Chapter 2

“If you are to ask questions, buy something to eat first,” Finny stated calmly. She was dressed in her usual long-sleeved dress, an apron wrapped around her waist. Her blonde hair as per usual was tied up into a bun, a small braid leading down her neck. Some decorative beads on a string can be found resting on her chest.

Captain Rutherford, on the other hand, looked to be a pragmatist but held a flair for the dramatics at heart, wearing absurdly billowy coats and all. Despite his rank, or as so much Sophia could tell, he seemed remarkably young for someone at such a position. More notably, he wasn’t a particularly handsome man — rugged, maybe, but his chin was just a bit too pointy for her liking, not to mention the complete lack of beard that was the usual practice in Bvordrjord.

Despite his youthfulness, the man carried himself with the air of someone used to command. There was a coldness in his eyes that made Sophia shiver and not in an entirely good way.

The atmosphere was tense, suffocating, the excited cries of children celebrating the first snow juxtaposing the scene to the extreme. Sophia couldn’t move, her eyes flickering between the immobile forms of Finny, Uther and the two Zweits. The stark contrast of the pale, white light streaming in from the half-opened shutters against the gloomy interior felt dramatically suitable.

Finny had made a challenge and to what end, Sophia couldn’t imagine. She had expected that some soldiers to show up but not the bloody Captain himself strutting in. Now that there were two dangerous-looking folks here, not mere rowdy village boys, Sophia found herself lacking the will to even twitch.

Captain Rutherford shrugged once, skewing his head towards the other man in the back and asked, “You up for some breakfast?”

“I’m fine with anything that isn’t dried or salted,” said the more armoured Zweit, his arm remaining on his sword.

“Then anything your tavern can offer will do fine,” the Captain concluded.

“Take a seat,” Finny said.

Taking the opportunity, Sophia stiffly waddled over to the pot of pottage, freed from her terrified stillness. The sticky mix had frozen over during the night but it seemed Finny had already rekindled the flames. Grabbing two bowls and a plate, she rushed to the cellar and carefully selected an assortment of food, taking only the best. Cheese, some dried ham, two spoons were fetched as well from the baskets. After a small moment of hesitation, she also took a small pinch of rosemary and thyme.

They like this sort of thing, right?

When she returned, the two Zweits were already sitting at the table counter seats, the door closed behind them. Sophia quickly served two bowls of warm pottage, sprinkled the bits of spice in her fingers. Luckily, the cold had preserved the food fairly well, allowing the goop to look surprisingly presentable.

“... Customers often?” asked the Captain, seemingly making some attempts at small talk.

“You’ll find little other places that sell both food and alcohol at a reasonable price.”

“Mhm.”

Sophia took a deep breath to calm her nerves before using a tray to carry the food out. It took tremendous effort to keep her hands steady as she walked forward, her eyes firmly planted on the platter itself. Carefully, she tipped-toed above the counter and prodded the bowls and plates onto the table.

With a low voice, she said, “Here’s your food, sirs.”

“Thank you, my dear,” the Captain said absently, “So, are you the owner of this establishment?”

Sophia retreated, shuffling back to the corner and hoping she wouldn’t be seen. She had no intention of standing out in any shape or form, but she would hardly let such an opportunity for juicy gossip to leave unattended.

“No, my mother owns the tavern. I’m merely substituting as she was on business.”

“And will we see her today?”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t say when she’ll be back. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for a little while longer.”

“Ah,” he said, a small frown on his face. He didn’t speak for a while, simply keeping that intense gaze on Finny’s passive countenance as if he was searching for something. Eventually, he relented and said, “That is truly unfortunate. I would hope to ask her some questions as well, miss...?”

“Miss Creighton will do,” said Finny.

“Miss Creighton then,” he confirmed, tasting the words on his lips, “Well, in that case —”

“Eat first, captain, before the food goes cold.”

Rutherford cocked his head, considering, “Very well. We do not wish to remain for too long.”

For the first time, he glanced down at the table. For a few moments, he did nothing else than to inspect the soup, bread and cheese. The cutlery and bowls were nothing special in terms of nobility. While most commoners would use wooden ones, the Corners own a few sets of pewter. Anxiously, Sophia waited as the Captain picked up a spoon, glancing at it.

After a short while, he asked, “No forks?”

What’s a fork?

“Forks are only popular in Zweutaland, I’m afraid. Bvurdrjord hadn’t quite caught on with the customs,” Finny informed him.

“Ah, my mistake.”

Slowly, he dipped the bread in and took a bite. Without comment, he looked up again. After some audible crunches, he swallowed. The other knight sitting next to the Captain had yet to even touch his, the full-face helm still firmly planted on his head.

Setting down the spoon, the Captain asked, “We have several questions we would like to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“Are there any unusual happenings in this village?”

“... Please define unusual, sir.”

“Things that are out of this world, Miss Creighton. Were there any missing people, ships going missing, some ghosts in the woods and the like?” he clarified, “And I do not mean the odd murder or animal attacks, too.”

“Ah,” Finny stated, “You are talking about strange things, then.”

“Yes.”

“Well, if that’s the case, you must have heard about how the waters around this village are cursed or unlucky, then.”

“The Reeve had mentioned something like that,” he remembered, “But he didn’t elaborate on the whys or hows.”

“According to the dockmaster, there were some numbers of sunk ships around here. Ships that go in or out have chances of not ever reaching shore again, apparently, and Ansvil is not known for having that many storms, captain.”

“This is a fishing village,” he noted.

“The fishing boats don’t sail out too far offshore,” Finny shook her head, “At best, they go out to the islands and come back within the day. While most folks were smart enough to not go settling on the odd islands out there, there had been some cases of missing ‘pioneers’. Despite that, however, it’s the merchants and the like that got problems.”

“Any witnesses?”

“None,” she said, “Whenever a ship goes missing, its always without warning. Either they show up, or they don’t. Not much in between.”

“No one even washed ashore? Survivors?”

“Not once,” Finny said, “And it had been going for a few hundred years, I gather by now. My ma and her ancestors had been telling the same stories for many generations.”

“Hmmph,” the Captain breathed out, “Any tales to go along with that?”

“Well, there are many versions that people speak of. Some talk of an ancient sea ghost cursed to doom sailors to their watery graves by the gods — for some reason or another, I assure you. Some think that it’s their ancestors, sailing upon ghastly longboats and hunting down those that venture here,” Finny leaned forward, “But my bet? Sea monsters.”

“... That’s very specific.”

“It’s not as if you hadn’t seen them,” Finny remarked off-handedly.

The two Zweits froze, unmoving for just a split second. Sophia, for a second, thought that they were somehow suddenly offended by Finny’s flippant tone but swiftly realized what she insinuated. Then, the Captain asked carefully, “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“You weren’t surprised at all, scratched-up captain. Aside for that, I recognise your flags just as well, the three swords were a giveaway,” Finny stated that with the same attitude one would talk about the weather, “Weren’t too popular in the Empire, I heard.”

Wait, what?

Now that she got a closer look, she could finally recognize that Finny’s words were true. The coat and armour that the man wore were damaged, scratches here and there, holes and dents peppering its exterior. While by no means too damaged to be used, it certainly told of a history of battle — and some look alarmingly recent, no more than a few days old.

“Ah,” the man smiled ruefully, “Merchants talking much, are they?”

“Some rumours here, some rumours there, you understand how it goes. Either way, I suppose that it was some beasts of the sea, then?”

“Can’t confirm or deny that, Mrs Creighton. Empire businesses weren’t that keen on sharing,” his lips stretched into a smile. “Though I would say that we have encountered something quite distinct when we arrive here, yes.”

“So I gather that you would want some information on that, then?”

“It would certainly help,” he said, “Most folklores are quite firmly grounded in reality and the other way is just as true.”

“Any specifics?”

“Your local deities, perhaps, how your spirits and monsters are ingrained in society around here, to start with.”

“In that case, you’ll have to understand our religion here, then,” Finny concluded, setting her palms onto the table. There was a cautious look in her eyes, unblinking as they stared at the captain’s own.

“Guviar and Marni’dain, yes? Twin creators, sea and sky? The giver and the taker? That's what we know from the other villages,” The Captain spoke frankly, eyebrows raised in some sort of challenge.

Sophia remembered that the Zweits had some other beliefs that she couldn’t quite remember the nature of — which was entirely absurd. The thought that some folks could believe in other gods or that the world didn’t originate from her own was anathema.

But hey, at least they know of it.

“That’s the two chief gods here, a mere fragment of the whole,” Finny shook her head slightly, “but it’ll do for our purpose. What the sea gives and the sky will take, and what the sky gives the sea will take. Our very lives mirror that cycle.”

“I am not aware that this was to be a lesson in philosophy,” Captain Rutherford frowned.

“It is very much linked, be patient,” the blonde chided them, “As I was saying, we give and take in measure — and we are not the centre of it all. As we take more, more must be given, is that understood?”

“Mostly.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, what you speak of is a cycle, yes? Or something akin to a… say, balance.”

“As our people grow, the world grows along with it. If we do not maintain the balance ourselves, the world will do it for us. This was what our people, at least traditionally, perceived the idea of ‘conflicts’ as.”

If it was possible, the Captain frowned even harder.

“I have not heard of this. Not from the Reeve.”

“The Reeve’s the Reeve. Don’t expect a man like him to know of it,” Finny said dismissively, “Weren’t much of a common tale anyway.”

“Should have figured,” the man said, “So, the people believe that these… phenomenons to be some sort of divine tribute.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Finny gestured, holding one hand higher and one lower, “To achieve something, we must give something. To take something, we must also give. A bird that flies must eventually land. A tree that grows will eventually fall and become dirt. The happenings in this world is merely a sign of the gods maintaining this balance.”

Captain Rutherford didn’t speak for a while after Finny finished delivering her speech, keeping his hands folded in front of his mouth, clearly deep in thought.

“So these monsters were to be emissaries of the gods then,” he finally said.

“As I said, not quite. They are just as much part of this world as a dog, a cat, a goat. Just in… a different form, I suppose. Nothing particularly divine about it all.”

“And there are many of these beings? Do the people here consider the… problem at sea one of them?”

“As I said, some do, some don’t,” the girl shrugged, “It’s all the same to them. If it's there, it’s there until it’s gone, merely a part of the world around them.”

“... I see,” the captain had a perturbed expression on his face, “Second question — Was the practice of offerings.. what I saw on my travel? Linked to your concept of giving, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Finny said, “We give offerings to the gods willingly. Things that were given freely meant more than to have it taken to them.”

“Alright,” said the man, “Does most of Bvurdrjord believes in this… practice?”

“I would say so,” Finny shrugged, her eyes piercing, “Our ships do not have habits of sinking,”

“That’s not entirely helpful, Miss Creighton,” the Captain’s fingers drummed on the wooden counter, “Any practical pieces of advice?”

“If we knew how to magic them away, they wouldn’t be there any more, would they?” Finny gave a small, polite laugh at that, “Ye think you can deal with them?”

“Perhaps,” he said nothing with nothing, treating the word with a hint of mirth, “If they live, they can die. Are you sure that there were little else recorded down?”

“Perhaps some of our practices used to be much more well known but… well, our elders were no longer around. You know how that happened.”

“... Yes,” the Captain said, “We do.”

“Good.”

“So —”

“Oh my. It appeared that the food had gone cold,” Finny suddenly said, “It wouldn’t do to leave it to waste, would it?”

Sophia couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Finny wasn’t just simply leading the captain on with words that were much more sophisticated than usual, in a tone that was entirely unlike her, she was actively defying them without fear at all. Besides her, Uther was also tense, his palm hovering on the grip of his pike.

It reminded her of a donkey, dangling a carrot before its nose, except the donkey’s a dragon in this case.

The Captain stared, incredulous. Then, for a moment, something incomprehensible seemed to swim in his eyes, a dark expression overcoming it. As quickly as it came, it disappeared. Squinting his eyes, he started, “Miss Creighton —”

“Oh, I insist, Captain, that you finish your meals and properly enjoy it. We have a tavern to run and it wouldn’t do to have it closed until then, yes?”

As if suddenly reminded of the time, the man glanced outside at the door then back at her, obviously displeased with the probable interruption due in a while.

“Why not come back another day?” Finny enunciated, “And perhaps we will have more to offer than … this.”

The captain’s face clammed up, loosening into an abruptly passive expression, some form of serene understanding filling in the cracks. In an overly polite tone, he said, “Very well. I see that this establishment does have rather quality goods.”

“And worth a good price,” she added.

“Indeed,” he said and stood up, patting himself down and fixing up his coat. The other knight followed suit, standing up as well, his weight shifting clearly on the floorboards below as they creaked.

The captain took a moment to riffle through the inside of his coats, fishing out a leather pouch and tossing it on the table. It jingled as it landed, the string above loosening. Something inside glinted metallically, the morning light reflecting off the pieces inside.

“I suppose that this should cover our future dealings?” he asked simply.

Slowly, Finny reached over and lifted the bag, feeling around and peeking into the opening. Eventually, she said, “You are a generous customer.”

“I expect much as well,” he said, “Do not disappoint, Miss Creighton. Make sure that my gold is well spent.”

“I would hope so. Should I expect more soldiers to come?”

“... No. One meal will suffice.”

“Understood. What your head as you leave, please. That beam had one too many hits for its own good.”

He paused and then said, “Then, I will return in the morrow.”

With a swish of his coat, the Captain strode out, the door opening to reveal the throngs of villagers outside. Without paying them any mind, the two Zweits walked out into the sunlight and disappeared. A blast of freezing hair flowed in for a split second before the doors swung closed behind them, closing with a creak and a thud.

There was silence in the room for a short while, now seemingly empty without the overwhelming presence of the two Zweits. Suddenly, Sophia found herself breathing again, looking down reveals her limbs to be trembling like the leaves in winter. The absence took a few seconds to register, every sound felt like thunder to her ears.

It was like a bad dream, surreal.

There wasn’t a word that she knew could explain what she felt at the moment, so she expressed herself at Finny in the most direct way possible.

“That was amazing! What’s with the beasts and all?” Sophia asked excitedly.

“Nothing more than fishwive’s tales,” Uther answered automatically.

“The man’s looking for monsters, so let him find them, I’d say,” Finny shrugged.

“You should stop taunting them,” Uther said, standing up, “Much less invite them to come around again.”

“They knew already, Uther. They pay well and they were paid well, and if the were to be here anyway, I might as well take advantage of that,” Finny explained apathetically as she pocketed the clinking bag on the countertop, “This is just some chump change when compared to what they have.”

“Still, didn’t we agree to leave them well alone?”

“If they think they can help, let them help,” she said simply, cracking her knuckles and turning her back on the counter, “Sophie, please stop standing about and set the tables.”

“Oh, right!”

Sophia had been so caught up in the moment that she had entirely forgotten that she was meant to help around. With haste, she started lifting the remaining stools off the table, opening the shutters.

Off to the side, Uther stepped forward with impatience.

“This is Bvurdrjord business and should be dealt here,” Uther spoke with a tad of impatience in his voice, “Not left to outsiders.”

“Don’t think of it that way, Uther. Think of them as swords that fell onto our lap,” Finny said, “The hunters don’t have issues with using dogs and bows for their hunts, either, so why should we?”

Uther didn’t answer humour that and stated, “You wouldn’t have done that if I weren’t here.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” she said as she withdrew a selection of bowls from the cupboards, “But you are here, so all is well.”

“Evelyn!”

“Stop whining and get to work, Uther.”

“It could’ve gotten dangerous,” he said, lips stretched tightly, “Doing something like this again won’t go well.”

“I’ve gotten it under control,” Finny turned back at him, “The man’s gone. I don’t see the problem.”

“Just so you remember, Sophia’s living with us, Finny. She could be hurt, scared or worse,” Uther warned, his eyes glancing over, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Finny took a deep breath, stared back at him and said slowly, “I’ll take precautions, alright? At least until this blows over.”

“Then…”

They said many more things, but Sophia was too busy to pay them any more attention. Grown-ups are to do grown-up stuff. She didn’t want to put more on their platter, so to speak, so she did her best with what she’s given. She had wished to go out in the snow but the mood was ruined for her — the immediate presence of the Zweits turned the jovial atmosphere around quite quickly.

The day passed on slowly. The normal clients returned as the sign read, “Open” again, which arguably would be one of the most important words that one could learn. They were otherwise subdued, however, even if their concern demanded them to cast furtive glances over.

Some time through the day, Uther had left for the market just some ways off at the square in search for cheese — along with milk and whatever form of citrus he could get his hands on.

Unlike yesterday’s crowd, the number of drinkers was drastically lessened. The usual visitors, once again, included the throngs of fishermen, sailors of every sort, farmers that came in to trade or even the occasional hooded figures that only ever asked for ale. However, there was an air of subduedness that she hadn’t witnessed for a while, all quiet and muttering. It was a funeral, as far as she could remember and she didn’t like the comparison.

Sophia can’t exactly blame them, however, as the idea of staying too long near the Zweits gave her the creeps. There were many sorts of visitors that found their way to the Corners, however, she couldn't help but wish that somebody wouldn’t come over.

She was wiping the floor then when the door opened again. A greeting was on her lips before it withered and died. Instead, she felt a glare threatening to form as she monotonously invoked the words, “Welcome to the Corners.”

“Heya, is Finny in?” said her least favourite person in the world, which was currently occupied by a person known as Felios Castor. Behind him was the other two least favourite persons called Artos and Belmius, also similarly born from Castor senior.

The person who spoke was tall, thin, lanky. His build would probably be passable if weren’t for the fact that he had already developed a beer gut at the age of seventeen, resulting in some odd, flabby protrusions here and there — which was a feat to be marvelled at considering their current locale. Wearing a rather gaudy tunic and a coat with a belt strapped around it, he looked like he had just woken up some minutes earlier, rolled in some coins and precious stones before stumbling into the inn.

While the three were by no means lookers of any sort, their visages were somehow further decorated by a series of bruises and scrapes, resulting in a face that could win some awards on ugly. He walked in with the pride of a warrior along with the countenance of one who had lost a fight with a tree; thick, gauzy bandages wrapped around one arm and half his face.

Even if he was better presented, his smell was the worst, having some odour of fish, salt and old, stained refuse, whilst his personality was no better than that.

Normally, Sophia would find herself cowed by his prodigious size in body and ego, she was feeling rather brave. After the two Zweits, the three Castors were no longer quite as daunting as they were before, even if her height barely reached up to their stomach.

“Her name is Evelyn to you, and yes, she’s in.” Sophia found herself saying, emboldened by her recent encounter, staring up at the trio with barely hidden hostility.

“Good, I heard that some Zweit wanted to talk to her,” Felios Castor muttered with a slight slur, “Would’ve been bad.”

‘Would’ve been worse if you were here. Besides, you sure were late for someone so concerned,’ was what Sophia so wished to say. However, instead of blurting out those lines, she pulled a taut smile and said, “They talked already, so the problem’s over. Will you need a seat?”

She was summarily ignored as Felios strutted forward, nearly knocking into her as he bumped his way through some chairs and tables, his heavy brows scrunching together as he strained his eyes to locate the owner of the Corners. After a short while of intense staring, he resorted to yelling out loud, “Beautiful Evelyn! It’s me!”

There was a moment of silence as every pair of eyes inside the room flicked towards them, the sound echoing through the tavern. A short while later, towards the back, Finny emerged from the cellar, her arms hoisting a basket full of bread, garlic and various other sundries. She looked to be inquisitive for a moment before deflating into disappointment with practised ease, “Oh, it's you.“

“Yes! I’m here to tell you that you are in mortal danger.”

“You are in mortal danger, Castor, if you don’t get out or get a seat.”

“Ah right! Where are my manners,” said the bulbous figure of Felios and his lackeys of bloodline relation, “Your rules, your rules.”

With that, he sauntered over to a table and planted his rear on the bench, which creaked ominously under him. His brothers followed behind, stomping over to the benches on the other side. With a sigh, Finny walked forward and asked, “Well? I would recommend a drink if you didn’t look like you already had one.”

“Nonsense. There’s always time for that,” he shook his head, his jowls flapping noisily. Belmius and Artos echoed his sentiment with sounds just as fleshy.

Sophia took that as a sign to get them a few mugs. The faster they get drunk, the sooner they’d get tossed out, after all.

“As I was saying, Eve,” Felios muttered in a tone fit for conspiracy, “The Zweits are bad news! No sense of manners at all.”

“How so?” Finny asked, “They were well behaved.”

“Like arse — mhmm, apologies, no they most definitely are not,” he scowled, his face twisting further. With a stubbly finger, he gestured at himself, “See these?”

“Your ugliest parts?”

“Not that, these. The bruises.”

“The best parts then. What about them?”

“The damned Zweits, that’s what happened! See what did to me and me brothers!”

Finny sighed, “Did you pick a fight with them already?”

“I gave em a greeting, that’s all. Proper Bvurdrjord greeting.”

“That’s where your problems are, Castor,” she said, “They probably thought that you’re some monstrous dog that learned to talk.”

“Rude’s what they are, Eve. Unappreciative, takes what they want, beating up well-meaning locals,” the man visibly resisted the urge to spit on the floor, being under the eye of Finny as he was, “They are a menace, you hear me? A menace!”

“Yes, yes, menace,” Finny said, her eyes sharp, “How so?”

“Their bloody armours, made of walls or somethin’. Always walk and talk like they own the place, lookin’ down at us at Ansvil. When they hear something they don’t like, they march right over and whack you on your noggin.”

“Your point being?” she gestured, “You spent some while getting at something.”

“What I’m saying is that this place is no good for a maiden such as you! Perils everywhere! From the snow, the work at a tavern, strange men every night and now the damned Zweits,” Felios leaned forward enthusiastically, “You know, I could offer you protection.”

“No thanks, Castor. I’m fine where I am.”

“Common, look at this place! The walls look as if they’ll fall over any day,” he waved wildly, hands thumping heavily on the table, “Who’s gonna be able to save you if the Zweits comes calling? That Uther boy?”

“He’s a fine guardsman,” Finny said, “I have faith in his abilities.”

“Bah, don’t know what you see in him. Ye think he’ll be able to hold off all those Zweits when they knock? Mrs Creighton, bless the old lady, is tough but not that tough,” Felios grinned, “We got stone walls, men, all armed to the teeth.”

“Just like how you fared last night?”

“We were caught by surprise,” said the man without pause, “Won’t happen again. Think about this —”’

“Oh, I did.”

“— the walls of Castors are tall, tough. We got dozens of good men that will be willing to give their lives protecting you. You’ll find no safer place than this, Evelyn. Besides, ye don’t have to work a single day again — even your little sister over there,” he gestured at Sophia, who refused to meet his eyes, “A gal like that ain’t suppose to serve tables. Don’t be stubborn, Eve.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be coming with you any time soon, Castor, we are quite content here,” Finny said with a dull voice, “Now, if you don’t want anything else, I’ll need to tend to other tables.”

She made to leave, Felio’s hand snaked out faster than Sophia could follow, gripping Finny’s wrist in his meaty palm. With a low, gravelly tone, his smile dropping, he muttered, “Don’t be stupid, Evelyn. You won’t be safe here.”

In an equally low voice, she growled back, “Let go of my arm before I do it for you.”

“What is this about then, hmm?” he said, something even uglier than his looks emerging from within. His eyes, previously dead as fish, now glimmered with a hint of madness. Around him, the two other brothers made to stand up. The elder brother himself continued, “Is this about that Uther boy? Your ‘half’ brother?”

“Watch what you are saying,” she warned. Behind Felios, both the faces of Artos and Belmius paled in recognition or perhaps in this case, precognition.

“Oh please, we both know who you got your eyes on,” he said, his nose wrinkling into a lump, “Is it the Zweits? You like them more than me? Or is it Uther? Must be that, spending days around that —”

There was a large, meaty impact, followed by another heavy thump. In a split second, before Sophia could even blink, the form of Felios was on the ground. Finny was still standing, shaking her wrist as the man cradled his face, blood dripping from around his fingers. There’s a moment of a collective, “Oooooh”s around the tables, eyebrows raising as they all felt the smack.

“Oh fuck, you didn’t need to break my nose!” Felios moaned, struggling to stand up without staggering. Around him, Artos and Belmius watched with their mouth agape stupidly but not exactly in shock.

“Man up, Castor, it's just some bleeding. If I want to break your nose I promise you’ll be in a lot more pain than that,” Finny scowled, perhaps for the first time in weeks, “While your concern is appreciated, I had a really tiring morning and I don’t have the time to deal with you right now.”

“It's just a flirt! Don’t ye think that’s a bit much?!” Artos, the forgotten sibling said, firmly staying five feet away from the shorter girl.

“Castor, not now. If you aren’t here for a drink, please get out.”

“You, you —” Felios was saying.

Belmius tugged on the man’s coat, whispering, “-look here, everyone’s watching. Let's not cause too much trouble.”

“Right, you had your chance for the day, we’re getting out of here,” Artos added as he dragged the elder sibling up, hoisting his arm around his shoulders, “We’re still good for a drink, ye?”

“Next time, maybe,” Finny gave some non-committal reply, “If he behaves. Will you?”

“I — “ the senior Castor brother stuttered, “I was just offering. No need to take it like that, Evelyn.”

“That’s not the problem, now please go and sober up. You had enough for the day already before you even came here.”

“Right, right,” Belmius replied in his stead, dragging the three out, pulling the heavy oaken door open with a free hand.

“You aren’t safe here, mark my words!” Castor cried out as he was forcibly evicted from the building by his own siblings. With a clank, the door closed behind them. Spectacle over, the other drinkers in the tavern returned to their own, continuing whatever conversation they were having.

“That was quick,” Sophia counted, “How many lines was that before you gave them a wallop?”

“Sophie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” Sophia asked hopefully, “I suppose they won’t need their drink, then?”

“No, they won’t.”

Sophia hadn’t gotten them in the first place, but she asked out of courtesy. However, despite despising Felios and his snobby face with every inch of her being, she couldn’t help but be intrigued by his offer of safety.

Well, if she were to be honest with herself, she hadn’t been drawn it at all by the words but the prospect of not having to work. Of course, she wouldn’t wish that Finny accept the man’s proposal — the very thought causes a little bit of vomit to come up — but she dearly wished for the chance to freely mingle with her peers.

But its Castor.

She had to admit, it was one of his better tries over the years.

For a village in Bvurdrjord, there were surprisingly little children running about, As Sophia’s schedule kept her mostly in the Corners where younger people do not tend to head to, her childhood was filled with the many faces of old men and women, sailors and merchants. Even now, when the others were out in the snow, she’s at the counter wiping mugs and tending to a fire.

Sometime during the day, Uther returned home, commented the new bloodstain on the wooden boards before setting down crates full of goods in the sailor. In that, she hastily reminded herself that she wasn't allowed to live here for free. Even if Mrs Creighton may have treated her like a daughter, she was still an employee of the Corners. There was a split second of bitterness, however, and she couldn’t seem to quite rid herself of it.

But she understood, she always did.

The day returned to what it was. As predicted, there were fewer patrons than before, conversations subdued. As much as the folks want to take up arms, all bluster-like, they simply had lost too much of their martial history over the century of Zwetisian rule. For all the talk of battle, honour and valour, the people of Ansvil were no more than just fishermen.

She had wanted to spend some time talking to Finny about the day’s events, but she hadn’t quite found the time until the following evening. Even so, she found herself talking about simple things rather than about the Zweits. Even if she hadn’t quite understood the entire thing about the gods or the cursed sea, she didn’t ask.

Finny didn’t want to talk, so she didn’t.

As Sophia retired to bed that night, spying from the stairs, she watched as Finny carried a handful of black rocks out the door. Going to the second floor, she saw from the windows as the older girl walked around the building once, setting down a stone at each corner before burying it, sprinkling some seeds above them. Sophia sneaked back into the covers before she could be found, burying herself, wondering what all that was about.

Amidst thinking of fanciful fairies, her dreams descended in waves, quiet, slow and cold.

The next day, the Zweits came around early again. They arrived once again right at dawn, before Sophia was even awake but this time, only the captain walked in. However, Finny kept Sophia upstairs despite her protests and forbid her to listen in. Even as she tried, she couldn’t quite make out the indistinct conversation, muffled by the layers of wood, bricks and stone.

Before she knew it, life once again turned into this strange version normality. Every morning, the captain would come about for a conversation, dropping in all the time it took for the food to warm up and left again. Eventually, Uther was dragged back to his duties as a guardsman, leaving early and returning late at night, his face hard as stone.

Throughout the days that passed by, Mrs Creighton still didn’t return home. Where she was and where she went, Sophia had no idea. If Finny herself weren’t worried, then it should be fine.

Day in, day out, the sun rose and fell in its cycle. The same folk entered the tavern and the same left it, again and again. It was as if nothing had changed, which, granted, nothing really did around here.

Did the people got used to the soldiers?

...

Then surprisingly, one day the massive ship at the dock set sailed.

Pulling up the anchor, the Zweits left port without warning.

It was a swift and silent endeavour, no ringing of the bells, no crier at the square, methodical. Suddenly, there was a sense of emptiness in the streets, the overwhelming presence vanishing. Rutherford was gone, the man no longer coming to visit.

Sophia couldn’t believe her eyes — it had just gone and left. The sense of adventure that had brazenly came to Ansvil just before winter decided to walk away without even saying, ‘farewell, I never knew thee.’ There was an abrupt ache in her chest that she couldn’t explain away, as if things were not meant to be this way. But then, now that she thought some more about it, it would simply be stupid to imagine the Zweits would become a permanent fixture in their lives. If they could come into the village, they could just as easily leave it as they will.

She didn’t know what to expect.

I’m just some tavern girl.

Why did she think that just because a ship sailed the town she was in, things would change much? Why did she want change, why would she even want something exciting?

She hadn’t lived the most prosperous of lives but it was far from poverty. All things considered, it was a rather grand time for the twelve-year-old girl as a stable roof, a job and a relatively safe place to lodge would be beyond most people.

There was a pang of regret — regret that she hadn’t done anything, regret that nothing came of this encounter but perhaps that was for the best. She was sure that something of this rather boring existence would change, something would open up to her but it didn’t.

Even if she had absolutely nothing to do with the event, Sophia couldn’t help but feel mysteriously upset over it.

She had the feeling that something extraordinary, something beyond the four walls of the Corners, something life-changing had just passed her by.

And maybe that’s alright.

Maybe being simple is fine.

Eventually, a day later, when she finally got her thoughts in order, she decided to ask.

“Where did they go?” she asked Finny, “Weren’t they lookin’ for something?”

“Looking for things to fight, as soldiers do,” she answered.

“Will we see them again?”

“They will be back.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Finny ruffled her hair and told her to quit worrying. Sophia did not have the heart to tell her that wasn’t what she felt, so she went back to work.

The waves hit the rock, splashing against the shoreline. The constant drum of sploosh accompanied the gradually forming ice in the water. The boats had been dragged ashore and onto land to prevent the wood from cracking.

Life went on, as they always do.

There were no stars that night, hidden behind the clouds.

Sophia wasn’t much of a believer in the gods but she couldn’t help but hope.

“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve been working overtime,” Finny suddenly said that afternoon.

“Need to help up when Mrs Creighton’s not home,” she replied without putting too much thought behind it.

“Mhm.”

Some moments passed.

Then, almost as an afterthought, Finny said, “Oh, by the way, we’re closing shop for a while.”

“Sure.”

...

“Wait, what?!”