted the aftermath of the Imperium's attempt to eradicate the Lulls, his tone laced with a mix of resignation and frustration. "Well, they got a few soldiers, and the others ran," he said, shaking his head. "It's like a cult there. The villages and cities were told to leave them alone and contain them, and here we are, trying to mediate so they don't infect others. Some cities have been... well, fucked harder."
A heavy silence followed Gunnar's words, the weight of their situation settling heavily in the air. Alron sat still for a moment, trying to process all the information Gunnar had shared. It was a lot to take in, the revelation of the Lulls' strange condition and the Imperium's drastic attempts to eradicate them. The thought of becoming one of them, slipping out of time at random, was both intriguing and unnerving. And the fact that the Imperium soldiers had turned and run, leaving behind infected towns and cities, only added another layer of complexity to the chaos.
Gunnar's words cut through the heavy silence that had fallen. He spoke with a resigned acceptance, his tone stoic, "Don't think much of it," he said. "It's been this way since I was born, so I don't think it's going to do much to worry." Gunnar's steady and unruffled demeanor served to ground Alron and brought some much-needed calm to the situation. Alron took a deep breath, his thoughts still swirling with the revelations Gunnar had shared. The implications of the Lulls' existence and the Imperium's attempts to eradicate them were overwhelming. But Gunnar's stoic acceptance and pragmatic approach seemed to be what was needed amidst the chaos. Alron nodded in agreement, knowing that overthinking wouldn't change anything. "I suppose you're right," he said quietly.
Alron, his curiosity piqued, posed a question to Gunnar. "Why do you personally hate them so much, though?" he inquired, his tone laced with genuine interest. Gunnar's facial expression was serious, his gaze distant as if he was recalling a troubling memory. "They're dangerous," he stated matter-of-factly. "You get too close to one and you become one of them... and then you start infecting people too." Gunnar's voice held a tone of resentment, as if he'd personally experienced the negative consequences of the Lulls' presence.
Gunnar's words interrupted Alron's contemplation. "You should go now," he said, forcing a smile. "Don't keep Freya waiting." Alron nodded in agreement, realizing that he had lingered longer than necessary. He had to get back to Freya, knowing she was probably worried. "Yeah," Alron said softly, "you're right." He slowly stood up, his mind still filled with a swirl of questions and thoughts. "I should get back to her," he continued, a hint of determination in his voice. A slight pang of guilt tinged his expression as he realized he had let his curiosity get the better of him, inadvertently neglecting Freya in the process.
Alron made his way towards the market, his mind still preoccupied with the conversation he had just had with Gunnar. As he wandered through the bustling market, he focused his thoughts on the task at hand - buying the necessary supplies for himself and Freya. The hustle and bustle of the market helped to distract his mind from the weighty thoughts that lingered there, and he navigated through the stalls, picking up bread, fruits, and water for their provisions. With his supplies gathered, Alron made his way back towards the temple, the weight of the supplies in his arms grounding him in the present moment. He had been away longer than he had intended, and he could only hope that Freya wasn't too worried about his extended absence.
As he was leaving, Alron's gaze landed on a small dress stand in the market, its vibrant colors and delicate fabrics catching his attention. He paused for a moment, his mind drawn to Freya and the thought of surprising her with a small token of love. Alron's eyes scanned the dresses on display, and they settled on a beautiful blue one. Its soft fabric caught the light, its color reminding him of the sky on a clear day. The dress was simple yet elegant, and he could picture it complementing Freya's pale complexion and silvery blond hair beautifully. The thought of Freya's reaction to the dress, the way her face would light up with unexpected joy, filled Alron's mind, and he found himself drawn to the idea of buying it. He approached the stand, his fingers tracing the soft material of the dress, his mind already made up. As he stood there contemplating, the vendor noticed his interest and approached him. "Quite a beautiful dress, sir," he said with a friendly smile. The vendor's words resonated with Alron, reinforcing his intention to purchase the dress for Freya. Alron, his mind made up and his heart set on getting the dress for Freya, turned to the vendor. "How much will it be?" he inquired, his eyes still fixed on the dress. The vendor noticed his interest and chuckled. "Ah, a man of good taste," he said, his friendliness increasing. "For such a splendid dress, the price will be 2 silver coins." Alron's face twisted into a frown as he heard the price. "That's a lot," he said, the worry evident in his voice. He didn't have much money on him, and the price for the dress was more than he had anticipated. The vendor chuckled at his reaction, seeing the predicament Alron was in. "It's a fair price for a dress of such quality," the vendor said, trying to console Alron's worries with a reassuring smile. "But Listen," said the vendor, seeing Alron's hesitation. "I understand your concern. I'll make you a deal. I'll throw in a matching ribbon and a clip with the dress." The vendor's offer seemed to ease Alron's worries a bit, and he considered the proposition. The addition of the ribbon and clip added some extra value to the dress, making the price seem more bearable.
Alron looked at the dress once more, imagining how it would look on Freya with the added ribbon and clip. The image filled his heart with warmth, and he knew that he wanted to give her the dress, no matter the cost. Alron smiled at the vendor in gratitude as he reached into his purse and fished out two of his last silver coins. "Thank you," he said, appreciating the deal that the vendor had made for him. He handed the coins over and the vendor took them with a nod, handing the dress over in return. "It's a pleasure doing business with you," the vendor said, his smile widening as he saw the look of contentment on Alron's face. Alron carefully accepted the dress from the vendor, cradling it in his arms along with the supplies. He looked down at his now emptied purse, feeling a pang of worry as he realized that he had spent all of his remaining money on the dress. But the thought of Freya's smile when she saw the dress made the expense seem worth it. With the dress safely tucked away in his arms, Alron thanked the vendor one last time and began his journey back to the temple. The weight of the supplies and the dress started to take its toll on his tired arms, but he pushed through, his determination to surprise Freya keeping him going.
As Alron approached the temple, he was greeted by the soothing smell of incense wafting through the air. The familiar scent seemed to have a calming effect on his anxious nerves, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility wash over him. The weight of the supplies and dress in his arms seemed to become lighter, and he took a deep breath, preparing himself for facing Freya.
Alron pushed open the heavy temple door, the wood creaking softly as it opened. Stepping inside, he was immediately enveloped by the peaceful atmosphere of the temple. The air was still and tranquil, the soft flicker of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the stone walls. Alron's eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of Freya. Alron was startled by the sudden appearance of the priest, who seemed to have materialized from his quarters. The priest's voice echoed through the temple, and Alron turned to find him standing there. "She's inside," the priest said, gesturing towards the door leading to the inner sanctum. "You should be inside too." The priest's tone was cryptic, but there was a hint of authority in his voice that Alron couldn't ignore. Alron's concern grew as he picked up on the priest's cryptic tone. Something felt off, and he couldn't help but ask, "Is something wrong?" The priest's visage was inscrutable as he regarded Alron, his eyes betraying no emotions. After a moment of silence, the priest spoke, his words measured and precise. "Nothing's wrong," he replied, the corners of his lips curled into a slight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But you should go and help her." The priest's words carried an authoritative edge. "You two are travelling to Pinechill tomorrow," he stated firmly. "From there, you will be heading to Araelion." Alron's wide eyes betrayed his shock. "Araelion?" he said in disbelief, the name ringing in his ears like a distant dream. He had only read about it in books, never imagining that he would be going there. His mind reeled as he tried to comprehend what the priest was saying.
Araelion, the kingdom capital of all of men, one of the cornerstones of the Imperium as well as its birthplace. It was a place of grandiosity and power, a symbol of human civilization's might. The thought of going there filled Alron with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "Why are we going there?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The priest elaborated, his tone taking on an even more serious tone. "I had sent word of your situation to Pinechill a week ago," he explained, his eyes fixed on Alron. "The high minister wants you to go to the capital on high order." Alron's expression showed his confusion at the mention of a high minister. "Minister?" he queried, unsure of the concept. "Ah you wouldn't know," the priest continued, "the mayoral system was replaced with a high minister system after the lull outbreak, the king at the time sent high ministers to replace the mayors directly."
Alron's excitement was palpable, his voice betraying his eagerness to learn more. "So, how will we be going?" he asked, his eyes darting between the priest and the door to the inner sanctum, where Freya was. The priest's words provided some clarity to Alron's jumbled thoughts. "You will travel with my acolyte from here to Pinechill," he said, his voice holding a hint of reassurance. "From there, the high minister will arrange for your further transportation." The priest's voice held a tone of finality, "Now go help her pack," he said, his gaze fixed on Alron. "You leave tomorrow at sunrise." Alron, taking the cue, nodded firmly. With a mixture of eagerness and anxiety, he grasped the supplies and the dress, making his way to the door of the inner sanctum. He pushed through the door, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he entered the room where he knew Freya awaited.
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