Chapter 31 - Marrie's Memories

Sweat dripped heavily from Clint Morgans’ brow as he finally threw the last seared chunk of Mrs Gauld’s home onto the cart. As the horse drew away and took all evidence of Blüt’s horrific acts with it, Clint only took a moment to breathe, before marching over to a fresh pile of wood. Now that the wreckage was gone, it was time to rebuild.

“Clint, hold on a moment, please!” Marrie called, rushing over to him with a cold glass of berry juice and a plate of assorted sliced meats. Clint didn’t hold on, already picking up the first piece of wood and making his way to the site that was once Marrie’s inn.

“Clint!” Marrie barked, working her short legs to keep up with him. “Please, you need to stop! You’ve been working for days already!”

Clint shrugged. “Work still ain’t done.”

“Yes, but you need to rest at least a bit! Please? You’ve already done so much! You cleared all that wreckage! Let someone else do the building!” Clint glared over his shoulder at her, yellow eyes unrelenting. She frowned, tears beginning to prick at the corner of her eyes. “Please… Take a break at least.” She pleaded. Clint’s gaze softened. He put the wood down between them, turning it into a makeshift table.

“I really don’t understand you.” Marrie sighed, relieved to see Clint finally eating. “Why do all this for me? Really, I don’t deserve this…”

Clint glanced up from his meal. “You’re feeding me, ain’t ya? That’s payment enough.”

Marrie opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut herself up. She looked down and shook her head.“You men are always so easy to please…” she sighed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” When Marrie looked up, Clint’s piercing eyes on her again.

She jolted slightly. “Ah, sorry! It’s just it was the same with my husband…” She muttered, struggling to meet his gaze. Though, when she tried, she found it easy. He was relaxed, his intimidating aura retreated for the time being.

“That so?” He asked, sensing she wanted to continue.

“Hah, yes. He loved his food. Most Aufs do but him in particular.” She snickered. “He praised every meal like it was the finest thing he’d ever eaten.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sure he was just exaggerating, but still it was nice to hear.”

Clint chewed his food, he was inclined to agree with her husband, he’d scarcely tasted anything so good in his life.

“I suppose he liked the ordinary. A man so exceptional, I suppose it was a nice break… I mean, he went for the most regular of regular old housewives.” She chuckled. “Do you know why I was named Marrie?”

Clint shook his head.

“In Aufish culture, we name our children based on expectations for them. My parents wanted me to marry well, so they named me Marrie.” She smiled. “I was always destined to be just a simple housewife.” She became aware of herself, waving her hands to dismiss any errant thoughts of Clint’s. “Oh, don’t worry, that suits me just fine. I like to maintain things, look after people, to cook. I love my name.”

She shifted, crossing her legs. “My husband was much the same. He suited his name splendidly. It was Grand.”

“What was?” Clint raised an eyebrow.

“That was his name. Grand.” She looked at Clint like he was an idiot. “It suited him well. He was the most prolific mage to ever come out of this village, you know?” She settled into her story, quickly growing comfortable across from Clint.

“We were friends as children, but we weren’t ever particularly close. He had his magical education, and I was just an average little girl, picking flowers and baking. I always thought he lost interest in me. He was this whirlwind, always rushing around, devising new spells. He was incredible! He could fell trees in single blows and have them teleported straight back to the village in mere seconds!” She smiled sadly. “He didn’t speak much to anybody, he was very stoic in that way. As we grew older, the only times we’d ever speak was when I was trying to teach him how to use healing magic.” Her glowed with a nostalgic warmth. “That was the one thing the great Grand couldn’t do. I don’t like to be too prideful, but it was nice to have something over him…” She smiled bashfully.

Marrie ran a hand through her hair, awash with recollection now. “He left Lillinberg when he was fifteen. He went to the capital, Akitainne. He was one of the first ever to be tutored in magic there. I heard even Queen Venus was an admirer of his!” She sighed, looking up at the sky. “I missed him. I hadn’t realised it at the time, but I thought about him often. Just like I do now…”

“I take it he came back?” Clint finally spoke, taking a swig of the juice she brought.

“He did! Amazingly, he returned from Akitainne and confessed to me. It was all very sudden, I never even realised he ever thought that way about me.” She blushed at the memory, like Grand was before her confessing at that moment. “I could hardly believe a man as wonderful as him wanted to marry a simple woman like myself, especially given his time and status in the capital!” She turned away from Clint, eyes closed and mouth bent into a huge smile.

“I obviously said yes. He moved in with me, I inherited the inn and the rest they say, is history.” She sighed, finally releasing her hair from her hands. “He never opened up much more, but I could always tell he loved me. It was in all the little things. You should’ve seen how he doted and fretted over me when I was-...” She stopped suddenly, inhaling sharply. “We had a few good years together. I miss him.”

“What happened to him?” Clint asked, a rare softness in his tone.

Marrie grew pale, hands gripping her skirt as she recalled the terrible memory. “...Blüt.” She choked out. “Blüt happened.”

“You don’t have to go on.” Clint stated.

“No, no. Let me tell you. I want you to know what he did.” She said shakily. “It was ten years ago… The first time Blüt arrived in this village. He was different then, less cruel and more desperate. He was an animal. He came to Lillinberg and made demands, but unlike now we didn’t give in. We fought back. My husband was the man leading the battle. Even as the rest of the village’s warriors lay dead, he fought the Ogre for two days straight. His magic was strong, but he specialised in controlling the wind. It was good for controlling movements and crowds, but not designed for lethality. It was a battle of attrition. Would he run out of mana, or would Blüt finally die by a thousand cuts? …You can guess how it wound up.” She choked. “He nearly won. No… He won. Blüt could hardly stand after the battle. He had to crawl his way out of the village. We thought we’d be safe after that…”

Clint didn’t look at her, instead out at the woods that lay beyond them. “Then he came back.”

“He came back four years later. We had only just recovered from his first attack, and of course we had no one as exceptional as Grand to defend us… So we were forced to submit to him. We tried a few times, stray adventurers like yourself would stumble upon Lillinberg and try as you did, but… He’s immortal. Just like all the stories say.”

Marrie’s head hung low as she completed her sad tale. Clint pitied her, but knew there was nothing he could say. Instead, he rose to his feet and continued with his work. That’s all he could do for her.

That night when Clint returned to the mayor’s house, he found Marrie asleep on the floor of the guest room. For the first time, she had let her guard down, and the portrait she usually clutched so close to her chest hung loose. Just barely loose enough for Clint to catch a glimpse.

He was surprised at the sight. This portrait that she ran into a burning building to save. Which she seemed content to die with when he found her amidst the flames. There seemed only one person it would be fitting for the portrait to depict…

But it wasn't her husband.

Current Party: Clint Morgans

Bullets Remaining: 5