-Arkan Lawrence-
After hours of travel, we finally arrived at the entrance to the village. The sun had dipped behind the hills, leaving the sky painted with shades of orange and purple. Ahead stood a small, weathered wooden gate flanked by two frail-looking posts that seemed ready to collapse.
But the most striking sight was the middle-aged man standing before the gate.
He wore tattered clothes—a torn jacket patched in multiple places and pants better described as scraps of fabric held together by hope. His gaunt face carried an expression of weary caution, and deep-set eyes glinted with suspicion. He gripped a long wooden staff, though it was clearly more of a crutch than a weapon.
One thing was obvious—he wasn't one of Marquis Arleon's guards.
I glanced at Rainer, who was already observing the man with his usual steady gaze.
"He doesn't seem like an official sentry," I murmured softly, trying to suppress the skepticism in my voice.
"Obviously," Rainer replied flatly, dismounting his horse with a fluid motion, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. His every move exuded a calm readiness, a sharp contrast to my own tension.
The man visibly tensed as we approached, his hands clutching his makeshift staff more tightly. Yet he showed no signs of aggression, only apprehension. When he spoke, his voice was rough and hoarse.
"Who… who are you? What's your business here?"
Dismounting with less grace than Rainer, I decided to take a softer approach. "We've been sent by Marquis Arleon to investigate the condition of this village," I said, keeping my tone calm and measured. "Are you a resident here?"
The man blinked rapidly, his hesitance clear, before nodding slowly. "Y-yes… I live here."
I noticed Rainer's unwavering stance, his fingers still lightly brushing the hilt of his blade. To break the tension, I took a step forward, offering a slight smile.
"Forgive us, but we didn't see any formal guards posted here. Do you know why?"
The man glanced nervously between Rainer and me, shifting uneasily. "There are no guards. No soldiers. This village… it's been abandoned for years. People are afraid to come here."
His words deepened the unease in the air. Though I'd suspected as much, hearing it from one of the villagers made the desolation all the more real.
"In that case, may we enter?" I asked gently, still smiling to ease his nerves.
The man hesitated again before stepping aside. "You can enter… but be careful. This place… it's not safe."
I nodded in gratitude and turned to Rainer. "We need to stay alert."
"Always," he replied tersely.
The moment we passed through the gate, the atmosphere shifted.
The village wasn't just quiet—it was desolate. Wooden houses leaned precariously to one side, their roofs sagging under the weight of decay. Weeds and wild grasses pushed through cracks in the dirt road, reclaiming what little space they could. The air was colder here, damp and stagnant, as though the village itself had been forgotten by the world.
Ahead, the children I'd carried on my horse clung to each other tightly. Though their faces had softened somewhat from earlier fear, traces of panic still lingered in their wide eyes.
"Alright, kids," I said gently, my voice deliberately light. "Where's your home? We'll take you there."
The older boy, likely the girl's brother, pointed westward with a trembling hand. "Over there… by the well…" His voice was barely above a whisper.
I glanced at Rainer. "We should escort them first. Then we'll begin investigating."
Rainer nodded silently, his hand never straying far from his sword as we guided the children toward their home.
The walk wasn't long, but every step felt heavier, weighed down by the oppressive silence surrounding us. There were no birds, no rustling animals, only the eerie whispers of the wind weaving through the neglected village.
"Is everyone in this village like this?" I muttered to myself, my words almost swallowed by the quiet.
The boy turned toward me, his expression grim. "Everyone in the village… is weak. Sick. Like Papa."
His words settled in my chest like a stone. Weak, sick—just like the effects of the cursed pendant.
We soon arrived at the children's house, a small wooden structure barely standing against the pull of gravity. The walls sagged, the roof sagging under years of neglect. As the children dismounted carefully, I helped the younger girl to the ground, ensuring she didn't stumble.
"Thank you…" the boy murmured softly, clutching his sister's hand as they hurried inside.
"Take care," I called after them, though my eyes lingered on the house's peeling walls. The village was more than decrepit—it felt as though something malicious had rooted itself in its core.
"Arkan," Rainer called, drawing my attention away.
Before I could answer, a woman appeared from a nearby path. Her clothing was simple but clean, an apron tied neatly around her waist. Despite her wrinkled face, her eyes shone with warmth and attentiveness.
"You're outsiders, aren't you?" she asked kindly, though her tone held a trace of guarded curiosity.
Rainer nodded slightly. "We've been sent by Marquis Arleon to investigate the condition of this village."
Her brows lifted briefly in surprise before she nodded in understanding. "Thank goodness. We've been waiting for help for so long… though the church has done much for us already."
I raised an eyebrow. "The church?"
"Yes," she said with a small smile. "Father Howard from the church. A kind man. Without his aid, I don't think many of us would still be here. He brings food, medicine, and blessings to protect us from the sickness."
I exchanged a quick glance with Rainer. The woman's tone was sincere, but her words unsettled me.
"Has everyone in the village received his help?" I pressed, careful to sound casual.
"Oh, of course. Father Howard shows no favoritism. Even those children over there…" she gestured toward the house. "He gave them protective pendants. They're special charms to ward off evil."
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to remain composed. So it was true—the pendants came from the church.
"Father Howard seems deeply devoted," Rainer remarked, though his tone gave nothing away.
The woman beamed. "Oh, he is. He even came here personally from the city when the sickness first began. Many of us owe our lives to his generosity."
I nodded slowly. "Is he still at the church?"
"Oh, yes," she said, pointing toward a modest steeple rising in the distance. "He spends most of his time there. If you want to meet him, I'm sure he'd be delighted."
"Thank you," I replied, smiling politely. As we turned to leave, the woman called after us, "Be careful! This village isn't as safe as it seems."
Once we were far enough away, I leaned closer to Rainer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "What's your impression of this priest?"
Rainer didn't look at me as he replied, "We'll see. But one thing's certain—there's more to this village than meets the eye."
I nodded, knowing his instincts were rarely wrong. If this story unfolded as I remembered, Father Howard wasn't the savior the villagers believed him to be.
"Then let's find out," I murmured, my eyes locking onto the distant church as we moved toward the heart of the mystery.