“Questions? Yeah, we do have them. A lot, in fact,” Penny says, as a matter-of-factly. She places her hands on her lap, and she sits with her back flush against the backrest of her chair. “For starters, this city is called Beville, right?”

Mavell nods. “That’s right. Beville is the only settlement you’ll find for miles, for the disease has already claimed most communities beyond our walls.”

“Was this disease caused by the Horseman?”

“Indeed, it was. Surely, you must have noticed the bodies littered about the city,” Mavell says. “Those are the corpses of those who have succumbed to the infection spread by the Horseman. We have yet to do our daily cleaning today.”

“Wait, so those people only died… today?” Penny gulps.

“That is the case. The pestilence has claimed the lives of many. Our friends, our family, our kin. It certainly is a blight upon our humble city.”

“Is there any cure?” Ren asks. “You said that if the person is in the first few stages of the disease, they have hope, right?”

Mavell drops his gaze. “I did say that, yes. We have had researched this for over half a century, but the only cure that we know as of yet is the extract of a particular flower.”

It’s just a hunch, but… “Is it a Duskbell, by any chance?”

Mavell’s eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“I heard it from… from someone. The little kid that came with us told me.”

“I see.” Mavell hums. “You are correct in that the extract of the Duskbell is the only cure that we can properly prepare and administer to patients in the first stage of the Blight without adverse reactions. However, procuring the flower is a rather tedious process, and we usually do not have enough to give out to everyone.”

“Why?” Penny asks. “It’s just a flower, right? Can’t you grow it?”

Mavell shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. The Duskbell grows and blooms only under the right conditions—conditions that are only fulfilled on the summit of a certain mountain.”

“And it’s only there that the Duskbell grows?” Ren asks.

“Yes. It’s not far from here,” Mavell says. “It is a treacherous journey. The passage is riddled with monsters, and lots of other environmental hazards. I have lost one too many men to that accursed tundra.”

“So, it’s across the tundra?” Penny asks.

Mavell nods. “The Northern tundra, that is. On the other side of the city where I found you.”

“Well, about these Duskbells…” Ren scratches. “I did find some in, well, the temple. The one with the kids.”

“You mean Hal’s army?”

“Yeah. They were using Duskbells as some preparation ritual or something,” Ren says. “One of the kids was telling me about how it could protect you from the infection.”

Mavell frowns. “I see. I thank you for that information.”

“And why’s that?” Penny asks.

“Well, you see,” Mavell says. “Whilst we have been making periodic trips to the mountain in order to obtain the flowers every month, there has been a severe shortage recently. We would brave the dangers, ascend the summit, only to find a near-barren field.”

Penny squirms in her seat. “You mean, the kids have been stealing all the flowers?”

Mavell nods. “Indeed, they have. It must be by Hal’s command, too. He is their leader, after all.”

“Who’s this Hal, anyway?” Ren asks. Tiv mentioned him as well, back when they infiltrated the temple, but Ren has never seen him. “I mean, other than being the kids’ leader.”

Mavell clears his throat. “He used to work here, in the Tower. But perhaps he was disillusioned with the lifestyle, or perhaps he went mad. One day, he simply left. Without warning, without any message at all.”

“Do you know that he’s colluding with the Horseman?” Penny inquires.

“Of course. It didn’t take long to find his new home, and his base of operations, since it’s so near town.”

“And what about the children? Were they kidnapped?”

“That’s what we find strange,” Mavell says. “There have been no reports whatsoever of children disappearing from homes. I cannot begin to imagine where he had gotten them from.”

Ren frowns. He’s right—where did the children come from, then? According to Mavell, Beville is the only town for miles. The Horseman doesn’t have the power to beam them into existence, does he? Probably not—this isn’t a sci-fi flick after all—but what does Ren know?

“Now, to save your friend, I suppose we would need the Duskbell extract. However, our supply has been running low as of late,” Mavell says. “You say that the children have been stockpiling on Duskbells?”

Ren shakes his head. “I mean, I only saw a few stalks. I’m not sure how many they have, actually. It might not be enough.”

Mavell frowns. “Then I suppose we would have to make that trip up to the mountain, and pray that Hal’s army has not gotten to the prize before we do.”

A trip to the mountain, hmm? It doesn’t sound like they have a choice. Vane’s health, and other Beville citizens’, hangs in the balance.

“All right,” Mavell says. “The excursion is scheduled for tomorrow. It will take approximately two days to return with the Duskbells. I think, during that time, your friend’s condition would not deteriorate.”

Ren’s shoulders sag as the tension leaves his body, and Penny breathes a sigh of relief. She peers up at Mavell. “Let us accompany you on the quest for Duskbells.”

Mavell shakes his head. “It is not very… hospitable to ask guests to come with us—”

“It’s for our friend. We’d very much like to help to retrieve the flowers as well,” Penny presses. “Please, let us come along.”

“We can fight too,” Ren says. “So, we’re not going to be burdens or anything.”

Mavell seems to consider this for a moment, before ducking his head and answering, “I suppose to have escaped from Hal’s army mostly unscathed is a testament to your ability. Those children have been trained by the man himself, and are, perhaps, even better at combat than the average guard.”

“So, you’ll let us come along?” Penny asks.

“Yes, if you would like to,” Mavell replies. He clasps his fingers in front of him. “I will arrange for your accommodations, and I will send a guard to alert you when we are ready to depart.” He stands, and Penny and Ren follow suit. He heads out the door, and they take off after him.

Looks like they’re heading out back into the frozen tundra again tomorrow, Ren thinks, as they descend the spiral staircase. Back out into the snow and raging blizzards. But for now, he’s going to bask in all the warmth that Mavell’s lodgings would provide.

First, they’re going to have to fetch Gridel from the hospital. And Tiv, if the boy has regained consciousness.

*

“Please, make yourself at home.”

Mavell shows them—Ren, Penny, Tiv and Gridel—to a rather large house in downtown Beville, looking almost like a mansion. It’s made entirely of stone, windows carved into its sides, grey pillars holding up its four corners. It is surrounded by a tall, stone wall, its tops lined with spears of gold. Past the large, iron gate is a cobblestone path leading right to its front door, flanked with hedges covered in snow.

“This is… amazing.” Penny places her hands on her hips, head raised and marvelling at the sheer size of it. “Is it really all for us?”

Mavell nods. “Yes. It is vacant at present, because the occupants… met with untimely ends.”

Oh. Ren should have figured. Penny’s face falls, and Mavell is quick to respond.

“Of course, the area has been cleaned and purified with the scent of Duskbells. There is no need to worry about infection whilst staying here.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Mavell turns the key in the lock and opens the door, revealing a sparsely-decorated sitting room, complete with a coffee table and simple couches facing it. A small fireplace stands at the far end of the room, between two sets of staircases ascending in opposite directions, leading to a hallway on the second floor. The bedrooms, and other amenities, must be up there.

“I will need to go back and tend to my duties for now,” Mavell says, and he drops the key into Penny’s hand. “If you require my services, do inform the guard at the Tower that you are my guest.”

“Will do,” Penny says. With that, Mavell leaves, and shuts the door. Ren turns back to the room before him, where Gridel has wandered over to the fireplace, and Tiv is seated on the couch, arms folded, and pouting. Penny moves to sit beside him, and attempts to engage in conversation, whilst Ren meanders over to the fireplace. He conjures a small flame on the tip of his finger, and he flicks it into the wood.

The wood burns majestically, granting them heat that Ren can sit in front for ages, chasing the cold from their bones. He turns back to where Tiv and Penny are seated. Tiv is refusing to speak, instead turning away whenever Penny tries to talk to him.

“So, uh…” Ren scratches his head, not quite sure how to approach this topic. “Why did you attack me back at the temple?”

Tiv glares at him with narrowed eyes, and Ren stiffens.

“Answer the question,” Gridel demands.

Tiv harrumphs. “Why should I?”

“Because you quite possibly tried to kill our friend, and we want to know why.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

“Then what were you doing?” Penny asks, her tone soft.

“Well, he was going to die, but I wasn’t actually trying to kill him or anything,” Tiv says. “I was just gonna, um…” His face goes red, and he catches himself. “Nope, I’m not going to say any more.”

“Let me guess,” Ren says, holding up a finger. “And you tell me whether I’m right or wrong.”

Tiv furrows his brows. “Okay. But you’re never going to guess it.”

Ren smiles, despite the situation. If he looks back on their interactions, between Tiv and the other children, the answer is quite obvious. “You were trying to capture both myself and Gridel so that Wax and Zane would accept you back into the community, right?”

Tiv’s jaw drops. “How did you—?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Wait, so…” Penny starts, tilting her head, confusion written all over her face. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Tiv has been an outcast, apparently. Maybe the other children don’t like him,” Gridely says, thumbing her chin. “Perhaps that’s why he sought to prove himself, by delivering the other people whom his compatriots failed to capture.”

Tiv stares at the ground. “Yeah, you’re right. They hate me because I’m the weakest. And I can’t do anything right. I thought that if I could… if I—” Tiv sniffles, his shoulders shaking. “I thought that if I could bring you guys to them, then they wouldn’t say that I’m useless.”

A sob escapes his lips, and Ren can’t help but feel sorry for him. Would Tiv have been hailed a hero if his plan worked? Did they just…?

Tiv hiccups. “You probably hate me too. I tried to give you up to Wax and Zane and Hal, and… and… You’re probably going to kill me…”

“We’re not,” Gridel says, kneeling before him on one knee. “Even though I should, since you did try to murder us.”

Tiv looks up at her with watery, red-rimmed eyes, asking a simple question: Why? And Gridel answers, as if she could read his mind.

“Because we struck a deal. We made a promise to keep you safe from those children,” she says, “and I’m going to uphold that promise.”

Tiv bites his lip, ducking his head once more. It is then that Ren hears a growl, the noise loud in the silence of the room. Is that…?

Penny raises a hand. “Oops, sorry, that’s me.”

“Well, let’s go get some food now, shall we? I’m sure there are dining establishments open at this time,” Gridel says. “You… do have money, don’t you?”

“We did get some from Calysso, but I’m not sure they use the same currencies here,” Ren says. Betty had given them some money, as a parting gift, but Ren hadn’t considered that problem.

“No harm in trying.” Penny turns to Tiv. “Come on. You must be hungry too. Let’s go get some chow.”

Tiv hops to his feet, wiping at his eyes, and accompanies Penny out of the door with dragged feet and slumped shoulders.

“Get us something, yeah?” Ren calls, and Penny flashes him a thumbs-up.

Gridel watches as they leave, and she gestures at the door. “Are you not following them?”

“Nah,” Ren says. “I’m gonna go visit Vane. Say, do you know if Claymore’s with him?”

“It was,” Gridel says. “Last I saw, it was on his bedside.” She frowns, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It was, for lack of a better phrase, in a worrying state.”

Right. It was.

“What do you intend to do with it?”

“Vane told me that there’s a blacksmith here who could fix it.”

“A blacksmith…” Gridel nods. “I see. Beville is big, however. If you wouldn’t mind, I could go with you. However, I would like to find an apothecary or a sundry shop, and restock on herbs and supplies first.”

Ren isn’t sure whether she’d be able to, considering that most of the medicines are probably used in the hospitals. Still, it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine on my own,” Ren says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Ren raises Ifrit. “I can literally conjure fire out of nothing.”

They part ways in front of the house, with Gridel heading down what looks to be Beville’s high street, and Ren making his way to the hospital at the edge of town.

*

“His condition has stabilised. We’ve put him on Duskbell extract, and he should be fully recovered over the next few days,” a doctor says. “Well, that is if the Duskbell Extract supply lasts…”

Ren nods. “I see. I heard Captain Mavell is planning an excursion to the mountains to gather some.”

“Well, there is no guarantee that they would be able to retrieve any of the Duskbells. After all, there’s been a shortage recently. However, we will continue to provide the best care that we can for this patient, by Captain Mavell’s orders.”

By his orders? That phrasing doesn’t feel quite right to Ren, but it could be just him. The doctor scurries off, probably to attend to other matters, and Ren turns back to his companion. He’s rarely ever seen Vane so vulnerable… now that he thinks about it, he’s never really seen Vane fast asleep much either. A needle is pricked into Vane’s vein, delivering to him the life support, a lilac-coloured liquid in a bag, that he needs to keep the disease at bay. Whilst his expression may be that of peace now, Ren can only imagine the pain that the blight wrought upon him back in that temple.

Wait for them. They’ll be back soon with the Extract.

Ren spots the broken sword resting on the counter, its edge as jagged as ever. Hopefully, he’d be able to find this blacksmith—was his name Ripwael?—and return this sword to its former glory. He weighs it in his hand—it’s much lighter than he thought it was, given its previous size.

“Sorry, Vane. I’m gonna be borrowing this for a while. I promise I won’t be long.”

Vane doesn’t respond, and Ren didn’t quite expect him to. He turns and leaves, heading out the door and stepping out once more into the snowy roads of Beville.

*

Ripwael’s Blacksmithing isn’t hard to find, not after asking around the several shops on the high street. It is located at the end of the road, near the northern entrance of Beville, beside Viskal’s Apothecary.

So, it isn’t much of a surprise that when Ren walks by the apothecary, the door swings opens and Gridel emerges from within. Empty-handed, that is.

“Hey.” Ren waves in greeting. Gridel acknowledges him with a nod. “How goes the shopping?”

“Their monthly supply of medicines has not been coming in,” Gridel says, a hint of frustration in her tone. “I could not procure what we had used.”

“You mean the painkillers?”

“Pain… killers?” Gridel presses her lips together. “I suppose, if that’s what you call analgesics.”

Ren has no idea what that word means. “Where do they get their supply, anyway? I thought Beville’s the only city for—”

“For miles, yes. As it turns out, there’s another village to the northeast of here, which plants and harvests medicinal herbs that they sell to the apothecaries here, but for some reason, the supply carts haven’t been coming in.”

“Could something have happened at that village?”

“Maybe,” Gridel says with a shrug. “We could head on over there once we’ve settled our business here and see what the fuss is all about.”

Sounds like a plan.

“Are you on your way to see the blacksmith?”

Ren nods, holding out the broken Claymore. “Yeah. I was told that it’s…” His gaze darts over to the shop just beside the apothecary, where Ripwael’s is located. The sign affixed to the shopfront does indeed carry Ripwael’s name, but it appears to have fallen into disrepair, hanging crookedly from where it’s nailed, the words faded till it’s almost invisible.

“Oh. I didn’t think that it was so near. I hadn’t noticed it when I first arrived.” Gridel folds her arms. “Well, shall we go in?”

Ren pushes the door open, the bell hung over the top of the door jingling as they enter. The whole place appears to be in a mess, filled with messy shelves, and racks stacked with weapons. A couple of damaged anvils lie in a heap by the entrance, clearly meant to be disposed of.

Tinkering with a blade in the centre of the room, hammer smashing down on the red-hot blade, is an elderly man, with a thin singlet thrown over his torso and flaring pants, his beard tied up in a bowtie and slung over his shoulder.

“Uh… Mr Ripwael?” Ren tries.

The man looks up at them, eyeing them with suspicion. “That’s me. Who’re you?”

“We’re travellers who’ve just arrived in Beville,” Gridel supplies. “We request your services in fixing a sword.”

“A sword? You mean that?” Ripwael asks, gesturing at the broken Claymore.

“Yeah. This.”

The blacksmith puts his forging equipment aside, and he holds out a hand. “Give it here.”

Ren hands him the sword. Ripwael squints at it, fingers clenched tight around the grip. “Well,” the blacksmith says, “looks like the soul’s still around. By a thread, I’ll have you know.”

“So, can it be fixed?”

“Give me about a day or two,” Ripwael says, placing the blade on the floor. “I’ve got—”

He coughs, and Ren goes rigid when he sees the splatter of blood flying from his mouth and onto the stone tiles. That symptom, Ren knows it all too well.

“Is that…?” Ren starts.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ripwael says. “Something as small as this can’t get me down.”

“You should be getting treatment for your illness, sir,” Gridel says. “If you keep working in your condition—”

“Bah!” Ripwael harrumphs. “You think the doctors are just gonna give me the medicine? I don’t have a single coin to spend on them.”

“But… they can’t just leave you to die, right?” Ren persists.

Ripwael barks out a laugh. “Have you seen the other people they let die? Out on the streets. All dead. No money to buy any medicines or anything, so the government doesn’t care. They only care about their gold pieces.” He extends a hand. “Right, before you go, it’s a hundred and fifty gold pieces.”

“A hundred and fifty,” Ren repeats. He is about to reach for the pouch on his belt when Gridel dredges up the money from her own. She drops it into his waiting palm, and Ripwael pockets it. “Off you go. I’ll see you in another two days.”

He goes back to his work, slamming that hammer down again and again on the blade, having turned his back to them. Ren meets Gridel’s uncertain gaze. There’s nothing else they can do here, and so, they turn and leave.

Once outside, embraced by the cold once more, Ren wraps his arms around his stomach, hoping to preserve as much warmth as possible. “You think that they’re only giving out medicine to the rich?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Gridel says. “If demand exceeds supply, then prices are bound to rise.”

“But what about those who can’t afford it? They don’t deserve to live?”

“There must be a distinguishing factor,” Gridel points out. “Wealth just so happens to be that factor. How else would you decide to whom we shall give the Duskbell Extracts to, then?”

“Well…” She’s got a point, one that he cannot quite argue against. Instead, he drops it, voice trailing off.

“All we can really do now, is to go get some of that Duskbell Extract,” Gridel says. “I think Penny should have returned with Tiv, so let’s see what’s for dinner tonight.”

Dinner sounds good. Ren and Gridel make their way back down high street, headed for the residential district. Back to a warm house and, hopefully, piping hot food.