Chapter 6: The Village

It gave me a good opportunity to look at him. His appearance was a far cry from that of the prince-like Melchior. He was broad and tall, even a little chubby. His dark hair had gotten even messier because of the journey. He was wearing light breeches, over which he had put on a brown gambeson with belts. Around his feet he was wearing leather boots. Around his left shoulder he was wearing a worn-out pouch. At his hip rested a large sword, which he could easily carry.

He made large strides. In fact, I, who had never exercised in my life, found it difficult to keep up with him. Especially while walking up the mountain like this. I was glad that I could still wear my own boots, because boots in a different size would have surely squeezed my feet. Suddenly, an older man, looking skinny and out of breath, nearly bumped into me. He was carrying a big hat, and he had a large basket hoisted up his back. I yelped when I saw him coming. The older man looked up, mumbled an apology and quickly kept going.

“How rude!’’ I exclaimed.

Alexander merely laughed and kept going.

After walking for at least half an hour, we reached a sight that took my breath away. There, up the mountain, stood a giant watermill. Behind it, I saw what must have been the Blue River, for its clear water reflected the perfectly blue sky perfectly. The mill was turning quickly, and the noise of the water was deafening. Behind the mill, there was a large wooden building. Before it, men and women were walking around swiftly. Their faces were sharp, and their eyes looked around frantically. Some of them were loading cargo in large chests, others quickly ran down past us, with baskets on their backs.

“What are they doing?’’

“Providing for your father,’’Alexander said, while looking at something in the distance. He walked past the busy people. They looked defeated, and their clothes were ripped in several places. They looked very dirty.

I ran after Alexander, to the great wooden building behind the mill. Two large doors were opened, revealing a sight that would haunt me until the end of my days.

Men, women and children were cooped up together close, manning the biggest looms I had ever seen. The looms moved on their own accord, but they needed guidance from the workers.

The workers looked like they lived there. Their hands and feet were covered in wounds and dirt. Some of them were sleeping in the corner of the space, whereas others ran around to gather lost pieces of dust and fabric. They were all very skinny, and even with the doors opened I could smell the horrid stench of feces and urine.

But the most troubling part were the children. Some were at work, others sleeping, but many of them missed a bodypart. Some of them missed a hand, others a foot, or even a part of their leg. Yet, they still continued to work.

“What is this,’’ I whispered, gaping at the people there.

“This is what your father makes people of the villages do.’’

I looked at him angrily.

“Surely my father wouldn´t do that! He only lets the villagers pay taxes for using his river.’’

Alexander turned around. A furious expression was on his face. He dragged me by the wrist, away from the building.

“Taxes they pay by creating fabric. Taxes which are impossibly high.’’

He continued to tug my sleeve. We were walking away from the building, to smaller buildings which resembled sheds.

Some of them were, but others, I realised, were houses. Most of them were empty.

“These taxes are so high, in fact, that they have to work day and night in order to pay them.’’

I strode after him, almost falling over the uneven ground.

“But surely my father would understand.’’

He stood still. We were standing in front of a small, dark-looking house. He knocked on the door, without looking at me.

“Oh, he understands. He understands very well that people of the villages need motivation in order to give him the necessary taxes.’’

“Maybe he chose the wrong people to collect the taxes for him,’’ I mused.

The door opened instantly, revealing a woman with grey hair and very dark eyes. Eyes that were very familiar. She hugged Alexander without sparing a second glance at me. I stood there, not used to not being the centre of attention. Moreover, I was surpised at the familiar way the two were speaking to each other. Shouldn´t a bandit inspire more fear into a woman from a village?

“I still can´t get used to your tight hugging,’’ said Alexander.

“Shut up, stupid boy,” said the woman with a smothered voice. She looked up from Alexander’s chest.

“And who might this be?” she asked, giving me an inquisitive look. It felt the same as when Alexander looked at me. Her eyes didn’t miss anything.

“I have never seen you here before.”

“She’s not from here,” Alexander said, eyes lighting up with information she didn’t know. She let go of him and stepped back, looking weary.

“Alexander, I’m not in the mood for one of your jokes. The count’s soldiers will come tomorrow to collect the payments. I need to get back to the field. Albert can only do so much.”

“It´s been a while, mother,’’ he said.

Now I understood the woman´s lack of fear.

“Sit down,’’ the woman said. I did as I was told, marveling at how I was now taking orders from a commoner.

“Who are you?’’ the woman now asked me directly, as she grabbed a kettle from the cupboards that were placed against a faded tapestry with owls. She then walked outside, leaving me surprised.

“Where is she going?’’

Alexander laughed. When his mother shortly returned, I looked at her in confusion.

“She isn´t used to people having to grab water from the rain barrel,’’ Alexander told her. I blused, because he wasn´t wrong.

“My name is Ignacia Collios,’’ I said, somehow afraid to look at her.

“And I would like you to not tell anyone until we leave the village,’’ said Alexander.

Alexander´s mother dropped the kettle, making me jump up from the chair. Water splashed over the ground. In between the wooden planks that functioned as walls, I could see another pair of dark eyes, looking at us. Was that Alebert?

Immediately, Alexander´s mother composed herself and grabbed the kettle from the ground. Alexander´s insufferably smug facial expression hadn´t changed at the surface, but when I took a closer look, I could see there was some concern underneath.

“I didn´t think Melchior would actually do it,’’ said Alexander´s mother.

Alexander got up and took the kettle from her. His mother lit a small fire. I could see the pain in her eyes as she looked at her son.

“This will not end well for Grenston. I will give you some time to leave the village. No one can know that you were here.’’

“They will know soon enough. She might look like a commoner now, but rumors will spread eventually.’’

Her dark eyes took me in.

“If they catch her, the anger of the villagers towards her father will be aimed directly at her.’’

Alexander grabbed a small sack from his pouch. I could hear the undeniable sound of ringing coins.

“This is for the next time the soldiers show up. Hopefully it will be the last time you´ll ever need it.’’

She hesitantly took it.

“I wish you would come back home.’’

He grinned.

“I wish I could.’’

I wanted to ask them why he didn´t remain at Grenston, when I heard loud footsteps. Voices, many of them, were shouting something in the distance.

And if I wasn´t mistaken, they were shouting my name.

***

Thank you so much for reading this story! Every single view makes my heart leap in joy. I hope you have as much fun reading about Ignis's adventures with the charming Melchior and the savage Alexander, as I have writing it. I am risking to fall into a cliché, but please leave a review. Tell me who is your favourite character. Tell me what you think will happen next. I would love to know all of it!

Warm greetings from a crazy writer,

Feline.