The town inside the walls was far more extensive than I’d expected, stretching further than my eyes could see. From what I could tell, it was set up similarly to the cities in Heirs–the farms and gardens and cattle areas were by the walls, the town growing denser the closer you got to its center. The roadway grew more advanced as we drew closer to town, switching from hard-packed dirt roads to stone paved. Most of the houses we saw were single-story log homes, though a couple may have been built from brick. It was hard to tell in the dying light.
The creek bubbled through the town, with rivets running from the steam to carry water across the farmland. Small bridges arched over the stream in key areas, wide enough for two horses to walk side-by-side with ease. The merry chatter of the villagers died out as they saw us, groups offering greetings to Mattie and shooting uncertain glances toward Cove and me. This was one of those towns where everyone knew everything about each individual, and they felt like they were owed explanations for everything.
Mattie directed us to drop off our firewood beneath an alcove in the center of town, explaining, “We’re working on restoring and preserving the forest within the walls, so we try to source our wood from outside when we can. We all need fire to survive, so most people are generous enough to drop off excess firewood here for emergencies. Your stuff is excess.”
Cove hefted the firewood over his head, plopping it down on top of the pile of firewood, nearly scraping the roof in the process. I stretched to do the same. As my hand left the edge of the wood, the top piece slid back down, nearly knocking me out. Cove caught it a few inches from my face. “Thanks.”
He tossed the piece of wood on the pile, and it landed perfectly into place. “No problem.”
He cast a glance at Mattie, who was supervising us off to the side. From under her burden, she sent us a thumbs up. Our manners kicked in, and Cove reached for the wood.
“Want help?” He asked.
Mattie looked uncertainly between us. “I can carry it,” she said, leaving the bundle ready for Cove to take anyway.
“It’s the least we can do,” Cove said as he plucked the wood from her arms.
I pulled half from him, not relishing how the splits and the bark bit into my already sore arms.
“When you put it that way, thanks!” she exclaimed, a new spring in her step.
Mattie ushered us over to a small but well-kept home in the center of town, pushing us around the back to drop off the wood in a small overhang attached to the house. I dropped it on the small pile gratefully, receiving another small scrape on my arm for the trouble.
She waved at someone through a window, which was a hodge podge of scavaged glass held together by metal rather than one solid piece. Most of the windows in town probably were, as it would be easier to recycle glass than to make windows anew.
Now that our hands were free, Ani and Ranch demanded our attention, forcing us to pick them up. Ani ended up huddling against my chest, Ranch draping across Cove’s shoulders.
Mattie led our motley crew back where we’d come from, past the bustling businesses in the center of town to a two-story manor atop a hill on the outskirts of town. Just blooming flowers lined the pathway, adding splashes of color here and there. A lamplighter walked in front of us, lighting the streets in preparation for the coming night.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
A brass knocker in the shape of a snake hung on the Mayor’s door, and Mattie rapped it twice before stepping back to wait.
A brown-haired man dressed in slacks and a polo opened the door, peering out the side. When he saw Mattie blocking the door, he sighed. “Matilda. What business do you have with the mayor?”
Mattie stepped to the side, baring us to the man’s view. His eyes widened. “Outsiders?!” he exclaimed, taking a step back in surprise. “Matilda, what were you doing?”
Mattie rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Dad. I found these idiots wandering the woods, and you taught me better than to just lave them there.”
Her father rubbed his temples. “That I did. Alright, wait here.”
The door slammed shut, the lock clicking. Mattie clicked her tongue. “He didn’t need to lock it. I wouldn’t just barge in without permission.”
Footsteps pounded on the other side, rushing away from the door. Cove and I exchanged an uneasy glance.
The lock clicked again, the door creeping open. “Mr. Mayor will see you now. Don’t–” his eyes rounded sharply on Cove and me, threatening “--cause any trouble. Got it?”
Cove’s smile was plastic. “Of course.” I nodded my agreement.
“Very well.” Her father opened the door widely, allowing us entry.
The manor wasn’t as grand or impressive as many of the ones I’d seen in Heirs, but it was far more elegant and well-kept than the glimpses of the houses we’d caught through the town. A silver and blue carpet adorned the entryway, representing the color theme of the rooms we could see. The walls were painted a deep ocean blue, and curtains, pillows, door handles, and such were shimmering silver.
We were forced to abandon our backpacks on a coat rack and our shoes beneath a bench on the right side of the entryway. The dark wood floor beneath our feet was polished smooth, expertly done and upkept. The wooden sections of the furniture were made from the same color and type of wood, a color so dark it was nearly black in the lamplight.
Mattie’s father hurried us out of the foyer and up the stairs, which was covered by a rug with the same pattern as the carpet in the doorway. My hand drifted over the carefully carved handrail as we climbed, noting the careful engraving of geometric patterns and the beautiful columns of various widths that attached it to the floor.
Mattie’s dad opened a door on the landing to our left, halting Cove and me outside the door and allowing Mattie entry into a firelit study with inlaid bookshelves on every wall and shutting it behind her.
The walls and the doors were thick, too thick for us to hear any of what Mattie and the mayor were discussing behind closed doors. She exited a few minutes later, looking guilty, and her father hurried Cove and in next, pushing us onto the plush carpet that spanned most of the room.
The door clicked behind us, cutting off any normal means of escape. The study we were in kept the same color scheme as the rest of the house, with blue walls, silver accents, and dark wood. The bookshelves were filled with a wide assortment of books, ranging from
colorful modern-looking non-fiction textbooks to books in such disrepair I thought they might be from the 1800s.
A fireplace sat in the back wall, the fire heating up the room to a comfortable temperature. In between the fireplace and us sat the Mayor at his desk, his face obscured by the shadows cast by the fire at his back. We were ushered forward to sit in plush silver-dyed leather chairs that faced the Mayor.
Cove chose to collapse bonelessly into his seat while I sat stiffly at the edge, sensing the thick thread of tension that underlined the room. The Mayor gave Cove and me a once-over, his eyes catching on our comparatively well-kept clothes.
He cleared his throat, lacing his hands together, and his wrinkles shifted and morphed into an attempt at a friendly smile that looked like it came from a horror film. “It’s been a long time since any of us have seen outsiders around here. How did you find us? Where are you from?” He boomed, his powerful voice full of unbridled curiosity.
Cove spoke first. “We’re from a city far away. Matilda found us and helped us find our way here for shelter.”
The Mayor ‘hmmm’d,’ clearly unsatisfied with Cove’s answer. “And why are you here?”
“We’re travelers.”
“And what brought you here.”
“Our feet,” I mumbled before I could catch myself.
“An accident,” Cove said, speaking loud enough to cover up my mistake.
The Mayor spun the recliner around, rummaging for something on the bookshelf behind him. Finding it, he yanked out a massive book–an atlas. He pushed the items on his desk to the side, gently in the case of the candles, before placing it in front of us. Flipping open the atlas, he asked, “Does this help spark your memory?”
Cove froze, and I realized we were in more trouble than I’d thought. Cove was a horrible liar.