Volume 01 - Chapter 4: Roar of the Orphaned Beast (Part 02)

Two days later, we arrive in Hleigar, the sunset sky awash in amber and violet. Another typical rural village, about the size of Gamaloth. But unlike Gamaloth and most other villages in Halivaara, it has little farmland. A few small plots line the west end through which we entered.

Neither girl can pinpoint the fragment, so Mizuka demands we find a place where we can ask a lot of people if they’ve heard of any peculiar happenings. Fearing a potentially coin-draining trip to an inn, I suggest a tavern.

Koishi, with zero hesitation, asks a passing young man for directions. He recommends a tavern to the northeast. It’s not the only one, but he claims it’s the liveliest of the three. Struggling to recall his directions, we head straight there; the luggage on my back lighter with the knowledge I’ll soon be sitting.

Hleigar is unique compared to Halivaara’s other villages. The houses, while still wooden, have sheets of flat rock serving as their foundations. Layers of red and black stone squares blanket each roof. Green is a rare color. Ruddy dirt lies where one would expect to find grass. Rather than flowers or shrubbery, stone sculptures of animals and human-shaped figures cover all but a few front yards.

Rare is the villager who waves at or greets us. Koishi tries to make small talk with those that do, but Mizuka hurries her along. The majority wear thick, sturdy clothes caked in a permanent film of dried mud. The many cautious stares we receive imply Hleigar doesn’t receive many visitors.

We travel several winding paths, each topped with a thick layer of gravel. Children scurry up and down the narrower paths, their bare feet rough and calloused. Laughing, they chase each other, sticks in hand, vaulting fences, splashing in puddles. Mizuka and Koishi watch with smiles and gasp when one falls, only to bounce back to his feet and keep running.

After asking more passers-by for further guidance, we arrive at the tavern. A two-story tall building lacking a porch. Serving as the entrance is a towering pair of rounded double doors. Mounted to their left and right are two pairs of crisscrossing flags bearing four different symbols, each overlaid with words or initials. They resemble the markings on various products sold across Seiren. A sign bearing the tavern’s name hangs high on the front wall, painted in stiff block letters. Howler’s Hall. A fitting name given the echoing shouts and bellowing laughter sounding from within its sturdy walls.

“Ready?” I step past the girls.

“Quite.” Mizuka frowns, massaging her temples. “Being so close to my fragment, but not knowing its exact location drives me mad.”

“You too, Master?” Koishi sighs, hands folded over her chest. “Even though I got my sword back, I still feel something missing…”

“Someone inside might give us a lead.” I yank open the immense doors.

Two overlong banquet tables occupy each side of the primary floor, a fat blank space between them. Patrons inhabit every inch of the benches aligned on each side of the tables. Yet the tavern doesn’t feel crowded courtesy of the high ceiling. Where there might’ve been a bar is another long table sitting horizontally on a raised platform reserved for important guests, presumably. Countless candles lining the tables and adorning chandeliers cast this spirited space in a saffron glow.

A group of men and women sitting on the right wave at us as we hover near the front desk, telling us to join them. Unable to find a barmaid to help us, I steel myself and head toward them, the girls at my back.

At their suggestion, we place our luggage under the table and sit. I find myself sandwiched between two burly men ten years my senior, while the girls mash up against the two women in their group, both a few years older than them; older in appearance, anyway. Mizuka is at least five hundred, while Koishi is technically a toddler…

They pelt us with endless questions, ranging from where we’re from to what kids are doing in a place like Howler’s Hall. The men hit on Koishi for about ten seconds until death glares from their female companions render them tight-lipped.

Noticing my wandering eyes, they claim the food and drinks will be served in a few minutes; this place serves a range of dishes all at once, buffet-style. Each guest pays a flat fee before they leave. The reason for the crowd is because today is payday.

Most male villagers work in nearby mines to the east, while the women raise crops in between their household duties. Their primary export is iron, but veins of copper and even silver are discovered on occasion. They sell the good deposits to merchants from Dragonwall, who peddle it all across Seiren. The majority is exported to Kaalima for the Forged to use in their endless pursuit of blacksmithing. Hleigar’s villagers make use of the unsellable leftovers, including the worthless hunks of rock mined along with the metals, to make building materials, sculptures, and other goods like tools and furniture.

“But,” says one man, his grizzled face souring, “there has been little mine work lately. Not since that started.” He sticks a thumb eastward.

“Oh?” Mizuka leans forward.

“You’re better off not knowing, girlie. But I’ll tell anyway—for your own safety.” His voice falls, and we huddle closer. “Nobody’s seen it and nobody wants to either. Not since people started disappearing. At least twelve poor souls in but a month.”

“Does anyone know who…or what is responsible?”

“Not a one. City officials sent a small party to investigate one of the old, dried-up mines, but they never returned.”

“Hmm…and where is this mine?”

“A little ways north of the ones we’re…You’re not planning on going, are you?”

“N-No. Mere curiosity is all.” Mizuka averts her eyes. “What else do you know about whatever it is?”

“Only that it…well, you’ll likely hear soon enough. Here comes dinner.” He forces a smile.

Mizuka tries to continue the conversation, but a barmaid interrupts her by placing several plates of food before us. Her uniform is nothing more than a plain brown tunic and green skirt reaching down to her ankles. Disappointing, but not a surprise. Men the kingdom over make the pilgrimage to Sparrow’s End as there is not another like it.

Meat of livestock and game alike, vegetable dishes of every variety, and piles of fresh-baked bread line the table, while pitchers of fruit juice and mead fill any remaining space. After our repeated meals of jerky, dried fruit, and stale crackers, this kingly feast is doubly appreciated.

We stuff our faces until the plates are licked clean, but the parade of barmaids soon replenishes them. Food and drink keep flowing until every patron is half-asleep from a full belly or drunk out of their minds.

Our newfound companions are of the latter sort. One man stands, clears his throat, and sings at the top of his lungs. A pair of lute players in the corner give him something to sing to. The second grabs me by the arm and forces me to stand with him. Catching the next verse, he rocks me from side to side in rhythm with the song. In seconds, every man in the hall is standing and singing, not in harmony, not even singing the same song, but still full of mirth. Despite Mizuka and Koishi giggling at me, I try singing too, humming when I can’t understand the words.

A strange sound mixes in with our song. Weeping or wailing, no one can tell, but it doesn’t belong. The singing fades, silence reigns, and then—the sound returns. A terrible crying seeming to be both in the room and far off in the night. The unseen wretch sobs and screams, turning every smile into a frown of disgust or terror. And yet, no one is surprised. Only we jerk our heads around, searching for, but unable to find the source of the miserable wailing.

“What is that?” I ask, to no one in particular.

“The thing responsible for the disappearances,” grumbles one of the men, picking at his ears as the wailing ceases. “I said you’d hear for yourself.”

He plops back on the bench, along with the rest of those who’d been standing. Their annoyed voices don’t dare rise above a whisper.

Apparently, whatever’s dwelling within the abandoned mines doesn’t appreciate the people of Hleigar engaging in any form of merrymaking. For the past month, every night any of the taverns’ patrons sing or celebrate, it wails as it just did. How it knows when they do or why it cries, nobody knows, but each morning after, the villagers discover someone has gone missing.

“Were the cries traced back to those abandoned mines?” Mizuka squints as she reaches for her third serving of buttered rolls.

Sighing, he nods. “After the third disappearance, a few miners worked up the nerve to chase after the sound. They reached those mines before getting spooked and running all the way back to the village, screaming about monsters or some such nonsense.”

“And this has been going on for only a month?”

“More or less. Nothing ever happens or has happened in Hleigar. You just experienced the most exciting event we have to offer.” He laughs and drains the last of his mead.

We exchange pained glances for a few moments before Koishi stands and dishes out another round of food to each of our plates. We feast and return to cheerier topics, treating the disturbing incident as a mere illusion.

Having little to say, I indulge in the various stories my seatmates share. Of their work in the mines, foreign lands they’ve explored, and the many interesting characters they met along the way. I hang on every word of their storybook-esque tales. The only people I ever spoke with for this long were all farmers. Useful information, but boring.

Another hour later, Mizuka signals for us to leave. Much to our new friends’ dismay, we bid them farewell and thank them for inviting us to eat with them. With hazy eyes and flushed cheeks, they smile, telling us to stay safe and enjoy our travels.

Standing on each side of the front doors are two barmaids, each holding a small wooden box. One approaches, asking if we enjoyed our meal as she opens the box to reveal a small pile of coin. I ask how much we owe her for the three of us, to which she responds with a number my brain refuses to process.

“Excuse me?” I ask, inadvertently, voice that of a frightened kitten.

She speaks the horrible number again, each syllable turning my stomach as I remember I’m out of money. I turn to the girls and tell them I can’t afford it, face ablaze. Mizuka wrinkles her nose while Koishi hands me her near-empty coin purse with a dead smile. She has just enough to cover the cost. I hand it to the barmaid with a trembling hand, who promptly places it in the box and closes it—the last of our funds gone forever.

Head hanging low, I lead us outside. We’ve moved far from the hall when Mizuka faces me, demanding I tell her why the buffet cost so much.

“I-If I knew, we’d have gone elsewhere.” The memory of the tasty food sours as I reflect on the price.

“Who knew such expensive meals existed?” Mutters Koishi, fiddling with her empty purse.

“Does this mean we’re out of money?” Mizuka glares as if I were solely responsible.

“…It’s all gone,” whimpers Koishi, “all my savings, gone, just like that…”

Guilt and sorrow weigh upon my heart as I place a hand on Koishi’s shoulder.

“Quit moping. We have enough food for you two to survive.”

“Maybe for three days. What then?”

“How should I know? Get a job? Sell something? I’ve never had to worry about money.” Mizuka shrugs, her heartless words boiling my blood.

“Three years.” The usual cheer vanishes from Koishi’s darkening tone. “Three years of waiting tables, dealing with drunks and perverts, having my pay docked whenever I broke a dish, little boys flipping my skirt, spilling drinks and food all over myself, twelve-hour workdays, filling in on my days off, and, and, and!” She pants, falling to the earth, scratching at dirt. “It’s all gone! Most of my pay went to food and rent, so I rarely bought anything for myself. I thought to save up for something nice, but no! It’s gone, wasted on the same tavern food I’ve been eating my whole life!”

She weeps, pounding her fists into the ground. I crouch, rub her back, and motion for Mizuka to join. She does after some hesitation, and tries to calm her down, telling her any suffering she goes through now will pay off in the end. It doesn’t help.

Her despair rends my heart but is somehow adorable. I ask if I can do anything to make her feel better, but she provides no answer. After a few minutes, she stands, dusts off her dress, and wipes her puffy eyes.

“All better?”

“I will be once you or Sister pat my head,” she whispers, fidgeting.

Mizuka motions for me to do it. I shake my head, to which she responds by grabbing my hand and placing it on Koishi’s head. A moment later, Mizuka joins me, cheeks rosy. Together, under the full moon, passers-by shooting us odd glances, we rub Koishi’s head.

Back and forth, both of us confused by her desire to be babied rather than abused. She purrs as we enjoy her soft, golden locks. My hand bumps into Mizuka’s, and we both pull back, avoiding eye contact, but soon return to our task.

After several minutes, I stop, unable to bear the embarrassment any longer. Forming a smirk, Mizuka rubs faster and harder, giving Koishi whiplash.

“M-Master, what are you—”

“Only what you asked of me, dear sister.” She cackles, using both hands to make a mess of Koishi’s hair.

“Muu~” groans Koishi, pouting, “the other way was…well, this isn’t so bad either.” Her usual goofy grin appears.

Not five seconds later, Mizuka stops, looking bored. Koishi freezes in shock for a moment before rubbing her eyes one last time and flashing her familiar sunshine smile.

“Thank you, Masters.” She bows.

“I-It is the least I can do. Your sacrifice will not be in vain.” Mizuka turns, nose twitching. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Are you two ready to investigate these mines?”

“…Huh? We’re not actually going to search for whatever was wailing, are we?” I backpedal.

“Of course we are. If there are strange happenings, they are almost certainly related to my missing fragments. A trace of my power is flowing from that direction.” She points northeast, the other hand on her hip.

“Isn’t it dangerous? An entire search party disappeared. A-And it’s nighttime. We wouldn’t be able to see what might attack us. Let’s just—”

“Quit yapping like a scared puppy, servant boy. I said before this journey would be dangerous. We don’t have time to waste waiting for daylight. We’re going right this minute.” She strides down the torchlit street, Koishi following on tiptoes.

I protest, but concede after the first syllable. Why did I think I could defy Mizuka in the first place? The wailing echoes in my ears, and I shiver in the bitter night wind. My brain screaming to do otherwise, I force myself forward, chasing after the girls, my overstuffed gut twisting in knots.