-Arkan Lawrence-
His expression turned somber, though his demeanor remained calm. "This plague… it's a test," Father Howard began, his voice steady but grave. "The villagers began showing signs of weakness several months ago. We have done our best to aid them, but the cause of this illness remains a mystery."
"A mystery?" I asked, feigning confusion.
Howard nodded slowly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a seemingly unwavering conviction. "Yes. I believe this is a trial from God. We've prayed and provided whatever aid we could, but the relief is always temporary."
I almost laughed. A "test from God," he said? I knew better. This wasn't some divine trial or random illness—it was dark magic. A curse he had engineered himself.
But I kept my expression neutral, tilting my head with a hint of empathy. "It must be difficult for you and the villagers."
Howard inclined his head slightly, a gesture of gratitude. "Clara and I have done our best to keep hope alive in this village. But our resources are limited. If you can offer any assistance, it would be greatly appreciated."
I exchanged a glance with Rainer, who remained still and impassive. Howard showed no signs of hesitation or nervousness. If anything, his composed demeanor only deepened my suspicions. He was too perfect, too calm.
"In that case," I offered with a small nod, "perhaps we should begin by visiting the villagers affected by the plague."
Howard's lips curved into a faint smile, but a flicker of something—an unreadable emotion—passed through his eyes before he replied. "Of course. Clara will guide you. I must prepare for the evening prayers for the villagers. Should you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
With a slight bow, he retreated back toward the door he had entered from earlier, leaving us alone in the quiet sanctuary of the church.
I exhaled slowly, careful not to make the sound too obvious. So that's Father Howard, huh? You certainly play your part well.
I turned to Rainer, who hadn't moved from his spot. "What's your impression of him?" I asked, lowering my voice.
Rainer frowned slightly, but his response was measured. "He's too friendly. I can't believe someone like that wouldn't have something to hide. But… perhaps he genuinely has a big heart to help this village, even if no one asks him to." His tone was flat but a shade softer than usual.
I stifled a laugh, shaking my head lightly. "A big heart, huh? We'll see about that. Sometimes, the kindest faces hide the darkest secrets."
Rainer said nothing, merely shaking his head slightly in mild disapproval. Classic hero behavior—not quick to judge, but never fully trusting either.
As we waited on the long pew near the church's entrance, the quiet settled around us once more. The faint murmurs of a prayer carried over from the altar, punctuating the stillness. After a few minutes, the sound of light footsteps approached.
Clara appeared again, carrying a basket full of bread.
"Apologies for keeping you waiting," she said with a warm smile, glancing at both of us.
I noted the contents of the basket. The bread inside was plain but plentiful, clearly meant for distribution. "What's all that for?" I asked.
"Oh, these are for the villagers," Clara replied, her smile unwavering. "We deliver food to homes, especially for those who are too weak to come out and fetch it themselves. Would you like to join me?"
I exchanged a glance with Rainer, who nodded wordlessly.
"Of course," I answered, standing up. "We'd be happy to help."
Her smile widened, genuine and radiant. "Thank you. With two extra pairs of hands, this will go much faster."
Clara led us out of the church, carrying the basket carefully. Once again, we were met with the stifling quiet of the village streets. The air felt heavier here, as though the very earth groaned beneath the weight of sickness and despair.
"Have you had a chance to explore the village yet?" Clara asked, making an effort to brighten the atmosphere.
"Somewhat," I replied. "But, honestly, this place feels… quieter than I expected."
Clara sighed softly, her gaze fixed ahead. "Yes. This village used to be so lively. Children playing in the streets, women singing as they worked… But now, most people are either too sick or too weak to do anything."
I glanced at Rainer, who trailed behind us, silent but observant. His sharp gaze lingered on every crumbling house and hollow-eyed villager we passed.
"Father Howard has truly done so much to help this village," Clara continued. "Even this bread is made from rations that should have been his. He gives everything he has to keep hope alive here."
I raised an eyebrow, barely restraining the sarcasm bubbling beneath the surface. "How generous," I muttered under my breath.
We stopped in front of a small house whose walls leaned precariously, as though the slightest breeze could topple them. Clara knocked softly on the door, and an elderly woman appeared. Her face was pale and lined with exhaustion, her hands trembling as she gripped the doorframe.
"This is for you," Clara said gently, handing the woman a piece of bread from the basket. "Don't forget to eat and rest."
The woman's face softened into a frail smile as she accepted the offering. "Thank you, Clara. May God bless you all."
I watched the interaction silently, taking note of how naturally Clara exuded a sense of hope. She wasn't forcing it—she truly believed in what she was doing.
As the old woman retreated inside, Clara turned back to us. "There are a few more houses we need to visit. You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all," Rainer replied immediately.
I simply offered a small nod, though unease still prickled at the edges of my thoughts. The more I observed Clara, the clearer it became—she was genuinely too good for a world like this. But kindness like hers was also an open door for someone like Father Howard to exploit.
"Alright then, let's keep going," Clara said cheerfully as she led us toward the next house.
For now, I followed her lead. But my mind was already working overtime, piecing together strategies and contingencies. The time for action would come soon enough. But for now, I'd play my part.
-Third-Person Perspective-
Arkan glanced at Rainer and Clara walking ahead, their figures illuminated by the faint moonlight. Their soft conversations were carried by the crisp night air, but his focus lingered elsewhere.
"I'll take the other side of the village," he said lightly, though it wasn't a request.
Clara paused, turning toward him with a hint of concern. "Oh, be careful, then. Some parts of the village get really dark at night."
With a quick wave, Arkan gave a half-smile before casually strolling away into the shadows, leaving Rainer and Clara to continue on their path.
Night had fully embraced the village, and the air was heavy with silence. Only the sound of Clara and Rainer's footsteps punctuated the stillness as they followed a dirt road winding through the decrepit homes. The dull glow of a single house at the end of the path caught their attention.
"That's where the five children live," Clara said, pointing toward the modest home. Her warm smile returned, and her voice carried a slight lilt of excitement. "They're always so cheerful when we visit."
Rainer turned his head slightly toward her, his expression impassive, yet tinged with subtle curiosity. "Five children? That must be a heavy burden, especially in these conditions."
Clara's smile faltered slightly as she nodded. "It is. Their mother works tirelessly to keep them fed and cared for, even though she's started showing signs of the illness herself."
"And their father?"
Her gaze fell briefly, and the light in her expression dimmed. "He passed away… several months ago."
Rainer exhaled a quiet breath, saying nothing more as his pace quickened. Clara trailed behind with a small smile, quietly appreciating the compassion hidden behind his stoic exterior.
When they reached the front door, Clara knocked softly, the wooden surface echoing lightly in the night. The sound of hurried footsteps followed, and soon the door creaked open to reveal five pairs of gleaming eyes.
"Clara!" a young boy called out, his face dirty but glowing with uncontained joy. Without hesitation, he ran up and hugged her tightly.
"Easy there, Leo," Clara said with a light laugh, running a gentle hand through his tousled hair. "We brought bread for everyone."
The other children, ranging from toddlers to a preteen, eagerly clustered around her, their tired eyes lighting up at the sight of her presence.
Rainer lingered near the door, watching the scene unfold with a stiff posture. He seemed uncertain, as though unsure of his place amid such warmth.
Clara noticed his hesitation and turned toward him, her smile softening. "Rainer, come in. Don't just stand there."
He hesitated but eventually stepped inside. The interior of the home was as humble as the exterior—a sparsely furnished room with faded, well-worn items. Yet the vibrant energy of the children filled the space with a sense of life.
"Who's he?" a small girl asked, peeking out shyly from behind Clara but darting curious glances at Rainer.
Clara glanced over her shoulder. "This is Rainer. He came here with Marquis's help to assist our village."
The children's eyes grew wide, and in an instant, they surrounded him with excited chatter.
"Really? Are you a knight?" the eldest boy asked, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.
Rainer blinked, taken aback by their sudden attention. He shook his head, his tone quieter than usual. "Not a knight. Just a mercenary."
The revelation didn't dampen their spirits. Instead, it sparked even more questions—about battles, monsters, and faraway adventures. Rainer shifted uncomfortably but tried his best to answer their endless queries.
Clara watched from a distance, her hands clasped over the basket of bread, her smile warm. Rainer's discomfort, masked by his patience, brought a soft chuckle to her lips.
"Alright, everyone," Clara said after a while, her voice gentle but firm. "Let's not overwhelm him too much. He's here to help, after all."
The children reluctantly stepped back, though their curious gazes lingered on Rainer. He glanced at Clara, and for the first time that evening, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "It's fine. They're just curious."
Clara's smile widened slightly, and their eyes met for a moment. Something unspoken passed between them—a quiet understanding, a shared warmth.
It wasn't anything profound or sudden, but it was there—flickers of light in the dim shadows of the village.
For the first time, amidst the heaviness of illness and despair, the faint stirrings of hope and connection took root.