They reached the outskirts of town in good time, and Vhalla pulled her attentions back to the present. The town closest to the Charems’ home, Rivend, reminded Vhalla very much of Leoul. It was a town indeed, but barely so. Houses gathered closer together than normal. There was an inn, a grocer, some general stores, cobbler, seamstress, and other life essentials. But that was where the similarities ended.
The buildings were basic log construction with shingled roofs. It was different from the river stone and thatch-work that was made in the East. People used what was available to them in places like this. Most did not have glass on the windows. Some had been wealthy enough at various points to afford paint—that was now chipping away—on their storefronts.
No one seemed to pay the girls any mind as they rode to the grocer and dismounted. Vhalla realized with her hood drawn she was likely assumed to be Nia and was content to blend in with the girls as they went about their business.
“Welcome, welcome!” the grocer hummed from behind his counter as a bell alerted him to their entry. “Ah, Cass!”
“Hello, Daren,” Cass said with a smile.
“What’ll it be today?” The elderly man rested his elbows on the high counter.
“The normal, please.”
“You usually don’t return to me so quickly.” He began to grab bags of grain, salted pork, and preserved food from around the store. Cass helped, knowing where things were from prior experience. “Is little Gwen finally eating into her growth spurt?”
“Maybe!” Cass laughed.
“Actually we have—” Reona began.
“We have Fritz home also,” Cass finished for her sister with a glare.
Vhalla realized they were keeping their presence silent. She wondered if they had been coached by Elecia or Aldrik, or if it was simply Cass’s keen insight.
“Do you? How is our mad sorcerer doing?” The grocer began to tally up the pile on the counter.
“You know Fritz.” Cass smiled as she began to count coins from a bag strapped to her hip.
“The lad has never grown up.” The man chuckled as they began to collect the groceries. Cass passed a bag of flour to Vhalla, and she noticed the man staring at her strangely.
“Nia?” He squinted.
“Please excuse us, Daren!” Cass herded them out.
“What are you doing?” Reona hissed as they were loading the horse’s saddlebags.
“I don’t know.” Cass paused, glancing at Vhalla. “But I didn’t see how we could explain having the prince or the Windwalker at our house.”
Being called the Windwalker stung.
“What’s the point of having a prince if we’re not gonna tell anyone about it?” Reona whined.
“Hush.” Cass rolled her eyes.
“Thank you,” Vhalla said earnestly. She realized the foreign horse would likely give away that something was different in such a small town. But perhaps it could be explained away as Fritz’s mount from the palace.
“We should head home.” Cass noticed Vhalla considering her horse and had the same idea.
“We should.”
They tied up the last of their supplies to the saddles, and Vhalla adjusted the hood on her head, suddenly conscious of her own existence. Reona huffed, annoyed that her big secret actually had to remain just that.
A scream rang out through the quiet town.
All three girls turned to the source of the sound. A commotion was being raised at the far end. Vhalla glanced to Cass.
“Reona, stay here with the horses,” the elder sister ordered.
“I’m coming.” Vhalla fell into step by the eldest Charem girl. Cass gave her a nod and did not question.
A crowd was quickly gathering at the main entrance to the town. People of all shapes and sizes poured into the street to see the source of the commotion. Judging by the size of the group, everyone who lived in the area was likely there. Cass squinted over people’s heads. Vhalla had no hope of seeing, even on her toes. They pushed around the side to one of the storefronts. Standing on some wooden boxes, they could finally see the source of the fuss.
It was then that Vhalla realized how true the princess’s words had been.
“Jon, Jon! What, what is wrong, Jon?” a woman blubbered, stepping forward from the semi-circular crowd. A man had walked, judging by the footprints, through the mountain snow, and he had come a very long way. He wore the bloodied and torn uniform of a palace guard. Blood no longer oozed from the gaping wounds in-between his plate. It had crusted and frozen.
His head tilted to the side, weighed down by a rock that jutted out from his eye. No, it wasn’t a rock. Vhalla’s eyes widened. The crystal shone unnaturally in the light of the afternoon. Blood coated the man’s face from where the magical object had been shoved through. His other eye shone red, and his skin had turned to leather. Whoever this man had been, he was no more.