Stepping out of the cellar, the mayor didn’t seem to be there anymore. Well, I wasn’t going to go searching for him.

Stepping out, the sun blazed on the earth. It had been a couple days since it had rained, and the grass had begun to yellow.

Looking around, there weren’t many people about. Well, most must have been in the fields. Looking around town, I smelled the fresh scent of bread. Following it, I found the baker taking the families bread loaves out of the village oven.

“Hi.” I didn’t know what to say, he seemed rather busy. Looking over his shoulder, my mouth started to water. The bread looked more than good.

Without turning around he spoke, “Are you one of the adventurers? Must have been a long trip, I’ve always wanted to visit Paris. How is it over there?” His voice was oddly relaxing, he spoke softly with a rather consistent rhythm.

“No, I’m from another group of adventurers and I was wondering where the ones from Paris were staying?”

The baker turned around holding a tray stacked with hot bread. “Here, help me for a bit.” He passed me the tray. It was surprisingly heavy. Maybe I was just tired. The baker turned back around and took the other one. Following him to his place, he showed me where to place the bread. That’s when my stomach growled.

“Hungry?” He asked. It was odd, now that I could see him face to face, I couldn’t help but think that just like his voice, his face was oddly relaxing… or satisfying? It was blank, inoffensive, and expressionless, yet beautiful. He had long black hair, and charcoal eyes, which contrasted well with the purple bags under his eyes.

“I didn’t know another group of adventurers were coming, so I didn’t cook enough for you. How many are in your party?” He asked. “I’ll see what I can make.”

“Oh! We’re just two.” I snapped out of it.

“Just two? Here.” He handed me a loaf. Taking it, I looked at it in wonderment. “All of it?” I asked.

“Of course, share it with your friend. Welcome to Lillebonne.”

I looked at the loaf that was twice my head’s size. I couldn’t finish it. “It’s all good, he’s sleeping right now, he’d kill me if I woke him up right now—”

“Keep it for then.”

“No really,” I insisted. “He’s been awake for more than a day at this point, the bread’s going to be stale when he wakes up.”

The bread man had already turned back around. He took a large bread knife and cut a loaf in eight equal slices. Steam rose up from the soft brown interior. Finding a bread knife, he pulled out a block of butter slathered a nice bit of it on a slice. It looked too good, but I couldn’t ask for more. Butter wasn’t free, just the bread was more than enough.

“It’s of no worry the bread will still be good,” he said. His voice and actions made me catatonic.

“How?” Bread couldn’t last that long.

“It’s Lillebonne’s special recipe, trust it.”

I looked down to the still hot bread. I suppose the worst-case scenario was some stale bread. “I’ll take it then, thanks a lot.” He was terribly concentrated on his craft, so I decided this was a good time to go, but he called back to me.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Oh yes, the adventurers—

“The Inn is on the east side of the village, take the first right when you leave.”

“…Thank you.” I didn’t think this baker had anything to do with the disappearances in Fécamp, but his atmosphere was more than strange. I don’t know if this was information that was worth passing on to anyone, but I’d keep an eye on him—

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“It’s Gregoire—” I should have given him a fake name. I didn’t like this. “And you?” I asked.

“It’s Tristan,” he smiled. “Have a good day, feel free to come back if you have any questions.”

I nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” This time I almost ran out, thankfully he let me escape.

#

It didn’t take me long to find the inn. It looked like the orphanages you’d find in the cities, but much smaller and there was a small balcony near the entrance.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Entering, there was no inn keeper, just a small black cat. Jumping, it landed on a basket full of dirty clothes, meowed and laid down, closing its yellowed eyes.

Not able to hold back I went ahead and petted it. The cat purred and its whiskers whisked.

“Her name is Gargamelle.”

Turning around, a woman in brilliant chainmail was leaning against the wall with a kind smile.

“Are you the adventurer from Paris?” I asked, I couldn’t help but look her up and down. The set of armour she wore could only be called extravagant. Damien’s armour could only be called more impressive as he was geared for war. She, on the other hand, had equipment good enough for the toughest of dungeons.

“I am, and you?” She asked.

“Rouen,” but I couldn’t help but ask. “Do adventurers in Paris all wear that kind of armour.”

“Hmmm.” She looked down surprised. “Well, it’s nothing special.”

Nothing special. Well, I’d have to visit Paris because things were definitely different there if this was the norm.

“Well, it’s fine.” I could only envy her, but I was here to ask about something else. “I just heard there were other adventurers here, so I just wanted to say hello. Me it’s Gregoire.”

“That’s nice of you.” She smiled. “And I’m Genève.”

“Where are you heading?” I asked. I couldn’t be too direct, by her amour it was obvious she wasn’t an adventurer. For a knight to enter another lord’s territory to subdue a criminal was akin to a crime, a crime of honour at the very least. I’m sure if the other party wasn’t the king, the duke would have taken a more direct approach to this.

“To Fécamp,” she said.

Ah… I should have spoken first. “Really? Us too, well, we’re going to the dungeon near the channel.” Hopefully, it wouldn’t look like we were following her, after all I didn’t know how many dungeons there are there.

“Is that so?”

The cat jumped out of the basket and ran over to Genève. “Is there something?” She crouched down to pick her up. The cat meowed something in the women’s ears before climbing up and lying on her shoulders.

Genève expression visibly changed, and she looked to be contemplating something. It looked as if she had really spoken to the cat. It was odd. Perhaps a class… Was it because she didn’t have the attitude of a class holder that I didn’t think of that immediately? Anyhow, I had to keep asking questions. “My partner and I have never been to Fécamp, do you know anything about it.” Argh I was really bad at this thing, that was such a clumsy question. I don’t even know what I wanted to learn by doing this.

“I’ve only been there once before…” She petted Gargamelle. “There really wasn’t anything special, but I should get going. Seeing you with the bread reminded me to go and get it.”

“Oh, yea.” I looked down, I’d forgotten that I was holding a half-eaten loaf of bread. “The baker is pretty good. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“Thank you, have a good lunch.” She left and I was left in the inn’s entrance. It was now oddly quiet. It didn’t seem like there was anyone here. To the right there was a small dining area, and to the left, there was a hallway with three doors. No doubt the rooms rented to the adventurers, but I could just go and knock at their doors, especially when I’d just spoken to one of them.

#

Back at the mayor’s place I knocked at the door, but no one answered. Opening the door, I let myself in. Again, it seemed that he wasn’t here. I would expect him to stay here when there were so many guests in town, but I guess he had other things to do. Village life was too different.

Heading for the cellar, someone knocked at the door.

“Julien, your bread is ready, I brought it over since you’re busy.”

Julien? Was that the mayor’s name. I opened the door.

“Who are you!” It was an old woman, perhaps in her sixties or seventies. She looked around as if the mayor had died.

“I’m an adventurer Julien let stay here since the inn was full.”

“More! I told him not to let in more outsiders.” She ran inside pushing me aside.

I looked at her confused, well, she was old and probably not all there, I couldn’t blame her for what she said.

“He’s not here,” I added as she scurried around the house. She walked all the way to the corner of the room in search of the mayor, she must have been nearly blind.

“Julien, where are you?”

“I said he’s not here. He must have gone out—”

“No, he’s always here at this time. And he always starts his stew by noon.” With slow steps she headed further into the house and entered what was probably his room. “Oh, my Lord! Julien! What happened.” She yelled.

Shit. Did something actually happen? I ran over to see the mayor lying face down on the floor.

The old lady dropped to her knees and started to shake him. Moving her aside, I flipped him over onto his back… he was still breathing—Thank God. “He’s sleeping,” I said.

“What, who sleeps on the ground? You killed him, didn’t you!”

No, look, I took her hand and put it over his nose.

“…Thank God, but why is he on the ground.” She sat back and yawned.

That’s when it hit me. François was downstairs, they were falling asleep because of him. God, what should I do? Would they wake up on their own eventually or should I drag the outside? But then the villagers would probably not take kindly to that. Argh—Why couldn’t François have thought about this.

Laying the old lady on her back next to the mayor, I ran to the cellar. Other people would no doubt come check on them, this would become a big deal.

“Hey. François.” I shook him around. “We gotta go. François.” How did he sleep so deep? He wasn’t even budging. “François! Wake up! François! François!”

Finally, his eyes twitched. “Why…” Was all he could muster to say in a groggy voice.

“Sorry about this, people are starting to fall asleep because of you, we have to go before more people come.”

“…” I could see he wanted to speak, but his mind was going through a bunch of things. “Carry me, please.” Is what he decided to go with.

Fine, I put him on my back, thankfully he wasn’t very heavy. In my other hand, I carried our bags. Thankfully, the mayor had taken the pots and pans before we’d gone to sleep.

I threw our bags out of the cellar before struggling to climb up. But just as I was going to pick our bags back up another door knock resounded. “It’s Genève the adventurer. I have a question about pay—”

Shit! Already and this time it had to be an adventurer, no, not even, a class holder of all things and one from Paris. Shit! Shit! Shit! Fast, I had to think fast.

She knocked at the door again. “I promise it won’t be long.”

Damn, thinking fast, I threw our bags back down the cellar and ran off with François towards the back of the house.