Volume 01 - Chapter 3: Three's a Curse (Part 01)

The scarce foot traffic and descending sun suggest dinnertime has arrived. Barmaid leads us back near the tavern, avoiding it via a detour into an unfamiliar part of town.

Few houses, small fields of varying crops, and several empty lots line the area. Gamaloth is centuries old but has never expanded. Most of my generation left for Dragonwall, the capital, instead of sticking around to maintain their families’ farms.

Rather, the town is shrinking—hence the empty lots. The houses once occupying the spaces were likely scrapped and used to reinforce or expand the inhabited ones. A shame, but not wanting to farm one’s entire life away is a relatable sentiment.

The handful of villagers we pass are old, their tan, wrinkled skin a testament to decades of hard labor. They wave and flash lonely smiles. One couple reminds me of my grandparents—not that they were ever lonely. Us grandchildren kept them busy so long as we weren’t being put to work.

Will my parents share the same fate as these people? What if my siblings follow my lead and leave them behind? Is idling their days away alone in a dying village all they have in their future? Guilt weaves through my hollow gut.

As we near the east end of Gamaloth, the faint echo of a scream glues us to the earth.

“Did you hear that?” Asks Mizuka, staring with wide eyes.

I give a hesitant nod. “That’s not something we can pretend not to have heard…is it?”

“Not when it might lead to reclaiming my fragment. Let’s hurry!” She rockets down the path. Me and Barmaid share a grimace and follow.

The source of the scream and our original destination are one and the same—a house. Smaller than Harlan’s, yet made substantial by being the sole building in the vicinity; empty lots reign supreme. No decor. Chipping paint on faded wood hidden beneath thick patches of moss and snaking vines. A wreath of withered flowers hangs on the flung-open front door. Between the specter of danger stifling the still air and the sunset dying the world scarlet, each aspect combines to scream ‘house of horrors’ rather than ‘grandmother’s house’.

Undeterred, Mizuka bounds up the half-rotted steps, demanding we stay close. Entering the foyer, Mizuka shouts: ‘is anybody home?’. Her answer is a feeble ‘help me’ sounding from beyond a hallway. We file through it into a living room. An old woman lies on her side atop a forest green rug, trying and failing to push herself up with twig-thin arms. Mizuka flies to her aid and helps her into a cushioned chair. Koishi disappears and returns with a carafe of water. Both girls rub the woman’s back as she collects herself.

My first impulse is to ask what happened, but the ransacked state of her home tells a typical story. Overturned furniture, drawers torn from dressers, and bookshelves emptied, their contents strewn across the wood floor. A thief, or perhaps thieves. Bandits aren’t rare in Seiren, but they’re not a common sight either, especially this far south in Halivaara. Most prefer to prey on wealthy merchants caravaning in and out of the northernmost province of Avelhum. That said, as a trading hub, Gamaloth has its fair share of merchants worth robbing.

Regardless, Mizuka does ask, and Marigold, as she introduces herself, answers as expected. Yet her tale is anything but typical.

A mere ten minutes before our arrival, a hooded figure appeared in Marigold’s living room. She’d sat down for afternoon tea and fallen asleep in the process. Turning over her entire house, the thief rifled through her scarce belongings in a frenzy. Fearing the worst, Marigold feigned sleep as she watched in horror that soon turned to confusion.

Expensive glassware and ceramics were dashed to the floor and shattered. Not one piece of jewelry entered the thief’s pockets. All he seemed to care about were her many bookshelves, her collection rivaling Harlan’s. Only when the thief found his mark did Marigold comprehend his actions.

The thief’s quarry? No surprise: a book. One Marigold wasn’t willing to sit and watch be stolen from her. Not one of her material possessions would be missed if stolen—except that book. Marigold flew at the thief as he stuffed the prize in his cloak. Caught off guard, he tumbled to the floor along with Marigold, who grabbed at the book with all her might. Yet her old bones had little, and the thief’s swift kick to her stomach reduced her to the state in which we found her.

“Why risk your life over a book?” Asks Koishi, enraptured by Marigold’s tale.

“It’s…an heirloom. One entrusted to me by my mother and her mother before her. For centuries, that book has been passed down in our family. The thought of losing it before I could give it to my daughter was too painful…is too painful.” Melancholy paints her wrinkled face.

“May I ask the contents of this book?” Mizuka takes Marigold’s hands.

“A collection of fairy tales and legends. Dragons, mages, swords, nothing but bedtime stories. Why would anyone wish to steal it? It’s worthless in terms of coin.”

“I see.” Mizuka strikes a heroic pose, both hands on her hips. “Worry not, for I’ll find this heathen and return your precious heirloom.”

“You will?” Marigold’s face alights as she wipes her eyes.

“We shall. Tell us all you know about this thief so we may bring him to justice.”

“But I’ve told you all I know…”

“You have…?”

“Yes, it all happened so suddenly, and his face was covered, and I had to keep my eyes closed, and—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Barmaid offers her another drink of water. “We’ll figure it out.”

We will? “Did you maybe see how tall he was? Skinny, fat?”

Marigold does her best to describe the thief’s superficial features. About her height, short given old age shrunk her to three-quarters my height, dark tunic and trousers covered in patchwork, a maroon mantle fraying at the edges, and strawberry blond as evidenced by several strands of hair poking out from beneath his hood.

“Who all knows of this book?” Mizuka collects books from the floor and places them on the table in the room’s center.

“No one but myself, a local book collector, and…Wait.” She squints at each of us in turn. “Who are you? What were you doing on this end of town? The boy looks a local but you two girls can’t be from Gamaloth.”

After sharing awkward glances, we introduce ourselves, and Barmaid details our earlier encounter with Harlan.

“Hence why you were so quick to offer your help in finding it.” Marigold frowns but gives a slight giggle. “Is what I would say had you not been so kind in coming to my rescue. It’s not as if you knew whether or not I still had the book. Such selfless young folk like yourselves are a rarity nowadays.”

“…Thank you.” Mizuka hides her blush with a hand. “But withhold any further praise until after we’ve secured your book. Are you positive no one else but Harlan knows of it?”

“No one except my daughter and her husband, but they moved to Dragonwall years ago.”

“Then perhaps Harlan told more than just us about it. We’ll start by questioning him.”

“Start what?” I ask.

“What else? An investigation. Had we seen the thief escaping, we might’ve given chase, but he’s long gone by now. We’ve no choice but to ask around for clues as to his possible whereabouts.”

“Long gone is right. What if he had a horse waiting outside to take him to the next town?”

“Quiet, servant boy. Are you suggesting we abandon this poor woman in her time of need?”

“I-I didn’t say that, but the odds of us finding him after—

She bops my forehead with a book’s rigid spine. “We’ll find her book no matter what, understand?”

“…Then the sooner we start, the better. We’ve maybe a couple hours of daylight left.”

“Indeed. My apologies for not helping you clean up this mess, but every second counts.”

Agreeing, Marigold wobbles to her feet and leads us to the front porch. “Don’t waste any more time worrying about me. Please find my book. I’d do anything to have it back.”

“And we’ll do anything to get it back.” Mizuka gives a slight bow and bids her farewell for now.

Me and Barmaid do the same and follow after Mizuka. Is this the first quest of my journey? A dangerous criminal. A precious heirloom holding the secrets to the treasure that is the sword in the stone. Dread and annoyance turn to excitement and anticipation. I may not be fighting dragons, but chasing bandits beats shoveling manure.