Lou had finished exploring his small chapel after Mrs. Karen Hinterland’s departure with little enthusiasm; primarily because there was so little to discover. The vestry had been left with a changing screen, a lectern, a desk, and that was all. The thirteen framed pictures of the gods that tradition dictated should be hung in the private space had been forgotten. Though with the stained glass masterpiece in the chapel, Lou wasn’t terribly upset about it.

As he exited the chapel and locked the doors behind himself, his mind turned to the empty house that awaited him, and Lou began to idly wonder if there were any shovels or hoes the previous owners had left, when he rounded to his cart and found a tall auburn haired man stroking his pony’s mane.

“Hello?” Lou called out, stopping in his tracks.

The stranger glanced over his shoulder in Lou’s direction, but didn’t say anything in response to his greeting.

Lifting an eyebrow, Lou strode up to the man's side, a tickling annoyance starting in his chest. “Can I help you?”

Upon closer inspection, the monk found that the stranger had a scar striking down the side of his jaw, though it was nearly hidden by the several days of scruff on his cheeks.

“Fine animal you have here,” he said while continuing to stroke the pony’s velvety gray nose.

“Thank you. I’m leaving for the day now, but is there something you need…?” Lou looked at the man’s black vest, worn white shirt, and dusty pants. He did hard labor, that much was obvious… especially if his muscular arms and shoulders were anything to go by.

“You’re the new monk, I take it?” he asked ambiguously, his words almost drowned out by the bustling street behind the pony and cart.

“I am. You may call me Brother Lou, and what might your name be?”

The stranger’s eyes slid briefly to the monk before looking back to the animal in front of him.

“Name is Oliver Kelly. I’m from one of the old resident families.”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Kelly.” Lou held out his hand, but Oliver merely smirked at it as he finally turned toward him while crossing his arms over his chest.

His amber eyes were flinty, and intelligent.

“Are you going to try and mediate things between us old residents and the new?”

Lou dropped his neglected hand and gradually straightened his shoulders- though that didn’t help him much. Despite being a reasonable five feet eleven inches, Oliver Kelly had to have been close to six foot four.

“I can’t say that it has been at the forefront of my mind, but a few people have already mentioned it to me,” Lou replied while trying to sound at ease.

Oliver leaned forward, his brows lowering and a wolf-like smile curling his lips, making his eyes glint. “Ignore them. You won’t be changing things. The new residents are Polate worshippers that only want to serve themselves.”

Lou recognized the casual threat in Oliver’s words, and as a result, a tingling sensation rushed up his spine and down his fingers.

Oh no. No, no no no. I will not let whatever barbaric violent reaction Reckish wants from me to happen!

Taking a slow breath in, Lou released it with what he hoped was a peaceful smile.

“Mr. Kelly, Polate is still a god, and there is nothing wrong with people resonating with him. Even if he is considered the lowest of the higher powers and represents wealth. Wealth does not always equate to material greed. It could be a wealth of company. A wealth of luck.”

Oliver scoffed before shaking his head and turning away. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep your holy nose out of our business.”

“I don’t even know what business you're talking about!” Lou grumbled exasperatedly, his irritation bleeding through his restraint.

Oliver rounded back and stared in open surprise at the monk’s reaction before giving a huff of disbelief.

“You won’t last long here. Besides, you look too young to manage the spiritual needs of a military town.”

“Oh for the- I’m older than you are. What are you? Twenty-seven?”

“Twenty-three,” Oliver responded while subtly jutting his chin out.

Lou eyed Oliver Kelly for a second to take stock of his appearance. He already had the beginning lines around his mouth and the corners of his eyes, as though a few years older, but it was not uncommon for those who worked in the elements to age faster.

“Threatening a monk… you aren’t representing the old residents well, Mr. Kelly,” Lou found himself leaning toward the young man, his blood beginning to roar in his ears.

“A green monk like you can’t do much anyway. Pander to the new residents all you like, just stay out of our way, or you’ll have to meet the rest of my kin and hear what they have to say.” Oliver’s derisive tone made Lou’s hand itch.

BE CALM, LOU! CALM! DON’T LET RECKISH USE YOU LIKE THIS!

Lou rolled his eyes and turned back to his pony. He was struggling to quell the rush of power he felt brewing in his belly.

“We’ll see about that.”

Snatching the pony’s reins from the post, Lou rounded the animal, stepped up into his cart, and hastily seated himself in the driver’s bench.

“Good day, Mr. Kelly.”

As the cart’s wheels clacked into motion and made its way back into the throng of curious onlookers, Oliver stared after the monk with a knowing grin.

“Sorry, Brother Lou, but even the gods wouldn’t have an easy time handling the Kelly family.”

***

The second day Lou awoke in Oxby, his heart pounded in the silence.

Why?

Sitting up slowly, he looked around the loft and recognized that the sky had only just begun to lighten. Rubbing his eyes, he debated for a moment whether or not he’d be able to get back to sleep, when it dawned on him what had made him feel so restless.

Normally he would’ve already been finishing breakfast and heading to the chapel to sing as the sun rose.

He had woken up, because after seven years in the Belhae monastery, he had been conditioned to be awake or face the gentle yet guilt-inducing reprimand from Abbott Carrey. Though the promise of being a part of making beautiful music was all the motivation Lou had ever needed. Brother Sills had been in charge of the training and organizing the monks in their sections and selecting the hymns for them to both practice and perform for their masses. Lou had been a respectable baritone, and while not the most talented singer, he could carry a tune.

Fond memories drifted through his mind, but as he gradually made his way back to the present, felt that same chill he had experienced the previous morning settle back in his chest.

I need to start a choir soon…

Lou swung his legs over the edge of his bed, shoving any unhelpful thoughts to the back of his mind. There was plenty to do and getting up early was a great way to get as much done as possible.

He had been too aggravated after his encounter with Oliver Kelly the day before, and so he hadn’t been able to locate gardening tools like he had hoped. The previous owners had not left anything behind it seemed, meaning it was up to Lou to acquire them on his own.

“Right… well, no time like the present,” he announced to no one in particular as he stood and stretched.

After completing his morning prayers to Zeviras, the monk made his way downstairs where the basket Karen Hinterland had given him rested on the rickety cooking table.

Helping himself to a buttery scone, Lou let out a breath of pleasure, and relished in his stresses falling away with the crumbs of his pastry.

Every town was going to have one or two people intent on bullying the populace. No use getting upset over what was a certainty in life.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Striding out of the house with renewed optimism, Lou made his way over to the trough he had filled the night before for his pony, and whistled. The sound of plodding hooves came shortly after, giving Lou time to retrieve the bridle and reins from the iron hook on the wall.

Once he had hitched the pony and mounted his cart, Lou took it upon himself to begin whistling a jaunty tune while traveling into Oxby.

When he passed by the guards, they nodded and waved while both yawning; the sun had only just begun to creep over the horizon. The few people who were already milling about early in the morning were too tired to bother sparing their new monk a second of their time. This made it all the more enjoyable for the monk, as he was able to greet people with a friendly nod and not worry about being forced into idle chit chat. He noted several of the townspeople seemed to be entering their shops, their store bells tinkling in the quiet as they set to prepare for the day ahead before the rest of the world joined them. It was this detail that should have been Lou’s first clue when he arrived at the blacksmith shop that the business would not be open yet.

“Hm,” Lou peered around disheartened. “May as well explore the town a little more while I wait.”

Clicking his tongue and slapping the reins, his cart lurched back into motion, though he slowed down his pace as they traveled down the freshly cobbled streets to better survey the different shops and homes.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever traveled down roads this new before… it’s far bumpier than I thought they’d be,” Lou murmured idly to his pony while noting an impressive bird house that was painted and modeled as an exact replica of the small cottage that sported it on their fence post.

A small dove briefly poked its head out of the house, making Lou smile.

“That’s a fine feathered fellow wouldn’t you say?” he looked to his pony, and watched the dark ears twitch in his direction.

He had yet to name the pony, and while he felt guilty over not giving the reliable steed a proper name, had done so because of one simple fact…

Lou was awful at naming things.

He had once been asked to name one of the chickens that they had acquired at the monastery, and he had chosen the name Carrey.

After his abbot.

He hadn’t thought it through.

Though he understood precisely why the name was in bad taste when it came time for Carrey the chicken to be turned into their evening meal, and Abbott Carrey had to excuse himself from the coop with an awkward clearing of his throat.

They didn’t end up eating Carrey the chicken.

And they didn’t ask Lou to name anything again.

Turning his mind back to more pleasant matters, Lou started to think again on how he would construct his garden.

He was well hidden in his copse of trees, but perhaps he could find a way to clear a tree or two and at the very least gain partial sun to grow some leafy varieties like spinach, or kale…

It was amongst thoughts of soil drainage that Lou made a turn down an older road that was still packed dirt instead of stone, that a fluttering rush through his entire body alerted him that something was off. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood straight, prompting Lou to grip the reins tightly. He hadn’t had such a sensation before…

His heart began to pound in his chest the farther his pony moved down the road that only had older homes with a low stone wall on the left hand side, whereas the right was open to rolling misty fields. However the adrenaline that was soaring through him was becoming unbearable, until at last, he noticed his pony’s ears flatten back.

He pulled his cart to a stop.

“Whoever you are, come out.”

Lou had only tried saying such a thing out of desperation.

He hadn’t quite been anticipating the six men that emerged around him.

“Good to see you again, Brother Lou.”

The monk’s head snapped round to look at Oliver Kelly who had casually vaulted the low wall on his left.

As the other men drew closer, it became apparent that they were all related to Oliver. They all were towering in height, and impressively strong with the same auburn hair and a variety of scars over their faces and beings.

Despite their sizes they moved with impressive nimbleness as they closed in on the cart and pony.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Kelly?” Lou’s gaze cut to the young man he had met the day before.

“Well, we were just out tending our fields when we saw you rolling by, Brother,” another man answered Lou’s question, which drew the monk’s eyes over to the speaker who must have been the patriarch of the brood. He had thinned strawberry blond hair atop his head, and his face was heavily weathered, but his eyes… oh his eyes were remarkable. Shimmering pale blue with dark streaks through them. There was depth and mystery, and it took very little light to make them awe-striking.

Lou smiled at him, making the patriarch tilt his head over his shoulder, his true feelings masked.

“I was waiting for your local blacksmith to open and thought I’d explore the town while I waited. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, I’m Brother Lou,” the monk explained as he set his reins down and climbed down out of the cart.

He wouldn’t show them his trepidation. He had found maintaining a casual air during such times to be helpful in lessening tensions…

“Name’s Patrick Kelly.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Patrick Kelly,” Lou offered his hand to the head of the Kelly family.

Patrick’s arms were folded across his chest, and he regarded Lou’s offered hand passively.

“So, Brother Lou, what business do you have with our blacksmith, Mr. Kenneth Brock?” Oliver had come up silently behind Lou and clapped a massive hand around his shoulder, forcing the monk to drop his offered palm back to his side.

Lou slowly turned his head to peer up at the young man who was grinning down at him, wrangling with all his might against the urge to scowl over the unwelcome touch.

“I’m in need of gardening tools.”

“Gardening tools you say?” Patrick’s face stretched into a cold smile, his response called back Lou’s attention to him. “Well we happen to have some spare ones. We’d give ‘em to you for a fair price.”

Oliver frowned at his father who didn’t bother looking at his son, his blue eyes remaining fixed on the monk.

“I can’t impose on you, but I appreciate the offer,” Lou gently pushed Oliver’s hand from his shoulder.

“Won’t be a bother. Three copper and we’ll get you a shovel and a hoe. They’ve got some rust but you won’t mind that sort of thing, will you?”

Lou continued eyeing the man. Something was wrong. There was an antagonistic air about Patrick Kelly and his sons, but three coppers wasn’t enough of an amount to take exception to.

“Well if it isn’t an issue for you, I’d appreciate the tools.”

Patrick smiled and revealed a missing eyetooth on his right side. “Aye, no issue for me. Come along then, Brother Lou. Our barn is just over this hill here.”

Lou nodded, and turned toward his pony to use the reins to guide him over the grassy slope to the barn, only to find the very solid chest of Oliver Kelly blocking his way.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kelly,” Lou looked up into the young man’s hardened face while resisting the humming in his body that thirsted for confrontation and conflict… for violence…

After a moment of Oliver’s amber eyes studying his father behind the monk, he finally scoffed and stepped aside with a small mocking bow to the monk that was not lost on Lou.

Taking a deep breath in, the monk noted that the rest of the Kelly men were all donning similar troubling expressions, as though they all had formed a plot against him without uttering a word...

There was nothing Lou could do, however, and so, he guided his cart and pony through the misty fields towards the Kelly family’s barn, silently praying to Zeviras that he wasn’t about to be wolloped by the village thug family.