“Flower?”

  Arnold furrowed his brows beneath the bandages. Did he look like someone who needed flowers? A man wrapped like a mummy, dressed in noble clothes, skulking around a dirty village?

  Before he could respond, the girl puffed out her chest with utmost confidence and declared audaciously.

  “Indeed you do, sir! You appear so lonesome!"

  ‘Pfft.’ A small snicker buzzed through his mind.

  Arnold almost stepped back. This girl, who at first glance seemed shy, was actually quite bold?

  And did Isa just ‘pfft’ at him? Really?

  Izzy couldn’t help but snap back.

  ‘Oh dear, you’ve finished your fun times sessions already? Was it fun?’

  ‘...’ The young mind didn’t answer back, but Izzy could still feel her embarrassment leak through their shared mind.

  ‘Pfft.’ Izzy delivered a critical strike. It’s super effective!

  ‘I–I… Isa hates you! ... No, Isa means, Isa doesn’t hate you… Aghhhh!!!’ Isa’s voice crumpled into a tiny squeak and vanished, her presence withdrawing like a startled animal diving into its burrow.

  Izzy clicked her metaphorical tongue. Trying to tease her? Dream on!

  Back in reality, Arnold stared blankly at the girl in front of him.

  She was young, maybe fourteen at most. Brown hair was braided loosely and hung down to her chest, with wisps sticking out in places from poor brushing.

  Her dress was a faded off-white rag, patched at the elbows, hem, and sides, and layered under a low-quality apron stiffened with dirt. A bonnet sat crooked on her head, shading a face dotted with far more freckles than Erin’s modest speckling.

  She smiled exaggeratedly wide, showing pale teeth with far too much confidence for a village girl talking to a stranger.

  “I’m Mary, sir, by the way!” she announced proudly.

  ‘You misplaced your sentence,’ Arnold grimaced internally, unsure how to deal with this extremely extroverted girl. He felt like this girl had the extroverted energy of five children combined. Even worse than Isa!

  Mary shoved the flower basket closer. Her basket looked like a rainbow stuffed into wicker; it was full of wildflowers of all kinds. She thrust a white snowdrop toward him, lifting it above her head with a theatrical flourish.

  “This one is snowdrops, sir! What it means is–-”

  She launched into a torrent of explanations. Flower meanings, symbolism, which season they grew in, myths attached to them, rambling with enthusiasm so intense it felt like a verbal assault.

  “And this one, this is hellebores! It means–”

  Blablabla… Arnold’s brain checked out. He had no idea what she was saying anymore; her words in his ears blurred into meaningless noise.

  “And this pink one—”

  “And this purple one—”

  “And this—”

  “Stop, stop. I don’t need one.” At one point, he raised his gloved hand and urged her to stop speaking.

  Mary blinked once, but she beamed even brighter than before.

  “Oh! Then you will love this one, sir! This one means—”

  She didn’t stop.

  Did this kid understand language? Nobility hierarchy? Social awareness?

  Arnold glanced around. Villagers peeked from windows and over fences with horrified expressions, clearly worried for the girl’s well-being.

  So they understood. What was her deal? He suddenly missed Erin’s respectful demeanor. At least that girl still gave him some personal space.

  ‘Who is responsible for teaching this lost kid? We need to have a talk.’ Arnold groaned in his mind.

  Mary continued yapping, seemingly immune to hints of disinterest. With no other choice, Arnold reached beneath his coat and pulled out a silver coin. He held it out at eye level where she could clearly see it.

  The girl froze mid-sentence, her mouth falling open slightly. Her eyes sparkled, and her entire face seemed to brighten three shades.

  Arnold waved the coin left and right.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Mary’s head followed it like a mesmerized cat tracking feather wands.

  ‘As expected… Money can solve everything.’

  He sighed and made the girl an offer: “Here is the deal. You walk me through the village. This will be yours. How about that?”

  Mary stared at the silver like it was a holy relic, but hesitation flickered across her face. She lowered her head and gripped her basket’s handle tightly.

  “S… sir, that’s too much for me.”

  ‘Too much?’ Arnold furrowed his brow. He had over thirty of them. And just one was too much?

  If that was too much, then pulling out one of the five gold coins he’d “borrowed” from the mansion would probably make her faint on the spot.

  A dark idea crossed his mind. ‘Right, if she faints, I don’t have to deal with her anymore!’

  It was tempting. However, he dismissed the idea.

  Arnold understood her hesitation. From his Field Vision, he could discern malicious, greedy gazes, beggars sizing her up, and thugs whispering among themselves from all over the place. If the girl really took this coin openly, her fate might be very dim.

  Apparently, Mary understood that. She seemed like a smart kid.

  “Then I will buy you a meal. You can keep the leftovers. Deal?”

  Her face lit up instantly. “Deal!”

  Without a second thought, she grabbed Arnold’s gloved hand with her tiny one and began dragging him excitedly through the village.

  Arnold let her lead the way.

  ‘As expected, it’s not an allergy to women,’ he thought wryly, remembering the embarrassing fiasco in the attic when their two vessels touched.

  Holding this girl’s hand didn’t trigger whatever that was. It was a relief that he wasn’t allergic to the other gender.

  ‘Good. One reason crossed out,’ he sighed.

  Mary tugged his hand, swinging their hands cheerfully. “Come along, sir! I know all the secret ways! Do but walk with me!"

  He let her pull him along through Winterin Village, the crowd parting around them like a tide. Their odd pair stood out like a bad painting.

  As the girl led him deeper into the village, she spoke without pause, bouncing between topics as though every word were a petal she wanted to scatter before him.

  “This is Winterin Village, sir! As you might know, our village reveres the Moon Maiden.” Mary lifted her chin and announced proudly.

  Arnold nodded. He had heard about the Rite of the Moon Maiden from Benjamin before, so it’s not unknown to him.

  “Our Maiden personally escorted and protected Her Majesty when she was attacked by the vile beast!”

  She declared dramatically, raising her basket-bearing arm as if reenacting the scene. The motion made the basket handle slide down to the crook of her elbow, nearly spilling flowers everywhere. She squeaked and scrambled to catch it.

  Arnold almost sighed. How energetic.

  “In return, Her Majesty gifted our Maiden a portion of her divine power! A blessing filled with her will to protect children and maidens alike!”

  ‘Hmm?’ His mind pricked. Something was off in her story.

  “That’s why each winter, we prepare for a dance to revere and remember her bravery!” Mary went on, spinning in place for half a step before reorienting herself to lead him again.

  A memory formed in Arnold’s thoughts. He did remember Benjamin saying something similar:

  “Our Lord personally escorted and protected Her Majesty…

  …gifted our Lord her power…

  …to protect children and maidens alike.”

  Benjamin said their lord escorted Her Majesty. Mary said their Moon Maiden escorted Her Majesty.

  ‘So the Moon Maiden… was not Her Majesty? The Moon Maiden was their lord instead?’

  He thought deeply. Benjamin did not specify who the Moon Maiden was, so Arnold had automatically assumed the Moon Maiden was ‘her Majesty.’

  Although it wasn't important to him, it's still beneficial to know more.

  “Who is Her Majesty?” Arnold asked. “If your lord is the Moon Maiden, then who is the other one?”

  Mary blinked her wide eyes. They grew even wider before she grinned brightly.

  “Her Majesty is Her Majesty, sir!” she said, as if that were the most obvious answer in the world.

  “Only those from the church know, sir! Common folk mustn’t poke into the Monarchs’ matters!”

  She lifted her finger dramatically, tracing a circle in the air. Her flower basket slipped down her elbow and dangled precariously.

  Arnold clicked his tongue. He grabbed the basket out of her hands and held it himself before she inevitably dropped it.

  ‘The church again,’ he thought grimly.

  Mary startled, before her face lit up with a grateful smile.

  “That’s the tale from the past hundred years; everyone learns it in church school! We must remember her bravery!”

  The girl then stretched her arm overhead carelessly. She tapped lightly on her bonnet, trying to show she understood nothing but accepted it anyway.

  There was a pattern forming. Every time something important came up, the answer returned to the church. Were the Monarchs in this world that important? He resumed walking beside Mary as he considered the implications.

  “And the vile beast?” Arnold asked, stepping around a muddy puddle while Mary hopped directly through it. “What happened to it?”

  Mary tapped her lips, then pointed in one direction.

  “That… They said the beast survived and fled to the east, but no one has encountered it again. Maybe it died!”

  Arnold froze mid-step. His heart thumped heavily as a cold chill ran beneath his skin.

  ‘The east… the mansion’s direction?!’

  Could that monster have been connected to Benjamin? Was Benjamin the vile beast? Or even related? Was it also related to the mansion’s strange concealment?

  ‘No… calm down. That was a legend from a hundred years ago,’ he reasoned and took a steadying breath. ‘I’m overthinking it, must be.’

  Just in case, he decided to test the waters, asking a question related to Benjamin.

  “Have you ever heard anything from the east? Anything at all, rumors, hearsay, or anyone living there?”

  Mary paused. She tilted her head, scrunching her brows. After a moment, she shook her head with absolute certainty.

  “There is nothing there,” she said matter-of-factly, beaming at him with a wide smile.

  This chapter is scary. I wrote “our Lord” in a much earlier chapter, before the plot had even been formed properly. That’s why it has no meaning yet. But, well, this chapter said "nope, fuck you" and threw my mind into chaos.

  Past me, write properly! Don't throw random ideas at me! I can't handle them!

  Anyway, another fix at chapter 13: behind the scenes. The church is supposed to find the Order's hideout near Easton city, not Winterin. (yea, it's not my fault, it's my past me's fault.)