Chapter 3 - Deceiver

8:00 AM

Fort slowly opened his eyes, staring at the cracked wooden ceiling above. Dim morning sunlight crept through the gaps in the window, warming the modest, small room. His gaze fell on the old wall clock, which showed exactly 8 o'clock.

"Eight already?!" he muttered, scrambling out of bed. He quickly made his way to the small bathroom at the end of the room. The cold shower washed away the last remnants of sleep, jolting him fully awake.

After putting on his usual simple attire, Fort stepped outside. The narrow dirt path winding through the village was quiet, but the villagers who saw him immediately stopped their work, bowing their heads in respect.

The night before, Fort had managed to drive away a creature that had been preying on the village for weeks. Yet the respect they showed felt more like a burden than an honor on his shoulders.

---

In Front of the Village Chief's House

The village chief's house stood tall, its grandeur undeniable despite the age visible in its fading stone walls. At the front door, Fort saw Callie stepping out with a light gait.

"Oh, Fort!" she greeted cheerfully, her face glowing with happiness. "I still can't believe you actually did it. Everyone in the village keeps talking about your bravery."

Fort merely nodded faintly. The praise brought him no satisfaction. He knew greater threats might still be lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

---

Inside the Village Chief's House

Wills Morgans, the elderly village chief with snow-white hair and a face etched with years of experience, greeted Fort with a warm smile. He gestured for Fort to sit on an old wooden chair that, though simple, looked sturdy.

"Thank you for your courage, lad," he said sincerely. "That creature had kept us living in fear for the past two weeks. Many left the village out of terror, while others stayed because they had no other choice."

Fort listened attentively. Wills continued, explaining how the creature never attacked randomly but left the same trail of destruction after each strike: withered crops, livestock dying suddenly, and a pungent stench of death. The wounds inflicted on villagers also confirmed the creature was undead.

"Do you have any clues about where this creature came from?" Fort asked, his tone resolute.

Wills let out a long sigh, as if dredging up buried memories. "Maybe the graveyard," he finally said. "Undead often emerge from there, either due to forbidden rituals or manipulation of death's."

"Usually necromancy can only be controlled by the user from a limited distance, the farthest is 800 meters and the closest is 300 m, but maybe that can be circumvented with certain rituals or contracts" Will said

While being silent and listening carefully, Fort requested a map of the village. After contemplating for a moment, Wills pointed to the public cemetery on the outskirts. They agreed to investigate the site.

Will suggests Callie come along instead of him.

exiting the door, Fort saw Cellia waiting outside. While trying to ignore Callie, Fort said "lets go" Callie's eyes lit up before finally following Fort as he walked.

---

At the Cemetery

Dark clouds hung over the village, adding to the somber atmosphere of the cemetery nestled at the edge of a dense forest. Fort and Callie walked among moss-covered gravestones, inspecting each one carefully. Most looked untouched, except for one.

The soil of this particular grave appeared disturbed, as though it had been recently dug up and refilled. Its headstone was plain, bearing the inscription: "Died three weeks ago by suicide."

"This is suspicious," Fort remarked, crouching to examine the soil. "It seems something was taken… or buried again."

A nearly imperceptible sound of footsteps broke the silence.

"What are you doing here?" a voice, calm yet cold, inquired.

Fort and Callie turned. Standing before them was a woman dressed entirely in white, her gothic gown trailing to the ground. Her pale face and eyes exuded an aura of mystery that was hard to define.

"Madam Mourch," Callie whispered, her tone a mix of awe and fear.

Madam Mourch offered a faint smile, one that resembled a shadow more than a human expression. "I've heard of your bravery," she said, her gaze locking onto Fort. "Perhaps you'd like to visit my home? We could talk more there."

A strange whisper echoed in Fort's ears: "Don't."

"Madam Mourch," Callie finally mustered the courage to speak, though her voice trembled slightly. "We're investigating… well, something happening in the village. The undead attacks—we thought the cemetery might hold some answers."

Madam Mourch raised a delicate hand, halting Callie mid-sentence with a graceful gesture. "I've heard the rumors," she said, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight. "The undead plaguing your village are no coincidence. However, if you seek answers here, you will not find them."

(Her accent is different from the rest of the village's residents... her vocals have a distinctive tone and a habit of saying words in a very neat order, different from most of the village's residents...)

Fort narrowed his eyes, his tone calm but edged with suspicion. "What do you mean? There's a grave that looks freshly disturbed."

Madam Mourch turned her gaze slowly to the grave in question. A faint smile played on her lips, though her eyes remained cold and unreadable. "Sometimes, the earth of a graveyard does not rest as it should. What you see may be nothing more than coincidence… or perhaps not."

Callie, uneasy with the cryptic response, tried again. "Madam, surely you know something. You always seem to know what's happening in the village. Do you… perhaps know where the undead are coming from?"

Madam Mourch's gaze softened as she looked at Callie, almost maternal in its gentleness, though her eyes betrayed an unfathomable depth. "You are too naive, Callie. The answers you seek are far more complex than they seem. If you truly wish to understand, I suggest you and Fort visit my home tonight. There, it will be easier to explain."

Fort stepped forward slightly, scrutinizing her expression with unwavering focus. "Why your home? Why not here and now?"

Madam Mourch's smile did not falter, though the stillness of her demeanor was unsettling. "Some truths are not meant to be spoken in the open, especially not in a place such as this. You will understand, Fort, if you are wise enough to accept my invitation."

The strange whisper echoed in Fort's ears once more, louder and more insistent this time: "Don't. Do not trust her."

Callie looked to Fort, her expression uncertain as though seeking his guidance. "Fort, what do you think we should do?"

Fort held Madam Mourch's gaze, his tone measured but firm. "We'll think about it."

Madam Mourch inclined her head slightly, her serene expression unchanged. "Very well. I will wait, should you change your mind. But remember, Fort…" She paused, letting her words linger in the air. "Not all answers can be found through weapon or bravery alone."

With an air of haunting elegance, Madam Mourch turned and disappeared into the thickening fog, her flowing white gown trailing behind her like a specter. The faint scent of withered roses lingered in her wake, a chilling reminder of her presence.

For a long moment, neither Fort nor Callie spoke, the whispers of the wind and the ominous stillness of the cemetery their only companions.

---

As Fort and Callie walked through the quiet afternoon, a thick mist clung to the ground, and the air was damp with the scent of earth and decaying leaves. The village was still, save for the soft rustling of the trees above them. The fall leaves drifted lazily to the ground, adding to the eerie stillness that seemed to settle over everything.

Fort tried to recall every detail of their conversation. Mourch's voice was soft, yet there was something about the tone that felt off—too structured, too polished. It wasn't like the villagers' speech, rough and low, flowing like a river that never ceased. Madam Mourch's words, however, were always deliberate, each sentence too precise, as though each one had been carefully rehearsed.

His thoughts were clouded with lingering questions, and one in particular gnawed at him.

He glanced at Callie, her face partially obscured by the mist, before speaking. "Is she from here?"

Callie paused, her eyes flicking to him as if weighing his words. "You mean Madam Mourch?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension.

Fort nodded slightly, his gaze focused ahead as they continued down the narrow, leaf-strewn path. The question had been plaguing him ever since their encounter in the cemetery.

There was a long pause, the silence stretching out between them as Callie seemed to gather her thoughts. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and measured. "She moved here a few years ago..."

Fort's brow furrowed as he processed the information. He had sensed something off about Madam Mourch from the moment they met, something that didn't quite fit.

"If I remember correctly," Callie continued, "it was during the riot at Misthaven Castle, in Yrhone. There was chaos, unrest—news from the city barely made it out of Caligo, but it was all anyone talked about at the time. Madam Mourch came shortly after that."

Fort's eyes narrowed. It was an unsettling coincidence, but it only raised more questions. He glanced at Callie, who seemed lost in thought, her eyes scanning the surroundings, as though searching for something that might explain the strange woman's origins.

"Back then," Callie added with a slight sigh, "newspapers could still get in and out of Caligo easily, so we heard a lot of rumors. But I never learned much about her—only that she appeared suddenly, without much explanation."

Fort's thoughts raced. He had been to the village many times before, yet he had never heard of Madam Mourch until recently. "Do you know where she came from?"

Callie shook her head slowly, her gaze distant, as if trying to recall any scraps of information. "Unfortunately, no. She never spoke of her past, and no one ever seemed to ask. People just... accepted her."

Fort nodded.

---

Back at the Village Chief's House

Fort reported his findings to Wills, mentioning the suspicious grave but deliberately leaving out Madam Mourch. Instead, he asked Wills to share more about the enigmatic woman.

Wills nodded slowly, his expression growing serious. "She's been in this village since before I was born. People rarely see her, but she's always there when needed—helping those in trouble, providing food during hard seasons."

Then, in a quieter tone, Wills added, "She has a family cemetery behind her mansion. Strangely, she doesn't have any family member."

Fort's gaze sharpened. "Do you know where she's from? Or how she ended up here? She seems... out of place. I spoke with Callie, and she mentioned that Madam Mourch arrived after the riots in Yrhone, but no one ever seemed to ask any questions about her past."

Wills pressed his lips into a thin line, as if weighing how much to reveal. "You're right to ask those questions. Nobody knows her story. She appeared suddenly, without warning, just after the unrest in Yrhone. She started helping people, offering aid during the hard times, and... they simply accepted her."

Fort's brow furrowed, and he leaned in, intent on pushing further. "Accepted her? Just like that?"

Wills nodded slowly. "She has a way with people. Charismatic, you might say. She's... convincing. She listens, she helps, and people are drawn to her. When you offer hope in dark times, they'll believe almost anything, no matter how strange it may seem."

Fort absorbed this in silence before continuing. "And the graveyard behind her mansion—why is it there? Why does she have no family?"

Wills hesitated, his gaze flickering briefly to the window as if making sure no one could overhear them. "That graveyard... That's a strange one. No one knows who's buried there. No names on the tombstones. And she never speaks of it. But she's always there, tending to it in secret. At night, mostly. Some say it's part of her family tradition, but who knows? Could be just her alone out there."

The statement deepened Fort's suspicions.

He stood up slowly, his resolve firming. "I'll investigate. But I'll be cautious. If she's involved in the undead attacks, I'll find out. One way or another."

Wills' gaze met his with a knowing look, as if he understood exactly what Fort was about to face. "I've said my piece, lad. You're not a fool, but this isn't just some simple mystery. If you go after her, you need to be ready for whatever you find."

Fort nodded, his mind already turning over the next steps. As he turned to leave, he glanced back at Wills. "Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind."

Wills watched him go, the old man's face a mask of worry and uncertainty. "Just don't be too quick to trust anyone, Fort. Not even the ones who seem to help the most."

The door clicked shut behind Fort, leaving the chief alone in the dimming room.

He decided to investigate Madam Mourch's mansion that very night.