There was a table that sat in the middle of the room which smelled of polished wood and also an odd iron smell lingering. The old lady say directly across from him with the man sitting right next to her. She was tapping the cane constantly while sipping something out of a cup.
Lucian sat in wait, hoping for them to say something. Finally, she spoke.
“Jaba tells me you’re lost, and came here,” she said. “Tell me, how exactly did you get here?”
Lucian could see the scrutiny in her voice. She was very suspicious. Not wanting to say anything that would get him in trouble or worse, he gave a generic answer and feigned confusion.
“I don’t remember. I opened my eyes and I was here,” he said.
The man and the woman gave each other a look that Lucian could not decipher.
“And where do you come from?” the woman asked. “I’ve not seen people of your kind around these lands.”
Lucian decided to be truthful this time. “Kinghaven.”
“Where is that? I’ve never heard of such a place?” she questioned with suspicion.
“Far, I suppose,” he answered. “Very far.”
There was a feeling of sadness around his words. Thinking about Kinghaven as somewhere he may never see saddened him a bit. Even though his time there was short-lived, he missed it oddly enough.
“Hmm,” she pondered. “And you said you were told to come here by a man?”
“Yes, he was an older gentleman, and he gave me his clothes.”
They spoke amongst themselves and finally agreed on what they tell Lucian.
“You can stay here until tomorrow, but no more,” she said.
That was no good. With nowhere to go, and no information at all, he would be lost and possibly dead.
“Is it po-”
“No, it is not.” The old lady seemed to know what he would ask before he even got his words out. “We have too many mouths to feed and not enough to go around.”
Lucian understood why they looked like that now. Their shapes reminded him of himself before he came to this world. They were sickly thin and eyes sunken in. She instructed him to sleep inside of the house and assigned him a corner near the fireplace. A thick blanket was given to him.
“Who was that man beyond the mountains,” he asked before she left upstairs.
“My husband,” she said, barely cracking a smile. “He keeps a watch out for the hunter.”
“Hunter?”
“Yes, hunter.”
Lucian gulped. Were they being hunted?
“What hunter?” he pressed.
The woman stood quiet for a moment as if to decide if she should answer him or not. She shrugged and said, “The king’s hunter. He comes every month to hunt for us to eat.”
“Wai-”
“No more questions out of you!” she shouted. “You’ve asked plenty enough. Please, just rest and pack your belongings and go!”
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When the woman had left and Lucian was alone, he unpacked, and thought about the day and his next steps. Sure he had made it to civilization, or whatever one would call this place, but he was booted right away. They did not have the means to feed him.
Feed. Food? Food!
He had an epiphany while he tossed and turned on the wooden floors. The woman said the king of this place sent a hunter to help them gather food. Were they too weak to hunt? Perhaps a lack of food had made them powerless or maybe they lacked to begin with. Regardless, this could be his chance. If luck would have him and he could find something to bring back to them, they could let him stay. Perhaps the stag was still there, or another one. Just perhaps.
By the light of the morning, which still proved to be not as bright as he was accustomed to, Lucian woke. Surprisingly, the old lady was already up and she was sewing a torn fabric, rocking back and forth on a chair by the opposite window.
Lucian acknowledged her and put the coat and boots on. He dared not ask for any food.
“Are you heading out now?” she asked nonchalantly.
He nodded and headed out, stomach a bit empty but heart full from hope.
While on the road to the woods, he had forgotten that it was not quite as close as he had hoped. The snow felt even deeper than the previous night and the boots dug into it like quicksand. If there was ever a time for him to get lucky, it would have to be now.
When midday came, Lucian arrived at the woods. It looked untouched. He made his way into the area where he recalled the death of the stag and found it empty.
Damn it!
He hoped to eat some and take the rest for the chief and the people of the village. The snowy woods stood in front of him, making soft whistles from the wind that blew. Lucian decided to venture deeper inside. With branches on the ground and not much else except shrubs and the occasional odd looking plants, he sat in exhaustion. All the training he did prepared him for battle, but not for traveling. Lucian laughed at the irony. He could fight to the death with those great warriors in the tournament but fatigued to the elements. He knew it was because of the longblade that he no longer possessed. If what Aric said about the history and powers of the blade were true, it was still safe. At least, that is what he believed.
After a rest, he continued to scout the woods hoping to find anything that would be worthwhile. At last, when he reached the end of the woods, he saw something that would sicken him, but also give him hope.
In front of him, two children were laid out flat on the snow bleeding out. Their crimson blood drenched the white of the ground beneath them until it was only red. They were very thin and feeble. The children’s poor bodies were being ravaged by creatures that resembled wild boars, but a little bigger, and thicker on the tusks.
Lucian closed his eyes and focused up to make two flames in his right and left hands. He scrunched them up and made them smaller until they were the size of pebbles. With his current understand and capabilities, he could toss it quicker if it was smaller. When he was in the vicinity of the boars, Lucian sniped two perfectly. The others scattered and ran off. He did not watch their struggle but rather walked up to the kids.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Their faces were dismembered. Their stomach was torn up and guts spilled everywhere. One was a girl and the other a boy. Their bony legs were snapped and flesh torn apart. Though they were no longer recognizable for who they were, he could see what they had been. On the boy’s finger was a ring. It was a small, wooden carved ring that had nothing special about it. The girl had one too. It was likely they were related.
What a tragedy, Lucian thought.
Even in their death, the children’s hands were clasped together. They never let go. Not wanting their bodies to be defiled any further, Lucian knelt beside them and began to dig. He dug for almost an hour until a deep enough grave was made so they would be unbothered. He slowly took the boy first and laid him out. Then the girl. Before he poured the snow back on top of them, he made sure he connected their hands together as they had been before, and will be once again till the end of times.
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The two boars he carried on his shoulders were quite heavy but he felt a renewed sense of hope for his chances at staying longer at the village. The walk back proved to take longer than he had hoped, but when dusk approached, he was near the village once again. He could see some women and men with kids outside. They were playing with the snow, smiling and laughing. The eerie quiet of the village from the night before was gone now.
Lucian weaved his way through the houses to where the chief’s residence was. Some of the villagers were speaking about him to themselves. No doubt that he was unknown to them.
Near the door, he knocked three times. He waited while a small crowd began to gather behind him. Some were middle-aged women, and some men. Kids hid behind their parents.
The door opened and the old lady, and stood there with a blank expression.
“You’re back,” she said. “Why have you come back?”
Lucian settled the boars down by the door and replied, “I don’t know if it is enough, but I hunted these boars down just a thank you.”
He turned towards the people behind him chatting up a storm. “It is for everyone here. You may not know me, but the chief had let me stay the night. This is my gift to you.”
Lucian was trying to play the politics game. He wanted to win over the crowd so that they would be on his side. The old lady inspected the boars and looked at him.
“You killed these?” she inquired.
“Yes.”
Lucian watched the old lady’s face as she examined the boars. Her expression remained stern, but there was a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. She looked back at the gathering crowd, who whispered among themselves with curiosity and cautious hope.
"You killed these?" she repeated, as if confirming for herself.
"Yes," Lucian said, trying to keep his voice steady.
The old lady nodded slowly. She turned to the man who had been with her earlier, who now stood behind her, his eyes fixed on the boars. He stepped forward, touching one of the carcasses, and then looked at Lucian with a mixture of skepticism and begrudging respect.
"Bring them inside," the old lady finally said, stepping aside to let Lucian enter. "We will prepare a meal for the village tonight."
Lucian nodded, hefting the boars over his shoulder again and carrying them into the cabin. The man followed him inside, closing the door behind them. The interior was dimly lit, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls.
"Place them here," the man instructed, pointing to a wooden table near the fire. Lucian laid the boars down, their weight causing the table to creak.
The old lady approached, her cane tapping the floor rhythmically. She studied Lucian for a moment before speaking. "You have brought us food, and for that, we are grateful. But understand this—we still cannot keep you here for long."
Lucian nodded, his heart sinking a little. He had hoped that the boars might earn him a longer stay, but he understood their situation. "I understand," he said quietly.
The old lady's stern expression softened slightly. "You have helped, and that is more than most strangers would do.”
As the evening wore on, the villagers gathered around the cabin, drawn by the promise of food and the unusual presence of a newcomer. Lucian watched from a corner as the old lady and the man worked together to prepare the meat. The smell of cooking boar filled the cabin, mingling with the scent of burning wood.
Children peeked through the windows, their eyes wide with curiosity. Some of the villagers ventured inside, offering cautious smiles and nods of thanks to Lucian. He felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time—a sense of belonging, however temporary.
The food was evenly distributed to all the families. Lucian refused any. It was only polite to refuse considering that he had already eaten a bit before he got here.
When most had finished eating, Lucian had a general idea of how many people were living here. It was around thirty more or less that dwelled in the houses surrounding the chiefs.
“Chief, is he the new hunter?” someone asked the old lady.
“The king has blessed us and sent one!” another exclaimed.
She did not deny them or say anything. The man near her whispered in her ears. When everyone had gone inside their houses, Lucian sat in the same place he sat the previous night.
“Are you blessed?” the man asked him.
“Blessed?” Lucian questioned.
“Yes, otherwise how would you have hunted those magical beasts?” the man clarified.
Were they magical beasts? To him, it certainly felt as if they were normal. No matter, if he were to stay in this village longer, he needed to say what would appease them.
“Yes, I believe so,” he answered.
The man, whose name was Jaba as Lucian recalled, gave the chief a serious nod, and she sunk her face in her hands. “We cannot, you know that,” she told him.
“But we must chief, we have no choice,” he retorted. “You’ve seen my daughter and the kids. Remember Sheba?”
“Sheba?” Lucian intruded.
“What is your name?” the chief asked him.
“Lucian.”
“Yes, Lucian. What an odd name isn’t it Jaba?” The chief crossed her legs and put her hands above the fire to warm it. “Perhaps you are right Jaba. The king may not be happy with this, but we have no choice.”
“Excuse me, what are you talking about?” Lucian was getting quite frustrated. They were speaking as if he was not there, or his presence did not warrant any explanation even though it was clear the topic was around him.
Jaba sat near Lucian. His lanky arms threw some more wood into the fire which sparked it into life again.
“Forgive me, Lucian, is it?” he said. “But it is clear you want to stay in this village, is that right?”
Lucian thought, and answered. “Yes, until I know where I should go after.”
The old lady laughed. “After! Heavens, after here is surely death.”
He frowned at her, and she coughed, confirming what she meant. “Stay here. Help us eat. We will pay you with what we can. When the annual pilgrimage comes, we will take you beyond here, and perhaps you will see what you seek.”
Of course, he would. That was his intention in the first place. However, her statements did worry him. What was beyond here? What is the ‘pilgrimage’?
“The king’s hunter usually comes to help, but he has not been here for months. The chief’s husband is on the lookout for him through the trail. We must honor him with gifts, and wives to take back to the king every month that he blesses us with food,” Jaba explained.
Gifts? Wives? What a despicable thing to do, Lucian thought. He could not judge harshly though. It was clear the culture was different here than he was used to. Still, it did not sit right with him that they have to give what little they had just to survive.
“Who is Sheba?” Lucian remembered her name.
The chief sighed deeply, one that spoke of grief. “She was a Kharim. She was one of us, a mother.”
“Was?”
“With no food, she fed what she could to her twins. She grew sickly ill from it, and almost died a few times had it not been for other villagers. But they grew thin as well. The twins went out to get her whatever they could. We tried to stop the little ones, but they snuck out in the middle of the night. Poor Sheba. She died that week, and the twins never returned.”
Lucian connected it together now. The two kids he dug the graves for were the twins most likely. They died trying to save their mother. A tear fell down his cheek, which he wiped quickly.
“I will help with whatever I can,” Lucian assured to their delight.
The chief got up, almost tripping over, but upright she gave her thanks to him sincerely, and told him that “tomorrow, you will meet everyone. Be up bright and early!”
It was clear that bringing up the story about Sheba unsettled her, and she left to her sleeping quarters.
Jaba followed suit, and left the residence shouting, “Sleep well, hunter!”
Hunter.
Lucian quite liked that title. He felt like he would make a difference here. There was a true purpose. Maybe he had served his duties to Abenor and saved his daughter. Just maybe he could start living and creating something out of himself. Just maybe he could find meaning. Just maybe.