As I stepped inside, the warmth hit me hard enough to sting, and for the first time today all was quiet. The interior was quite larger than I expected, with pelts hanging on racks, and tools strewn across a working table by a thick window.

  My observation was cut short by a cold gaze from next to the hearth. The same emerald green as Marilleth’s, though they weighed me like a threat. The owner was an old man, black hair greying as it traveled to the follicles.

  “Marilleth” He grumbled. “Care to tell me why you’ve brought a stranger in ere’?”

  She gestured over to the door, “I couldn’t just leave him to die out there.”

  He placed his hand firmly on his chin. “A life’s a life, no matter how ragged or stupid it looks.”

  He took in my appearance for another moment. “You’re dressed like you came from that manor.”

  I sighed once again — could people stop reminding me?

  “I did, sir. It’s a long story, thank you for letting me in.”

  I dropped into proper bow to thank them, only to realize how absurd it looked out here.

  “What are you bowing for? Am I wearing my crown today, boy?”

  My eyes began drifting toward the many small tattoos this man had. Every bit of exposed skin, aside from his head, was covered in dark tracings. The markings of a mage who’d spent years crafting his art, and a stark contrast to noble magic.

  The smell of boiling stew finally made its way over to me. It smelled great, but I tried not to breathe it in. I’d once heard that commoners eat people in the winter because they go through all of their stores.

  “Oh for the love of... sit down by the fire. I don’t want extra work if you go cold-sick.”

  I’d been staring at him of all things. That look the old man gave didn’t ease the rumor, but the smell was one I recognized — carrots and poultry. I stood there, fidgeting with the hem of my cloak as I scanned for a chair.

  Upon realizing there wasn’t an extra for me, I did the unthinkable. I crossed my legs... on the floor of all places. The position felt jarring and uncomfortable, floorboards bleeding winter through my pants.

  Marilleth, the hooded girl, pulled out a couple of carved wooden bowls from a stack in the kitchen. Moving over to the hearth in one efficient motion, she ladled a sizable portion into each.

  The first bowl made its way to the old man, whom she addressed as “grandfather.” The next bowl made it my way, the heat seeping through the wood and into my trembling hands. A wooden something was sticking out of it. I gripped it delicately... It seemed to be a spoon, but the handle was far too thick.

  I sat there in silence for a moment as my hosts began eating, eyes darting toward the neatly arranged pile of firewood I sat beside... anything to avoid theirs.

  Marilleth pulled her hood down, sending a sidelong look my way. “Not hungry? Put it back.”

  “No. Absolutely-” I stopped myself short with a grasp on my throat. I can’t talk like that here!

  After watching them use theirs, I copied the rough motion. The stew was far better than I was hoping. It lacked our chef’s exotic spices, but not their flavor.

  Marilleth cut my thought short, eyes tracking every movement. “Leonn. You promised me an explanation.”

  That I did. I'd agreed on the way here. I opened my mouth to speak, throat tightening as I reminisced. “I mentioned earlier that I was... exiled.”

  The old man tilted his head, “thrown out of your home? What’d you do?”

  “Well you see, sir...” I started.

  “Eligor. I’ve got a name, so use that.” He barked.

  My spine snapped straight up, for a moment I thought he was making to lunge at me.

  “Eligor, then. It was... more what I didn’t do. I’ve never once harnessed the scrawl, nor Vuudweyen’s animata.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Marilleth’s breath caught. They exchanged a look I couldn’t read, before turning their heads back over. The girl spoke up, emerald eyes boring into me. “How did you survive for even a day out there?”

  I couldn’t give more than a shrug.

  “I can’t soften that he meant for me to die” I eventually replied, tone hanging low.

  The world around me still didn’t seem real. The heat from the fire felt distant, and the moments before a blur.

  “I’m a disgrace to them...” I continued. “Less than worthless. Noble arts are the most important part of a lineage and I’d failed to inherit even that.”

  My voice cracked, thin and humiliating. Heat stung under my eyelids, but a heavy blink forced it away. Resisting only built up the pressure.

  Absolutely not. I’m a noble, gods damn it! A stray tear slipped out, and I wiped it away, hoping they didn’t notice. Not even my pride could hold me together anymore.

  The silence that followed was long and unbroken. I forced my breathing steady, another word and I’d fall apart. Eligor huffed through his nose —not quite a disapproval, just in observation. He set his bowl aside, clacking against a small table in front of him.

  “Crying won’t keep the snow off the roof" he declared, “an’ we need that roof intact come next storm.”

  My head jerked up. “Sir-”

  “Eligor,” he once again corrected, pushing himself onto his feet. “We gave you a meal, kept you out of the storm. Nothing’s free, not out here. You wanna make it even? Start clearing snow.”

  Marilleth shot him a look, “Grandfather, he just-”

  “A man works” he interrupted. “Better he do something than wallow.”

  He limped over to grab a shovel off a hook near the workbench. It clattered in protest, handle catching for a moment. “Come on, boy.” He gestured with his free hand, “Up the ladder, scrape the thatching. If you have to fall, land on the soft side, will ya?”

  I gathered the strength to stand. Still wobbly, but the shovel’s weight grounded my legs.

  “Yes, Eligor.” The words scraped out of my throat like jagged stones.

  “I’ll watch him.” Marilleth muttered with a sigh, “make sure he doesn’t kill himself...”

  The winter cold slapped me as we stepped outside, enough to bite through my barely-warmed layers. The snowstorm itself had disappeared over the time we spent inside, its trailing edge drifting eastward.

  “Ladder’s over there,” Marilleth said, nodding toward the side of the house.

  I walked over, boots already filling with snow. It took me a minute, ears burning once I realized it was in plain sight. It almost slipped out of my hands as I grabbed the damn thing.

  I’d only made it 2 rungs up before my boot slipped, shovel almost dropping right out of my hand as my stomach lurched.

  “Soft side’s that way” Marilleth said, pointing to a tall drift.

  "Good to know,” I muttered. “Doubt I’ll need it.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Grew up fencing. Balance is... something I can trust,” I proudly declared.

  “Mm.” She didn’t look at all convinced.

  I finally made it up to the top, and I could barely see the roof under all this snow. I placed the shovel down flat as I tried to find my footing. I’d thought my years of training on balance beams would help me, but that idea fell to the ground with the soft crunch of snow. My back collided with the snowbank, eyes toward the bright sky.

  I sat up, rubbing the base of my neck with a wince. I’ll get this done. On my honor.

  Marilleth’s voice drifted back up, flat and unimpressed, “Some fencing, that.”

  Whatever “honor” I had drained straight out of me at that point.

  After a little more trial and error, I found my legs steady under me on the slick, frozen roof. Shovel in hand, I delicately scraped small piles of snow from the bottom. As I did that, patches of snow cascaded from above, again threatening to send me tumbling. I’ll stay out of the way of that...

  Scrape snow. Brace my stance. Scrape again. I did it until my arms burned, and I kept at it until my mind drifted with the repetition. I’d cleared most of the snow by the time the rhythm set in.

  The door opened behind me, swinging at the hinge with a grind. Marilleth stepped back out, wooden cup steaming in her hands.

  “Warm wine,” she said with a shrug. “You look frozen over.”

  I nodded, still shoveling away. “Good choice.”

  She tilted her head, “Good choice? It’s for you.”

  “Oh.” My hands stalled on the shovel.

  I made my way back down, hands numb from the cold. Her head tilted upward, studying what I’d cleared. “You’re nearly done... huh.”

  My fingers wrapped around the hand-carved mug, heat seeping through and warming them for a job done well enough. Just a sip was enough to clear my throat, and the taste was simple and homely.

  Back to it, then.

  As I finally pulled the last few chunks of now half-melted snow off the thatching, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “How do you stand this tedium?”

  “Huh?” Marilleth turned, looking up at me.

  “If I’d have to do this every week, the boredom would get to me before I froze over.” I finished.

  “Tragic. We don’t keep a jester on hand, so you’ll have to survive.”

  With the last of the snow clear, I let myself have a proper look at the village. The evening sun peeked out from behind the towering pine trees, leaking a golden glow through the branches. Log cabins dotted winding roads along the snow-covered hills.

  At the center of town stood a large stone figure, washed in the sunset glow. I recognized the crown, at least, though my tutors never drilled the royal house’s lineage into me well. Perhaps Marilleth or Eligor would know.

  I hope you all like the updated version of this chapter. It has most of the story beats that worked, while changing some others to work better.

  -ACNRogue

  P.S: An overwhelming shoutout to a fellow author, Embladust (The author of Divina Terra), whom gave me advice on how to improve chapter readability. I am sure that it is as much a relief for all of you as it is for me.