The golden hue painted in the sky as the sun began to set is a commonly used timetell for when those working outside would return home, much like Alise’s husband who used to work the fields. And though it is a time of year when her husband is no longer working the field, she still feels a bit empty knowing that her husband would no longer walk through the front door ever again. So it especially startled her when she heard the creak of the front door, causing her to immediately whip her head towards the sound.

  There, underneath the door frame, instead of her husband, she found her young son—covered in dirt and grime with a stick in hand. She had completely forgotten that her son stayed outside to play with some of the other children.

  Alise let out a sigh of relief and brought a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. Once she calmed herself down and the tension left her body, she went back to stirring the pot in front of her so as to not burn the stew cooking inside.

  “Welcome back, Gale.”

  She can hear the door close and footsteps approaching her as her son makes his way to her side. While keeping her hand moving, she turned her head to face her son now beside her.

  “Were you playing soldiers with the other children?”

  Gale turns his head and looks up to meet her eyes before replying with a nod.

  “Did you have fun?”

  A brief silence followed before the boy tilted his head a little, seemingly not quite catching the question.

  “Well, did you… win?”

  Gale nodded.

  “And is that your sword?”

  The boy brought the stick in his hand up and inspected it briefly before replying with another nod.

  Alise smiled and brought her idle hand towards Gale’s head, and gave it a slight pat. It’s a little damp and grimy, probably since he was just out running and swinging a makeshift sword around. Since his body is also covered in dirt and grime, he’d probably need a quick wipe before dinner.

  Seeing as her pot of stew had already thicken somewhat, she decided to set it aside to simmer for now. With a deep breath and using a thick cloth to fight the heat, she grabbed the pot’s handle and lifted it up with a tad too much force that caused the stew inside to stir about a little. Seems like she had yet to get used to cooking food for one less person.

  Once she had the pot full of stew brought over to the trivet by the fire, she brought another pot over, filled with water, to warm up.

  “Let’s have a bath before dinner, hm?”

  Her son nodded.

  With the warm water, she wiped the dirt and grime on her son and washed him. Running her hand through, she can feel the rough patches on him where scars had formed even through the wet cloth.

  Her own body is not perfectly smooth. The royals and nobility living in large towns might have enough leisure to keep their skin healthy, but living in a rural village is rough in many more ways than one. The slightest tumble she had as a child, or maybe at times when her husband would treat her just a little too rough, and even the recent incident where she was sent flying when the wagon she was on went bottom side up left history all over her body.

  But even then, she couldn’t imagine the pain her young son must have gone through for all these scars to wound up on him. Both the rugged cut from dull steel on his shoulder and the flesh bitten off his arm were all too horrible. But even more horrible of the two was a mother that felt proud for her son that went through those incidents.

  Once she was done beating herself down in her mind, Alise once again resolved to be the best mother she can be. Starting next year, she’d have to work the fields in her husband’s stead to provide a living for her son. And these thoughts just add more to the anxiety burdening her mind.

  The couple of sacks filled with wheat sitting in her storage that was brought in by some of the village’s men might be the last good food she could provide for her son. And even those she had to trade a large portion of to the traveling merchants that would eventually come to visit the village for cheaper and longer lasting ingredients.

  The next few years would be more than a little rough. But as more and more anxiety built up inside her, Alise caught a glimpse of the firewood her son brought back, and it brought the slightest relief to her knowing that though the immediate future won't be a smooth sail, at the very least, her son should have a secured future.

  If he can keep up his training with Robert, a well off future as a soldier in this land should be within reach. The man had said so himself—Gale was talented and would definitely make a good soldier when he grew up.

  Dinner that night was a little gloomy with the room filled with numbing silence, broken only when either Alise or her son dipped their spoon into their bowl to take a mouthful of stew. As a mother, she knew she shouldn’t let her anxiety show and worry her child, but her anxiety kept her tongue held nonetheless.

  But then again, theirs is far from the only house with gloom in the air. The village hadn’t finished mourning after all. The only place that’s still filled with a little cheer, one that hadn’t been forced onto their face, is the village’s alehouse.

  The place had always been one for the rowdiest in the village to gather. With the smell of alcohol thick in the air instead of gloom, the loud cheers from men and women drinking together accompanied by the dull sound of mugs being brought together, this place alone stayed the same as the village around it mourns.

  “Owner, won’t we be losing money if we keep going like this?” one of the servers in the alehouse asked.

  “Eh, who cares. The lord’s wiped our tax for this year, so we won’t be lacking either way.”

  “But we could’ve made so much more…” the server said with a sulk to her voice.

  The alehouse owner sighed before he slammed a couple of alcohol filled mugs to the counter. The drink inside swished heavily and some spilled to the counter even though it’s a lot thicker than usual due to how little it's been watered down compared to usual.

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  “People come here to drink and forget. Who’s gonna buy our drink if everyone’s all mopey ‘cause they can’t get drunk off the usual we usually serve?”

  “We—well…”

  “If ya get it then shut yer trap and just bring these out.”

  “Fine…”

  The server grabbed the mugs and brought them over towards the table that asked for them. On the way, some of the men with drinks in their hand would call her out and whistle at her making the trip feel further than it actually is. The worst would reach a hand to grab her thigh or rear, sometimes causing her to trip, but it’s just how working at the alehouse is.

  “Atleast put out some coins if you wanna touch,” she’d complain to some of the roughest ones, but they’d just laugh at her.

  ”Ey, it’s finally ‘ere!” one of the drunks said with cheer in his voice when he noticed the girl walking to his table with a couple drinks in hand.

  “Here you are!” she said as she put the mugs down on the table, before she suddenly let out a loud yelp. The waitress quickly took a step away from one of the men on the table and pushed the rear of her skirt down after it's been lifted up by the man. “I told you, atleast-”

  “Put out some coins if I wanna touch, right? I know, I know,” the man said before throwing a coin at the table, letting it clatter for a moment before settling. “Here.”

  The girl let out a grin as the coin’s gleam caught her eyes and quickly stepped up to grab it. “Thank you very much!” she said with a cheer in her voice before turning around to take her leave.

  “Yeah yeah, off you go, come on!” the man said before bringing his hand down on the girl’s rear for a loud slap.

  Unlike her surprised yelp before, the girl now let out a playful one and smirked before teasingly shaking her rear at the man. It’s the difference that money makes.

  When the alehouse owner caught sight of the scene, he let out an exasperated sigh. “If you don’t mind it. Why not take a man upstairs instead of bothering me with how I make my drinks?” he asked no one in particular, in a hushed voice that the person sitting on the other side of the counter could barely hear what he said. “And? What can I get you lot?” he then asked with a louder voice, addressing the three men sitting shoulder to shoulder in front of him.

  “A drink for each of us for now.”

  “Right.”

  Before long, he returned to the counter with three mugs filled with alcohol and put them down in front of the man that made the order. The two on either side of him reached out and each grabbed a mug for themself before downing it.

  “Not quite as thick as the one from before, no?”

  “Those are for the villagers here.”

  “Oh, come on. I decided to stop at this village because they say you treat outsiders well here and this is what I get?”

  The alehouse owner let out a sigh. “That I’m sorry for. But we have our own situation to deal with. Where’s the lot of you came from anyway?”

  “South.”

  “Mourcielle?”

  “That’s the one.” one of the men said with a finger pointing to the man behind the counter.

  “Reckon you came for Duraintsburgh festival then?”

  “It’s the best time of the year.”

  The man finally reached for his mug and drank some of what’s inside before putting the mug down on the counter again.

  For someone demanding hospitality, he’s not quite the most sociable man. The two with him seemed even worse. Neither of them had uttered a word since walking into the alehouse. And from how they look—rough, unkempt, and somewhat burly—seems like bad company.

  Not quite the rarest kind, though. From the looks of it, the one in the middle is a travelling merchant. He’s got the manner and speech of one that does carry goods for the higher class. If so, the other two must be his guard for the trip, so he should be keeping them in line. If not, the village’ll just hold him responsible.

  “So how much for a night?” asked the merchant, suddenly pulling the alehouse owner back to reality just as he realized he'd been staring at the three in front of him a little too intensely.

  “Only two beds in a room. Two rooms for the three of you—”

  “I’ll sleep on the floor fine. We’ll take one,” one of the merchant’s guards said.

  “‘That so? Well, if that’s what you want, a couple of large coppers for one.”

  The merchant dropped a couple coins on the counter and stood up from his chair. The two guards beside him then quickly finished their drinks and followed closed behind. Climbing up the stairs, the two guards seem to be restlessly looking around as if looking for something before disappearing into the second floor.

  “Say, don’t those guys smell like trouble?” a villager suddenly asked as he brought his face closer.

  “Yeah… not the best bunch to have around.” the alehouse owner replied before clicking his tongue. “Now of all times when Robert ain’t around.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I’ll keep an eye out. Get some of the boys to look around the alehouse tonight, will you?”

  “Aight, I’ll tell ‘em that.” the man said before dropping a few coins on the counter to pay for his drink and making his way out.

  The villagers now at the alehouse may be rowdy and seemed to be enjoying themself after downing a few mugs, but even then, just about everyone living in the village is still tense after what happened.

  Some of the restless young men of the village had taken it upon themself to keep watch over the village, taking turns even at night to keep the village safe, especially now without the village’s actual watch and guard around.

  They’re especially worried about beasts once again coming out of the forest. Even though the older folks of the village already said now that the orcs are off and done with, nothing else would be coming out of the forest, they still couldn’t let go of the thought and relax. Even though they’ve been warned that instead of beasts from the forest, they should be worried instead of people coming in to take advantage of the village’s situation, they still can’t help but be especially wary of what might be hiding behind the sea of trees.

  The lord had waived their tax for the year after the village came under attack by a pack of orcs. Anyone that heard the news could probably read into the words and come into the obvious conclusion. The village’s got less mouths to feed but more money to go around.

  If rogues or bandits come to steal from the village, there won’t be much they can do.

  Thus, that night, the village’s temporary watch begrudgingly stood watch around the village’s alehouse. After being told to do so by the acting village chief, they had no choice but to do so just because he thinks one of the merchants that’s staying there tonight seems like trouble had put them in a somewhat sour mood.

  “Why do we have to listen to that old man anyway? I’d rather have Robert act as our chief.”

  “Can’t do anything ‘bout that, he’s having Vivian treated at town right?”

  “We’ll just have to wait ‘till he comes back.”

  “We are waiting for him to come back, that’s why we’re listening to the old man, stupid.”

  “Still… what’re we watching some merchants for? There’s like just three or four of them right? They can’t do nothing even if they want to.”

  “Right, I’m worried about the forest too… Vivian was attacked by apes in the forest, that’s why Robert gotta take her to town, right? What if those things came to the village this time?”

  “Let it go, we still got some people watching the forest, so just be satisfied with that.”

  The three assigned to watch the village alehouse weren’t at all satisfied and ended up complaining the whole night. But it’s still the truth that this time of year Carmul sees especially large traffic compared to other times of the year with merchants passing by to reach the largest town in Duraint’s domain, Duraintsburgh. By having some people watch the alehouse, they can prevent attacks from the inside.

  Though the young watchers found little value in doing so as they never had any problem in the years prior, the alehouse owner slept with one eye open that night and his ear stuck to the wall trying to catch if anyone was pulling anything.

  But despite the older folk’s worries, nothing ended up happening that night and the younger folks of the village just ended up with a more stubborn head on their shoulders when the sun finally rose.