Chapter 2: Talk To People

"...."

Henry hummed in confusion, looking at the short sword he was given.

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"Where should I start?" Henry asked.

A beat.

The guard had looked at him in confusion, as if he'd just been asked how to catch the wind.

After a sigh, he answered.

"...Talk to the ones seeing things. Ask them what kind of visions they're having. I don't know." The guard shrugged.

"And take this. For self-defense. Though, you might get hanged even if you use it in self-defense against the villagers. Be mindful of their status. You're an outsider. You won't get off easy, even if you kill a nobody peasant." The guard murmured, handing Henry a spare short sword.

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'...So why even give me a sword?' He sighed, blinking as he watched it glisten under the sun.

'But still... it's been a while since I held one made of steel. Three years, right?'

He gave it a firm swing.

VROOM.

'Sounds nice... A bit dull, but it's about as you'd expect from a blacksmith in a place like Initium.'

The situation in the village was as follows.

Initium, a village built by Baron Gaston Initium, was originally founded as a front for contraband trafficking.

The baron had been infamous for hiring thieves and stealing from rich viscounts and merchants. He needed a base of operations, a place where he could launder stolen goods. So he created this village.

This was no secret. The villagers knew. Even the current lord, Baron Straton Initium, openly admits it.

The reason it's no secret is this: when settlers began arriving for the sake of committing to the act, people with genuine need for a place to stay or hide, Baron Gaston's heart began to change. He started to feel for them. In time, he confessed everything to the king, knowing that continuing his way of life would eventually put the innocent villagers at risk.

He offered his own head. The king executed him at the Royal Capital, but spared Initium.

Straton is his grandson, and Gaston is forever remembered as the village's hero.

As for the current situation:

Recently, many of the villagers began reporting visions. Even those with no mana training, and no religious leanings. Alongside the visions came a strange sickness that left them unable to eat.

People began dying.

The baron suspected a curse. He brought in several low-class magicians, but they all reached the same conclusion: it was a curse of unknown origin, and beyond their abilities to resolve.

The problem could be solved if the baron hired more competent magicians from the Capital, or even from the nearby Viscounty.

But Initium was poor. Very poor.

Baron Gaston's good intentions had been short-sighted. Without the trafficking scheme, the village's only sources of income were taxes, raised year after year, and scattered donations.

Now, the baron stood on the verge of bankruptcy. The people of Initium, like their ancestors, had always been dirt poor.

There was no stable income. And now, with the blacksmiths and tailors sick from the curse, the village's last trades were faltering too.

Henry stopped in the village square.

If this isn't resolved, Initium will be no more. Land will be sold off, villagers evicted.

He let out a deep sigh, watching the meager handful of people passing by.

'It's a lost cause. I know that... but... I said I'd try.'

He gripped the sword and sheathed it at his belt.

'Guess I'll head to the pond. Maybe the housewives know something...'

He exhaled and began walking.

The village pond; where goodwives gathered to wash clothes.

When Henry first arrived in Initium, he couldn't help but let out a solemn chuckle at the sight. In the Capital, they had an invention called the faucet, a creation of Hero Magus. Using magical artifacts and runes, water was drawn from underground sources and channeled through pipes and filters - into homes. Nobles had it first, of course, but Magus had pushed to make it standard even for the low nobility and well-paying peasants.

Henry often wondered what the other world, where Magus and Van, the two heroes of this world, had come from must be like. How advanced, how clean. The thought seemed even sharper here in Initium.

As he approached the pond, he spotted the women at work, sleeves rolled, hands in the water. A white cloth around their heads to shield them from the early sun.

"Goodwives," Henry called softly to them, stepping closer.

"Ah, Henry's come to visit us!" One of them chuckled. Their heads turned briefly to Henry before continuing on their washing duties.

Henry stopped, glancing over the entire group of women.

'... I'll go here.' He started marching to Edena. One of the village's elders; minding no gaze to the others.

"Hahaha," The other, younger and beautiful women - a rarity within a village like Initium, chuckled amongst themselves, "Again, he only talks to the oldest one around... You think he fancies older women?"

"Hmm..." Another one hummed, "I wouldn't call it that... It's more like he avoids us?" A younger housewife murmured.

"Oh, is he just shy? How adorable..."

"Ah... he's carrying a sword?" Their gazes narrowed slightly as they glanced at him.

"Where'd he get it from?"

"Goodwife Edena, how are you?" Henry muttered as he bowed to the elderly woman, who had just taken a small break on a nearby wooden chair.

She let out a tired chuckle. "Henry, my boy, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working for old Chapskate right now? He'll pluck your hairs out."

"You calling him old is rich, miss Edena." He smiled faintly.

"Oh, hush it, you brat." She tossed a wet, dirty cloth at him playfully. Her gaze then drifted down to the sword at his side.

"My. I assume there's something important you want to do?" she asked. "Are you finally going to leave this hole and move up in the world?"

Henry looked away, chuckling.

"Please don't be ridiculous, Goodwife. I'm not that impressive." He scratched his head.

Edena watched his awkward smile, her gaze turning solemn.

"You wanted something?" she asked quietly.

"I have." He shook his head. "Owner Chapskate gave me the order to find out about the strange visions and sickness around the village... so I came to ask you—"

"Ah..." She cut him off with a deep, weary sigh. "I understand now."

She leaned against the chair, gazing at the pond.

"He's kicking you out, isn't he? That old coot." She murmured.

Henry looked down, his gaze fixed on the dirt beneath his leather boots.

"Y... yes. He is. That is just... his excuse, I suppose?" He let out a nervous chuckle.

A beat of silence followed, the sound of the other women's voices and humming filling the air.

"Good," she said softly. "Very good."

Henry raised his head to look at her.

"A young man like you shouldn't stay in a place like this. If this gives you more reason to leave, then it's very good."

"Goodwife, don't say that," Henry murmured. "This place is not some godforsaken hole. Not while you're in it." He smiled.

She took a slow breath and closed her eyes.

"While I'm in it, huh..." she whispered to herself.

"Goodwife?"

"Nothing. Well then," she said, turning back to him. "What do you want to ask?"

"Uh..." He scratched his head. "Visions... do you know anyone who's had one, and what was it like?"

"Let me save you a hundred hours of work, Henry," she sighed. "I've seen things myself."

Henry flinched.

'The curse got to her...?'

"Among them... the Demon Lord rising from the ashes. My dead son coming to haunt me at night. Others saw the Goddess bringing mountains of gold. Some saw steaks rising from the dirt, then started eating dirt out of desperation. Everyone sees something different. It doesn't matter where you live—south or north of the village, everyone gets the visions and the sickness."

Henry exhaled slowly.

'Damn it... I believed I could at least isolate it to a specific location within the village... But I guess it's common knowledge... the villagers already know the whole story. Just... what can I do by myself?'

Edena placed a hand on her stomach.

"...Loss of appetite after a night of hurling my guts out."

Henry's eyes widened.

"And the travelers—you see them come and go. They eat our food and leave without suffering any of it. What else could it be, Henry, if not a curse that we can't cure? A curse meant only for us?"

He gripped the handle of his sword tightly.

"...Forget this pointless quest. Leave Initium. Leave, so you won't have to see me in a more pitiful state when I die. Leave, so you won't catch this curse yourself," she murmured.

Henry turned to face the other women at the pond beside Edena, his expression unreadable.

"For once," Henry began softly, "I do not want to run... Just... just for a little while."

A silence followed.

A full minute passed between them.

"...Good day, Goodwife. Take care."

Henry turned away and began walking.

'Were it the old me... I'd have shouted in her face to hold on to her life's treasure. Suggested we should all leave the village if we want to live. As if this curse was just another thug to fight.'

He cringed at himself, clutching his chest and biting his lip in frustration as the pained face of his friend flashed in his mind.

'Lizz—... Elizabeth. It is only a while after I came here that I've realized just how socially inept I was around you. You've been too lenient with someone like myself.'

His grip tightened until his skin bruised blue. Blood welled at his lip.

He made his way toward the newly constructed well, raising some water to drink and wash his face.

'...Hm. The well. Right. It was built recently, wasn't it? About... two years ago?'

He stared at the well.

An idea flickered in his mind, a memory from the Capital.

When you eat or drink something bad, you get a stomach ache.

He recalled how his mother would brew warm tea to ease his pain, telling him the hot water soothed the stomach.

Yes... What if this isn't even a curse? What if that's why the magicians couldn't find anything—because it isn't magical at all?

And what if the cause was this well? The supposed curse had over fifty years to manifest. Why had it appeared only after this well was built?

Henry gulped, eyes widening as he studied the well.

Just then, a guard passed nearby. Henry's eyes darted to him.

"E-Excuse me, sir!" Henry called out.

"Henry? What are you up to? I heard you were on an investigation," the guard said, stopping to face the young man.

"Yes! you heard right. Say... the Lord had this well built, didn't he?" Henry asked.

"Naturally. What is your point with this, boy?" The guard frowned, stepping closer.

"I..." Henry swallowed. "I mean no disrespect to Lord Straton, but... this... this water well is clean, right?"

The guard's eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened.

A cold silence followed.

"I've seriously had enough of this..." he muttered under his breath.

He grabbed Henry by the collar and shoved him hard against the well's stone edge.

"Listen here, boy. I don't want to hear one more damned word about this well," he growled.

Henry gasped, hands raised defensively. "I... I just want to find the cause of this—"

The guard shoved him again. "The cause is a curse! That's all you need to know!"

"I know... I know. I just... I need to be sure. I need to know everything—"

"Know everything?" the guard spat. He shoved Henry to the ground with a rough push.

Henry hit the dirt with a grunt, curling up instinctively.

"This isn't a game, Henry! This isn't something you can fix with questions and guesses!" The guard stormed toward the well, snatching up a bucket and yanking it down into the water.

He hauled it up and stomped back toward Henry, glaring.

"You think we haven't checked the water!? The water is clean! I'm sick and tired of every ruffian, one after another, coming here thinking they'll uncover some great conspiracy with this well!"

He dumped the entire bucket of cold water over Henry, who gasped and shielded his face.

The guard tossed the empty bucket aside.

"Crawl back to whatever hole you came from. Stop wasting your breath — and ours."

"Better yet, go climb up the mountain over there, and don't come back! You and all the other conspiracy fools — that's where all the 'contaminated' water is!" he spat.

Without another word, he turned and stomped off, leaving Henry drenched and trembling on the ground.

There weren't many, but they were there.

Eyes.

People who had stopped to watch the commotion.

"That's the sixth one this week... Mr. Halbrey's got it rough dealing with them every time."

"And this time it's Henry...? Tsk, tsk. I thought he was better than that."

"I guess everyone wants attention at this age," they murmured.

'I get it.'

Henry's head remained against the cold dirt, eyes staring up at the pale morning sun.

'I get it. I'll stop. Sure...'

He let out a slow breath, pushing himself up to sit. His gaze dropped to his knees; bruised, muddy. The subtle breeze made everything feel colder.

Then his eyes drifted toward the mountain; the same mountain the guard had shouted about.

'...Not yet,' he thought, seeing his deceased father's face.

'I... I still can't face you. Not yet.'

'And...'

He bit his already cut lip once more as Edena's image filled his mind—her hand resting on her stomach, the visions she'd seen.

He stood slowly.

"...Guess I'll go for a walk," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

And he started walking — step by step, toward the mountain; through the stables he was residing.

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The guard who'd shoved Henry, named Halbrey, stormed off, muttering in annoyance.

'...' He glanced down at his own hands.

'It took more effort to move him than I'd expected... I meant to toss him aside, but the kid felt like shifting a stone post... And if I didn't know any better, I'd say he also shoved himself...'

Halbrey replayed the moment in his mind—a glimpse of Henry's frame, the collar stretched tight across a broad shoulder.

He shook his head.

'Must be more tired than I thought.'