Walter smiled at Tushen’s kind gesture. A party to raise the village’s spirits sounded perfect. He’d noticed how down everyone was and while the idea of a festival in his and the knight’s honor felt like too much. A simple fun party meal sounded like a great way to lift spirits.

Morale was important to people, as Walter had learned from his business textbooks. Working people often wanted to feel like they were rewarded for their work, and that their efforts were appreciated. That was why small parties or gestures to employees for jobs well done would raise morale and encourage them to keep up productivity.

It seemed the Elder was a natural at leadership. Something did need to be done about the village’s sorry state of affairs. Walter had done his best to raise spirits by offering his help despite his lack of worldly knowledge. The village eventually warmed up to him as he worked, the children being the first to lower their barriers. As children often do.

Many of them wanted to know why Walter’s skin was so pale, or why his hair was tinged red like their clothes. More wanted to ask where he got his blue eyes, as if they were something he picked up on his journey. Walter laughed at the questions, playing with the kids in between carrying firewood or dried food as everyone prepared for the party.

The day passed as Walter helped and patrolled. Flipper sat on his head or shoulder, watching the town’s outskirts in case the daemons came close. The knights helped as well, doing their best to reassure the village that help would be on the way.

Thus Walter was surprised when evening came so quickly. Time had passed quicker than he thought, probably because Tivwo and the other children never gave him a moment’s rest. When they ran out of questions, the kids invented games to play with Walter.

“Got you!” Walter exclaimed as he swept Tivwo off the ground.

“Ahaha no!” Tivwo laughed.

“Alright, now you’re the chaser,” Walter said as he laid her down.

“Nope!” she said. “You forgot to pinch your nose!”

The other kids cheered in agreement, and Walter good-naturedly went along.

“Tivwo, come wash the dirt off before we eat!” Turum called.

The other children ran off as well; their mother’s calling for them to do the same. A couple attempted to run away, but Walter scooped them up and took them back.

“Now, you know better than to disobey your parents,” Walter lightly scolded.

“You wash up too, young man,” an old woman said. She held out a wet cloth. “No one wants dirt on the fish.”

Walter grabbed the cloth, wrinkling his nose for a moment when the smell of saltwater assaulted him. The kids laughed at his face, then took their rags and wiped forearm to hand. Walter followed suit, scrubbing himself clean for the feast.

Simple tables had been set up around the communal fireplace, on which various dishes were placed. A large soup pot sat on top of the fire, the smell of fish and vegetables wafting from it. Casks of alcohol were rolled out as well, with one particularly old vintage. For special occasions, according to the Elder.

A child grabbed Walter's hand and pulled him toward the food. Walter allowed himself to be dragged along, smiling at the kid’s jovial nature. This was a nice village, filled with content people.

The party started with a speech from the Elder.

“Ahem! Everyone, I want to thank the illustrious knights for helping us out in our time of need. May the kingdom ever prosper!”

“May the kingdom ever prosper!” the villagers toasted, though there was a tinge of melancholy to it. Walter didn’t notice; he was too preoccupied with the children explaining to him the various dishes.

“This one has Redfish and Bitterroot,” a child explained. “Only the adults like it.”

Walter nodded along, his godly senses translating the language directly. Many of the fish were described by the color of their scales and if not that, then by another trait. The children introduced Walter to stir-fried Redfish, steamed Bluefish, minced Landfish, and a myriad of other fish along with vegetables like Sweetleaf, Spiceseed, and Waterstem.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Vwalta!” Tivwo shouted. “Come try this!”

Walter laughed as the kids pushed Walter along, serving him food and drink. Walter tasted all the aforementioned foods along with various meads and alcohols. He even got to sip some of the old wine stored in the cask. Walter found he didn’t have to worry about drunkenness, and so he let himself get carried away. Soon, the party became a festival of drunken dancing and singing, the villagers putting together an impromptu band with driftwood sticks and hollow drums.

The children laughed and circled the fire, their parents on the outside performing more intricate dances. Walter was pulled into some of them, but his two left feet had him sitting on the sidelines soon enough.

Two left feet didn’t stop others, however, and Walter watched as the Elder danced around the villagers like a chicken with his head cut off. He held a carved cup in one hand that sloshed what looked to be the vintage wine.

“The man’s gone and got himself wasted,” Walter laughed under his breath.

“A rather shameful look for the leader of a village,” the knight commander said.

Walter started. “Sorry! I didn’t notice you next to me.”

The knight nodded, his armor clinking from the action. “Good to see you are enjoying the party.”

“It’s a nice gesture,” Walter said. “The villagers need some hope.”

“I find it best to give hope once threats are gone,” the knight replied.

“Perhaps,” Walter admitted. “But I don’t think it’s wrong to take happiness where you can find it.”

“Fine words,” the knight replied. “You must come from somewhere with education. The other knights have a bet you come from across the seas. Scholars regularly pass through the kingdoms. We do not hunt them like the Pantheon does.”

“You could say that,” Walter answered vaguely. “How high is the betting pool?”

“Only a few coin,” the commander answered. “No one under my command bets more than what they can.”

The two men stood watching the festivities for a while, before the commander spoke up once more.

“I want you to know, I am grateful for your help. Not many with power like yours would help a small village like this.”

Walter scratched his cheek, embarrassed by the praise. “I mean, I’m not heartless enough to leave a nice place like this to the mercy of those that would cause them harm.”

“All the same,” the commander said.

“You make it sound like no one wanted to help this village,” Walter replied.

“No one did,” the commander answered. “This town is out of the way, at the edge of the kingdom and one of many that sends fish inland. Few care about such places.”

“Then why are you here?” Walter asked.

“Because I took an oath,” the commander answered simply.

Walter opened his mouth to pry, only to get distracted by a yawning Tivwo walking up to him.

“Have you seen mama?” she asked.

Walter looked around. Turum wasn’t near the fires dancing with the other women, nor near the tables where many kids were trying to fit one more morsel of food in their mouths. She wasn’t next to the alcohol either.

“Could she be back home?” Walter asked.

Tivwo shook her head. “I already looked. Can you help me find her?”

The knight commander nodded. “I will look. You stay here with the others.”

Walter caught the knight’s dark expression and understood. He thought the daemons appeared.

“I’ll help too,” Walter said, patting Flipper to alert him.

“I want to help!” Tivwo urged.

Walter bent down and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I want you to wait at home, just in case Turum shows up. Okay?”

Tivwo stared hard at Walter. “Can you keep her safe?”

Walter turned to look past the girl at the dancing villagers. He focused, tapping into his soul vision and scanning. Tivwo gasped. Unbeknownst to Walter, his eyes had changed to deep pools of still water.

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Walter said.

Walter stood and continued to scan for Turum’s soul. His vision pierced through huts and roamed past the reveling villagers. Flashes of their emotion passed through Walter. He felt their desperate attempt to drown their anxieties and their hope in the knight’s protection. He felt the children’s sense of discomfort and the knight’s steely resolve in the face of what they felt to be death. He felt Tivwo’s concern for her mother, and her awe at Walter.

The fledgling god continued to look across the village, until he finally stopped on two souls, both familiar. One was Turum’s soul, and Walter felt disgust radiating from the woman. Disgust, then fear.

Before he knew it, Walter was running past the villagers toward the feeling. Something was happening, to Tivwo’s mother. He looked at the other soul as he ran, this one was less familiar, but it was that of a villager’s. A perverse feeling of pleasure from the soul assaulted Walter, and he shuddered at the feeling.

It was a sick feeling of control that radiated from the soul, a feeling that warped every other emotion.

A spike of pain from Turum’s soul pushed Walter to run harder. He was past the houses now and running toward the docks where the fisherman anchored their boats. He jumped off the slightly raised dock onto the sandy beach below as another spike of pain, this one from the other soul, ran through Walter.

Another spike of pain came from Turum’s soul, and Walter urged himself to run faster. He could see an outcropping now and underneath were the two souls. Turum’s disgust had changed to sorrow, which mixed with the fear and became despair. Another feeling struck Walter as he rounded the corner, the despair was pushed out by longing.

And then Walter felt death as he saw the two in front of him.

Walter froze at the sight.

Tushen stood over Turum, the woman’s battered and bent. A fish knife sat embedded in her chest, spilling a dark blue ichor Walter could only assume was blood. A small ray of moonlight glinted on the knife, washing the outcropping in white waves. It was almost like a painting, but paintings could never look so real.

As he continued to stare, more of the scene came clear to Walter. Turum’s clothes were torn and scattered, and Tushen had blood spatters on his knuckles. Another trickle of blood ran down the man’s lip.

Walter gasped in horror, and Tushen whirled in surprise.

“What?” the man asked, his words slurred from drunkenness. “How are you here?”