Flight of The Harpy's Heart

Chapter xx: War Room

Aden trod along the corridor, accompanied by Father Edgar, both headed toward the war room. The hallway echoed with the rhythmic sound of their footsteps, punctuated by the occasional creak of the aged floorboards beneath their feet, a witness to the antiquity of the structure they traversed.

"We survived the blood bats swarm thirty years ago, goblins raid five years after, and by the blessing of Aione, we will survive this harpies ordeal too," Father Edgar declared, his voice brimming with an optimism that seemed to defy the grim circumstances they faced.

As they walked together, Father Edgar provided a brief history of the village, his words painting a vivid picture of the challenges they had endured and the resilience they had cultivated. "The blood bats and goblins were gone when the harpies started to appear near the village. It seems like the harpies keep both of those pests at bay, while the wyverns also keep the harpies at bay."

Aden nodded, understanding dawning upon him. "The balance," he murmured, recognizing the intricate web of coexistence that governed the natural order.

"Aye, the harmony we have with nature is crucial," Father Edgar affirmed, his tone solemn yet tinged with reverence. "The village was thriving for the past twenty-five years with the rapid development of the Monterei port that provided an alternative trading route for the empire to the western hemisphere."

As they traversed the corridor, their footsteps seemed to echo the cadence of the village's history, each step a testament to the endurance and resilience of its people. The walls around them whispered tales of hardship and triumph, of battles waged and victories claimed against formidable foes, both natural and otherwise.

Their journey took them to the backyard pavilion of the courthouse, where an unexpected sight greeted them. Old man Jed, his weathered face flushed, was already chugging his second jug of wine, his back leaning against the courthouse's wall, just outside the pavilion.

"Ah, good morning Edd," Jed slurred, his words thick with the influence of the potent drink.

"It's almost night, Jed," Father Edgar replied, his tone tinged with disapproval, clearly unamused by Jed's excessive drinking habit.

"Whelp, my bad.." Jed hiccuped, unfazed by the admonishment. "Drink with me? For old time's sake?"

The old man extended a cup of wine toward Father Edgar, his offering a familiar gesture between long-time companions.

"No, thanks. I have a meeting with the Captain in the War Room," Father Edgar politely declined, his priorities firmly set on the task at hand.

Aden couldn't help but observe the stark contrast in Jed's behavior, his curiosity piqued. Just a moment ago, Old Man Jed was maintaining the hwachas at the rooftop when the villagers prayed, and now he already drinking his life out of misery.

"What's wrong with him?" Aden asked. "In the daytime, he was like this very serious man, and when the night came, he was like some drunk homeless guy in the corner of a damp alley."

Father Edgar sighed, his expression a mix of sadness and understanding as if the weight of the old man's burden had settled upon his own shoulders. "He's been drinking since his daughter died, claiming that it was his atonement for his sins in the past."

Aden furrowed his brow, perplexed by the mention of sins. "Sins?" he repeated, his curiosity piqued.

"Aye," Father Edgar affirmed, his tone grave. "Something about someone with the name Lororis."

A flicker of recognition crossed Aden's features as he recalled a distant memory. "Yeah, I heard him once mention that name in his sleep while we were out at the wilderness campfire," he revealed, his voice tinged with a hint of unease.